One Salt Sea
Page 56

“Oleander?” I asked—almost hopefully. Oleander was dead. At least if this were her work, we didn’t have to worry about Rayseline having any more of it.
“I don’t think so. It’s herbal, not floral.”
Damn. “Okay.”
“I’m going to get an hour or so of sleep, and then get back to work. You should consider doing the same.” Walther flashed me a tired smile. “I’ll call when I know anything. Please, I know you’re not good at it, but can you try to be careful? Just until I can let you know what it is you’re up against?”
“It’s a little late, but I can give it a try,” I said. I wasn’t willing to let myself hope yet—the odds were stacked too strongly against us for that—but maybe we were making headway. I had my jacket back. That was a start.
My jacket . . . and the contents of its pockets. “Wait here a second,” I said, and turned to run for my room, not waiting for his response.
Walther was standing there, looking confused, when I returned. “What is it?”
“Here.” I held out the vial containing the needle from Dean’s room. “I found this in Saltmist. Can you check it out?”
“I’ll add it to the list.” He plucked the vial from my hand. “I’ll let you know what I find.”
“You do that,” I said. “Open roads, Walther.”
“Open roads,” he echoed. “May, I appreciate your hospitality.”
“Kind fires, Walther,” she said, and hugged him. “Now you get out of here, and take care of yourself, okay?”
He smiled. “I’ll do my best. Good-bye, Raj.”
“Good-bye,” Raj replied. Then Walther was out the door, leaving the rest of us in the kitchen, not sure what to say.
As usual, May broke the silence. “Toby needs pants. Raj, go wake Quentin up.”
“Why?” he asked blankly.
She smiled. “It’s time for pancakes.”
I laughed all the way to my room.
EIGHTEEN
I EMERGED FROM MY ROOM wearing dry jeans, a black cotton shirt, and a gray wool sweater. The smell of pancakes greeted me, awakening my appetite. Dianda’s bottles and the Luidaeg’s shell were in my pocket, and the pin was in the lining of my jacket. Maybe its magic was spent and maybe not; I couldn’t afford to throw it away if there was still a chance it might be useful.
I was starting to feel like a fairy-tale James Bond, only my version of Q was as likely to kill me as she was to kill the bad guys.
May met me at the kitchen door, shoving a plate of pancakes into my hand. “Eat,” she commanded. Raj and Quentin were already at the table, eating with a speed that almost disguised their total lack of table manners.
“Yes, Mother,” I said. The pancakes were fixed the way I like them, with grape jelly and powdered sugar instead of syrup. My stomach roared, reminding me how long it had been since the last time I actually sat down to eat.
I was halfway through my second serving—and most of the way through my second explanation of what happened in Saltmist, this time for Quentin’s benefit—when someone started hammering on the door. I dropped my plate onto the table and half-walked, half-ran to answer. No one would knock that way if it wasn’t an emergency. Wrenching the door open, I demanded, “What do you—”
The rest of the sentence died on my tongue as I saw the haggard, almost haunted look on Tybalt’s face. For a moment, we both stood frozen. Then he grabbed my wrist, jerking me forward. “We have to go.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I demanded, trying to pull my arm away. He didn’t let go. “What are you doing here? Did the cats tell you something?”
“For once in your life, be quiet and come on.”
“Tybalt?” May walked up behind me, sounding bemused. “What’s going on?”
Tybalt’s eyes stayed focused on me. “I’ve had Gabriel watching your daughter’s house. You didn’t ask for it, but it seemed like the best idea, given the circumstances. He just contacted me. Something’s happened. They’ve called the police.”
I’d considered a lot of horrible scenarios for this war. None of them included my almost-human daughter. I went cold. “Gillian?”
“She’s gone, October. She’s missing. Now please. Come.”
“I . . .” I turned. “Call Sylvester. Tell him Gillian’s missing, and that he needs to put the knights on alert. Keep Quentin here with you.”
“Yes,” she said numbly. She’s not Gillian’s mother. Some of her memories were probably telling her she was. Her fingers flashed in the air, accompanied by the scent of cotton candy and ashes, and the veil of a human disguise settled over me. “Go.”
I nodded my thanks. I was going to need all the magic I could muster if I was going to make it through the day ahead. “Raj . . .” I began.
“I’m staying here. If my Uncle needs me, he’ll call.”
If Tybalt had a problem with Raj choosing his own orders, he didn’t say anything. He just nodded, fingers tightening around my wrist. “Hold your breath,” he said, and yanked me across the threshold, into the gathering shadows on the other side.
Repeated exposure to the Shadow Roads has made them a little easier to handle, but this trip was worse than any in years. The cold bit my skin, seeming to worm its way all the way down to the bone. Every time my feet hit the unseen ground, it felt like I was running on knives. I have my limits, and I’d been going nonstop for hours. I was wearing out. Fear for my daughter drove me on.
I played fairy bride over eighteen years ago, and I had a child with a human man. His name was Cliff. Hers was Gillian. She grew up without me, thanks to Simon Torquill, and when I came back, she didn’t want anything to do with me. I was something out of a bad after-school special; there was no room for me in her life. But I loved her. I always will. She’s my darling girl, and even when she was screaming for me to leave her alone, I loved her.
And now I was afraid she was already lost. Rayseline knew how to find my weak spots. Gillian was the biggest—and the most easily-targeted—of them all. Why didn’t I think to protect her? Why did I need Tybalt, of all people, to do it for me?
I knew it didn’t make sense to be angry at myself for this. In a war between land and sea, Gillian wasn’t even a factor. There hadn’t been time to set a guard, or reason to expect that Raysel would go for my little girl. That didn’t stop the anger.