Chimes at Midnight

EIGHT

“YOU REALIZE THIS IS one of those things far easier said than done,” Tybalt said, as we stepped out of the Luidaeg’s apartment. “I have some acquaintance with princesses. In my experience, they tend to be either blazingly obvious, or so well-concealed as to be practically invisible.”

“Then it’s a good thing we have magical Princess-finding bugs to help us, isn’t it?” I paused. “I can’t believe I just said those words, in that order, like they meant something. I need coffee.”

Tybalt chuckled richly. Sadly, that just made it harder not to think about coffee. “Is there any time in your life when you do not feel the need for caffeine?”

“Sure. Sometimes I’m asleep.” I pulled the flask out of my pocket, peering at the fireflies. “They look pretty happy in there.”

“You’re concerning yourself with the inner lives of bugs.” Tybalt took my arm, walking toward the nearest wall. “Now I know you require a cup of coffee. Possibly a pot, if we can find a straw capable of handling the heat. Your squire can wait a little longer for your return.”

“I’d argue if you weren’t doing what I wanted you to do.” I paused. “Wait a second. I just thought of something.” I whirled, pulling my arm free as I darted back to the door.

The Luidaeg opened it the second my foot hit the step, leaving me with one hand raised to knock. Our relative positions made it look like I was getting ready to punch her in the face. I froze. She gave my fist an interested look before asking, “Do I need to give that whole ‘sound of the waves running over your bones’ speech again? Because seriously, I can only do fucking terrifying once a day before I get bored and want to go do a crossword puzzle or something.”

“Um. Sorry.” I dropped my hand. “The fireflies. Can they survive on the Shadow Roads? That’s how Tybalt and I got here.”

“Uh-huh.” She held up a finger. “They’re magic bugs.” She added a second finger. “I caught them in Annwn. Winters in Annwn get colder than a Banshee’s tit. I wouldn’t worry about them. Just don’t drop the flask while you’re in there, or you’ll never get them back.”

“What would happen if I let one of them go in there?” The various fae Roads stretched through the empty spaces of the world, at least insofar as I understood them—which admittedly, wasn’t that well. But Tybalt and I had been able to use one of Luna’s Rose Roads to search for someone marooned in another realm of Faerie. If we were trying to find someone hiding in the mortal world, the Shadow Roads should be able to serve the same purpose.

The Luidaeg looked surprised. She blinked, the edges of her irises doing something so odd and reptilian that my brain refused to deal with it, choosing to shunt it to the side where I wouldn’t need to think about it. Then she said, thoughtfully, “You know, that might work. Or it could lose you a firefly before you even have a plan of attack.”

“I’ve gambled more for less,” I said. “It’s worth a try.”

“Important things always are. Don’t die,” she said, and shut the door in my face.

I turned back to Tybalt, who was watching me with undisguised bemusement. I held up the flask of fireflies. “I think I know what we try first.”

“What, pray tell, is that?”

“Dowsing.”

The flask’s cap was screwed on tight, and gave way only after I strained hard enough to bite my tongue. Finally, the cap slipped, and I was able to remove it. The fireflies ignored their sudden chance for freedom, choosing to keep buzzing happily around their artificial home. “Um, would one of you like to help me?” I asked, sticking a finger through the narrow opening. Requesting help from a bunch of bugs made me feel faintly ridiculous.

A bunch of magic bugs. Most of the fireflies continued to ignore me, but one landed lightly on my finger, glowing momentarily brighter. I pulled my hand out of the jar, holding it against the collar of my jacket. “Just, uh, hang out there for right now, okay?”

The firefly obligingly crawled off of my hand and settled on the leather. I couldn’t see it directly, but I could see the glow it cast reflected off my hair, making it look like I was wearing a small flashlight clipped to my shoulder. I put the cap back on the flask, screwing it tight—although not quite as tight—before tucking it back into my pocket. Then I looked up at Tybalt. “Okay,” I said. “Now we can go and get me that coffee.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Were you planning to tell me the precise nature of your plan, or am I doomed to guessing games for the duration of our relationship?”

“These fireflies respond to the Luidaeg’s magic. The Shadow Roads compress distance. I figure if I let this little guy go while we’re on the Road,” I indicated the firefly, “it’ll head for the nearest patch of her magic it can find. All we need to do is make sure we don’t lose sight of it, and we can at least come out in the same neighborhood, if not actually in Arden’s location.”

“That is . . .” Tybalt stopped, an odd look crossing his face. Finally, he said, “That is so nonsensical that I believe it stands an excellent chance of working.”

I grinned. “That’s why you love me.”

“Among many other reasons.” He moved forward with the lithe, inhuman speed that was the birthright of the Cait Sidhe, slinging an arm around my waist before I had a chance to react. Then, without any further comment, he leaned in and kissed me, sweet and slow and tasting of pennyroyal. The heat of his lips chased away all concern for the chill of the Shadow Roads—and as always, the feeling of his hip pressed against mine made me want to forget about everything else and request a trip back to the house for an hour or so of well-earned relaxation.

Sadly, this wasn’t the time. He knew it as well as I did, because he pulled away just as the kiss was on the verge of deepening into something more. My ears were burning, and his pupils were extended to their fullest size—

Shit. “We’re getting too comfortable in places like this,” I said, raising my hand to my lips and wiping the taste of pennyroyal onto my fingers before dragging them through the air, filling them with shadows. “No guarantee the firefly comes out in the Summerlands. Suit up.”

Tybalt blinked. Then he swore and set about weaving his own human disguise. For a few seconds, the air around us was a perfumer’s nightmare of mixed scents, copper and musk, pennyroyal and fresh-cut grass. Then the magic dissipated, and two apparent humans stood where two obvious non-humans had been only a moment before.

“Better,” I said, glancing down. The firefly on my collar was still visible. It had been enchanted by the Luidaeg. I would just have to trust her enchantments extended to making them difficult for humans to recognize as unusual. Bugs are easier to explain than pointy-eared people with inhuman eyes, anyway. I lifted my head. “Ready when you are.”

“Finally,” Tybalt said, a rolling chuckle underneath the word. Then he took my hand and pulled me into the darkness of the Shadow Roads.

The Shadow Roads are always going to be a mystery to me, since I’m not Cait Sidhe, and it’s not like I can stop and examine them while we’re running through the dark, trying to outpace the limits of our lungs. This much I know: that the darkness there is so absolute that even Cait Sidhe can’t see for more than a few feet in any direction—enough to navigate, but not enough to let them know what might be surrounding them. That when we run there, we seem to be surrounded by absolute nothingness, but there’s ground beneath our feet, and we never run in a straight line. That it’s cold, and airless, and if it weren’t for Tybalt, I would die there.

Hopefully, I wasn’t consigning the first of our fireflies to the same fate. Its light was almost blinding in the absolute dark. I slid the forefinger of my free hand under the creature, brought it to my quickly-freezing lips, and spent precious air whispering, “Find Arden,” before I flicked my wrist and sent the firefly flying. It fell, dropping well below the level of what I thought of as the ground. I stopped running, pulling Tybalt to a halt. I hadn’t been sure my plan would work, but I hadn’t expected to send the firefly quite so quickly to its death—

A blast of light like a signal flare rose from beneath us, leveled out at eye level, and raced into the distance. Tybalt, once he recovered from a split-second’s-worth of shock, was almost as fast. He took off running, and I ran alongside him, letting him make up for my slightly less impressive speed by dragging me in his wake. Nonsensically, I wished I’d thought to ask the Luidaeg for some roller skates. It would have been easier on my feet.

We ran long enough that my eyelashes were sticking together and my lungs were one constant, aching burn, screaming out their need for air. I ignored the pain as best I could, focusing on following the firefly through the dark.

And then it stopped moving.

It hovered in place, turning a sad little circle in the air, like it couldn’t decide what it was supposed to do next. Tybalt and I stopped behind it. Carefully, I lifted my hand until the bug was resting on my palm. I closed my fingers around it, and finally, mercifully, Tybalt opened a door from the shadows back into the comfort of the mortal world.

We were standing on the corner of Valencia and 20th Street, where the spreading branches of some kind of waxy-leafed tree provided enough cover that no one had seen us appear. I took a deep, gasping breath that turned into a cough at the end. Then I did it again. After three of those, I was breathing almost normally, although the ache in my chest made it clear that it would be a while before the “almost” went away.

“You okay?” I asked, still wheezing.

“Mostly,” said Tybalt. He released my hand. “Check your bug, I beg, while I regain my dignity.”

I managed a faint smile before reaching up and scraping the ice crystals from my eyelashes. With that done, I opened my fingers to check on the firefly. It was glowing more weakly than before, and it willingly crawled back onto my lapel when I raised my hand and tipped it into place. “Sorry about that,” I said. “Next time, we’ll take a taxi.”

“Ah, yes, I forget how eager modern drivers are to respond to commands like ‘pray, take direction from the bug.’”

“You know Labyrinth, you should know ‘follow that cab.’”

“I do.” Tybalt smiled. “I just enjoy watching the faces you make when I become overly archaic.”

“Me and my five-hundred-year-old boyfriend.” I raked a loop of hair that had escaped its complex net of ribbons away from my face. Then I frowned, looking at the street around us. “We’re near the house. This is where the police station is.”

“There’s more to a road than a single landmark, especially in this city. What did she say?”

“That Arden would be in a place I never see and don’t want to go.” My frown deepened. “I see this road all the time.”

“Then anything new should stand out like a beacon in a storm.”

He was right. I knew this street. I walked it twice a night, at least. I remembered the way Devin hid Home from mortal eyes, using a misdirection spell anchored to a piece of Coblynau metalwork. Whatever magic Arden was hiding behind had to be something similar, and that meant she didn’t need to be in a knowe, or even a shallowing. She could be anywhere.

Tybalt held out his arm. I took it, leaning close in an effort to borrow some of his body heat. I needed to replace what the Shadow Roads had taken. Together we walked side by side down Valencia Street.

It was a beautiful morning. Most of the shops were open or opening, and the foot traffic was still sparse, leaving the sidewalks wide open. Dire as the situation was—goblin fruit killing changelings, missing princesses, my impending banishment and all—it was nice to just walk with him, knowing that together, we could handle anything the city wanted to throw at us. It had taken us a long time to reach the point where moments like this were possible. I wanted the moments to last a lot longer . . . all of which made it all the more important not to get my changeling ass tossed out of the Kingdom of the Mists.

I glanced down at the firefly on my jacket. It was glowing steadily, like a tiny Christmas light pinned to the leather. Then I glanced back up again, and stopped dead.

Tybalt took another step before the sudden drag of my arm on his pulled him to a halt. He stopped and frowned, following my gaze to the nearest storefront. “October, I love you, and I understand that we all have our quirks. I’m even willing to wait while you acquire the coffee you so obviously need. But I do not think that standing here staring at the coffeehouse will cause a beverage to appear.”

“You don’t understand.” I glanced at him, and then back to the storefront, like I was afraid it might disappear. I was afraid it might disappear. “I know every coffee shop in a two-mile radius of my house. I know how much they charge, how good their coffee is, and what their hours are like.”

“And?”

“And I’ve never seen this place before.” According to the sign in the window, accompanied by a logo that looked like an ouroboros—a red snake eating its own tail—this was the Borderlands Café. I scooped the firefly off my lapel and tucked it into the pocket of my jacket. Hopefully, the little bug was sturdy enough that it wouldn’t be squashed. “Can you see anything glowing through my clothes? I don’t want to spook the locals if we can help it.”

“Hmm.” Tybalt stepped back, taking an ostentatiously long look up and down my body. I crossed my arms, raising an eyebrow. He raised a finger to silence any objections I might be preparing and continued his study. Finally, he nodded, looking smug, and said, “Nothing but your sparkling personality.”

“You can be a real dick when you want to,” I said. “Why am I dating you again?”

“Leather pants,” he deadpanned.

I laughed. I couldn’t help myself.

“And that, too, is my saving grace: I make you laugh when you spend far too much time wrapped in the shroud of your own dignity.” He placed a kiss on my forehead. “If I may be so bold, now would be an excellent time for you to get a cup of coffee.”

“Best hiding place ever,” I agreed, opened the screen door, and stepped inside.

The Borderlands Café was a long, rectangular room, stretching past the kitchen area to meet with the back wall. The floor was polished hardwood, and the furniture was an eclectic mix of wooden tables, comfortable chairs, and even couches. It was surprisingly busy, considering the hour. People sat with their laptop computers, magazines, books, or in small clusters, sipping their drinks and talking. It lacked the hectic air of many of the local cafés—something that was probably connected to the signs saying “No Wifi.” People who wanted to hang out in a coffee shop would stay, people who wanted to get online for free would go find someplace more suited to their tastes.

We approached the counter, where a large blond man in a black T-shirt proclaiming “Carnies Need Love Too” was wiping glasses with a rag. He beamed when he saw us, showing a daunting number of teeth in the process.

“Hi!” he said, setting the glass aside. “Welcome to Borderlands. What can I get you?”

I glanced at the menu on the wall. “A large coffee.”

“Two large coffees,” amended Tybalt.

The blond man nodded, smile fading as he focused on our order. “Here or to go?”

“Here.” We needed time to figure out where Arden was, or whether the firefly had sensed my need for caffeine and simply led us to a coffee shop someone had, for whatever reason, decided to hide from most of the city.

“Should I leave room for cream and sugar?”

“Yes on his, no on mine,” I said, producing my wallet. “Hey—how long has this place been here?”

“Oh, a couple of years. The bookstore was here first, and then the owner got bored and decided to open a café.” The blond man beamed again, showing, if possible, even more teeth than before. “Alan gets bored easy.”

I paused. “There’s a bookstore?”

“Yeah, next door.” The blond man pointed to the wall where the menu was posted. “It’s through there. Alan says he’s going to open up a door between them any day now, but he’s been busy. You know. Owner stuff.”

“Right, owner stuff,” I said. “You know, I’d love to see the bookstore. When do they open?”

“Oh, they just opened.” He beamed. “You have great timing.”

“So I’ve been told,” I said, and smiled back. “Could we get that coffee to go?”

Unsurprisingly, it turned out that we could.