Late Eclipses
Page 45
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“Tybalt . . . ”
“We’re wasting time. We need to get your hands taken care of before you go.” He turned and stalked toward the Tea Gardens. I hesitated before following. I owed him. If I wanted him to kill me, I was going to need to wash my hands.
NINETEEN
NOT EVEN MARCIA’S BEST EFFORTS had done more than dull the pain in my hands. That was another complication for the denizens of the Tea Gardens—Undine can’t teach their natural skills, and without Lily, they didn’t have a healer. The Court of Cats wasn’t in a position to be much help. Cait Sidhe are better at hurting than they are at healing.
Marcia didn’t ask how I’d hurt myself. She probably didn’t want to know. She just produced a first aid kit from the admissions booth and ordered me to go sit down in the pavilion, where underpaid teenagers in “traditional” Japanese robes sold overpriced tea to tourists. Those same tourists stared as Marcia slathered my hands with antibiotic cream before wrapping them in gauze and athletic tape.
We must have looked strange to human eyes: a rumpled brunette receiving elementary first aid from a gaunt-eyed blonde, with a glowering man looming off to the side. It made sense if you knew the situation. Like most things, my life looks stranger when viewed from a distance. I was Marcia’s temporary liege, and it was reasonable for Tybalt to bring me to her for medical care after I impaled myself on a hawthorn bush fleeing from what might have been a figment of my imagination . . .
Okay, my life makes even less sense when you understand it. Whose doesn’t?
Once Marcia was done taking care of my hands, I hugged her and reminded her to go to Tybalt if she needed anything. She agreed, but she wouldn’t meet my eyes; I think we both expected this to be our last good-bye. She’d seen me bleeding, and she knew things were moving toward a conclusion. Encouraging her to hope I’d still be standing when everything was done would have been unbelievably cruel, so I didn’t try.
Tybalt walked me to the car without saying a word. I almost asked what he was thinking, but I stopped myself. I was confused enough, and I had too much left to do. Tybalt could wait. Still, the fact that he didn’t even say good-bye flustered me enough that I didn’t realize until later that I’d managed to drive away without my baseball bat.
Finding UC Berkeley is easy once you’re off the freeway. Berkeley is a college town, and practically all roads lead to the campus—a vast, central sprawl of open space and green growing things. A creek cuts through the middle, blocked by fences designed to keep drunken co-eds from taking accidental dips. I was too busy trying to survive my time in Devin’s service to go to college, but I’ve lived in the Bay Area for most of my life, and I’ve cut through the university on my way to Telegraph Avenue more than once.
I bought a parking slip from a machine at the edge of the student parking lot. The students the lot was intended for passed as I got out of the car, chatting with one another and ignoring me. Apparently, rumpled women with gauze-wrapped hands wearing leather jackets in May showed up at their school all the time. Considering the air of genial weirdness that surrounds the people of Berkeley—fae and mortals alike—that wasn’t surprising. I shoved the meat from the Cat’s Court into the duffel bag alongside Luna’s cup and started to walk.
Berkeley is a neutral city, belonging to no fiefdom and answering to no liege but the Queen. That’s always attracted the more outré fae elements, and they, in turn, surround themselves with the weirdest that the human world has to offer. It’s the chicken and the egg all over again—which comes first, the crazy or the strange?
I looked around with unabashed curiosity as I entered the campus, hoping to find a map. Given the size of the school, I didn’t know which way I was supposed to go to find the chemistry labs. I waved at the nearest student. “Excuse me?” He kept walking. I turned to the next available person, repeating, “Excuse me?” She didn’t stop either.
“Great,” I muttered. “Now I’m invisible.” Humanity’s tendency to ignore the fae is sometimes annoying, but this was a bit much. I sighed and sat on the nearest bench, putting my packages to the side and resting my aching head in my hands.
“It’s not you,” said a voice. I looked up. A thin young man with deeply tanned skin and untidy black hair was standing nearby. He was grinning. I didn’t grin back, but I didn’t scowl, either. “They’re like that to everyone this time of year. Too close to finals for common courtesy to apply, y’know?”
“So why are you talking to me?”
“Chemistry major,” he said, like that explained it. I looked at him blankly. He laughed. “I’ve been awake and cramming for the last three days, and I figure if I can’t pass my finals now, it’s too late. No reason to be rude just because I’m failing.”
“Right.” I finally smiled. “If you’re a chemistry major, can you tell me where to find the chemistry classrooms? I’m here to meet one of the instructors.”
“I figured,” he said blithely, dropping himself onto the bench next to me. “My psychic powers tell me you’re looking for a blond guy with spooky blue eyes.”
I blinked. “Your psychic powers?”
“Yeah, the ones that kick in when my adviser tells me he’ll give me extra credit if I’m willing to lurk around the parking lots watching for lost-looking brunettes. He left off the ‘cute’ part, but I figured that out for myself from the way he was cleaning his desk.” He offered his hand. “Jack Redpath. I’m Professor Davies’ grad student.”
“Toby Daye.” Shaking his hand put pressure on my bandaged fingers. I tried not to wince. “Nice to meet you. What do you mean, spooky?”
“Spooky.” He reclaimed his hand, making circles in front of his eyes with thumbs and forefingers. “You’re sitting in class, innocently drawing naked chicks on your syllabus, when suddenly wham, Mr. Spooky-Blue-Eyes is looking right through you. Anyway, the chemistry classrooms are over there.” He indicated a building on the other side of the walkway. “Be sure to tell him I get my fifteen points, okay?”
“Deal,” I said, and stood.
Jack did the same, still grinning. “Nice to meet you. Have fun with the Professor.” He turned and strolled away, whistling.
“Okay, that was weird but productive.” I scanned the quad one last time before walking over to the building he’d indicated. The doors were unlocked. I hesitated, shrugged, and went in.
“We’re wasting time. We need to get your hands taken care of before you go.” He turned and stalked toward the Tea Gardens. I hesitated before following. I owed him. If I wanted him to kill me, I was going to need to wash my hands.
NINETEEN
NOT EVEN MARCIA’S BEST EFFORTS had done more than dull the pain in my hands. That was another complication for the denizens of the Tea Gardens—Undine can’t teach their natural skills, and without Lily, they didn’t have a healer. The Court of Cats wasn’t in a position to be much help. Cait Sidhe are better at hurting than they are at healing.
Marcia didn’t ask how I’d hurt myself. She probably didn’t want to know. She just produced a first aid kit from the admissions booth and ordered me to go sit down in the pavilion, where underpaid teenagers in “traditional” Japanese robes sold overpriced tea to tourists. Those same tourists stared as Marcia slathered my hands with antibiotic cream before wrapping them in gauze and athletic tape.
We must have looked strange to human eyes: a rumpled brunette receiving elementary first aid from a gaunt-eyed blonde, with a glowering man looming off to the side. It made sense if you knew the situation. Like most things, my life looks stranger when viewed from a distance. I was Marcia’s temporary liege, and it was reasonable for Tybalt to bring me to her for medical care after I impaled myself on a hawthorn bush fleeing from what might have been a figment of my imagination . . .
Okay, my life makes even less sense when you understand it. Whose doesn’t?
Once Marcia was done taking care of my hands, I hugged her and reminded her to go to Tybalt if she needed anything. She agreed, but she wouldn’t meet my eyes; I think we both expected this to be our last good-bye. She’d seen me bleeding, and she knew things were moving toward a conclusion. Encouraging her to hope I’d still be standing when everything was done would have been unbelievably cruel, so I didn’t try.
Tybalt walked me to the car without saying a word. I almost asked what he was thinking, but I stopped myself. I was confused enough, and I had too much left to do. Tybalt could wait. Still, the fact that he didn’t even say good-bye flustered me enough that I didn’t realize until later that I’d managed to drive away without my baseball bat.
Finding UC Berkeley is easy once you’re off the freeway. Berkeley is a college town, and practically all roads lead to the campus—a vast, central sprawl of open space and green growing things. A creek cuts through the middle, blocked by fences designed to keep drunken co-eds from taking accidental dips. I was too busy trying to survive my time in Devin’s service to go to college, but I’ve lived in the Bay Area for most of my life, and I’ve cut through the university on my way to Telegraph Avenue more than once.
I bought a parking slip from a machine at the edge of the student parking lot. The students the lot was intended for passed as I got out of the car, chatting with one another and ignoring me. Apparently, rumpled women with gauze-wrapped hands wearing leather jackets in May showed up at their school all the time. Considering the air of genial weirdness that surrounds the people of Berkeley—fae and mortals alike—that wasn’t surprising. I shoved the meat from the Cat’s Court into the duffel bag alongside Luna’s cup and started to walk.
Berkeley is a neutral city, belonging to no fiefdom and answering to no liege but the Queen. That’s always attracted the more outré fae elements, and they, in turn, surround themselves with the weirdest that the human world has to offer. It’s the chicken and the egg all over again—which comes first, the crazy or the strange?
I looked around with unabashed curiosity as I entered the campus, hoping to find a map. Given the size of the school, I didn’t know which way I was supposed to go to find the chemistry labs. I waved at the nearest student. “Excuse me?” He kept walking. I turned to the next available person, repeating, “Excuse me?” She didn’t stop either.
“Great,” I muttered. “Now I’m invisible.” Humanity’s tendency to ignore the fae is sometimes annoying, but this was a bit much. I sighed and sat on the nearest bench, putting my packages to the side and resting my aching head in my hands.
“It’s not you,” said a voice. I looked up. A thin young man with deeply tanned skin and untidy black hair was standing nearby. He was grinning. I didn’t grin back, but I didn’t scowl, either. “They’re like that to everyone this time of year. Too close to finals for common courtesy to apply, y’know?”
“So why are you talking to me?”
“Chemistry major,” he said, like that explained it. I looked at him blankly. He laughed. “I’ve been awake and cramming for the last three days, and I figure if I can’t pass my finals now, it’s too late. No reason to be rude just because I’m failing.”
“Right.” I finally smiled. “If you’re a chemistry major, can you tell me where to find the chemistry classrooms? I’m here to meet one of the instructors.”
“I figured,” he said blithely, dropping himself onto the bench next to me. “My psychic powers tell me you’re looking for a blond guy with spooky blue eyes.”
I blinked. “Your psychic powers?”
“Yeah, the ones that kick in when my adviser tells me he’ll give me extra credit if I’m willing to lurk around the parking lots watching for lost-looking brunettes. He left off the ‘cute’ part, but I figured that out for myself from the way he was cleaning his desk.” He offered his hand. “Jack Redpath. I’m Professor Davies’ grad student.”
“Toby Daye.” Shaking his hand put pressure on my bandaged fingers. I tried not to wince. “Nice to meet you. What do you mean, spooky?”
“Spooky.” He reclaimed his hand, making circles in front of his eyes with thumbs and forefingers. “You’re sitting in class, innocently drawing naked chicks on your syllabus, when suddenly wham, Mr. Spooky-Blue-Eyes is looking right through you. Anyway, the chemistry classrooms are over there.” He indicated a building on the other side of the walkway. “Be sure to tell him I get my fifteen points, okay?”
“Deal,” I said, and stood.
Jack did the same, still grinning. “Nice to meet you. Have fun with the Professor.” He turned and strolled away, whistling.
“Okay, that was weird but productive.” I scanned the quad one last time before walking over to the building he’d indicated. The doors were unlocked. I hesitated, shrugged, and went in.
