Ashes of Honor

TWENTY

IT TOOK ME LESS THAN TEN MINUTES to strip off my shredded, bloody clothes and replace them with a clean black tank top and jeans. I wiped the worst of the blood off my face and hands with some wet wipes I’d snagged from KFC the last time I took Quentin out for junk food. By the time I was done, I looked, if not respectable, at least marginally less like I’d just survived one of May’s trashy horror movies. For a finishing touch, I brushed most of the blood out of my hair and skimmed it into a ponytail. Any Daoine Sidhe who got within ten feet of me would smell it, but most other people would assume it was a weird dye job and move on.

At some point during the process, I ate the first Pop-Tart and most of the second. It says something about how low my blood sugar was that I neither noticed nor cared what flavor they were. I shrugged my leather jacket back on, stuck the last piece of Pop-Tart in my mouth, and opened the bedroom door.

Tybalt was downstairs, leaning against the wall and looking at Cagney and Lacey, who were sitting by his feet with oddly dejected looks on their furry faces. All three of them turned toward me as I stopped on the bottom step.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“Your resident felines were explaining how they could allow Samson to burst in without sounding the alarm,” said Tybalt. Catching my expression, he added, “There was nothing they could have done. I am reassuring them, not scolding them.”

“You know, every time I think my life can’t get weirder, it ups the ante.” I started walking again, heading for the kitchen. Tybalt paced me. I gave him a sidelong look. “Did May and Jazz leave?”

“Yes. Danny said hello and that he would have stuck around to talk to you himself, but he was sure you already had enough to worry about, and besides, the Barghests were almost certainly working on eating the backseat.” Tybalt’s pupils narrowed to amused slits as he spoke. “He seemed oddly…unsurprised…to hear that you were unable to greet him because you were upstairs changing into something less bloodstained.”

“I have my friends well-trained.” I opened the fridge, beginning to gather the makings for a ham sandwich. “Let me just get a little more food in me, and then we can get back to Tamed Lightning.” I paused. “Do you want a sandwich? You haven’t eaten anything all day, and you lost a lot of blood, too.”

“I would love a sandwich,” said Tybalt, with enough gravity to make it sound like a formal proclamation. Resolved: that we will have ham and cheese sandwiches.

“Just get the bread out of the cupboard, and I—”

The doorbell rang before I could finish my sentence. I frowned, bumping the refrigerator door closed with my hip before dropping the ham, cheese, and condiments on the counter.

“None of the people who want to kill us right now would use the doorbell,” I said. “It’s probably neighborhood kids selling something.”

Tybalt snorted. “Your range of options is very specialized.”

“Yeah, well. Welcome to my world.” I shook my head, grabbing a handful of air. The smell of cut grass and copper rose around me, mingling with the smell of the blood in my hair, as I wove a quick human disguise. “Wait here. I’m going to go get rid of whoever it is.”

“Certainly,” said Tybalt. He was opening the cheese when I left the kitchen. I closed the door behind me—no point in explaining the pointy-eared man making sandwiches if I didn’t have to—and made my way to the front door.

When I opened it, Officer Thornton of the San Francisco Police Department was standing on my porch. I blinked at him, briefly too surprised to speak. He blinked back, looking almost as surprised to see me as I was to see him. Then he cleared his throat.

“Good evening, Ms. Daye,” he said. “Do you have a moment?”

“I—” When dealing with the mortal authorities, there is no answer to that question that doesn’t begin with “yes.” When dealing with the mortal authorities who had followed me to Fremont, all the answers I wanted to give began with slamming the door in his face.

If I did that, I might as well start packing my things, because I would be moving to the Summerlands full time shortly afterward. I swallowed my panic and stepped to the side, holding the door open wider. “Of course, Officer. Would you like to come in?”

“Yes, thank you.” Officer Thornton looked around with unabashed curiosity as he stepped into the foyer. Fortunately, there was nothing really incriminating in view. We’re an inhuman household, but the detritus that builds up around the edges of our lives is reassuringly normal. It’s the lives themselves that tend to be a little weird.

My stomach sank. Tybalt was in the kitchen without a human disguise on, and the living room was totally destroyed. Unless I could convince Officer Thornton that he wanted to go upstairs with me, I was screwed—and I didn’t even know how to open that conversation without sounding like I was coming on to him.

“Um, Officer, what can I do for you? I thought that there were no charges against me?”

“This is an unofficial visit, Ms. Daye. I’m still in uniform because my shift just ended.”

“Oh.” And probably because he wanted me to remember that he was an officer of the law, but that was one of those things that did perfectly well when left unspoken. “So, unofficially, what can I do for you?”

“Have you lived here long, Ms. Daye?”

“Um, no. We just moved in a few months ago.”

“‘We’ being?”

“Me, my sister, May, and our nephew, Quentin.” Legally, May was my sister, and calling Quentin a nephew was easier than any of the other available explanations. I’m old enough to be his mother, but I’m never going to look it by mortal standards. “He’s from Canada,” I added, in case Officer Thornton decided to follow up with a question about where Quentin’s parents were. “I don’t know, I’ve never met them” was unlikely to score me any points.

“It’s a lovely home,” he said instead, still looking around the hall.

You won’t think that for long if you see the living room, I thought. He didn’t need to ask the next logical question: I’ve lived in San Francisco for most of my life, and I knew what it was going to be. “Yeah, we got really lucky,” I said. “Our Uncle Sylvester inherited this place from his parents, and it was just sitting empty until we needed somewhere to live. He lets us stay here for utilities and maintenance costs.” And would gladly sign the deed over to me if I asked. That was another thing I didn’t need to tell the nice officer.

“You sound like you’re close to your family.” Officer Thornton turned to face me. There was something in his expression—a certain calculation—that I didn’t like. Then again, I didn’t like the fact that he’d been following me. “Family is important, don’t you agree?”

“Yes, Officer, I do. If I can ask, what is this all about?”

“Ms. Daye, what were you doing in Fremont earlier today?” The calculation in Officer Thornton’s face became suddenly coherent, resolving into suspicion. “I ask because an associate of mine from the Berkeley Police Department informed me that she had encountered you at the site of a recent disappearance, and as you had been brought into my station the night before…”

I blinked. “I’m a private detective. I specialize in kidnappings and divorce cases. Bridget called me.”

“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 cafeteria 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 long, 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.

I sighed again. “At least my thermos didn’t die for nothing.” Putting the lid back on, I twisted it as tight as it would go and tossed the whole thing over to Tybalt.

He caught it, frowning at the brightly colored plastic cylinder. “What, precisely, is this?”

“Well, the orange stuff on top is an alchemical concoction designed to block the powers of anyone it gets spilled on for a year and a day. Walther specifically said not to get it on any shapeshifters, since he has no idea what that would do; let’s try to do what the alchemist says.”

Tybalt blanched. “Yes,” he murmured. “Let’s. October, please don’t think I’m inclined to reject any gifts you choose to give me, but why, pray tell, have you chosen to give me this?”

“If you see Chelsea, you need to dump it on her. I would have done it before, if I’d been carrying the stuff.” And if dampening her powers then and there wouldn’t have stranded us in Annwn, possibly forever. That was the sort of detail that couldn’t always be accounted for.

That didn’t seem to make Tybalt feel better. He eyed the thermos the way I would eye a venomous snake and asked, “What happens if I spill it?”

“There’s a jar of green stuff underneath the jar of orange stuff. It’s a counteragent. If you apply it within twenty minutes, you can cancel the effects of the power dampener. Or at least Walther thinks you can. This is all theory at this point.” I jabbed a finger toward the cooler. “Quentin. Gear up.”

“How come he gets the thermos?” grumbled Quentin, as he moved to retrieve jars of variously colored goo from inside the cooler.

“Because he’s the one whose side effects are completely unknown if he gets doused, whereas you get to wear baseball caps for a year, and I get to spend a lot more time sitting on the couch watching late-night television while enjoying a brief respite from being forced to leave the house. In this particular instance, we’re both better risks than Tybalt is.”

“I’m not sure whether I should be flattered or appalled,” said Tybalt.

“Neither am I,” said Quentin.

I smiled. It wasn’t a happy smile, but it was a genuine one. “You know, if I have to march off to certain doom, I can’t think of many people I’d rather be marching with.”

“You can think of any?” asked Quentin, sealing his own jars of glowing goo in Ziploc Baggies.

“Anybody who owns a tank is at the top of the list. But you’re right underneath them.” I tossed the box of Baggies back into the car and closed the door, locking it before tucking the keys back into my pocket. There was a thick patch of shadows underneath the eucalyptus trees separating the campus from the street. I gestured toward them. “Shall we?”

Tybalt nodded. “I suppose we shall.”

The three of us walked into the shadow of the trees, our pockets heavy with the promise of magic’s end. And then Quentin took Tybalt’s hand while I took hold of his elbow, and he pulled us backward into the darkness, and the world fell away again. It was time to end this. One way or another, it was time for us to find Chelsea, and bring her home.