“But you didn’t tell the officers on the scene that. You allowed them to think you were a friend of the family. Was there any particular reason?”
“The police have a lot on their plates. I didn’t want to risk deprioritizing Chelsea’s disappearance because Bridget was worried enough to bring in outside help.” I didn’t let myself glance away or break eye contact. “I understand how this works.”
“Ms. Daye, you haven’t answered my question. What were you doing in Fremont?”
“She was collecting me from the train station.” I turned to see Tybalt standing in the kitchen doorway, an amiable smile on his suddenly human face. “I don’t drive, and she wanted me home in time for dinner for a change.”
“And you would be…?”
“I’m the boyfriend. Rand Stratford.” Tybalt stepped forward, offering his hand to Officer Thornton, who took it, seemingly on autopilot. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir. We didn’t have time for introductions when I was meeting October at the station last night.”
“Ah.” Comprehension washed away Officer Thornton’s suspicion as he placed Tybalt into a context he could understand. “We appreciate your coming to escort her home. The streets are no place for a lady alone that late at night.”
“I’m probably safer in her company than I am out of it,” said Tybalt as he reclaimed his hand. He pushed the kitchen door a bit farther open, in invitation. “Would you like a cup of coffee? I just started a fresh pot, and the living room is, well…” He wrinkled his nose before saying, conspiratorially, “It’s a bit of a mess. We weren’t expecting company.”
The offer seemed to answer some question Officer Thornton hadn’t been voicing. His frown deepened for a moment before smoothing into neutrality. “Well, I won’t take up any more of your time. You two have a nice evening. And Ms. Daye, while I respect that your profession makes your involvement with Ms. Ames an understandable thing, I have to ask that you not interfere with the police. We’re going to bring this girl home.”
“I wouldn’t dream of interfering,” I said, with as much sincerity as I could muster. “Thank you for dropping by, Officer.”
“It’s my pleasure, Ms. Daye,” said Officer Thornton. Then he turned, letting himself out. The front door closed behind him with a click, and for a moment, everything was silence.
That silence held for several seconds, until I heard the distant sound of a car door slamming shut. I opened my mouth, and Tybalt motioned for me to be quiet. I stopped, blinking at him. A few more seconds slipped by, and he dropped his hand.
“I was waiting for the sound of his actually driving away,” he said, half-apologetically. “There was always the chance he would have slammed the car door before attempting to return to the porch and listen to our conversation.”
“I get that,” I said wearily. “I have two questions before I decide what happens next.”
“Ask away.” Tybalt tilted his head to the side, regarding me calmly with his bizarrely human eyes. The Tybalt I know has eyes the color of malachite, with all the deep, banded shades of green the comparison implies. This Tybalt’s eyes were simply green. I would have found them attractive on a human man. On him, they were just wrong.
“Is there really coffee?”
“I assure you, October, while I might tease about many things, I value my life too much to hang my jests on coffee when you are involved.”
“You know, a simple ‘yes’ would have sufficed.”
Even the human disguise couldn’t dull his feline grin. “Yes. There’s coffee.”
“Okay. And the second question…Rand?”
Tybalt’s grin dulled, but didn’t die. “It was my name, once. It seemed less likely to inspire human curiosity than ‘Tybalt.’”
“This is San Francisco. I wouldn’t be so sure.” I stepped past him, through the open kitchen door. The kitchen itself smelled like fresh coffee and, more faintly, the mingled scents of pennyroyal and musk. The remains of the spell Tybalt had used to cloak himself. “I didn’t expect the save. You have good timing.”
“I was listening from the moment you left.” He stepped through the door behind me, releasing his human disguise at the same time. The smell of pennyroyal and musk intensified, and my shoulders unknotted a little. Seeing Tybalt as a human was just bizarre. “Had things gone badly…”
“Then they would have gotten really bad, because you can’t knock over a police officer and snatch me away to the Court of Cats. Not with Bridget involved.” I walked over to the coffee maker, grabbing a Thermos from the counter on the way. I was going to need more coffee than I could reasonably stand here and drink. “One way or another, the mortal authorities are going to stay on this one.”
Tybalt sighed. “You say the most charming things.”
“I’m a realist.”
“Of all the labels I would think to hang on you, that has never come anywhere near the top of my list.” Tybalt picked up a plastic bag from the kitchen table, holding it up for me to see. Ham sandwiches. “I have food.”
My stomach rumbled, reminding me of the calories I hadn’t consumed before the police showed up. “Gimme,” I said. Tybalt raised an eyebrow. “Please,” I amended.
He handed me the bag.
I was midway through the first sandwich, barely tasting the ham, cheese, and odd mixture of condiments—who uses steak sauce and strawberry jam on a sandwich?—in my haste to get something into my stomach before Tybalt spoke again.
“If you can focus, would you release your illusions?” he asked. “I’d rather avoid the masks when possible.”
I swallowed the bite I’d been chewing and waved my hand through the air, snapping the thin web of magic that held my human disguise in place. It wisped away into the smell of cut grass and copper, leaving us both exposed as we really were, bloodstains and all. I kept eating, too anxious for food to stop and ask him why he’d wanted me to do that.
Besides, if he felt anything like I’d felt when I saw him in a human mask, I already knew why he’d wanted me to do that. I still wasn’t sure what I thought about this new development—half of me wanted to jump up and down and punch the air, while the other half counseled caution, reminding me of dead loves and the dangers of the world I lived in. There would be time to think about that later. I hoped.
The second sandwich was gone before my stomach stopped growling. I straightened, and realized that the spinning had finally stopped: my body was done ordering me to keep still. “Are you ready to move?” I asked.
“I am.” Tybalt looked at me gravely. “October, before…”
“I kissed you,” I said, cutting him off. “I figured it was my turn, you know? And I know there’s a conversation that we need to have, but we need to have it at a time that isn’t now. After Chelsea’s back. After Samson isn’t trying to kill you—and me—anymore. Okay?”
Tybalt stepped toward me and planted a kiss on my forehead. “I’ve waited long enough to have you realize I was waiting. I can wait a short time more.”
“Good.” I stepped back, filling my Thermos with coffee before capping it firmly and offering him my hand. “Can we get back to Tamed Lightning?”
“You only ever needed to ask,” he said, and he took my hand in his and pulled me into the shadows. There was time for me to take a deep breath before the darkness closed around us, but barely; he’d had time to recover, too, and the Shadow Roads were responding quickly to his call.
Tybalt swung me up into his arms as soon as we were in the shadows. I didn’t resist. There are times to insist on carrying your own weight and times to let yourself be carried. Running the Shadow Roads from San Francisco to Fremont was definitely the latter. I closed my eyes, letting my lashes ice together rather than trying to fight it, and relaxed into his embrace.
Tybalt ran like he’d never been injured, never been tired, never been anything but what he was: a King of Cats at the height of his powers, running down the length of his domain.
We emerged into the brightly lit c
afeteria at ALH Computing, where Raj, Quentin, Li Qin, and Elliot were seated around one of the white plastic tables. All four of them looked up at the sound of Tybalt’s footsteps and watched as he put me down carefully.
It was Elliot who spoke first: “Why is it that every time you come to visit, I come to work and find the cafeteria positively swimming with blood?”
“I just want to help. I mean, I figure they’re not working you hard enough.” I paused to wipe the ice from my eyelashes and eyebrows before asking, as innocently as I could manage, “Don’t you appreciate the challenge?”
“Not really,” said Elliot…but he was grinning, displaying a white crescent of sharply pointed teeth.
The mess in the cafeteria was gone as though it had never existed. That wasn’t surprising. In addition to being April’s Seneschal, Elliot was a Bannick, a type of Russian fae, and couldn’t abide messes. He’d probably cleaned the whole place within five minutes of coming in. “Well, if you’re that opposed to challenges, I guess I won’t ask you about these bullet holes…”
Elliot laughed. “Take a deep breath and close your eyes.”
“Yes, sir.” I did as I was told, almost laughing when I heard Tybalt step away. Then a hot wave of lye-scented water seemed to burst around me: Elliot’s hearth craft at work. When it receded, my hair was clean and dry, and a quick feel of my jacket confirmed that the bullet holes were gone. I opened my eyes and smiled. “You’re awesome.”
“I try.”
I looked around. “Where’s Etienne? And where’s Jin?”
“Jin has gone for a nap in one of the break rooms, since healing is tiring, and Etienne is with April,” said Li Qin. “They’re going over her list of security incursions over the last twenty-four hours. I think the idea is that if Chelsea has been crossing our lands, April might not have known what was causing the blips, but Etienne would be able to identify them as traces of Tuatha magic.”
“It’s worth a try,” I said, and turned back to Elliot. “Did they bring you up to speed?”
“Missing half-Tuatha changeling with the potential to destroy Faerie by mistake, possible involvement on the part of Duchess Riordan—because her becoming involved with things is excellent for my blood pressure—and an angry mortal folklore professor who wants her daughter back,” said Elliot. “Oh, and you went to Annwn and nearly died.”
“In that order, even,” I said, with a nod. Raj was watching me with anxious eyes, like he knew that whatever I said next, it wasn’t going to make him happy. I took a breath. “We need to get moving. Chelsea’s just going to keep doing more damage the longer we let her run around loose. But there are a few more things you need to know…”
Tybalt didn’t say anything as I filled the room in on what had happened since we left, but he did move to stand behind Raj, putting his hand on the younger Cait Sidhe’s shoulder in a silent show of solidarity that said more than any words. Samson’s crimes were not the crimes of his son. Raj would not be punished for what his father did. That, more than anything else, told me that I was right to be harboring the thoughts about Tybalt that were starting to gather more and more heavily at the back of my mind.
The room was silent when I finished, except for the low buzz of the fluorescent lights and the thrumming of the motors in the vending machines. Then came the question from behind me, asked in an innocently quizzical tone: “Why do we not remove the mortals from the equation? If they were pulled into the Summerlands, they would no longer present any difficulties.”
“Because, April, people tend to ask questions when policemen disappear, and even if I’m not all that thrilled about having Officer Thornton tailing me, I’m not going to banish him to another world for doing his job.” I paused, reaching for a word that she would understand, before turning to her and adding, “It would be rude.”
“Ah.” April nodded, accepting this as a valid reason not to kidnap a police officer. Sometimes I think it must be refreshing to be quite that removed from the rest of the world. “Etienne and I have finished reviewing my security reports. It was an enlightening process. We found seven distinct traces that may indicate Chelsea’s passage through my lands. I have adjusted my security systems accordingly, and will know immediately if she returns.”
“Good.” I paused, frowning. “April…where’s Etienne?”
She blinked at me. “He has departed for Dreamer’s Glass. All seven traces indicate a trajectory that would terminate with Chelsea inside the demesne of Duchess Treasa Riordan.”
“Oberon preserve us from fools and heroes,” I muttered. Louder, I asked, “Did he stop to think that maybe he should take some backup with him?”
“He said that he was sure you would be amenable to this course of action.” April paused, eyes widening, before she said indignantly, “I believe he may have lied to me!”
“It happens to the best of us.” I turned to the others. They were watching me like spectators at a tennis match. “We need to get to Dreamer’s Glass.”
“I’m going with you,” said Quentin, and “I’m staying here,” said Li Qin, at the same time. The two paused, turning to blink at each other.
Then Li Qin laughed. “I’m staying here,” she repeated. “I stand the best chance of bailing you out if Riordan catches you in her lands without an invitation, and it’s easier for me to bend your luck if I’m not standing in the middle of a battlefield while I’m trying to do it. I can’t keep anything truly bad away, but I may be able to at least skew the odds slightly in your favor.”
“We’d appreciate that,” I said. I paused, a thought occurring to me. “You’re being awfully nice.”
“I am,” she agreed. “I want something. I’m more likely to get it if you survive.”
“What is it that you want?”
She smiled. “That would be telling.” Before I could get mad, she added, “I’ll explain everything when this is done, and I swear, I expect nothing. I simply want you to be well-inclined toward us when the time comes for me to ask the things that need asking.”
I blinked, glancing toward the others to see if their expressions would give me any idea. Elliot ducked his head and looked away, refusing to meet my eyes. Quentin and Raj looked as confused as I felt. That was reassuring. At least I wasn’t the only one who’d managed to miss the memo. “Fine,” I said, finally. “But you’d better be ready to tell me what’s going on when we’re no longer in mortal peril.”
Elliot laughed. “So in about ten years, then?”
“Something like that.” Now for the harder one. I turned to Raj. “You’re staying.”
His eyes went wide and wounded. “What? You can’t mean that.”
“I can, and I do. Your father tried to kill me earlier today. I don’t want to put you in the line of fire if he comes after me again.” I hesitated before adding, “What he did isn’t your fault, and I’m not rejecting you. I just want you to be safe.”
“I’m a Prince of Cats!”
“And as my only heir, I need you to remain here,” said Tybalt. Raj transferred his wounded look to his uncle. Tybalt smiled. “Glare all you like, kitten. You’ll still stay behind.”
“You can’t tell me what to do forever,” said Raj.
“Yes,” agreed Tybalt. “I’m counting on that.”
There was a subtext I wasn’t getting in their conversation. Cait Sidhe successions are generally fatal. I couldn’t imagine Tybalt was looking forward to that. I decided it wasn’t important for the moment, and straightened, saying, “We need to go. Quentin, come on.”
“Okay,” he said, and rose, coming to stand beside me. “What’s the plan?”
“We go in, we find Etienne, we find Chelsea if we can, and we do our best to get out without starting a diplomatic incident too big to stop.” I turned to Tybalt. “You can handle us both?”
“So nice of you to ask me, but yes. I can handle your transport, and that of your stripling, at the same time. More than that may become a strain if it has to be maintained for terribly lo
ng, but…” Tybalt shrugged. “That is a bridge to be crossed when we come to it, I suppose.”
“Good.” I offered him my hand, gesturing for Quentin to do the same. “If Chelsea comes back here, try to stop her from leaving, and call me.”
“Someone will contact you,” said April.
“Good. Then let’s—” I stopped myself mid-sentence as a thought struck me. Dropping Tybalt’s hand, I said, briskly, “Come on,” and started at a fast walk toward the cafeteria door.
“She still does that?” asked Elliot.
Tybalt just laughed as he and Quentin followed me out into the hall. I kept walking, heading for the car as quickly as I reasonably could. When I got there, I dug the keys out of my pocket, barely pausing to check the backseat for intruders—long story—before unlocking the passenger side door and grabbing Walther’s cooler from the foot well.
“Oh!” said Quentin, sudden comprehension in his tone. “She’s getting the power dampener Walther brewed for us.”
“Thank you, Captain Exposition,” I said. The leather of my jacket was thick enough to keep the stuff from getting on me even if the glass broke. I paused before digging around in the glove compartment. I didn’t know what the Luidaeg kept there, but…“Well, I’ll be damned,” I said. “She has Baggies.” I wasn’t sure which was weirder, that the Luidaeg had them, or that I’d thought to check. Either way, they were getting put to use. I put a dose of dampener in one and a dose of counteragent in another, before tucking them into my jacket pockets. Then I paused, looking at my thermos, and sighed. “If Etienne ever doubts my devotion to doing the right thing, I will kill him,” I said.
“What?” asked Quentin.
“Nothing.” I uncapped the thermos, pouring half its contents down my throat and the other half out on the concrete. The smell of spilled coffee filled the air as I slammed the edge of the thermos against the top of the car, knocking it again and again until the interior seal came loose and I was able to yank the entire center piece free. I threw it into the car, grabbed another dose each of dampener and counteragent, and slid them carefully into the place where the center piece had been. As I’d expected, they fit perfectly.
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