Late Eclipses
Page 39
I managed to get to the park without having an accident or giving in to the siren song of road rage. My headache actually helped, since it required me to focus on the road, keeping me too distracted to get really pissed. The pounding was back at full force, and had lasted way too long to be magic-burn—not that I’d cast any large spells recently. It was the sort of thing that would normally send me running for Lily. As it was . . .
I shivered, and pushed the thought away.
The parking lot nearest the Tea Gardens was packed with tourists, some of whom had managed to take up two or more spaces with their outsized SUVs. I indulged in some good, old-fashioned swearing as I drove around the pavilion to park in the shadows next to the snack bar dumpsters. The smell of cooking oil and decaying vegetation assaulted my nostrils as soon as I stopped the engine. Swell. Just swell.
The pain in my head was bad enough to make me unsure of my ability to cast an illusion without some sort of help. Thankfully, Devin was firm that all his kids would understand how to use hedge magic and “cheap tricks”—just in case.
“You always did know best, you old bastard,” I muttered, digging the bottle of marsh water and crushed mint leaves out of the glove compartment. I always keep one in the car. Just in case.
I squirted water around the inside of my car until I was nearly gagging on the smell of mint. My magic rose with sullen sluggishness, sending a warning bolt of pain through my temples. I did my best to ignore it, closing my eyes and chanting, rapidly, “Pussy-cat, pussy-cat, where have you been? I’ve been to London, to visit the Queen. Pussy-cat, pussy-cat, what did you there—
The spell burst without my telling it to, leaving me sticky with marsh water and mint. My head hurt worse than ever. “I frightened a little mouse under her chair,” I said, half-gasping, and dropped the bottle, reaching up with one shaking hand to feel the curvature of my ear. Round. Whether it was a good idea or not, the spell was cast. Now I just needed to get to Tybalt and find out what the hell was going on.
I was faintly dizzy from pain, which didn’t make it any easier to get out of the car. I staggered the few feet between my bumper and the back of the snack bar, barely catching myself against the wall before I was enthusiastically and messily sick. So much for actually eating something.
“Dammit,” I mumbled, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. That didn’t do anything about the taste. Well, I knew how to deal with that.
I was waiting for my coffee at the snack bar’s pick-up window when the familiar scent of pennyroyal rose behind me, which could only mean one thing: Tybalt in a recently-crafted human disguise.
“I was on my way to meet you,” I said.
“Did I sound overly relaxed on the phone, or did you simply choose to ignore the fact that I was requesting your help?” His voice was tight with anger, making him sound cold and distant. It took a moment to realize why that was so familiar.
That’s how he used to talk to me all the time.
When given a choice between confusion and irritation, I’ll almost always go with irritation. It’s easier to deal with. “Neither,” I said, stepping up to claim my coffee from the teenage attendant. He gave me an uneasy look. My strained smile didn’t make him look any calmer.
“So what possible motive can I assign to this little detour?” asked Tybalt.
“How about ‘Toby was just vilely ill, and didn’t want to have puke-breath when she showed up at your place’?” I asked, turning to face him. “Call it a matter of etiquette, and let it go, okay?”
Tybalt glared at me, arms folded over his chest. His human disguise was a good one, smoothing away the black streaks in his hair and adding an overlay of hazel to his overly-green eyes. It wouldn’t have fooled me for a second. He could look like a man, but he’d always move like a cat.
“Your opinions of proper behavior are always fascinating,” he said finally, shaking his head. “It’s no matter. Come along.”
“What?”
“You’re not that dense. Now come.” He turned and stalked away, forcing me to scramble after him. I don’t usually have trouble keeping up with Tybalt, but I had to pace him at a jog, making it impossible to drink my coffee.
We crossed the parking lot to the botanical gardens. Tybalt stopped at the hawthorn bushes. I did the same, taking the opportunity to down half my coffee, and didn’t see him reaching for me until he grabbed my arm. “Hey, what are you—” I managed. Then the world went black and freezing cold.
I swore inwardly, fighting to keep from breathing. Maybe Cait Sidhe are comfortable on the Shadow Roads, but I’m not, and I don’t appreciate being pulled onto them without my consent. We fell through darkness for some unmeasured time—long enough for me to realize this wasn’t the road I’d walked with him before, this was something new—before we tumbled into the light.
Tybalt caught me before I hit the ground. My coffee wasn’t so lucky; it fell from my hand, landing with a “thud” that meant the contents were no longer liquid. “Are you all right?” Tybalt asked.
I staggered away from him, glaring. “Why did you do that?”
“I needed to get you to my Court.”
“There wasn’t an easier way? Like a door?”
“Not to get you this deep.” He sounded more like the Tybalt I’d grown used to now that we were in his Court. I wasn’t sure how reassuring that really was. “I’m sorry, but the other roads would all have taken too long.”
“This deep?” I echoed. Abandoning my glare, I looked slowly around.
The hall was wider than it was tall; I could have reached up and touched the ceiling. Tattered lengths of silk and velvet hung from the walls. Muddy foot- and paw-prints marred the gray marble floor. This wasn’t the Court of Cats I knew. This was something else. “Tybalt?” I glanced back to him. “Where are we?”
“When Faerie was divided, Oberon gave the lost places of the world to the Cait Sidhe,” Tybalt said, falling into the strange half-cadence almost all purebloods use for reciting history. It couldn’t overcome the weariness increasingly coloring his voice. “The hidden halls and shadowed corners are ours. We hold Court in alleys and groves, plain to all eyes, but we live in the places that have been forgotten.”
My gut clenched as I realized what he was saying. “This isn’t the Court of Cats. This is your Kingdom.”
I shivered, and pushed the thought away.
The parking lot nearest the Tea Gardens was packed with tourists, some of whom had managed to take up two or more spaces with their outsized SUVs. I indulged in some good, old-fashioned swearing as I drove around the pavilion to park in the shadows next to the snack bar dumpsters. The smell of cooking oil and decaying vegetation assaulted my nostrils as soon as I stopped the engine. Swell. Just swell.
The pain in my head was bad enough to make me unsure of my ability to cast an illusion without some sort of help. Thankfully, Devin was firm that all his kids would understand how to use hedge magic and “cheap tricks”—just in case.
“You always did know best, you old bastard,” I muttered, digging the bottle of marsh water and crushed mint leaves out of the glove compartment. I always keep one in the car. Just in case.
I squirted water around the inside of my car until I was nearly gagging on the smell of mint. My magic rose with sullen sluggishness, sending a warning bolt of pain through my temples. I did my best to ignore it, closing my eyes and chanting, rapidly, “Pussy-cat, pussy-cat, where have you been? I’ve been to London, to visit the Queen. Pussy-cat, pussy-cat, what did you there—
The spell burst without my telling it to, leaving me sticky with marsh water and mint. My head hurt worse than ever. “I frightened a little mouse under her chair,” I said, half-gasping, and dropped the bottle, reaching up with one shaking hand to feel the curvature of my ear. Round. Whether it was a good idea or not, the spell was cast. Now I just needed to get to Tybalt and find out what the hell was going on.
I was faintly dizzy from pain, which didn’t make it any easier to get out of the car. I staggered the few feet between my bumper and the back of the snack bar, barely catching myself against the wall before I was enthusiastically and messily sick. So much for actually eating something.
“Dammit,” I mumbled, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. That didn’t do anything about the taste. Well, I knew how to deal with that.
I was waiting for my coffee at the snack bar’s pick-up window when the familiar scent of pennyroyal rose behind me, which could only mean one thing: Tybalt in a recently-crafted human disguise.
“I was on my way to meet you,” I said.
“Did I sound overly relaxed on the phone, or did you simply choose to ignore the fact that I was requesting your help?” His voice was tight with anger, making him sound cold and distant. It took a moment to realize why that was so familiar.
That’s how he used to talk to me all the time.
When given a choice between confusion and irritation, I’ll almost always go with irritation. It’s easier to deal with. “Neither,” I said, stepping up to claim my coffee from the teenage attendant. He gave me an uneasy look. My strained smile didn’t make him look any calmer.
“So what possible motive can I assign to this little detour?” asked Tybalt.
“How about ‘Toby was just vilely ill, and didn’t want to have puke-breath when she showed up at your place’?” I asked, turning to face him. “Call it a matter of etiquette, and let it go, okay?”
Tybalt glared at me, arms folded over his chest. His human disguise was a good one, smoothing away the black streaks in his hair and adding an overlay of hazel to his overly-green eyes. It wouldn’t have fooled me for a second. He could look like a man, but he’d always move like a cat.
“Your opinions of proper behavior are always fascinating,” he said finally, shaking his head. “It’s no matter. Come along.”
“What?”
“You’re not that dense. Now come.” He turned and stalked away, forcing me to scramble after him. I don’t usually have trouble keeping up with Tybalt, but I had to pace him at a jog, making it impossible to drink my coffee.
We crossed the parking lot to the botanical gardens. Tybalt stopped at the hawthorn bushes. I did the same, taking the opportunity to down half my coffee, and didn’t see him reaching for me until he grabbed my arm. “Hey, what are you—” I managed. Then the world went black and freezing cold.
I swore inwardly, fighting to keep from breathing. Maybe Cait Sidhe are comfortable on the Shadow Roads, but I’m not, and I don’t appreciate being pulled onto them without my consent. We fell through darkness for some unmeasured time—long enough for me to realize this wasn’t the road I’d walked with him before, this was something new—before we tumbled into the light.
Tybalt caught me before I hit the ground. My coffee wasn’t so lucky; it fell from my hand, landing with a “thud” that meant the contents were no longer liquid. “Are you all right?” Tybalt asked.
I staggered away from him, glaring. “Why did you do that?”
“I needed to get you to my Court.”
“There wasn’t an easier way? Like a door?”
“Not to get you this deep.” He sounded more like the Tybalt I’d grown used to now that we were in his Court. I wasn’t sure how reassuring that really was. “I’m sorry, but the other roads would all have taken too long.”
“This deep?” I echoed. Abandoning my glare, I looked slowly around.
The hall was wider than it was tall; I could have reached up and touched the ceiling. Tattered lengths of silk and velvet hung from the walls. Muddy foot- and paw-prints marred the gray marble floor. This wasn’t the Court of Cats I knew. This was something else. “Tybalt?” I glanced back to him. “Where are we?”
“When Faerie was divided, Oberon gave the lost places of the world to the Cait Sidhe,” Tybalt said, falling into the strange half-cadence almost all purebloods use for reciting history. It couldn’t overcome the weariness increasingly coloring his voice. “The hidden halls and shadowed corners are ours. We hold Court in alleys and groves, plain to all eyes, but we live in the places that have been forgotten.”
My gut clenched as I realized what he was saying. “This isn’t the Court of Cats. This is your Kingdom.”
