One Salt Sea
Page 67
There were other things I could have done. I could have called Bucer and tried to bully him into finding me more information. I could have called Danny and begged him to drive me all over the city, looking for traces of Raysel’s magic. I could have asked Tybalt for the loan of his Court, and sent them searching. There are always other options. But all of them would take time, and time was the one thing I wasn’t sure Gillian had. Maybe if I hadn’t passed out after Tybalt threw me into the shadows . . .
But I had. And I needed to find Rayseline, fast.
I dialed my home number as I walked down the hall, nodding genially to the people I passed. I still didn’t know all their names. That made me feel like a bit of a heel, when I thought about it.
May picked up, asking hopefully, “Toby?”
“How did you know it was me?”
“I’ve been answering the phone like that since Jin called to say that you’d left Shadowed Hills. Where are you? Is Tybalt with you? What happened? Where’s Gillian?”
“I’m at Goldengreen, and I’m pretty sure you’d just freak out more if I told you what happened over the phone, so how about I tell you when you get here?”
May paused. “When I get there? What?”
“I need you to bring the car over.”
“Um.” May managed to pack a truly impressive amount of dubiousness into a single syllable. “Toby? Jazz doesn’t drive, Quentin’s too young to get a license—and I don’t think he’s had driver’s education—and Raj is, well, Raj. How are we supposed to get the car to you?”
“You’re going to get the spare key from the bowl on my dresser, and you’re going to drive.”
“You’re not really Toby, are you? You’re a Doppelganger or something. Toby would never tell me to drive her car to Goldengreen.”
“Desperate times call for desperate measures. Besides, how bad can it be?”
“I hate you,” said May balefully.
“So you’ll come?”
“We’re on our way.” She hung up.
I had to smother a smile. My former Fetch is the worst driver I’ve ever met. She might, with a little effort, be the worst driver in the world. I just hoped Quentin and Raj were smart enough to wear their seat belts.
I dialed again as I walked across the courtyard, heading for the hall that connected it to the knowe’s unused throne room. It was the only room in the knowe that Evening really seemed to be fond of. We’ve left it empty, partially in honor of her, and partially because it creeps the rest of us out. Even the bogeys stay away. I don’t know exactly why . . . but Evening’s fondness for using pixies as lighting fixtures may have had something to do with it.
Getting through the mortal phone system and into the limited fae exchange requires a unique approach to dialing. I hit all the keys in a clockwise spiral, then repeated the pattern in the opposite direction. I hit the “five” three more times for good measure.
“Please hold while your party is reached,” I said, singsong. “You may press the pound sign to return to this menu at any time. To be assassinated by a tribe of warrior grasshoppers, press three.”
The phone beeped twice before beginning to hiss shrilly. That was a good sign. That meant the connection was working. I punched another succession of buttons, this time running through the multiples of nine, until the hissing was replaced with the sound of cement grinders grinding away on the other end. I stopped walking, leaning up against the wall next to the dais that used to hold Evening’s throne.
The cement grinders ground for a few seconds more, then stopped abruptly, replaced by the Luidaeg demanding, “October? Is that you?”
The sound of her voice filled me with a profound sense of relief. I closed my eyes, allowing myself to sag against the wall. “Luidaeg,” I said. “Yeah. It’s me.”
“What’s going on? Did the transformation charm work? Why haven’t you checked in?”
“Yes, it worked, I haven’t checked in because I passed out after Tybalt threw me onto the Shadow Roads to keep me from getting elf-shot, and what’s going on is that Rayseline’s insane. She took my daughter, Luidaeg. She took Gillian.” My voice was verging on a panicked whine. I forced myself to pull it back. “Why would she do that?” I asked, more softly. “Why would she take Gilly?”
“To throw you off-balance,” said the Luidaeg, not missing a beat. “To hurt you.” There was something in her voice I didn’t like. Normally, the Luidaeg is so honest it hurts. She may not give complete answers, but the ones she does give are entirely true. Now . . . I didn’t get the impression that she was lying to me, but I definitely felt like there was something she wasn’t letting herself say.
I took a deep breath. “Luidaeg? What aren’t you saying?”
“Toby . . .” The Luidaeg sighed. “She’s just a quarter-blood. Maybe less, given what your mother did to you when you were a little girl. That’s protected her until now.”
“What are you talking about?”
“There are . . . rituals . . . that need certain types of blood if they’re going to work.”
The last of the light seemed to go out of the world. “What?”
“Rayseline doesn’t have a hope chest. She doesn’t need one, if she has Gillian.”
“Is she . . . Luidaeg, is she . . .”
“I don’t know whether she’s alive or not. I’m sorry.” She sounded genuinely regretful. That didn’t lessen the urge to scream.
Eyes still closed, I counted silently to five before saying, “I have one potential witness to wherever it is Raysel is taking these people. We need to talk . . . immediately.”
“And . . . ?” said the Luidaeg, suspicion creeping into her tone.
“And the person in question is dead. I need to talk to the night-haunts, and I don’t have time to screw around with waiting for midnight, or with complicated ritual circles. Tell me how to get them here fast.”
The Luidaeg sighed. “This isn’t the best idea.”
“I never expected it to be.”
“And there’s no other way?”
“You just told me the crazy girl who stole my daughter may have done it to fuel some big ritual that you can’t tell me anything else about. The Lorden boys are still missing, and the Queen is still planning to go to war. No, there’s no other way. Not now. Now tell me how to call the night-haunts.”
But I had. And I needed to find Rayseline, fast.
I dialed my home number as I walked down the hall, nodding genially to the people I passed. I still didn’t know all their names. That made me feel like a bit of a heel, when I thought about it.
May picked up, asking hopefully, “Toby?”
“How did you know it was me?”
“I’ve been answering the phone like that since Jin called to say that you’d left Shadowed Hills. Where are you? Is Tybalt with you? What happened? Where’s Gillian?”
“I’m at Goldengreen, and I’m pretty sure you’d just freak out more if I told you what happened over the phone, so how about I tell you when you get here?”
May paused. “When I get there? What?”
“I need you to bring the car over.”
“Um.” May managed to pack a truly impressive amount of dubiousness into a single syllable. “Toby? Jazz doesn’t drive, Quentin’s too young to get a license—and I don’t think he’s had driver’s education—and Raj is, well, Raj. How are we supposed to get the car to you?”
“You’re going to get the spare key from the bowl on my dresser, and you’re going to drive.”
“You’re not really Toby, are you? You’re a Doppelganger or something. Toby would never tell me to drive her car to Goldengreen.”
“Desperate times call for desperate measures. Besides, how bad can it be?”
“I hate you,” said May balefully.
“So you’ll come?”
“We’re on our way.” She hung up.
I had to smother a smile. My former Fetch is the worst driver I’ve ever met. She might, with a little effort, be the worst driver in the world. I just hoped Quentin and Raj were smart enough to wear their seat belts.
I dialed again as I walked across the courtyard, heading for the hall that connected it to the knowe’s unused throne room. It was the only room in the knowe that Evening really seemed to be fond of. We’ve left it empty, partially in honor of her, and partially because it creeps the rest of us out. Even the bogeys stay away. I don’t know exactly why . . . but Evening’s fondness for using pixies as lighting fixtures may have had something to do with it.
Getting through the mortal phone system and into the limited fae exchange requires a unique approach to dialing. I hit all the keys in a clockwise spiral, then repeated the pattern in the opposite direction. I hit the “five” three more times for good measure.
“Please hold while your party is reached,” I said, singsong. “You may press the pound sign to return to this menu at any time. To be assassinated by a tribe of warrior grasshoppers, press three.”
The phone beeped twice before beginning to hiss shrilly. That was a good sign. That meant the connection was working. I punched another succession of buttons, this time running through the multiples of nine, until the hissing was replaced with the sound of cement grinders grinding away on the other end. I stopped walking, leaning up against the wall next to the dais that used to hold Evening’s throne.
The cement grinders ground for a few seconds more, then stopped abruptly, replaced by the Luidaeg demanding, “October? Is that you?”
The sound of her voice filled me with a profound sense of relief. I closed my eyes, allowing myself to sag against the wall. “Luidaeg,” I said. “Yeah. It’s me.”
“What’s going on? Did the transformation charm work? Why haven’t you checked in?”
“Yes, it worked, I haven’t checked in because I passed out after Tybalt threw me onto the Shadow Roads to keep me from getting elf-shot, and what’s going on is that Rayseline’s insane. She took my daughter, Luidaeg. She took Gillian.” My voice was verging on a panicked whine. I forced myself to pull it back. “Why would she do that?” I asked, more softly. “Why would she take Gilly?”
“To throw you off-balance,” said the Luidaeg, not missing a beat. “To hurt you.” There was something in her voice I didn’t like. Normally, the Luidaeg is so honest it hurts. She may not give complete answers, but the ones she does give are entirely true. Now . . . I didn’t get the impression that she was lying to me, but I definitely felt like there was something she wasn’t letting herself say.
I took a deep breath. “Luidaeg? What aren’t you saying?”
“Toby . . .” The Luidaeg sighed. “She’s just a quarter-blood. Maybe less, given what your mother did to you when you were a little girl. That’s protected her until now.”
“What are you talking about?”
“There are . . . rituals . . . that need certain types of blood if they’re going to work.”
The last of the light seemed to go out of the world. “What?”
“Rayseline doesn’t have a hope chest. She doesn’t need one, if she has Gillian.”
“Is she . . . Luidaeg, is she . . .”
“I don’t know whether she’s alive or not. I’m sorry.” She sounded genuinely regretful. That didn’t lessen the urge to scream.
Eyes still closed, I counted silently to five before saying, “I have one potential witness to wherever it is Raysel is taking these people. We need to talk . . . immediately.”
“And . . . ?” said the Luidaeg, suspicion creeping into her tone.
“And the person in question is dead. I need to talk to the night-haunts, and I don’t have time to screw around with waiting for midnight, or with complicated ritual circles. Tell me how to get them here fast.”
The Luidaeg sighed. “This isn’t the best idea.”
“I never expected it to be.”
“And there’s no other way?”
“You just told me the crazy girl who stole my daughter may have done it to fuel some big ritual that you can’t tell me anything else about. The Lorden boys are still missing, and the Queen is still planning to go to war. No, there’s no other way. Not now. Now tell me how to call the night-haunts.”
