Chimes at Midnight od-7

by Seanan McGuire

  “Merlins, then. Or Selkies. They’re both almost human, and they’re both powerful enough to do their own research.” Quentin. He didn’t sound frustrated. He sounded angry, and determined—and yes, a little bit scared. If I hadn’t known him for so long, I wouldn’t have been able to hear that part. “Maybe they know something.”

  “The merlins don’t have any answers,” said Mags. “You’re grasping at straws.”

  “Yeah, and the Selkies don’t know anything either,” I said, stepping out of the stacks. Mags and Quentin were sitting across from each other. They still both jumped when they saw me, looking like they’d been caught in the act of doing something wrong. “I just got done talking to the Luidaeg. She’d know if the Selkies had a treatment for goblin fruit, and since she wants me to stay among the living, I sort of figure she would have told me. She didn’t—she didn’t even hint—so I’m guessing there’s nothing.”

  “You’re looking . . . well,” said Mags, clearly unsettled.

  “You mean I’m not totally lost in DTs and screaming for a fix? Yeah, I’m pretty impressed with that, too.” I crossed my arms. Tybalt was a comforting presence behind me. “How’s the research going? Have you two found anything of any use?”

  “No,” said Quentin. “There are some treatments for three-quarter changelings, but they’re all hit-or-miss. There’s nothing that works on half-bloods, much less . . .”

  “Much less whatever the hell I am right now,” I said, finishing his sentence for him. “Okay, we stick with the plan. We kick the current Queen off the damn throne that wasn’t hers in the first place, get Arden confirmed, and get the hope chest out of the royal treasury so I can shift myself back to normal. And we hope that we can do it really fast, before this stuff gets the better of me. Does anybody have any objections?”

  Silence.

  “Does anybody have any better ideas?”

  More silence.

  “Great. Quentin, get your things. Danny’s waiting outside, and we should get over to Goldengreen. Arden doesn’t know it yet, but the timeline on our insurrection has just been moved up by circumstances beyond our control.” I shook my head. “We’re going to fix this.”

  “How?” whispered Mags.

  I shot her a glare. Stalking over to the coffee table, I snatched the flask of fireflies and tucked it back into my jacket pocket where it belonged. She looked mournfully after it. “Does it matter? As long as it gets fixed, I’m willing to call it good.” I turned to go.

  “Wait,” said Mags.

  I stopped, looking back at her, and raised an eyebrow.

  She stood, wings vibrating nervously, and asked, “Did the Luidaeg know anything that might help you find a hope chest? I’m happy to keep researching while you do whatever you feel needs to be done.” She indicated the stacks around her, a wry smile briefly painting her mouth. “It’s not like I’m exactly crawling in company. This is the most excitement I’ve had in decades. I want to help.”

  “The Luidaeg doesn’t know where any of the hope chests are right now, except for the one the Queen has,” I said. It seemed somehow too . . . personal . . . to tell Mags that the Luidaeg was Antigone of Albany. The Firstborn traded their names for titles for a reason, and I would respect that, as long as I could do so without making things even worse. “Since the Queen isn’t going to let me borrow it, we need to get moving. We’re on a deadline here.”

  “I’m ready,” said Quentin, trotting over to stand next to me.

  I had to look up slightly to meet his eyes. I wrinkled my nose. “Who gave you permission to be taller than me?”

  “You kept feeding me,” he said, relief evident in his voice. If I was still making jokes, however bad, there was still a chance that things would be all right.

  My stomach rumbled at the mention of food. I put a hand across it, trying to be subtle, and turned my attention back to Mags. “If you want to help, we’re happy to have you. Keep looking for anything about curing goblin fruit, or at least mitigating its effects for extended periods. And if you happen to find a convenient map to the hope chests of the world, I’d love to see it.”

  “All right,” said Mags. “I’ll call you if I find anything.”

  “Great. We look forward to hearing from you.” There wasn’t anything else to say—I couldn’t thank her—and we had far too much to do. I turned, beckoning for Quentin to walk with me. Tybalt turned as well, pacing us as we walked out of the Library to the bookstore.

  The transition was just this side of painful, like walking through a curtain made of Pop Rocks. I stopped, gasping a little. Tybalt put a hand on my shoulder to steady me, looking alarmed.

  “October?” he asked.

  “Toby?” asked Quentin.

  I bit my lip before I could snap at them. In that moment, I saw my future if I couldn’t fix this. My allies—my best friends, my family, the people I loved more than anything else—would never adjust to me being this breakable. They’d treat me like I was made of glass until we could change the balance of my blood. Maybe they were right to feel that way. Humans without protectors have never had much of a life expectancy in Faerie. It still made me want to scream.

  “Quentin, why don’t you go let Danny know we’re almost ready?” I asked.

  “Okay . . .” said Quentin, frowning as he looked from me to Tybalt and back again. I raised an eyebrow. He went.

  Tybalt removed his hand from my shoulder as the bookstore door swung shut behind my squire. “You’re . . . unhappy,” he said, cautiously.

  “True, but that’s not why I sent Quentin away.” I sighed, raking my hands back through my hair. “Tybalt. I need you to do something for me. It’s something you’re not going to like, and I’m sorry about that. It’s still important.”

  His expression went blank, features smoothing out until, for a moment, he looked like the impassive King of Cats who used to lurk in alleys for the sole purpose of annoying me. “You are going to attempt to send me away,” he said. “What in this world or any other could convince you to try something so foolish?”

  “Tybalt, please.”

  “Did you fail to notice that the last time I allowed myself to separate from you, you wound up in your current condition? Why would I step aside and allow the chance that something even worse might happen? It is too dangerous. No. I refuse.”

  “Tybalt!”

  My voice was impossibly loud in the tight confines of the bookstore. He stopped talking. Even through the gloom, I saw his eyes widen.

  I took a shaky breath. “We can’t do this.”

  “I don’t know what you—”

  “Just . . . just listen to me, okay? Tybalt, I love you. I don’t want to leave you. I don’t want to die on you. But I can’t have you trying so hard to protect me that you won’t even let me tell you what I need. That’s not the relationship we both agreed on. That’s not who you are to me, or who I am to you. We save each other, remember? This isn’t supposed to be one-sided.” I raked my hair back again, harder this time. “I need your help, but you’re so wrapped up in the idea of protecting me that you’re not even letting me explain.”

  Tybalt opened his mouth like he was going to protest. Then he stopped, going still for several seconds before he sagged, seeming to grow smaller before my eyes. “You say you can’t have me protecting you. I understand that, I do. But I can’t stand by and let you risk your life. It is already taking everything I have not to carry you to your mother’s tower and lock you inside until we can fix this.”

  “See, the fact that you admit to wanting to do that, but didn’t actually try it? That’s why we’re here, having this conversation. I love you, Tybalt. I don’t want to leave you.”

  “Then what, little fish, would you have me do?” He took a breath before raising his hand to my cheek. “In this matter, I am yours to command.”

  “I need you to go find my mother,” I said, putting my hand over his and holding it against my face. “The Luidaeg offered to try, but I know you did it once
before, when you weren’t sure I was really myself. I know you can. And if we don’t find a hope chest, she may be our only option.”

  “You told the Luidaeg . . .”

  “Yeah, well.” I allowed myself a tight smile. “If Mom tries to turn me all the way human, you’ll have your fingers around her throat before I can start screaming. She’s not stupid. She’d never have lived this long if she were stupid. So please? Will you do this for me?”

  “I am . . . not comfortable with the idea of leaving you alone.”

  Judging by the tightness of his tone, that was the understatement of the year. I loved him even more in that moment. What I was asking him to do was as necessary as it was unfair. The fact that he was even willing to consider it was a testimony to how much he wanted this to work—and how much he wanted to save me.

  But if I gave in, if I played the damsel in distress and let him stay with me, I wouldn’t be me anymore. I couldn’t do that.

  “I know,” I said. “I’m not too happy sending you away. But Danny will be with me. You know, the mountain that walks like a man. And Quentin will be there. And we’re heading for Goldengreen, which means the armies of the Undersea will be there to back me up if anything goes wrong.”

  “And should something happen, I won’t be there to stop it.”

  “I know. But that also means you won’t be fighting to protect me when I don’t want to be protected. We have to find a balance between what I am and what I’m supposed to be, and that means I need you to do this, Tybalt. Please. For me.”

  “For you, and against my better judgment,” he said, and leaned in, and kissed me.

  I didn’t pull away. There are kisses shared in passion, and kisses shared in anger. Some are sweet, and others are bitter. This one was sad, and frightened, and it tasted like tears—his and mine, although I hadn’t seen him shed any. He took his hand away from my face, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me close. I went willingly. There was no telling how many kisses we had left, and it would have been cruel to both of us to try to turn this one aside.

  My human senses meant the taste of pennyroyal and musk was almost completely absent. In a way, that was nice, because it meant I could focus purely on the physical: his chest pressed against mine, his skin hot under my hands, and his heart, beating rapidly enough that I could feel his pulse through my entire body.

  The kiss lasted less than a minute. It felt like it lasted forever, and when he pulled away, I found myself feeling strangely lost. I wanted to kiss him again. I wanted to tell him I had changed my mind; he couldn’t go, not now, not when there was no telling what would happen next. Maybe I would die, and I’d do it without kissing him ever again.

  There is always a last kiss. Sometimes we’re just lucky enough to know when we may have had it.

  “I love you,” I said. This time, I was the one who put my hand against his cheek; this time, he was the one who covered my fingers with his own. “Now, please, go find my mother. Give me another way of getting out of this.”

  “I love you, too, October. There is no other reason I would allow anyone to ask something so cruelly unfair of me.”

  He stepped backward, leaving my hand to hang in the air as he turned and dove into the nearest patch of shadow. I stayed frozen for a few more seconds, blinking back tears. Then I lowered my hand and walked toward the door.

  I had work to do. And I didn’t know how much time I’d have to do it.

  EIGHTEEN

  QUENTIN WAS IN THE BACKSEAT of Danny’s cab when I emerged from the bookstore. I walked around to the front passenger seat and practically threw myself inside, digging the flask of fireflies out of my jacket before my butt even hit the seat. “We’re good,” I said. “We need to get over to Goldengreen. Danny, you know the way?”

  “I do,” he rumbled, watching me uncap the flask. “Where’s kitty-boy? And what are you doin’ with the bugs?”

  “Tybalt is running an errand for me,” I said. I stuck a finger into the flask, asking, “Does one of you want to help me?” A firefly lighted on my fingertip. I pulled it out and placed it against my chest, managing not to shiver as the glowing insect walked onto my collarbone, finally settling against the hollow of my throat. Its tiny legs tickled against my skin.

  My instinct had been right: as soon as the firefly settled, the car seemed to snap into sharper focus. The colors became brighter and the details more distinct, despite the lingering darkness. The rocky planes of Danny’s face stopped looking like an extremely well-made mask. I was seeing Faerie again.

  “And the bugs?”

  “As long as I have one of these on me, I can see things the way I’m supposed to.” I blinked rapidly, trying to keep myself from starting to cry again. I hadn’t realized how much of a relief it would be to see the world properly. “We should still ask Marcia for fae ointment, just so I’ll have a backup, but for right now, everything looks the way it’s supposed to.” I recapped the flask and tucked it back into my jacket before fastening my seatbelt. “Let’s go.”

  “You’re the boss,” said Danny, and hit the gas.

  My stomach rumbled as the car pulled away from the curb. I dug the baggie of blood gems out of my pocket and popped one into my mouth. The rumbling decreased, but didn’t stop. That was . . . not a good sign, definitely, but not terribly surprising. My body wanted goblin fruit. Blood might cut the craving for a little while; that didn’t mean it was going to work forever.

  “What are those?” asked Quentin.

  “Walther made them,” I said. “They’re . . . nutritional supplements, I guess.”

  “Made them out of what?”

  “My flash-frozen blood.” I could move on to the lozenges the Luidaeg had made for me, if I had to, but I didn’t have to be an alchemist to know that once I started taking the strong stuff, I wouldn’t be able to go back. It was better to stick with my own blood for as long as I could, and save the Luidaeg’s for when I really needed it.

  Quentin made a face in the rearview mirror. “That’s gross.”

  “You know, we have got to get you a blood magic teacher after all this is taken care of. You’re Daoine Sidhe. You shouldn’t share my aversion to blood.”

  Danny snorted. “Best blood-worker in Faerie—’cept your ma, and she doesn’t count, since she hasn’t done any blood-work in years—and you still can’t stand the sight of the shit. Doesn’t that strike you as a little ironic?”

  “Please don’t start an argument about what ironic means right now,” I said, replacing the baggie of blood gems in my pocket before sagging into my seat and closing my eyes. “Let’s just get to Goldengreen without any problems.”

  “You’re the boss,” said Danny again, and hit the gas even harder.

  I couldn’t stop myself from cracking open an eye and watching the city falling away in the side-view mirror, waiting for the moment when an enchanted motorcycle or a black horse with flaming hooves would loom up behind us. The Queen knew Danny was one of my allies. He’d defended me to her face once, even though it could have gotten him into serious trouble. It would make sense for her to have had the car followed.

  Danny caught what I was doing and snorted, sounding amused. “Don’t worry about it, Tobes. She ain’t following us.”

  “What?” I sat up, turning to face him. “Why not?”

  “’Cause we’re in a moving car that’s been enchanted seventeen ways from Sunday to keep the iron in the frame from bein’ a problem. Plus my mechanic doesn’t like it when I get tickets, since paying those off sort of cuts into my disposable income, so she’s got a bunch of don’t-look-here and hide-and-seek and nope-not-yours charms in here. Queen might be able to find us when we’re sitting still. Dunno. But when we’re moving, we’re invisible to anybody doesn’t know just what they’re looking for. So relax. It’s cool.”

  “How is Connie, anyway?”

  Danny grinned, a little sheepishly. “She’s good. Real good.”

  “How’s her schedule looking? I may wan
t to ask her about making some of these modifications to my car. It would sure be nice to be able to drive around without worrying about being tracked.”

  “Yeah, that’s a good point. I’ll check and see if she has any big jobs comin’ up.”

  Quentin leaned forward, bracing his hands against the back of the seat. “So, have you asked her out yet?”

  Danny couldn’t really blush—rock isn’t much for showing subtle changes in skin color—but he scowled like a champion. “None of your business, pipsqueak.”

  “You should, you know. She’s smart, she’s funny, she has her own business . . . she could do way better than you. If you don’t jump, she’s going to find somebody who will.”

  “Kid’s right.” I smirked at Danny. “Connie’s pretty much got it going on. What’s the problem?”

  “I may take romantic advice from the kid, but I ain’t listening to you,” Danny said. “You had to nearly die before you’d listen to me and get with the big kitty. Didn’t I tell you ages ago that you should?”

  “Yes, you did, and now we’re telling you to get with Connie. Besides, she’s a Gremlin. For her, fixing your car is about as intimate as it gets. And she didn’t give me a bucket of bonus concealment charms.”

  Danny sank lower in his seat, grumbling. “I don’t like you ganging up on me.” There was a note of relief to his complaint. He liked seeing things trend toward normal as much as I did. Wasn’t that the trick, though? Life was one long series of efforts to reach the golden mean, where everything was the way that it was supposed to be. Where we could tell jokes with our friends and tease them about their love lives, and no one had to die for it to happen.

  I wanted normal back. And that meant seeing this through.

  It was late enough that the parking lot was almost empty when we reached the San Francisco Art Museum. The few cars that remained gleamed faintly, revealing the presence of concealment charms. I glanced fondly down at the firefly that was resting on my collarbone. “You’re awesome, little guy,” I said.