“This is your fault,” said Arden quietly.
“Maybe. Or maybe it was always going to happen. The Luidaeg sent me to find you. Someone would have done it eventually, if not me.” My stomach was starting to ache again. I had to fight to keep from reaching for the baggie of blood gems. “As long as she has Nolan but not you, he’s safe. This is the moment where you step up. This is when you fix things.”
She kept glaring for a few more seconds. Then she seemed to wilt before my eyes, her shoulders slumping, her chest collapsing as she stopped holding herself rigidly upright. “I was supposed to protect him,” she said.
“This is how you protect him,” I said. “You protect your family by making the world a better place for them to live. Not by running away.”
“I don’t know what to do,” said Arden. Madden whined and put his hand on her shoulder. She sighed, resting her cheek against it.
And I smiled.
“That’s okay, because I do,” I said. “Danny, can you drive Quentin back to the house?”
“Not if it means leavin’ you here,” he said.
“You won’t be,” I said. “I just don’t want Arden going out in public yet. She and I will meet you there.”
Arden blinked. “We will?”
“We will,” I said. “I have a plan.” It was a terrible plan. It was still a plan.
After a moment, Arden nodded. “All right,” she said. “What do we do?”
TWENTY-ONE
THE PASSAGE THROUGH ARDEN’S PORTAL was surprisingly easy, especially when compared to my recent trips through the Shadow Roads. One second, we were in the basement at Borderlands, and the next, we were standing amidst the riotous explosion of carefully overgrown flowers that was my backyard.
Arden frowned at the house. “I recognize this neighborhood.”
“We’re pretty close to the bookstore; you should feel right at home. Dolores Park is right over there.” I started up the path to the back door, grimacing as I walked. It seemed like I was stepping on every possible pebble and twig the yard had to offer, and my bare feet didn’t appreciate the experience. “I should warn you, I have roommates, and they’re a little . . . well, unique.”
“I live in a basement with my comatose brother, and one of my best friends thinks a good afternoon is spent chasing Frisbees around the dog park,” said Arden. “How unique can they be?”
“Just keep thinking that, okay?” I said, and unlocked the door, stepping into the kitchen. “May! Jazz! I’m home, and I brought company!”
“Toby!” May came hurtling into the kitchen, still holding the remote control in one hand. She ignored both Arden and the open door as she flung her arms around me, pulling me into a hug that was tighter than my lungs approved of. “You’re okay! Jazz said she didn’t see you when the flock mobbed the intersection, I was so worried, don’t do that to . . . me . . .” Her voice trailed off as she finally noticed Arden. “You meant actual company.”
“I did,” I said, and disentangled myself from May’s arms. “May, this is Arden. Arden, this is my housemate, May.”
“You must be Toby’s sister,” said Arden, shutting the front door.
“I’m her Fetch, actually,” said May, staring at Arden. “I . . . forgive me. You look a lot like someone I used to know.”
“Fetch?” said Arden, looking horrified.
“It’s a long story, and she’s not a death omen anymore,” I said. “May’s retired.” May also had the memories of every face she’d ever worn back when she was a night-haunt. The odds that she’d eaten someone who knew King Gilad were more than reasonably high, given how many fae died in the 1906 earthquake. I elbowed her before she could say anything. “Is Jazz here? I wanted to let her know how much I appreciated the assist.”
“Um, yeah, she’s here, but she had to go back to bed,” said May, shaking off whatever memory she’d been trying not to share. “Diurnal, remember?”
“I remember.” I started toward the dining room, gesturing for Arden to follow. “We’re just here to pick up supplies—and you—and then we have to get moving. The Queen has Arden’s brother. We need to get him back.”
“Oh,” said May, blinking. “Well. That’s not good. I’m happy to be picked up, I guess. There’s nothing on TV right now anyway. Where are your shoes?”
“Alcatraz.”
May looked at me blankly.
“Arden took them there when we realized the Queen was using them to track me. Remember how she didn’t turn my sneakers into high heels? She turned them into tracking devices instead. Remind me never to assume that she’s doing anything without an ulterior motive.” I paused at the base of the stairs. “Arden, there’s stuff for sandwiches in the fridge, if you want one. May, Danny and Quentin are behind me.”
“Make sandwiches, got it,” she said. Hooking her arm through Arden’s, she said, “You can help,” and hauled the startled-looking Princess back into the kitchen. I shook my head fondly. Then I turned and walked up the stairs to my room. I needed shoes, and jeans that didn’t have gaping holes where the knees used to be.
More than that, I needed weapons.
I used to carry two knives everywhere I went. I still carried the silver one, but I’d been forced to put the iron knife away after Mom shifted the balance of my blood to turn me more fae than human. Well, I was almost human now. That had to come with a few advantages.
The bedroom door was closed. I opened it, reaching inside and fumbling for the light switch. I never found it. Instead, hands grabbed my wrists and hauled me forward, into the darkness. I had time to squeak before a mouth was clamped over mine, and I was being kissed with ruthless firmness. The hands released my wrists, going to my waist, pulling me closer. I didn’t fight; my brief panic had passed as quickly as it had come. I couldn’t taste his magic—my senses were wrapped in cotton by the change in my blood—but a man can’t kiss you as many times as Tybalt had kissed me without becoming familiar.
I slid my hands up his arms to his shoulders, and then into his hair, allowing myself a few precious seconds of melting into his arms. Tybalt pulled back first, his eyes glittering green in the light that bled through from the hall. “Welcome home,” he said, voice rough.
“Hi,” I said, barely above a whisper. I pulled my hands out of his hair, resting them on his shoulders. He didn’t let go of my waist. “Have you been here long?”
“I arrived seconds before you did,” he said. “I was going to ask May to phone you when I heard your voice from downstairs.” He kissed me again, more softly. Then he stopped, nostrils flaring. “I smell blood. Are you hurt?”
“It’s nothing major. I fell down while I was running away from the Queen’s guards on Valencia,” I said. “I need new jeans and some Neosporin, and then I’ll be as good as new. Did you find Mom?”
“Don’t evade. Are you aware that ‘when I was running away from the Queen’s guards’ is not a reassuring statement?”
“Who’s evading?” I held up my skinned palms, showing him the damage. “I used to hurt myself worse than this falling off the playground swings. I’m fine. But if we want this sort of thing to not be a problem, we need to get me back to normal, and that means finding Mom. Did you have any luck?”
“Her tower gates were closed.” He sounded defeated. His shoulders slumped. “I circled, but there was no entry to be found. I called for every cat in the Summerlands who would answer me, and some who would not. None of them had seen her. Your mother has vanished, October, and I know not to where.”