Chimes at Midnight
Page 78
“You said we had an hour,” I protested.
“You were latched onto my arm for a while,” said May.
I groaned, running my hand back through my hair. “Of course I was. Swell. Arden, you have until Danny parks this car to tell me what the hell you’re talking about. Talk fast.”
“A woman—Oleander de Merelands—came to the Court a week before the earthquake,” said Arden. “She told Father that the Last Among the First was in the Mists. She said the Last was going to shake the world down if we didn’t find and stop her. He searched, but there wasn’t much time, and there was nothing to be found. The only Firstborn even rumored to live in the Bay Area was the sea witch, and no one finds her when she wants to be left alone. Time ran out. The world fell down.”
“And your father died,” I said grimly. “I’m willing to bet that had more to do with Oleander than it did with the earthquake.”
“It doesn’t matter,” said Arden. “Amandine? Really?”
“That was pretty much my reaction.” I looked to May as the car rolled to a stop. “How’s your arm?”
“Almost healed. I’m not in your league, but I’m close. It’s a Fetch thing.” She scowled. “Don’t stab me again.”
“I wasn’t planning to. Don’t feed me any more goblin fruit.”
“Deal.”
“You ladies keep havin’ sharing time. I’ll be right back.” Danny got out, lumbering over to the chained gate into the parking lot. Madden jumped out after him, tail pluming wildly, and vanished into the underbrush.
“Should I be concerned?” I asked.
“No,” said Arden. “He’ll check for dangers and be there when we get out of the car. You’ll see.”
“Huh.” Cu Sidhe and Cait Sidhe were very different. And yet maybe not. I would have been just that sure of Tybalt. “Uh, so are the two of you . . . ?”
Arden actually laughed. “Me and Madden? No. Even if I was interested, his boyfriend would kill me with a hammer.”
“Just asking.”
Danny had reached the chain holding the gate closed. He stooped, saying something to the lock. Even with the windows down I couldn’t hear him, but apparently the metal of the hasp liked what it was hearing, because it popped open. Danny removed it, pulling the chain free, and opened the gate before walking back to the car and getting in. “Here we go.”
“I love Trolls,” said May blissfully, leaning forward and hugging Danny’s neck around the back of the seat. He didn’t say anything, but I could see his smile reflected in the rearview mirror.
Arden was still staring at me with a strange mix of confusion and anger in her eyes. I did my best to ignore her. As soon as the car stopped, I undid my seatbelt and slid out into the cool, redwood-scented air of Muir Woods. Somewhere in the tall old trees an owl shrieked, and something rustled through the underbrush. I felt like an intruder, stepping into a world that was never meant to be mine—and at the same time, I felt like I was coming home.
It was a changeling’s dilemma, writ large through every cell of me. The trouble was that this time, I knew what I was missing. I wanted my real world back.
Arden stopped next to me and tilted her head back to look at the trees, eyes filling with slow tears. I didn’t say anything as May stepped up on my other side. I just waited. Finally, Arden spoke.
“I haven’t been here since Father died.” Her tears slipped free, running down her cheeks. “It still looks just the same.” Madden came bounding back out of the trees, stopping beside her. He didn’t shift back to human form.
“Let’s see if that applies everywhere,” I said. “Come on.”
We walked into the forest. Madden quickly ran ahead, visible only as an occasional glimpse of white between the night-blackened trunks. An owl screeched, protesting this intrusion. Madden barked gleefully back. At least one of us was having a good time. Of the five of us, I was the only one who’d been to the shallowing in the last hundred years, if at all. May walked beside me, her hand resting on my shoulder, where she could pull me back before I went blundering off into the underbrush or walked into a creek. I made my way through the redwoods largely by feel, pausing occasionally to get my bearings.
“Toby . . .” said May.
“I know,” I said. “Just trust me, okay? Sooner or later, Arden’s going to say—”
“I know where we are.” Arden pushed past me, suddenly moving through the trees with purpose. May muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “I hate you,” and tightened her grip on my arm, stepping in front of me so that she could haul me after the fleeing Princess. Danny brought up the rear, moving surprisingly quietly for someone his size.
Arden led us up a series of mud and timber steps that had been cut into the side of the hill, breaking into a run when she reached the top. The rest of us followed. When we caught up with her again, she was standing in front of an enormous redwood tree, with Madden sitting near her feet. The trunk was bigger around than my kitchen; you could have hollowed it out and used it as a good-sized living room. She was crying again. That wasn’t really a surprise.
“I’m here.” She raised her hands, pressing them flat against the tree. “I’m sorry. It took too long, and I’m sorry, but I’m really here. It’s me.”
Nothing happened.
Arden took a step backward, away from the tree. “It’s going to be like this, huh? Okay. I can handle that.” She turned to me. “Can I borrow your knife please?”
“Um. Sure.” I pulled the silver knife from my belt and offered it to her, hilt first.
“Thank you,” said Arden, with ritual formality. Thanks are always serious in Faerie, not least because they imply fealty—in this case, my fealty to her. She was beginning to accept who she was. Not waiting to see how I would respond, she turned back to the tree and ran the edge of my knife across her left index finger, pressing down until she drew blood. I swallowed hard, fighting the urge to look away.
“My name is Arden Windermere,” she said. “My father was Gilad Windermere. My mother was Sebille, of no family line. They are gone now, both of them; they have stopped their dancing. I have not. In the name of the line of Windermere, I ask you to open your door to me. Know me, accept me, and welcome me home.” She pressed her bloody fingertip against the tree, and smiled. “I’ve missed you.”
“You were latched onto my arm for a while,” said May.
I groaned, running my hand back through my hair. “Of course I was. Swell. Arden, you have until Danny parks this car to tell me what the hell you’re talking about. Talk fast.”
“A woman—Oleander de Merelands—came to the Court a week before the earthquake,” said Arden. “She told Father that the Last Among the First was in the Mists. She said the Last was going to shake the world down if we didn’t find and stop her. He searched, but there wasn’t much time, and there was nothing to be found. The only Firstborn even rumored to live in the Bay Area was the sea witch, and no one finds her when she wants to be left alone. Time ran out. The world fell down.”
“And your father died,” I said grimly. “I’m willing to bet that had more to do with Oleander than it did with the earthquake.”
“It doesn’t matter,” said Arden. “Amandine? Really?”
“That was pretty much my reaction.” I looked to May as the car rolled to a stop. “How’s your arm?”
“Almost healed. I’m not in your league, but I’m close. It’s a Fetch thing.” She scowled. “Don’t stab me again.”
“I wasn’t planning to. Don’t feed me any more goblin fruit.”
“Deal.”
“You ladies keep havin’ sharing time. I’ll be right back.” Danny got out, lumbering over to the chained gate into the parking lot. Madden jumped out after him, tail pluming wildly, and vanished into the underbrush.
“Should I be concerned?” I asked.
“No,” said Arden. “He’ll check for dangers and be there when we get out of the car. You’ll see.”
“Huh.” Cu Sidhe and Cait Sidhe were very different. And yet maybe not. I would have been just that sure of Tybalt. “Uh, so are the two of you . . . ?”
Arden actually laughed. “Me and Madden? No. Even if I was interested, his boyfriend would kill me with a hammer.”
“Just asking.”
Danny had reached the chain holding the gate closed. He stooped, saying something to the lock. Even with the windows down I couldn’t hear him, but apparently the metal of the hasp liked what it was hearing, because it popped open. Danny removed it, pulling the chain free, and opened the gate before walking back to the car and getting in. “Here we go.”
“I love Trolls,” said May blissfully, leaning forward and hugging Danny’s neck around the back of the seat. He didn’t say anything, but I could see his smile reflected in the rearview mirror.
Arden was still staring at me with a strange mix of confusion and anger in her eyes. I did my best to ignore her. As soon as the car stopped, I undid my seatbelt and slid out into the cool, redwood-scented air of Muir Woods. Somewhere in the tall old trees an owl shrieked, and something rustled through the underbrush. I felt like an intruder, stepping into a world that was never meant to be mine—and at the same time, I felt like I was coming home.
It was a changeling’s dilemma, writ large through every cell of me. The trouble was that this time, I knew what I was missing. I wanted my real world back.
Arden stopped next to me and tilted her head back to look at the trees, eyes filling with slow tears. I didn’t say anything as May stepped up on my other side. I just waited. Finally, Arden spoke.
“I haven’t been here since Father died.” Her tears slipped free, running down her cheeks. “It still looks just the same.” Madden came bounding back out of the trees, stopping beside her. He didn’t shift back to human form.
“Let’s see if that applies everywhere,” I said. “Come on.”
We walked into the forest. Madden quickly ran ahead, visible only as an occasional glimpse of white between the night-blackened trunks. An owl screeched, protesting this intrusion. Madden barked gleefully back. At least one of us was having a good time. Of the five of us, I was the only one who’d been to the shallowing in the last hundred years, if at all. May walked beside me, her hand resting on my shoulder, where she could pull me back before I went blundering off into the underbrush or walked into a creek. I made my way through the redwoods largely by feel, pausing occasionally to get my bearings.
“Toby . . .” said May.
“I know,” I said. “Just trust me, okay? Sooner or later, Arden’s going to say—”
“I know where we are.” Arden pushed past me, suddenly moving through the trees with purpose. May muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “I hate you,” and tightened her grip on my arm, stepping in front of me so that she could haul me after the fleeing Princess. Danny brought up the rear, moving surprisingly quietly for someone his size.
Arden led us up a series of mud and timber steps that had been cut into the side of the hill, breaking into a run when she reached the top. The rest of us followed. When we caught up with her again, she was standing in front of an enormous redwood tree, with Madden sitting near her feet. The trunk was bigger around than my kitchen; you could have hollowed it out and used it as a good-sized living room. She was crying again. That wasn’t really a surprise.
“I’m here.” She raised her hands, pressing them flat against the tree. “I’m sorry. It took too long, and I’m sorry, but I’m really here. It’s me.”
Nothing happened.
Arden took a step backward, away from the tree. “It’s going to be like this, huh? Okay. I can handle that.” She turned to me. “Can I borrow your knife please?”
“Um. Sure.” I pulled the silver knife from my belt and offered it to her, hilt first.
“Thank you,” said Arden, with ritual formality. Thanks are always serious in Faerie, not least because they imply fealty—in this case, my fealty to her. She was beginning to accept who she was. Not waiting to see how I would respond, she turned back to the tree and ran the edge of my knife across her left index finger, pressing down until she drew blood. I swallowed hard, fighting the urge to look away.
“My name is Arden Windermere,” she said. “My father was Gilad Windermere. My mother was Sebille, of no family line. They are gone now, both of them; they have stopped their dancing. I have not. In the name of the line of Windermere, I ask you to open your door to me. Know me, accept me, and welcome me home.” She pressed her bloody fingertip against the tree, and smiled. “I’ve missed you.”
