Late Eclipses (16 page)

I pulled up in front of the apartment, keeping the engine running. “Take Spike with you? I don’t want it vanishing into the park.”

“I don’t think it’s in the mood—poor thing’s still asleep.” May snapped her fingers, the smell of cotton candy rising as a version of my normal human disguise locked into place around her. She cradled Spike to her chest as she opened the door. “Be careful out there. I’ve got a bad feeling about all this.”

“Funky Fetch powers?”

“I’ve met you.”

“Jerk.”

I managed to keep smiling until the door was closed and May was walking up the sidewalk toward our apartment. Letting the expression die, I leaned over to rummage through the glove compartment and pull out the Tylenol. I popped the bottle open with my thumb and dry-swallowed three pills. They wouldn’t kill my headache, but they’d keep me functional a little longer, and I was ready to take whatever I could get.

Midnight had come and gone in the chaos surrounding Luna’s collapse. I returned the bottle to the glove compartment as I pulled away from the curb, too aware of the time. The last thing I needed was to cap my evening by getting caught out at dawn.

Searching the Tea Gardens was a long shot, but it was the best idea I had. If anyone knew how to poison an Undine, it was Oleander—and she’d have needed to get inside the Tea Gardens to do it. Her willingness to mix fae and mortal methods was part of what made her so effective, and if she’d done anything with mortal components, something would’ve been left behind. I just had to find it.

The entrances to Golden Gate Park are never locked, even though the park supposedly closes at sunset. The police make periodic sweeps, unaware of how pointless it is. They may catch the human homeless, but they’ll never catch the fae who make up most of the park’s nighttime population. I parked across from the Tea Gardens, leaving the cup in the passenger-side footwell as I twisted around to dig my emergency sneakers out of the back. I might not be able to change the fact that I was about to go wandering around Golden Gate Park after midnight in a hacked-off ball gown, but I could at least do it in sensible shoes.

Donning sneakers and my leather jacket made me feel considerably more capable of handling what was ahead. I hesitated, finally tucking my hair over my ears before getting out of the car. They were the only thing that really gave me away as anything but human, and I wasn’t kidding when I told May I needed to conserve my strength; magic-burn is nothing to sneeze at.

Neither is murder.

The ghostly outline of the car was visible until my fingers broke contact with the door. Then it vanished, leaving the parking space apparently empty. The spell would keep anyone from parking on top of me. It would also keep me from getting busted by the cops for being in Golden Gate Park after “closing.”

“Hope I can remember where I parked,” I said, and started walking.

A narrow strip of grass separated the Tea Gardens from the parking lot. I knelt to study it, but saw nothing more telling than some half-chewed bubblegum. Countless tourists visit the park every day. If Oleander had been there, her tracks were long gone.

Sometimes I regret my choice of careers. I like my work. I enjoy finding out where people have hidden their secrets, and I like knowing nothing’s ever as secure as people think, even if it means knowing that none of my secrets are safe, either. Still, there are times when something a little stronger than my own knowledge of human behavior would be nice. A full forensics lab, for example.

“Devin was right,” I muttered. “I should’ve joined the police.”

I turned as I stood, and found myself nose-to-nose with a male pixie. He was about four inches tall, glowing with a warm amber light that almost distracted from the fact that his short toga-style garment was made from a Snickers wrapper.

“Uh, hi,” I said. “Can I help you with something?”

It’s hard for pixies to hold still for more than ten seconds—their wings aren’t built for it, and a light breeze has a longer attention span—but he was just hovering there, expression giving every indication that he was waiting for something. I squinted. He was holding something behind his back.

“What’ve you got there?” I asked, and held out my hand.

The question seemed to delight him. Laughing, he darted forward and dropped something into my palm before vanishing into the underbrush. I looked down, just in time to see the oleander flower in my hand burst into pale flames. They burned without heat. The flower was gone in a matter of seconds, leaving an ashy smear behind.

Feeling suddenly exposed, I turned in a slow circle, rubbing my hand against my hacked-off skirt as I studied the area. Something moved behind the fountain on the far side of the parking lot. I took a cautious step forward.

Black hair flashed through blue water as Oleander turned and ran.

There wasn’t time to think, and so I didn’t; I just bolted for the fountain. Everything was suddenly clear, like I’d fallen into a dream where the course of events couldn’t be changed. She ran, and I chased. That was the only way it could go.

She was ten yards ahead of me when she came into view. My legs were longer, and I was gaining when she ducked into the botanical gardens. I didn’t remember drawing my knives, but I must have, because they were in my hands. That was fine. If I caught her, we’d be done. Killing her would violate Oberon’s law. I didn’t care, just like I hadn’t cared when I killed Blind Michael. He was a monster, and so was she.

Trees choked the path, cutting off most of the ambient light. I would have paused to get my bearings, but I didn’t need to; the bitter tang of acid hung in the air, marking her trail so clearly that I didn’t need eyes to follow her. I just ran.

The path opened into a clearing. Oleander stood at the center, silhouetted by moonlight. She looked over her shoulder as I ran into the open, and smiled. The smell of sulfuric acid and oleander flowers was suddenly overwhelming. I gathered the last scraps of my endurance and dove, intending to tackle her—only to slam headfirst into a young elm tree, the illusion shattering around me.

The pain broke through the haze that had fallen over me, leaving me suddenly aware of my own actions. What in Maeve’s name was I
doing
? I was chasing a known killer through a manmade forest, alone, when no one knew where I was. That wasn’t even stupid. That was
suicidal
.

Behind me, Oleander laughed. I turned in time to see the bottom of one bare foot vanish between two rose bushes, and the dream slammed back down, too strong to be denied. I ran after her, close enough now to hear her feet hitting the ground.

She was always just a few steps ahead and a few feet out of reach, almost in sight but never quite there. My lungs were burning. I promised myself that if I lived, I’d start working out. Better cranky and alive than cheerful and dead. That thought probably contained some vast truth, but I had better things to worry about, like what would happen if Oleander exhausted me before I caught her. I picked up the pace and was rewarded with a fresh glimpse of her hair. I was gaining. The smell of acid was so heavy it burned my throat. That didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but the chase.

I flung myself around corner after corner, running ever faster. She wouldn’t get away. The path twisted, and I swerved to follow; as long as Oleander stayed on the path, so would I. Her silhouette was framed by the dark mirror of the lake ahead of us, and the sight of water gave me the strength for one last burst of speed. Peri are desert creatures, and Oleander was part Peri; the lake would stop her. I could catch her and force her to tell me what she’d done. And once I was sure she’d told me everything . . .

I put the thought aside and concentrated on running. I killed Blind Michael in self-defense. If I ran Oleander down and killed her, it would be murder. She deserved it, but it would still be murder. Had I fallen that far? It was time to find out. I skidded around the last corner, knives raised . . . and found myself alone.

Moonlight bathed the water in white, chasing away the shadows. I came skidding to a stop, feet sinking into the mud as I frantically scanned the lakeshore. There was no one there. I looked down, and my breath caught in my throat, making my already oxygen-deprived lungs stutter. A single trail of footprints led from my feet back to the path. If you judged by the ground, I’d made the run alone.

I stayed where I was for several minutes, panting, before I heard a twig snap behind me. I stiffened. Maybe I’d come alone—somehow—but one thing was clear.

I wasn’t alone anymore.

 

 

 

I
RAISED MY KNIVES, HOLDING THEM at waistlevel as I turned. It was a good defensive position, and it wasn’t offensive enough that the person behind me would automatically realize they were about to be attacked.

Tybalt stood on the hard-packed earth of the path, well out of reach of the mud. He raised an eyebrow as he saw my posture. It rose further as he got a good look at what I was wearing. Clearing his throat, he said, “Fascinating as I find your choices of couture and activity, what in the world is going on out here?”

“Tybalt?” I lowered my knives. He was draped in a human illusion, features blunted and smoothed into a semblance of mortality. I opened my mouth slightly, breathing in the solid Cait Sidhe of his heritage before letting my shoulders relax. It was really him. “What are you doing here?”

“Now you’re answering questions with questions. You’ve been spending too much time with the sea witch.” He walked primly forward, stopping where the mud began. “The Dryads called me. They said you were tearing through the park like a madwoman, and given the situation in the Tea Gardens, they were concerned.”

“I . . . wait, what? I was following someone.”

Tybalt’s eyebrow arched upward again. “Not according to the Dryads.”

I hesitated, covering my confusion by sheathing my knives.
Had
I seen Oleander, or was I chasing a lure-me spell? Both were possible. The Peri aren’t illusionists on the level of the Gwragen, but they’re close.

Tybalt was watching with concern when I looked back up, a frown creasing his unnervingly human features. I wasn’t accustomed to seeing him like that. It seemed wrong, somehow, like it was more of a deception than the illusions I wore. It didn’t help that he’d changed out of his Court clothes and into something much more reasonable: weathered denim jeans, a linen shirt, and unornamented boots. It was more appealing than the finery, even if it was less openly attractive. He looked . . . normal.

“Toby, what’s going on?”

“I don’t know.” My voice sounded small and frightened. I raked my hair away from my face and squelched my way out of the mud, trying to ignore the obscene sucking noises that followed every step. “Root and branch, I need a cup of coffee. Have you heard the news from Shadowed Hills?”

“What?” He shot me a startled glance. “No. I’ve been here all night. What’s going on?”

“. . . Right.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Luna collapsed outside the Beltane Ball. I think she was poisoned.”

“She sent you to your death once, in case you’ve forgotten,” he said, a sudden chill dropping into his voice. “Why should her collapse concern me?”

I paused. Tybalt was a cat before he was anything else. If something didn’t affect him personally, he was unlikely to give a damn. Slowly, I said, “Because Rayseline is blaming me, and if Luna dies—”

“The little bitch will push for your execution under Oberon’s law,” he snarled. I blinked. I’d expected a reaction, but nothing that strong. “She’ll want your head. Titania’s bones, Toby, what
happened?”

“I’m not sure anymore. Remember Karen?” He nodded. “Well, she sent me a dream about Oleander, and then I thought I caught a trace of Oleander’s magic at the Ball. People keep saying Oleander wouldn’t come back here, but I can’t think of any other way to explain what I felt.”

“I believe you.”

The words were so simple and so calmly said that it took me a moment to find my voice. Finally, I managed, “Why?”

“If you were killing people, you wouldn’t start with Luna.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Besides, you’re smarter than that. You wouldn’t get caught.”

“What, are you waiting for me to snap?”

Tybalt shrugged. “I’m waiting for everyone to snap.”

I decided to let that slide. There wasn’t time to think about what it really meant. “If it’s Oleander—if I’m right—then she’s also the one responsible for whatever’s happening to Lily. She has to be stopped.”

“Why would she attack the Lady of the Tea Gardens?”

“Lily kept Oleander from killing me once, and she’s a nutcase. Does she need more of a motive than that?”

“I suppose not, especially since attacking that particular pair implicates you nicely. They’re very . . . unique women. It would take an intimate knowledge of the both of them to accomplish something like this.”