Late Eclipses
Page 54
“Toby—”
“Call the Luidaeg if it gets worse before I can get home.” She wasn’t willing to help before, but she wouldn’t turn down my Fetch, not when it was Spike. She knew how much the rose goblin meant to me.
I could almost hear May swallow her first response before she said, softly, “Get here fast.” The line went dead.
I took my hand off Quentin’s shoulder, practically shoving the phone back at him. “I have to go. Get inside, and see if you can get Connor somewhere private. Tell him there’s something wrong with Spike. If anything changes—anything, no matter how small it seems—call the apartment and get the hell out of the Duchy. Okay?”
“Promise,” said Quentin, eyes wide. He gave me a quick hug before turning to run back up the hill, beginning the series of gymnastics that would let him into the knowe. I didn’t take the time to watch him. I was already racing toward the parking lot.
I was too stressed and worn down to throw any sort of illusions over the car, but I still drove like no one could see me, risking traffic accidents and speeding tickets as I raced across the Bay and back into San Francisco. All told, I probably set some sort of record. I wasn’t really thinking about that. I parked the car and jumped out without taking time to lock the doors, running up the concrete path to the front door.
The wards were unset but unbroken—May hadn’t had any unexpected company. I was fumbling for my keys when the doorknob turned under my hand and May tugged the door open. Her newly-long hair was skinned back into an untidy ponytail, and Spike was cradled against her chest. Its eyes were closed. It didn’t look like it was breathing.
My own breath caught. “Is it—”
“It’s alive,” she said. Taking my wrist, she tugged me inside, kicking the door closed behind me. “The cats woke me up just before I called you. They wanted to be fed.” A brief, all-too-bleak smile crossed her lips. “No matter how bad the world gets, you still have to feed the cats. I filled all three dishes. Spike didn’t come.”
“Oh, sweet Titania.” I scooped the rose goblin from her arms. It never weighed much, but this was like picking up a dried branch; Spike’s narrow body seemed to weigh nothing at all. “When was the last time you saw Spike awake?”
“I don’t know.” The admission seemed to pain her. “It’s the middle of the goddamn day. We’re lucky I was awake enough to notice at all. I fed it when you dropped us off, but then my hair grew and I got distracted . . . ”
Spike had been sleeping on the couch the last few times I’d seen it. That was longer than I liked to consider. “Well, was it okay when you got home from the Ball?”
“It was quiet. It didn’t eat much—” She stopped in mid-sentence, staring at me. I stared back, realizing what she was about to say. It was so obvious, once you considered all the factors. “Toby—”
“Spike was fine before the Ball, but it wasn’t fine afterward,” I said. “It was listless. Tired.”
“Wilting,” she said, in a small voice.
“Oh, oak and ash.” I pulled Spike back against my chest. “I’m an idiot.”
Luna Torquill was Blodynbryd, a Dryad of the roses. The rose goblins are her children, created before she changed her face. Their health was probably somehow connected to hers; Faerie likes that sort of small, vicious irony. As for Luna . . .
Luna was connected to the roses in her fiefdom. The signs were there all along, if I’d just been paying attention . Spike’s listlessness, the way the roses in the knowe died when she got sick—everyone must have assumed that her health was affecting them, but what said the health of the roses couldn’t affect her?
“You’re not an idiot, you didn’t know,” said May. The reassurance rang hollow. I should have stopped to think, not gone haring off after half-leads and possible answers.
My head was throbbing. “It doesn’t matter now. Come on.”
“What?”
“I have to get back to Shadowed Hills, and you’re coming with me.” I shoved Spike into her arms. It chirped softly. “Someone needs to be with Spike.”
“Why can’t I stay here with Spike?” May asked, cradling the rose goblin.
“Because Sylvester should see it, and it might be stronger on home ground.” Spike’s roots ran through Shadowed Hills, just like Luna’s. I wasn’t going to count on anything saving it at this point, but I had to hope.
May sighed. “I should stay with you anyway.” She didn’t need to say why. She was my Fetch. She’d be with me when the end came, whether she wanted to or not.
“You’re right,” I said, touching her shoulder. “You should.” Then I turned away, crossing to the phone as I rummaged through the pocket of my jeans.
“What are you doing?”
“Calling for help.” I balanced the phone between my cheek and shoulder, dialing the number off Walther’s business card with my free hand.
Jack answered. “Professor Davies’ office, Jack Redpath speaking, how can I help you?”
“Jack, hi. This is Toby Daye. Is Walther—I mean, Professor Davies—in?”
“Oh, hi!” He sounded positively gleeful. “He’s in the lab working on that project you gave him. Hang on, I’ll go get him.”
“No problem.” May was staring at me. I put my hand over the receiver, saying, “Walther’s Tylwyth Teg. He’s doing some toxicology work for me.”
“You have weird friends.”
“I know.”
There was a clatter from the phone, and Walther said, “Toby? Are you there?”
“I’m right here, Walther. How are those antitoxins coming?”
“I’ve finished the serum for the Cat’s Court. It needs to mature for about an hour, and then it should be ready. Yours is more complex. I need more time.”
“That’s fine.” I doubted he’d have time to cure me before the end. That didn’t really matter. Rubbing my temple with one hand, I asked, “Did you test the cup?”
“I did.There’s no poison.I found a lot of Phenobarbital—a sedative that probably helped with the whole ‘passing out’ thing—and some salt, but nothing that should have made her seriously ill.”
“Call the Luidaeg if it gets worse before I can get home.” She wasn’t willing to help before, but she wouldn’t turn down my Fetch, not when it was Spike. She knew how much the rose goblin meant to me.
I could almost hear May swallow her first response before she said, softly, “Get here fast.” The line went dead.
I took my hand off Quentin’s shoulder, practically shoving the phone back at him. “I have to go. Get inside, and see if you can get Connor somewhere private. Tell him there’s something wrong with Spike. If anything changes—anything, no matter how small it seems—call the apartment and get the hell out of the Duchy. Okay?”
“Promise,” said Quentin, eyes wide. He gave me a quick hug before turning to run back up the hill, beginning the series of gymnastics that would let him into the knowe. I didn’t take the time to watch him. I was already racing toward the parking lot.
I was too stressed and worn down to throw any sort of illusions over the car, but I still drove like no one could see me, risking traffic accidents and speeding tickets as I raced across the Bay and back into San Francisco. All told, I probably set some sort of record. I wasn’t really thinking about that. I parked the car and jumped out without taking time to lock the doors, running up the concrete path to the front door.
The wards were unset but unbroken—May hadn’t had any unexpected company. I was fumbling for my keys when the doorknob turned under my hand and May tugged the door open. Her newly-long hair was skinned back into an untidy ponytail, and Spike was cradled against her chest. Its eyes were closed. It didn’t look like it was breathing.
My own breath caught. “Is it—”
“It’s alive,” she said. Taking my wrist, she tugged me inside, kicking the door closed behind me. “The cats woke me up just before I called you. They wanted to be fed.” A brief, all-too-bleak smile crossed her lips. “No matter how bad the world gets, you still have to feed the cats. I filled all three dishes. Spike didn’t come.”
“Oh, sweet Titania.” I scooped the rose goblin from her arms. It never weighed much, but this was like picking up a dried branch; Spike’s narrow body seemed to weigh nothing at all. “When was the last time you saw Spike awake?”
“I don’t know.” The admission seemed to pain her. “It’s the middle of the goddamn day. We’re lucky I was awake enough to notice at all. I fed it when you dropped us off, but then my hair grew and I got distracted . . . ”
Spike had been sleeping on the couch the last few times I’d seen it. That was longer than I liked to consider. “Well, was it okay when you got home from the Ball?”
“It was quiet. It didn’t eat much—” She stopped in mid-sentence, staring at me. I stared back, realizing what she was about to say. It was so obvious, once you considered all the factors. “Toby—”
“Spike was fine before the Ball, but it wasn’t fine afterward,” I said. “It was listless. Tired.”
“Wilting,” she said, in a small voice.
“Oh, oak and ash.” I pulled Spike back against my chest. “I’m an idiot.”
Luna Torquill was Blodynbryd, a Dryad of the roses. The rose goblins are her children, created before she changed her face. Their health was probably somehow connected to hers; Faerie likes that sort of small, vicious irony. As for Luna . . .
Luna was connected to the roses in her fiefdom. The signs were there all along, if I’d just been paying attention . Spike’s listlessness, the way the roses in the knowe died when she got sick—everyone must have assumed that her health was affecting them, but what said the health of the roses couldn’t affect her?
“You’re not an idiot, you didn’t know,” said May. The reassurance rang hollow. I should have stopped to think, not gone haring off after half-leads and possible answers.
My head was throbbing. “It doesn’t matter now. Come on.”
“What?”
“I have to get back to Shadowed Hills, and you’re coming with me.” I shoved Spike into her arms. It chirped softly. “Someone needs to be with Spike.”
“Why can’t I stay here with Spike?” May asked, cradling the rose goblin.
“Because Sylvester should see it, and it might be stronger on home ground.” Spike’s roots ran through Shadowed Hills, just like Luna’s. I wasn’t going to count on anything saving it at this point, but I had to hope.
May sighed. “I should stay with you anyway.” She didn’t need to say why. She was my Fetch. She’d be with me when the end came, whether she wanted to or not.
“You’re right,” I said, touching her shoulder. “You should.” Then I turned away, crossing to the phone as I rummaged through the pocket of my jeans.
“What are you doing?”
“Calling for help.” I balanced the phone between my cheek and shoulder, dialing the number off Walther’s business card with my free hand.
Jack answered. “Professor Davies’ office, Jack Redpath speaking, how can I help you?”
“Jack, hi. This is Toby Daye. Is Walther—I mean, Professor Davies—in?”
“Oh, hi!” He sounded positively gleeful. “He’s in the lab working on that project you gave him. Hang on, I’ll go get him.”
“No problem.” May was staring at me. I put my hand over the receiver, saying, “Walther’s Tylwyth Teg. He’s doing some toxicology work for me.”
“You have weird friends.”
“I know.”
There was a clatter from the phone, and Walther said, “Toby? Are you there?”
“I’m right here, Walther. How are those antitoxins coming?”
“I’ve finished the serum for the Cat’s Court. It needs to mature for about an hour, and then it should be ready. Yours is more complex. I need more time.”
“That’s fine.” I doubted he’d have time to cure me before the end. That didn’t really matter. Rubbing my temple with one hand, I asked, “Did you test the cup?”
“I did.There’s no poison.I found a lot of Phenobarbital—a sedative that probably helped with the whole ‘passing out’ thing—and some salt, but nothing that should have made her seriously ill.”
