“What’s that?” I asked warily. Call me crazy, but I’m not big on granting my personal incarnation of death little favors, no matter how much I like her attitude.
“Tell me before you run off to get yourself killed, okay? It would really help me do my job.” She looked at me pleadingly.
How was I supposed to answer that? I struggled for a moment before settling for sarcasm. “Far be it from me to hinder your efforts to carry me off into the great beyond.”
“Great!” she said, grinning again. She was apparently invulnerable to sarcasm. Her smile faded as she realized that the Luidaeg was still blocking her way. “Um, can I come in?”
“Luidaeg?” The sea witch was looking between us, eyes narrowing. I could almost see her losing her temper. “Can she come in?”
“Sure,” she said, tone tight as she stepped aside. “I’m always glad to invite death into my home.”
“I’m not death,” said May, stepping into the hall. “I’m just part of the auxiliary plan.”
She obviously didn’t get my survival instincts when she inherited my memories. I would never have brushed the Luidaeg off like that, at least not if I wanted to keep my head attached to the rest of my body. “May—” I began.
“Oh, don’t worry,” she said. “She can’t hurt me.”
“She’s right,” snarled the Luidaeg. The look in her eyes was more than angry—it was furious, and I suddenly wondered whether she’d be the one who killed me. “You’re her target. I can’t hurt her unless I do it by hurting you.”
I frowned, trying to conceal my worry. “So what, she can get away with anything?”
“Just until you die,” said May, in a tone that was probably meant to be reassuring.
Rolling my eyes, I turned and walked back to the kitchen. May waved to the Luidaeg one more time and followed, staying close at my heels.
I should have thought about what would happen when I walked into the kitchen with my adult double, but I was tired and scared and worn down, and I didn’t even consider it. Most of the kids stayed where they were, huddled together and more than half-asleep. They’d never seen what I really looked like, and my former adulthood was just a story to them.
I have to give Quentin credit—his hands tightened on the back of Katie’s chair, but he didn’t move. He just waited for my signal, ready to attack or run on my command. The kid was learning. Jessica was less discreet. She looked up and screamed, shielding her head with her arms as she tried to hide behind Andrew. Katie jerked, the spell that was keeping her calm visibly weakening. The other children were awake and scrambling to their feet in an instant, eyes wide with panic. I ran across the room to Jessica, pulling her arms away from her head and making shushing noises. There’d been too much screaming already.
Andrew frowned at his sister and looked solemnly from me to May, taking his thumb out of his mouth. Jessica kept screaming, screwing her eyes shut until I slapped my hand over her mouth in exasperation. That got her attention. Her eyes snapped open, staring at me.
“Jessie, you need to calm down, please,” I said. “It’s okay. She’s not here to hurt us.” The screaming stopped, but her breathing didn’t slow. I took my hand away from her mouth and wrapped my arms around her.
Andrew studied me, then looked to May. “You’re not my auntie,” he said gravely.
May nodded. “You’re right.”
“She is,” he said, and pointed to me.
“Right again.”
“Okay.” He put his thumb back into his mouth. The discussion was finished: as long as May knew she wasn’t his aunt, he didn’t care whose face she wore. Sometimes I envy kids for the way they dismiss the things that don’t matter. They still get bogged down in details, but at least they’re different details.
Keeping my voice low, I said, “Jessica, this is my cousin May. She’s here to give us a ride home.” I don’t normally lie to kids, but somehow, I didn’t think telling them their rescuer was doomed to die soon was exactly going to help. “You want to go home, don’t you?” Jessica sniffled and nodded, clutching me more tightly. “That’s my good girl.”
The Luidaeg was leaning in the kitchen doorframe, arms crossed over her breasts. She was clearly doing a slow burn, almost radiating anger.
Letting go of Jessica, I straightened, saying, “Luidaeg?”
“Yes?”
“I need to get the kids home. But my car …”
“You want me to cast an expansion spell on that junk heap you insist on pretending is a car? Blood and thorn, Toby, when you decide to go into debt, you don’t screw around.” She snapped her fingers. “It’s done, and yes, it comes with a don’t-look-here to keep your idiotic ass out of sight. Now get the hell out.”
“Luidaeg …” I wanted to thank her, but it wasn’t allowed. Why aren’t things ever simple?
She smiled bitterly. “Just get out. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”
“I’ll get everyone out of here,” said May with sudden, aggressive cheerfulness. Maybe she was smarter than I thought. She started gathering children out of the corners, herding them toward the door.
“Raj, Quentin, get Katie and Helen and go with May,” I said, keeping my eyes on the Luidaeg. They didn’t argue. Raj slid back to human form, and the kitchen was filled with scuffling, hisses, and whines for several minutes as they led the assembled children and cat-form Cait Sidhe into the hall. Spike got a running start, leaping first to the counter and then into my arms. I clutched it, glad for the contact. Spike hadn’t changed. I needed that.
When the kitchen was empty I said, “Luidaeg, what’s wrong?”
“Wrong?” The color bled out of her eyes as she looked at me, leaving them white and angry. The lines of her face had sharpened, becoming alien. She was losing her grip on her human shape, and that was a little scary. What had I said that upset her that much? “Why would you think anything was wrong, October Daye, daughter of Amandine? I swore I’d see you dead. It just looks like I was right.”
Oh, oak and ash, I hadn’t warned her about May. “Luidaeg, I—”
“Is that why you were willing to come to me? Because you already expected to die?” Her voice was rising. “I never took you for a coward. Now get out of my house.”
“Luidaeg—”
“Get out!” Her hands were curling into claws. I’m not stupid. I didn’t want to leave while the Luidaeg was mad at me—dangerous though she can be, I consider her a friend—but I also didn’t want her to kill me for pushing my luck. Keeping Spike clutched against my chest, I turned and ran into the hall, then out the door.
The sunlight was an almost physical shock. I stumbled, and the doorknob hit me in the side as the door slammed behind me. Spike jumped out of my arms, running to where it wouldn’t be hit if I fell. Then an arm slid under mine and Raj was there, holding me up.
“Clumsy half-blood,” he said, scornfully.
I smiled, hoping it would hide my panic. “Just pissing off the Luidaeg. No big.”
“Clumsy and stupid,” he said, with a note of respect in his voice. He let go of me, walking over to my car. May was leaning against the hood, and the children were inside. All the children. When the Luidaeg bends space, she doesn’t screw around.
You can fit four people in a VW bug if they’re friendly; you can manage five if you don’t need oxygen inside the car and six if no one cares about having feeling in their limbs. That’s it, period, you’ve reached the limit. I never got an exact count of the children I’d rescued from Blind Michael, but there were more than twenty, and all of them, except for Raj and Quentin, were in the backseat. I knew my car wasn’t big enough. My eyes were telling me it was.
Never argue with reality when it’s working for you. I walked over to open the passenger side door, saying, “Okay, everybody in.”
Quentin and Raj climbed into the back, Quentin pausing to squeeze my shoulder. I settled in the front, barely flinching as Spike jumped onto my lap with all claws extended. “Is everybody okay back ther
e?”
There was a mumbled chorus of assent. May walked around and sat in the driver’s seat, fastening her seat belt. “Everyone buckled up?” The chorus mumbled again. “Good!”
I gave her a sidelong look as I fastened my own belt. “Worried about safety?”
“Yup. No one’s immortal.” She winked. I suppressed a shudder. “Where to?”
“Shadowed Hills.”
“Whatever you say, Boss!” She slammed the clutch back, and we were suddenly hurtling down the street at a speed fast enough to make me grab the dashboard and gape at her. Not being able to see through the windshield didn’t help. I’d forgotten how scary it is to be a kid in a car. You don’t know where you’re going, you don’t know how you’re getting there, and you don’t know whether you’re going to survive the trip.
May’s driving wasn’t helping. She didn’t turn the wheel; she attacked it, like she was wrestling snakes instead of steering the car. Some of the kids roused themselves enough to treat it like a roller coaster ride, cheering as we careened around corners and through stop signs. I just closed my eyes and waited for the inevitable crash.
Shadowed Hills is normally more than a thirty-minute drive from the Luidaeg’s place. I didn’t open my eyes until I felt the car bump to a surprisingly gentle stop, and even then I only looked up cautiously, half expecting to find us dangling over a ravine or something. Instead, we were parked in the Paso Nogal parking lot, well clear of any other cars.
May grinned, looking pleased with herself. “As requested, Shadowed Hills.”
“Peachy,” I said dryly, climbing out of the car and pulling the seat forward to let the others out. Quentin and Katie came first, the young Daoine Sidhe guiding his half-crippled girlfriend with almost painful care. She stumbled as she walked; her knees were trying to bend the wrong way. The changes were still accelerating. That scared me. That scared me a lot.
I stepped over and slid my arm under Katie’s, helping to hold her up. “Watch the kids,” I said to May, more sharply than I meant to. It wasn’t fair to blame her. That’s never stopped me before. “I’m going to help Quentin get Katie inside.”
“You don’t need to,” Quentin said. He sounded exhausted. Worse, he sounded broken. I wasn’t willing to accept that. No more losses, damn it. I wasn’t giving anyone else up.
“I want to,” I said. Katie leaned on my arm, still oblivious to her surroundings. Quentin finally nodded, and we started up the hill, guiding her along. Spike followed us, stalking along at my feet as we walked slowly into the trees.
EIGHTEEN
THE DOOR IN THE OAK SWUNG OPEN under my hand. We stepped into the receiving hall, still supporting Katie between us like a broken doll. Luna and Sylvester were standing just inside the door, clearly waiting for us; someone must have spotted us coming up the hill. Sylvester’s jaw dropped when we came into view, and he stared at me with openmouthed dismay. Luna didn’t match it; she didn’t look surprised at all.
“Toby,” she said, smiling sadly.
“Your Grace.” I helped Quentin guide Katie to a seat before turning and walking back to them, folding my hands behind my back. Spike sat at my feet, trilling. “I got them back.”
“I see that,” she said. “How much did it cost you?”
“Enough.”
Sylvester finally closed his mouth, swallowing before he said, “October? What happened?”
Forcing myself to look up and meet his eyes, I said, “The Luidaeg did it so I could get into Blind Michael’s lands on the Children’s Road.”
“The Luidaeg.” Anger sparked in his eyes. I braced myself, waiting for him to yell. Instead, he turned toward Luna, words laced with a cold fury as he said, “You sent her to the Luidaeg.”
“I did.” She looked at him with a brittle, resolute calm. “You knew I would. You knew it was the only way.”
“You could have—”
“No.” The word was flat, carrying a world of finality. “I couldn’t.”
“We’ll discuss this later,” he said, and looked back to me, asking, “Did you go alone?”
It took me a moment to find my voice. I was too stunned by Sylvester’s anger at Luna. Finally, I said, “Yes. I did.”
“I followed her,” said Quentin, still standing with his hands on Katie’s shoulders.
His words didn’t seem to register with Sylvester, who was shaking his head, anger fading into exhaustion. “Oh, Toby, Toby, Toby. You went to the Luidaeg and then to face Blind Michael alone.” He sounded utterly resigned. Somehow, that was worse than anger would have been. “Why did you do that?”
“Because I had to.” Because that madman took my kids, and my Fetch was already here, so there was no point in not going. Because I had debts to pay and no one else would do it for me. “You knew I was going after him. What did you expect me to do?”
“I was hoping you’d find a safer way.” He cast a sidelong look at Luna, who glanced away, looking ashamed. “If that wasn’t possible, I hoped you’d take someone with you.”
“Got any suggestions?” I sighed. “Quentin followed me, or I wouldn’t even have taken him. I try not to risk anybody’s neck but my own.”
Sylvester shook his head. “You never think about keeping yourself alive, do you?”
“Well, if you listen to what people keep telling me, I get that particular tendency from my mother,” I said. “I get it from you, too, you know.”
“You don’t get a bit of it from your mother,” he said, reaching out to brush my hair away from my face. “She never would have gone. Now stop it. You don’t want to be a hero.”
“Never said I did,” I replied, with a sigh. “Forgive me?”
“Always.” He dropped to one knee and hugged me. I wanted to stay there and let him hold me for a little while—he’s the closest thing I have to a father, and I needed the reassurance—but Quentin needed me as much as I needed Sylvester, and I had duties to fulfill. I slipped out of his arms with a murmur of apology, walking back to where Quentin was waiting with Katie.
Quentin was stroking Katie’s hair with the back of his hand, staring into her wide, empty eyes. I wasn’t sure he’d even heard my conversation with Sylvester after his interjection; he was far away, wrapped in his own potential loss.
I put my hand on his shoulder. “How is she?”
He turned to look at me, expression pleading for me to tell him that everything would be okay. I could see it in his eyes. And I couldn’t do it. “What did you do to her?”
“It’s just a little confusion spell—it’s all I was strong enough to cast. She’s sinking all on her own. I can’t stop her.” I looked back to Sylvester and Luna. “Can you help her?”
“Fix what’s been done?” Luna shook her head. “I can’t … we can’t … no. There’s nothing we can do for her.”
Why didn’t I believe her? Keeping my eyes on Luna, I asked cautiously, “Blind Michael’s that powerful?”
She chuckled without a trace of humor. “You have no idea.”
“Yeah, well. There’s no field guide to the Firstborn.” Quentin shivered under my hand. I tightened my fingers. “I just keep tripping over them.”
Luna made a small, pained sound, visibly forcing herself to keep her composure before she asked, “How many … how many of the children did you get out?”
“The ones I went for and as many of the others as I could manage. About twenty, all told.” I kept watching her. “Katie’s the only human kid I got out.”
“You stole twenty children from my—from Blind Michael?” asked Luna, eyes going suddenly wide.
“They weren’t his to have,” I said simply.
“Oh, Toby. Oh, my dear.” She shook her head, eyes closing. “Do you know what you’ve done?”
“What I had to.” I turned toward Sylvester. “Can they stay here with you? I have to finish taking care of the others.”
“Of course,” he said. “They’ll be safer here than they could be anywhere else.”
That was o
ne less thing for me to worry about. “Great.”
“Are you hurt?”
“Not really. A little scraped up, and I could use some Band-Aids for my hands, but I’m mostly just stressed and exhausted.” I looked back toward Luna, very deliberately removing the black rose from my hair and holding it out to her. “I brought you a present.”
She paled, staring at the flower like she expected it to bite her. It was like she hadn’t seen it until it was offered. “Where …” she began, in a stunned whisper, and faltered before saying, “Where did you get that?”
“From your mother,” I said, calmly. “She misses you.”
“Oh, Toby, what have you done?” She sounded like she was somewhere between choking and crying. Not taking her eyes from the rose, she said, “Sylvester?”
“It was bound to happen one day, Luna,” he said wearily. “I’m honestly amazed that it’s taken this long. Maybe if Amandine hadn’t stood aside—”
“But she did,” said Luna. Her tails were lashing, stirring her skirt into a wild tangle. “Please, Sylvester.”
He sighed. “What would you have me do?”
“Take Quentin and his … his friend … to the Children’s Hall and get them settled comfortably. Bring them drinks and go down to collect the others.” She glanced at him, then away, as if the sight of him hurt her eyes. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“This is your garden as much as any other, Luna. You planted it. I love you. But don’t you dare try to deny the need to harvest.” Sylvester gave Luna a disgusted look, helping Katie to her feet. She stood without protesting, moving easily on legs that now bent the wrong way and tapered into dainty, fully formed hooves. Her glossy smile didn’t change as Quentin slid his arm through hers; I wasn’t even sure she knew he was there.
Luna closed her eyes, standing silent as the three of them made their way out of the hall. Tears began to trickle down her cheeks, flowing freely by the time she sighed and said, eyes still closed, “So you’ve met my mother.”
“You could’ve warned me.”
“No, I couldn’t. I might have tried, if I thought you’d reach her forest alive, but I didn’t think you’d make it that far.” She made the admission without flinching. When I left for Blind Michael’s lands, she didn’t expect me to come back. Opening her eyes, she looked at me sadly, and asked, “She gave that to you?”
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