Late Eclipses
Page 41
“What’s left of the meat is in the alley. The children collapsed halfway through the meal; Gabriel and Louis called me before they succumbed.”
“Good.” I paused. “Where’s Julie? She should’ve attacked me by now.”
“Julie?” Tybalt sighed. “She’s not nobility, Toby. She eats with the Court.”
“Oh, Maeve.” I closed my eyes. “Dammit, Julie.”
“Come on.” Tybalt put his hand on my shoulder. When I opened my eyes, he nodded toward the door. “I’ll get you out of here. Raj will bring you the meat.”
“What about the baby?” I asked. The kitten was still cradled against his chest.
“I’ll leave him for the night-haunts.” He started walking. “He was one of us. Even if it was only for a little while.”
I trailed behind him, breathing shallowly as I tried to get the taste of death out of my mouth. Tybalt didn’t speak, and so neither did I; we walked through the patchwork halls in silence, both trying not to look at the kitten lying limply in his hand. There were tears on his cheeks. I tried not to look at them, either.
And then he took my hand, and we stepped into the shadows, leaving the Kingdom of the Cats behind us.
SEVENTEEN
ISAT ON A BENCH NEAR THE LAKE, drinking a fresh cup of coffee as I waited for Raj. The sun glittering off the water made it seem transparent and impossibly blue at the same time. Most of California gets too hot in May, but not San Francisco; the “perfect summers” they talk about in movies really happen here. I wished I’d thought to bring bread for the ducks. It was a stupid, escapist idea, but it was a beautiful day, and my head hurt, and I was so tired of running.
A fat gray goose waddled over, webbed feet slapping the ground, and gave me an inquisitive look. “Sorry, no bread,” I said. It flapped its wings, spraying water in my eyes. It stung. I wiped my face dry, laughing. “I guess I deserved that, huh?”
Something in the bushes rustled. The goose hissed, neck snaking out, before waddling away. I stiffened, forcing myself not to turn around. Humans notice beautiful days, too, and the park was full of tourists. Stabbing one of them wouldn’t help.
“Hello,” I said. “I’m in a pretty rotten mood, so you might want to move along. And I don’t have any spare change.”
“I . . . ” The speaker paused, clearing his throat. “I don’t want any spare change.”
I knew that voice. I turned, flashing a small, tired smile. “Hi, Raj.”
“Hi.” Raj stepped out of the bushes, clutching a package wrapped in white butcher paper against his chest. His human disguise was flickering, barely covering the points of his ears. He hadn’t bothered to hide the circles around his eyes or the tearstains on his cheeks. With half the Court down for the count, Tybalt had to have been working him pretty hard. Just another consequence of being a prince, but one I was glad I didn’t have to bear.
“Is that the meat that got everyone sick?” I asked.
“Yeah.” He held out the package, eyes wide and vacant. I’d seen that look on his face before, when he thought we were going to die in Blind Michael’s lands. “He said to let us know if you need more. There isn’t much, but he won’t get rid of it until you say you don’t need it.”
“Good.” I took the package, putting it down on the bench. “Are you all right?”
He glanced away. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t sound fine.” I studied his face. “Is Tybalt working you too hard? Do you need me to talk to him?”
“It’s my duty as Prince to follow my King’s commands.” He should have sounded proud when he said that. He didn’t. He just sounded numb.
“Hey, if Tybalt’s being a dick, tell your parents you need him to lay off and let you get some sleep. They’ll talk to him.” He froze, and I realized what the missing piece had to be. “Raj, are your parents . . . ”
He stared at me before crumpling to the bench, already sobbing. I put my arms around him, and he clung to them like they were the only anchor he had, crying even harder. I started stroking his hair. I know what it’s like to lose someone; the last thing you need when you’re grieving is some well-meaning moron telling you it’s going to be all right. It’s not going to be all right. It’s never going to be all right again.
Raj cried for a good fifteen minutes before he pulled away, stiffening. I shook my head, leaning over to brush his bangs out of his eyes. “You don’t have to do that,” I said. “I don’t mind.”
“I’m not supposed to cry,” he said, in a dull, wounded voice. “Princes don’t cry.”
“Did Tybalt tell you that?” There was a time when I wouldn’t have asked. I was learning I didn’t understand Tybalt as well as I’d always assumed I did.
He shook his head. “It was my father.”
“Your father?” I echoed, irrationally pleased to hear that it hadn’t been Tybalt.
“He says I’ll never be King if I’m weak enough to cry.”
I frowned. “Crying isn’t weak. It’s good sense. It means you know it’s all right to mourn the dead and let them go.”
“I guess,” he said, looking down. “If you say so. But he said I shouldn’t.”
“I do say so.” I paused. “If your father’s alive—”
“My mother.” He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “Her blood was weak. She was a pureblood, but she wasn’t strong. That’s why I was such a surprise. She couldn’t even be human when she was pregnant with me, because she was so weak.”
“I’ve known some people like that,” I said. “Being a pureblood doesn’t always mean you’ll have strong magic.” Usually, but not always.
“You have to have strong magic to be noble, and she didn’t,” he said, huddling against me again. “She almost always hunted, because she was proud. But she got hit by a car a week ago, and her leg was broken, and so . . . ” He stopped.
“So she ate the tainted meat with the others,” I finished softly.
“Yeah. She fell down, and she wouldn’t open her eyes, and we called Uncle Tybalt, but he . . . he . . . ”
“He couldn’t wake her, either.”
“Good.” I paused. “Where’s Julie? She should’ve attacked me by now.”
“Julie?” Tybalt sighed. “She’s not nobility, Toby. She eats with the Court.”
“Oh, Maeve.” I closed my eyes. “Dammit, Julie.”
“Come on.” Tybalt put his hand on my shoulder. When I opened my eyes, he nodded toward the door. “I’ll get you out of here. Raj will bring you the meat.”
“What about the baby?” I asked. The kitten was still cradled against his chest.
“I’ll leave him for the night-haunts.” He started walking. “He was one of us. Even if it was only for a little while.”
I trailed behind him, breathing shallowly as I tried to get the taste of death out of my mouth. Tybalt didn’t speak, and so neither did I; we walked through the patchwork halls in silence, both trying not to look at the kitten lying limply in his hand. There were tears on his cheeks. I tried not to look at them, either.
And then he took my hand, and we stepped into the shadows, leaving the Kingdom of the Cats behind us.
SEVENTEEN
ISAT ON A BENCH NEAR THE LAKE, drinking a fresh cup of coffee as I waited for Raj. The sun glittering off the water made it seem transparent and impossibly blue at the same time. Most of California gets too hot in May, but not San Francisco; the “perfect summers” they talk about in movies really happen here. I wished I’d thought to bring bread for the ducks. It was a stupid, escapist idea, but it was a beautiful day, and my head hurt, and I was so tired of running.
A fat gray goose waddled over, webbed feet slapping the ground, and gave me an inquisitive look. “Sorry, no bread,” I said. It flapped its wings, spraying water in my eyes. It stung. I wiped my face dry, laughing. “I guess I deserved that, huh?”
Something in the bushes rustled. The goose hissed, neck snaking out, before waddling away. I stiffened, forcing myself not to turn around. Humans notice beautiful days, too, and the park was full of tourists. Stabbing one of them wouldn’t help.
“Hello,” I said. “I’m in a pretty rotten mood, so you might want to move along. And I don’t have any spare change.”
“I . . . ” The speaker paused, clearing his throat. “I don’t want any spare change.”
I knew that voice. I turned, flashing a small, tired smile. “Hi, Raj.”
“Hi.” Raj stepped out of the bushes, clutching a package wrapped in white butcher paper against his chest. His human disguise was flickering, barely covering the points of his ears. He hadn’t bothered to hide the circles around his eyes or the tearstains on his cheeks. With half the Court down for the count, Tybalt had to have been working him pretty hard. Just another consequence of being a prince, but one I was glad I didn’t have to bear.
“Is that the meat that got everyone sick?” I asked.
“Yeah.” He held out the package, eyes wide and vacant. I’d seen that look on his face before, when he thought we were going to die in Blind Michael’s lands. “He said to let us know if you need more. There isn’t much, but he won’t get rid of it until you say you don’t need it.”
“Good.” I took the package, putting it down on the bench. “Are you all right?”
He glanced away. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t sound fine.” I studied his face. “Is Tybalt working you too hard? Do you need me to talk to him?”
“It’s my duty as Prince to follow my King’s commands.” He should have sounded proud when he said that. He didn’t. He just sounded numb.
“Hey, if Tybalt’s being a dick, tell your parents you need him to lay off and let you get some sleep. They’ll talk to him.” He froze, and I realized what the missing piece had to be. “Raj, are your parents . . . ”
He stared at me before crumpling to the bench, already sobbing. I put my arms around him, and he clung to them like they were the only anchor he had, crying even harder. I started stroking his hair. I know what it’s like to lose someone; the last thing you need when you’re grieving is some well-meaning moron telling you it’s going to be all right. It’s not going to be all right. It’s never going to be all right again.
Raj cried for a good fifteen minutes before he pulled away, stiffening. I shook my head, leaning over to brush his bangs out of his eyes. “You don’t have to do that,” I said. “I don’t mind.”
“I’m not supposed to cry,” he said, in a dull, wounded voice. “Princes don’t cry.”
“Did Tybalt tell you that?” There was a time when I wouldn’t have asked. I was learning I didn’t understand Tybalt as well as I’d always assumed I did.
He shook his head. “It was my father.”
“Your father?” I echoed, irrationally pleased to hear that it hadn’t been Tybalt.
“He says I’ll never be King if I’m weak enough to cry.”
I frowned. “Crying isn’t weak. It’s good sense. It means you know it’s all right to mourn the dead and let them go.”
“I guess,” he said, looking down. “If you say so. But he said I shouldn’t.”
“I do say so.” I paused. “If your father’s alive—”
“My mother.” He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “Her blood was weak. She was a pureblood, but she wasn’t strong. That’s why I was such a surprise. She couldn’t even be human when she was pregnant with me, because she was so weak.”
“I’ve known some people like that,” I said. “Being a pureblood doesn’t always mean you’ll have strong magic.” Usually, but not always.
“You have to have strong magic to be noble, and she didn’t,” he said, huddling against me again. “She almost always hunted, because she was proud. But she got hit by a car a week ago, and her leg was broken, and so . . . ” He stopped.
“So she ate the tainted meat with the others,” I finished softly.
“Yeah. She fell down, and she wouldn’t open her eyes, and we called Uncle Tybalt, but he . . . he . . . ”
“He couldn’t wake her, either.”
