Tybalt blinked.
I looked at him, and smiled. “She really does care,” I said, before digging my phone out of my pocket. I flipped it open, scrolled through my contact list, and raised it to my ear. A few seconds later, I said, “Hello, Danny? It’s October. I need a ride . . .”
SEVENTEEN
DANNY’S CAB SCREECHED around the corner at a speed somewhere between “unsafe” and “suicidal.” He got extra points for driving that fast through the thick fog that had risen to shroud the entire block while Tybalt and I waited for him to arrive. I hoped it was the Luidaeg trying to give us a little extra cover, and not some sort of nasty present from the Queen. Standing there in the chilly night air, I was very aware that the Queen—illegitimate or not—was part Sea Wight, and I had no idea whether she had access to Sea Wight weather magic.
Then the cab door was slamming shut, and the mountain that was Danny McReady was storming toward us through the fog. “Somebody call for a—Oberon’s scrotum, girl, what did you do to yourself this time?”
“Hi, Danny,” I said, the ghost of a smile on my face. I couldn’t see his expression, but I knew that tone. He’d be looking at me with raw, almost offended incredulity, like he was sure he could figure out the trick if he just stared hard enough. “You like my new look? I’m calling it ‘mortality chic.’”
“It is a good thing fashions change so quickly these days,” said Tybalt. He raised a forefinger. “A point of order—did you just swear by Oberon’s scrotum?”
“Situation demanded it.” Danny stepped closer, and now I could see his face. The incredulity was there, mixed in equal measure with concern. It was like being worried at by a statue. “You okay?”
“Just don’t hug me, and I’ll be fine,” I said, reaching out to rest a hand against his arm.
Danny McReady is a Bridge Troll—eight feet tall if he’s an inch, with skin the color and consistency of granite, and the sort of natural strength that would allow him to fling a Buick, if he wanted to. A hug from him would probably have resulted in my mostly-human guts coming out of my mostly-human eyes. And nobody wanted that.
“Yeah.” Danny frowned before taking an exaggerated step backward, like he’d just realized how fragile I really was. “You guys needed a ride?”
“We do,” I confirmed, and started for the cab. Looking displeased about the whole situation, Tybalt followed. I smiled at him, and smiled again when I saw that the cab was blessedly free of Barghests. “You left the kids at home!”
“I was taking some mor—I mean, I was picking up hu—I wasn’t workin’ with a Barghest-friendly clientele.” Every self-correction made Danny look more miserable, until his face was practically a grimace. “Aw, shit, Tobes, don’t listen to me. I run my mouth.”
“It’s okay, Danny. Honest.” I got into the front passenger seat. Danny was going to need an update on the situation, and it would be easier if I wasn’t shouting from the back of the cab. “Tybalt, do you want to ride in cat form, or do you want to be a part of this conversation?”
“I want to shift into something smaller more than you can possibly know,” he said, getting into the back with exaggerated offense. “Sadly, the smell of Barghest is near-overwhelming with my nose in its current configuration. If I were to become more sensitive, I fear I would black out from the stench.”
“Don’t cats lick their own assholes?” asked Danny mildly, as he wedged himself behind the wheel. Despite the fact that he had to weigh several hundred pounds, the car didn’t even shift. Danny’s cab was so tricked out with charms and customizations by his Gremlin mechanic that it probably handled better with the ballast. “I’m just sayin’.”
“I will not dignify that with a response,” said Tybalt.
Danny snickered as he started the engine. He sobered quickly, glancing to me as we pulled away from the curb. “Where we going?”
“The Library of Stars, to get Quentin—I have directions, and the Librarian promised it wouldn’t move until we were done—and then to Shadowed Hills, if that won’t take you away from your fares for too long. I need to pick up my car.”
“Nope,” said Danny imperturbably.
“What?” I blinked at him.
“I’ll take you to the Library, but I’m not taking you to your car. I’ll take you to Shadowed Hills, if you want. Maybe you could do with checking in, I dunno. Doesn’t mean you’re getting your car back.”
“What are you talking—Danny.” I folded my arms. “Tell me you’re not refusing to take me to my car because you think I’m too human to drive.”
“Can’t. I don’t lie to friends.” He took a sharp turn. “You don’t need a car, Tobes, you need a driver, and muscle to keep you from doing whatever ass-crazy thing pops into your head. You’re too used to being invincible, and right now, you’re not. Me, I sort of am invincible, as long as you’re not coming at me with dynamite and blasting caps. Let me be invincible for you. I can stand between you and the shit that’s trying to make you stop breathing.”
“Much as I hate to add to the size of our company, he has a valid point,” said Tybalt. “I would gladly take a bullet for you. I would even more gladly stand behind a man of living stone and allow him to take the bullet for the both of us.”
“This is macho bullcrap,” I said sourly. It wasn’t—it actually made sense—but I didn’t care. I hated the idea of needing protection.
“So is getting yourself killed to prove that you’re still unkillable,” said Danny. “I ain’t taking you to your car, and that’s final. Now what in Maeve’s name happened?”
The fact that he’d managed to go this long without asking was something of a miracle all by itself. I took a breath, and began, “We found a dead changeling girl lying in an alley . . .”
It took most of the drive for me to explain what had happened since we found the dead girl in the alley, especially since I kept having to pause to give Danny directions. Tybalt interjected when necessary, mostly to make dire predictions about the Queen’s reign and Sylvester’s future health. I didn’t ask him to stop threatening my liege. Maybe I should have, but Sylvester should have known what he was getting into when he barred my Cait Sidhe boyfriend from my bedside. In the future, he might think twice before doing something that stupid.
Silence fell over the car when we were done. Danny kept driving, his brows knitting into a rocky shelf above his eyes. Finally, he took a breath, and passed judgment:
“Damn.”
“I know.”
“I mean, seriously . . . damn.”
“Yeah.”
“When you decide it’s time to up the ante on getting into deep shit, you don’t mess around, do you? You’re just like, hey, what’s the worst that can happen? That’s the worst that can happen? Great. Let’s do that.”
“That’s not fair,” I protested.
“Says the more-mortal-than-not girl with the goblin fruit addiction she got from being hit in the face with a pie,” Danny shot back. “You sure that chick from Dreamer’s Glass hasn’t been playing with your luck again?”
“I’m sure,” I said. My stomach grumbled. I dug the baggie of blood gems out of my pocket as I added, “There haven’t been enough disembowelments. Li Qin’s luck manipulation really focused on getting me disemboweled.” Trying to hide the motion as much as I could, I pulled one of the larger stones out of the bag and popped it into my mouth, where it dissolved into the taste of lavender and mint. My stomach stopped growling.
Thank Oberon.