Late Eclipses
Page 13
“Promise?” she whispered.
I didn’t argue this time. “I promise. If there’s a way to make this better, I will. It’s my job. But I have to go now.”
“Okay, Toby,” she said, and let go of me, stepping back. “Okay.”
Several more of Lily’s subjects had wandered over while we spoke. They almost surrounded us, standing at a respectful distance and watching with hungry eyes. They were hoping I’d fix things. There was just one problem: I didn’t think I could.
“Come on,” said Tybalt, putting a hand on my shoulder and steering me toward the moon bridge. Walther followed, tugging Marcia gently along by one hand.
The garden exits were locked for the night. That might not have been an issue if Lily were awake, but with her incapacitated, we had to deal with certain limitations. Tybalt looked measuringly at the shadows, finally shaking his head. “Not after running here from the Queen’s knowe,” he said. “I’m already stretched too thin to carry anyone else along.”
“That’s okay.” It was almost reassuring to hear that he had limits. “Walther, is there another way out of here?”
“Yes,” he said, and led us to a door in the bushes. It was being held open by another of Lily’s courtiers. I didn’t recognize him, and he didn’t meet my eyes as we approached. I gave Marcia a quick hug, murmuring a last, “Call me,” before stepping through the opening. Tybalt followed. The door closed behind us, disappearing. They don’t call us “the hidden folk” for nothing—we’re not seen when we don’t want to be.
Tybalt walked me to the parking lot. When we reached the end of the grass, he said, abruptly, “I’m not sure how to say this so you’ll listen.”
“How about you just say it, and we’ll see what happens?” I turned toward him. His eyes were very green in the streetlight glow. “Is this about what happened at the Queen’s Court? I’m sorry I slapped you. It seemed like the best way to cause a diversion.”
“That’s nothing,” he said, waving it off. “The Queen didn’t give you Goldengreen out of the kindness of her heart, Toby. You should know that.”
“I do.” I flashed a tight, sardonic smile. “My mama didn’t raise no fools.”
“Your mother didn’t raise you at all.” His expression was grave, eyes searching my face. I just didn’t know what he was looking for. “I don’t know what she’s trying, but it’s a trap of some sort. I’ve been a King too long not to know that much.”
I nodded, feeling a new layer of stress adding itself to the mountain I was already carrying. “There was no way to say I wouldn’t take it. Not unless I wanted to get myself exiled for insolence.”
“Even so.” He reached out and brushed his fingers along the side of my jaw. “October . . . ”
“Why did you kiss me?” The question was asked almost before I realized it was forming. I felt myself go red.
Tybalt jerked back like I’d slapped him again, hand dropping. “My reasons were the same as yours. I needed to cast the eyes of the gossips on something concrete, rather than risk them gossiping about our acquaintance.”
“You could have stayed away. There wouldn’t have been any gossip then.”
“No, I couldn’t. The Lady of the Mists was planning something.”
“Tybalt—”
“It was a means to an end; that’s all. I’m sorry if I offended. I’ll set my people to watch the Tea Gardens; call if you need me.” He stepped backward into the shadows. “Take care, little fish. These waters are deeper than you’re accustomed to.” The shadows closed around him, and he was gone.
I looked at the place he’d been for a long moment before I sighed and turned toward the parking lot . . . where my car wasn’t, thanks to my having taken the yarrow broom express from the Queen’s Court.
“Damn,” I said. This didn’t make my car appear, but it made me feel a little bit better. I considered turning around, walking back to the Tea Gardens, and asking if anyone could give me a ride. The urge passed as fast as it came. Lily’s subjects were upset enough without their erstwhile protector stomping in and admitting that she forgot she didn’t drive there.
Most of the world’s payphones have vanished in the last twenty years, but there are survivors, if you know where to look. I made my way through Golden Gate Park to the phone near the oh-so-touristy “picnic meadow,” swearing under my breath as I realized that the Queen’s transformation of my clothes hadn’t left me with pockets, much less pocket change. Calling a taxi was out; I’ve been developing moral objections to hexing taxi drivers since I started hanging out with Danny, and he was busy taking care of May. It was the bus or nothing.
If the bus driver thought there was something strange about a bedraggled woman in a ball gown getting on in the wee hours of the morning, he didn’t say anything. The odds were good I wasn’t the worst thing he’d seen that night. I held up a hand, palm cupped to make it look like I was holding something, and used the last of the magic I’d called up for my makeshift human disguise to make the driver see a monthly pass. He grunted acknowledgment, and I slumped into the seat nearest the door.
At that moment, I would have given almost anything for a way to find my mother and tell her what was happening. She was the strongest blood-worker in Faerie before she went crazy. She could probably follow Lily’s waters back to their source and give us the key to everything. Or she could have, once. Unfortunately, while I might have been able to find Amandine’s body, there’s no detective in the world good enough to find her mind. The lights are on, but nobody’s home, and the electric bill is getting high.
The ride to my apartment took twenty minutes, mostly because several of the late-night passengers were drunk, and insisted on trying to talk to the driver before they’d take their seats. I left the bus with a hearty respect for bus drivers, and a renewed desire to never take public transit again.
The living room lights were on as I walked toward the door, and the wards had been dissolved, not broken. That’s a crucial difference: broken wards mean something’s in your house that shouldn’t be there. Open wards mean somebody’s home. I let myself inside.
May was asleep on the couch with Spike in her lap. The television was on but muted. I turned it off before walking down the hall to my bedroom, careful not to disturb May. It was better if she took the chance to get some rest. We’d know more soon, and in the meanwhile, I needed to close my eyes for a few minutes before I called Shadowed Hills and brought Sylvester up to speed.
I didn’t argue this time. “I promise. If there’s a way to make this better, I will. It’s my job. But I have to go now.”
“Okay, Toby,” she said, and let go of me, stepping back. “Okay.”
Several more of Lily’s subjects had wandered over while we spoke. They almost surrounded us, standing at a respectful distance and watching with hungry eyes. They were hoping I’d fix things. There was just one problem: I didn’t think I could.
“Come on,” said Tybalt, putting a hand on my shoulder and steering me toward the moon bridge. Walther followed, tugging Marcia gently along by one hand.
The garden exits were locked for the night. That might not have been an issue if Lily were awake, but with her incapacitated, we had to deal with certain limitations. Tybalt looked measuringly at the shadows, finally shaking his head. “Not after running here from the Queen’s knowe,” he said. “I’m already stretched too thin to carry anyone else along.”
“That’s okay.” It was almost reassuring to hear that he had limits. “Walther, is there another way out of here?”
“Yes,” he said, and led us to a door in the bushes. It was being held open by another of Lily’s courtiers. I didn’t recognize him, and he didn’t meet my eyes as we approached. I gave Marcia a quick hug, murmuring a last, “Call me,” before stepping through the opening. Tybalt followed. The door closed behind us, disappearing. They don’t call us “the hidden folk” for nothing—we’re not seen when we don’t want to be.
Tybalt walked me to the parking lot. When we reached the end of the grass, he said, abruptly, “I’m not sure how to say this so you’ll listen.”
“How about you just say it, and we’ll see what happens?” I turned toward him. His eyes were very green in the streetlight glow. “Is this about what happened at the Queen’s Court? I’m sorry I slapped you. It seemed like the best way to cause a diversion.”
“That’s nothing,” he said, waving it off. “The Queen didn’t give you Goldengreen out of the kindness of her heart, Toby. You should know that.”
“I do.” I flashed a tight, sardonic smile. “My mama didn’t raise no fools.”
“Your mother didn’t raise you at all.” His expression was grave, eyes searching my face. I just didn’t know what he was looking for. “I don’t know what she’s trying, but it’s a trap of some sort. I’ve been a King too long not to know that much.”
I nodded, feeling a new layer of stress adding itself to the mountain I was already carrying. “There was no way to say I wouldn’t take it. Not unless I wanted to get myself exiled for insolence.”
“Even so.” He reached out and brushed his fingers along the side of my jaw. “October . . . ”
“Why did you kiss me?” The question was asked almost before I realized it was forming. I felt myself go red.
Tybalt jerked back like I’d slapped him again, hand dropping. “My reasons were the same as yours. I needed to cast the eyes of the gossips on something concrete, rather than risk them gossiping about our acquaintance.”
“You could have stayed away. There wouldn’t have been any gossip then.”
“No, I couldn’t. The Lady of the Mists was planning something.”
“Tybalt—”
“It was a means to an end; that’s all. I’m sorry if I offended. I’ll set my people to watch the Tea Gardens; call if you need me.” He stepped backward into the shadows. “Take care, little fish. These waters are deeper than you’re accustomed to.” The shadows closed around him, and he was gone.
I looked at the place he’d been for a long moment before I sighed and turned toward the parking lot . . . where my car wasn’t, thanks to my having taken the yarrow broom express from the Queen’s Court.
“Damn,” I said. This didn’t make my car appear, but it made me feel a little bit better. I considered turning around, walking back to the Tea Gardens, and asking if anyone could give me a ride. The urge passed as fast as it came. Lily’s subjects were upset enough without their erstwhile protector stomping in and admitting that she forgot she didn’t drive there.
Most of the world’s payphones have vanished in the last twenty years, but there are survivors, if you know where to look. I made my way through Golden Gate Park to the phone near the oh-so-touristy “picnic meadow,” swearing under my breath as I realized that the Queen’s transformation of my clothes hadn’t left me with pockets, much less pocket change. Calling a taxi was out; I’ve been developing moral objections to hexing taxi drivers since I started hanging out with Danny, and he was busy taking care of May. It was the bus or nothing.
If the bus driver thought there was something strange about a bedraggled woman in a ball gown getting on in the wee hours of the morning, he didn’t say anything. The odds were good I wasn’t the worst thing he’d seen that night. I held up a hand, palm cupped to make it look like I was holding something, and used the last of the magic I’d called up for my makeshift human disguise to make the driver see a monthly pass. He grunted acknowledgment, and I slumped into the seat nearest the door.
At that moment, I would have given almost anything for a way to find my mother and tell her what was happening. She was the strongest blood-worker in Faerie before she went crazy. She could probably follow Lily’s waters back to their source and give us the key to everything. Or she could have, once. Unfortunately, while I might have been able to find Amandine’s body, there’s no detective in the world good enough to find her mind. The lights are on, but nobody’s home, and the electric bill is getting high.
The ride to my apartment took twenty minutes, mostly because several of the late-night passengers were drunk, and insisted on trying to talk to the driver before they’d take their seats. I left the bus with a hearty respect for bus drivers, and a renewed desire to never take public transit again.
The living room lights were on as I walked toward the door, and the wards had been dissolved, not broken. That’s a crucial difference: broken wards mean something’s in your house that shouldn’t be there. Open wards mean somebody’s home. I let myself inside.
May was asleep on the couch with Spike in her lap. The television was on but muted. I turned it off before walking down the hall to my bedroom, careful not to disturb May. It was better if she took the chance to get some rest. We’d know more soon, and in the meanwhile, I needed to close my eyes for a few minutes before I called Shadowed Hills and brought Sylvester up to speed.
