Late Eclipses (20 page)

My hands tightened on the steering wheel as a chilling thought struck me. Raysel was insane, and she wasn’t surprised to hear that her mother was sick. Was she that crazy? Or was she the one who let Oleander into the knowe? It was a horrible idea, but I couldn’t afford to dismiss it out of hand. Raysel wanted the Duchy; this might be the fastest way to get it, if she was crazy enough to work with Oleander. If.

Was I paranoid enough to imagine a conspiracy between my liege-lord’s daughter and the woman who tried to kill me sixteen years ago? More importantly, could I afford
not
to be that paranoid?

Some idiot in an SUV pulled out in front of me. I swerved, swearing, and managed to dump the rest of my coffee on the seat, where it immediately soaked into the upholstery. “This day had better not get any worse,” I snarled, resolving to swing through the first drivethrough I passed and buy an entire gallon of coffee. Without it, I doubted I’d survive to see the sun go down.

Still swearing, surrounded by the taunting smell of the spilled coffee, I drove on.

 

 

 

I
T TOOK LONGER TO REACH GOLDEN GATE park than it should have, largely because the tourists were out in force. I wasn’t sure whether they were more annoying in their cars, where they missed lights and tried to drive the wrong way down one-way streets, or out of their cars, where they jaywalked with suicidal abandon. I settled for “yes.” More and more, I’ve come to appreciate the fact that the fae are naturally nocturnal. It lets me live in San Francisco and still avoid all the damn tourists. Most of the time.

I managed to get to the park without having an accident or giving in to the siren song of road rage. My headache actually helped, since it required me to focus on the road, keeping me too distracted to get really pissed. The pounding was back at full force, and had lasted
way
too long to be magic-burn—not that I’d cast any large spells recently. It was the sort of thing that would normally send me running for Lily. As it was . . .

I shivered, and pushed the thought away.

The parking lot nearest the Tea Gardens was packed with tourists, some of whom had managed to take up two or more spaces with their outsized SUVs. I indulged in some good, old-fashioned swearing as I drove around the pavilion to park in the shadows next to the snack bar dumpsters. The smell of cooking oil and decaying vegetation assaulted my nostrils as soon as I stopped the engine. Swell. Just
swell
.

The pain in my head was bad enough to make me unsure of my ability to cast an illusion without some sort of help. Thankfully, Devin was firm that all his kids would understand how to use hedge magic and “cheap tricks”—just in case.

“You always did know best, you old bastard,” I muttered, digging the bottle of marsh water and crushed mint leaves out of the glove compartment. I always keep one in the car. Just in case.

I squirted water around the inside of my car until I was nearly gagging on the smell of mint. My magic rose with sullen sluggishness, sending a warning bolt of pain through my temples. I did my best to ignore it, closing my eyes and chanting, rapidly, “Pussy-cat, pussy-cat, where have you been? I’ve been to London, to visit the Queen. Pussy-cat, pussy-cat, what did you there—

The spell burst without my telling it to, leaving me sticky with marsh water and mint. My head hurt worse than ever. “I frightened a little mouse under her chair,” I said, half-gasping, and dropped the bottle, reaching up with one shaking hand to feel the curvature of my ear. Round. Whether it was a good idea or not, the spell was cast. Now I just needed to get to Tybalt and find out what the hell was going on.

I was faintly dizzy from pain, which didn’t make it any easier to get out of the car. I staggered the few feet between my bumper and the back of the snack bar, barely catching myself against the wall before I was enthusiastically and messily sick. So much for actually eating something.

“Dammit,” I mumbled, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. That didn’t do anything about the taste. Well, I knew how to deal with that.

I was waiting for my coffee at the snack bar’s pick-up window when the familiar scent of pennyroyal rose behind me, which could only mean one thing: Tybalt in a recently-crafted human disguise.

“I was on my way to meet you,” I said.

“Did I sound overly relaxed on the phone, or did you simply choose to ignore the fact that I was requesting your help?” His voice was tight with anger, making him sound cold and distant. It took a moment to realize why that was so familiar.

That’s how he used to talk to me all the time.

When given a choice between confusion and irritation, I’ll almost always go with irritation. It’s easier to deal with. “Neither,” I said, stepping up to claim my coffee from the teenage attendant. He gave me an uneasy look. My strained smile didn’t make him look any calmer.

“So what possible motive can I assign to this little detour?” asked Tybalt.

“How about ‘Toby was just vilely ill, and didn’t want to have puke-breath when she showed up at your place’?” I asked, turning to face him. “Call it a matter of etiquette, and let it go, okay?”

Tybalt glared at me, arms folded over his chest. His human disguise was a good one, smoothing away the black streaks in his hair and adding an overlay of hazel to his overly-green eyes. It wouldn’t have fooled me for a second. He could look like a man, but he’d always move like a cat.

“Your opinions of proper behavior are always fascinating,” he said finally, shaking his head. “It’s no matter. Come along.”

“What?”

“You’re not that dense. Now come.” He turned and stalked away, forcing me to scramble after him. I don’t usually have trouble keeping up with Tybalt, but I had to pace him at a jog, making it impossible to drink my coffee.

We crossed the parking lot to the botanical gardens. Tybalt stopped at the hawthorn bushes. I did the same, taking the opportunity to down half my coffee, and didn’t see him reaching for me until he grabbed my arm. “Hey, what are you—” I managed. Then the world went black and freezing cold.

I swore inwardly, fighting to keep from breathing. Maybe Cait Sidhe are comfortable on the Shadow Roads, but I’m not, and I don’t appreciate being pulled onto them without my consent. We fell through darkness for some unmeasured time—long enough for me to realize this wasn’t the road I’d walked with him before, this was something new—before we tumbled into the light.

Tybalt caught me before I hit the ground. My coffee wasn’t so lucky; it fell from my hand, landing with a “thud” that meant the contents were no longer liquid. “Are you all right?” Tybalt asked.

I staggered away from him, glaring. “Why did you do that?”

“I needed to get you to my Court.”

“There wasn’t an easier way? Like a
door?
”

“Not to get you this deep.” He sounded more like the Tybalt I’d grown used to now that we were in his Court. I wasn’t sure how reassuring that really was. “I’m sorry, but the other roads would all have taken too long.”

“This deep?” I echoed. Abandoning my glare, I looked slowly around.

The hall was wider than it was tall; I could have reached up and touched the ceiling. Tattered lengths of silk and velvet hung from the walls. Muddy foot- and paw-prints marred the gray marble floor. This wasn’t the Court of Cats I knew. This was something else. “Tybalt?” I glanced back to him. “Where
are
we?”

“When Faerie was divided, Oberon gave the lost places of the world to the Cait Sidhe,” Tybalt said, falling into the strange half-cadence almost all purebloods use for reciting history. It couldn’t overcome the weariness increasingly coloring his voice. “The hidden halls and shadowed corners are ours. We hold Court in alleys and groves, plain to all eyes, but we live in the places that have been forgotten.”

My gut clenched as I realized what he was saying. “This isn’t the Court of Cats. This is your Kingdom.”

“Yes,” he said, with a tiny smile. “It is.”

“Why are you telling me this? Why am I
here?
”

“I’m telling you because you need to know, and because you’re the first child of Oberon to walk here since I claimed my throne.” He shook his head. “There was a mortal woman here once. But that was years ago, and there have been none of any fae line but the Cait Sidhe. Bringing you here would be treason if I weren’t King.”

“But you
are
King.”

“I suppose that means it’s just foolish. Now come.” He grabbed my hand, pulling me down the hall. My footsteps echoed on the marble. His made no sound.

We passed through an arched doorway into a hall with walls of golden wood. Tall windows were spaced every few feet. I glanced through one into a ballroom full of broken, mismatched furniture. The angle of the view was somehow wrong, like the rooms had been shoved together through a bend in space. Tybalt pulled me through another door and into a massive room with a domed ceiling. It looked like a church. A pile of wooden benches was heaped against one wall, adding credence to the theory.

I pulled my hand free and stopped, staring. “Oh, sweet rowan . . . ”

The floor was obscured by dozens of makeshift pallets, each one holding an unmoving Cait Sidhe. Some of the Cait Sidhe were in human form. Others were cats, and more were caught between shapes, blending human and feline features in ways that were simply wrong. The only sounds were groans and muffled whimpers, and the air was filled with the stench of sickness.

My life has left me far too familiar with death. I know what it looks like, what it smells like; the flat, tinny taste of it. And there was death in the air all around us.

“This is what I wanted you to see,” Tybalt said. “Now do you understand why I’m willing to break my own laws?”

I gave him a startled look. He looked back, some desperate, unexpressed hope in his eyes. I didn’t know what he wanted from me. I just had to try to give it to him.

I crossed to the nearest prone Cait Sidhe and knelt, pressing my fingers against his throat. His skin was hot, and his pulse was irregular enough to feel like it might stop at any moment. I studied his face, noting the tabby pattern on his cheeks and forehead. His features were rough-hewn, lacking the beauty of the Cait Sidhe nobles: he was a back-alley scrapper, not a show cat. My breath caught. “Gabriel?”

“And Louis, and half the rest of my guard,” Tybalt said. “This is just one room. We’ve filled three.”

“Oh, oak and ash.” I straightened, looking around. I could see at least twenty Cait Sidhe, from men Gabriel’s size to kittens no bigger than my fist. Three rooms like this? That made at least sixty—and that was just the sick ones. I hadn’t realized there were so many Cait Sidhe in the Bay Area. The fae cats guard their numbers carefully, but still. How big
was
Tybalt’s kingdom?

I crossed to a pallet occupied by a white cat and two tiny tabby kittens. She roused herself enough to hiss when I reached for the smaller kitten. I stopped, hand outstretched, and said, “I’m not going to hurt your babies.”

The cat looked at me before turning to Tybalt.

“It’s all right, Opal,” he said. “I trust her.”

She flattened her ears at that, but didn’t stop me as I scooped the kitten into my hand and stroked it with one finger, noting the unsteadiness of its breath. It panted, tiny legs making swimming motions against my palm. It was fighting to hold on, but I didn’t know how much longer it could last.

“What happened?” I asked, looking up.

Tybalt reached over and took the kitten, cradling it against his chest. It relaxed, nuzzling his sleeve. “Someone poisoned the food supply,” he said. “The nobility hunts; our subjects are fed, either from our kills or from supplemental food we purchase from local shops. They eat better and with more dignity when they hunt for themselves, but no one goes hungry. It’s part of my duty as King.”

“Who eats the food that you provide?”

“My guards, when they’re on duty; they don’t have time to hunt. Nursing mothers, the young, the injured. All the weakest and most vulnerable of my subjects.”

“And someone poisoned them.”

“Yes.” His expression was pained. “The nursing children collapsed first. We didn’t know why. By the time we understood, even the strongest had succumbed.”

“The children . . . ” My breath caught again. “Is Raj all right? Is he
here?
”

He shook his head. “Raj will be King someday. He hunts for himself.”

I nodded, not bothering to conceal my relief as I reached down and ran a hand over Opal’s side. She stayed limp, not reacting. I reached for the second kitten, and froze, hand still outstretched. “Tybalt?”

“What is it?” He crouched, putting the first kitten next to its mother. I indicated its sibling. His face went blank. “Oh. I see.”

I bit my lip. “Is it . . . ?”

Opal raised her head, eyes half-open and pleading. Tybalt shook his head and rose, folding his hands around the kitten as he lifted it away from her. “Opal, I . . . I’m sorry. I regret your loss.” Opal moaned and closed her eyes, putting her head down.