One Salt Sea

“Will you accept?” he asked.

Tybalt wasn’t bothering to conceal his anxiety. I blinked, glancing at Raj. His expression matched his uncle’s line for line—and I suddenly understood why Tybalt was so concerned. They expected me to refuse. They thought I was going to try to hold Goldengreen alone, all because I was mad at Tybalt for ignoring me.

They were here because they didn’t want me to die.

I forced a smile and said, “Of course I will. Thank you.”

Tybalt’s offer was almost a binding contract in and of itself, but my “thank you” eliminated the “almost.” It wasn’t the first time I’d thanked him for something—that happened in a dark alleyway, years and miles from where we were standing now—but it was the first time I’d meant what I was saying.

He blinked once, clearly surprised. Then he smiled, all the awkwardness and hauteur vanishing, so that only Tybalt was left. “You’re welcome,” he replied.

The last time he looked at me like that, I’d just recovered from iron poisoning after being rescued from the Queen’s jail. Then he disappeared on me for a month. I took a breath, not sure what I was going to say, but certain that I needed to say something—anything—to keep him from vanishing again.

The phone rang.

I caught myself. I’d just come frighteningly close to reaching out to a man whose motives had never been clear to me, and still weren’t. With everything that was going on, that was the last thing I could afford to do. “Excuse me,” I said, stepping quickly away. “I need to get that.”

I turned my back on them as I grabbed the phone. Bucer’s voice was immediately in my ear, announcing, “I cost two hundred an hour, cash on the barrel, and I don’t do anything that might get violent.”

“Hello to you, too, Bucer,” I said. “How about I give you fifty dollars for answering some questions, and I don’t get violent?”

“Sounds fair,” he said, without hesitating. “How’s it been, Toby? Long time no hear. Word on the street says you’ve moved on to pissing off bigger and better folks.”

“If you mean the Queen of the Mists, yeah, I’ve managed to get on her bad side a time or two. What do you know about what’s going on with the Undersea?”

“I know I’m hopping on the next bus bound for Denver. I figure the fish ain’t likely to push it all the way up into the mountains.”

“The kidnappings, Bucer. Somebody’s kidnapped the sons of the Duke and Duchess of Saltmist, and that’s why we’re having all this trouble. Do you have any idea who that might have been?” It wasn’t a surprise that he was already planning to get out of Dodge. That sort of self-interest was exactly what Devin tried to instill in us when we worked for him. Obviously, it worked on some of us better than on others.

Bucer hesitated. “I don’t know if I should—”

“A hundred dollars, cash. Tonight.”

He sighed. “Word on the street is that it wasn’t any of the crew that’s been working this Kingdom in the last couple years.”

I turned to lean against the counter, bringing Tybalt and Raj back into view. They were watching me, not making any attempt to hide their eavesdropping. That was fine. It would save me time when it came to getting them up to speed. “So you’re saying it was someone from outside the Kingdom?”

“Not exactly.” He hesitated again, longer this time. “Look, Toby, I get that you have a thing for lost causes and shit, but maybe this is one you should leave alone. Dangerous people and dangerous places, y’know?”

“Two hundred dollars, cash.”

He took a deep breath. And then, reluctantly, he said the last thing I wanted to hear: “The folks that might know, the ones you’d think would get hired for something like this . . . they’re saying a little redhead girl did the deed. Came around the markets, dropped some cash in some pockets, and then poof. The kids were gone.”

A little redhead girl. . . “Did they have anything else to say about her?” I asked, through lips that felt suddenly numb.

“You don’t want to know this.”

“Answer the question.”

“Just that she had them yellow eyes,” said Bucer. “You know the ones.”

Yes. I did. Every Torquill I’ve ever met has the same eyes, the color of honey wine. That includes Rayseline, Sylvester’s red-haired daughter, who disappeared after she tried—and failed—to kill her mother. “Are you sure?”

“It’s not like I exactly went digging for this shit, seeing as how I’m not in the mood for a shallow grave in the Marin headlands, but I got it from multiple sources. Red hair. Gold eyes. Giggle like she’s already seeing you with your throat cut.”

That was Rayseline all right. “Give me your address. I’ll send your money.”

“This better not be a trick.”

“Honestly, Bucer, I don’t have the time to fuck with you. It’s not a trick; you’ll get your fee. And if you learn anything else before you head for the hills, call this number and pass it on. As long as you keep talking, I’ll keep paying.”

“Shit,” he said, suddenly hushed. “You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Cash?”

“Cash.”

He gave me the address. I hung up, after repeating my offer to pay him for any additional information he could dig up. Then I turned to Raj, and asked, “Can you do me a favor?”

“What?” he asked warily. Smart kid.

“I need somebody to run payment to Bucer. I figure if you go as a cat, you can dart in, drop the cash, and dart out without him getting the drop on you. I’d do it myself, but it would take too long. Right now, I have more pressing commitments.”

“Sure,” said Raj, looking relieved to have something to do. I understood the feeling.

Tybalt didn’t share his nephew’s relief. Folding his arms, he asked, “Setting aside the question of what gives you the authority to give orders to a member of my Court, what could possibly press upon you more than visiting such a treasured contact?”

“I’m not giving orders. I’m asking for a favor. As for why, I’ve got to start looking for these kids, and if I go to Bucer, Titania only knows how long he’ll keep me there.” I resisted the urge to grab the over-sugared coffee. Rubbing my forehead instead, I said, “I can’t afford the delay.”

Tybalt’s expression turned suspicious, pupils narrowing. “What did he tell you?”

“Hang on.” I grabbed an envelope from the counter, scrawling Bucer’s address on the back. “Raj, get two hundred dollars from the jar on my desk and take it to this address. Don’t let anybody see you.”

“Sure.” Raj took the envelope, glancing at Tybalt one last time before practically running out of the kitchen. Tybalt watched without comment. His pupils were thin black slits against the green of his eyes when he turned back to me; if he’d possessed a tail in his human form, it would have been lashing.

“October . . .” he said, a warning growl underscoring the word.

“Bucer’s contacts have reason to suspect that Rayseline Torquill is involved with the kidnapping of the Lorden children.”

My voice was as neutral as I could make it. Tybalt’s response was anything but. His lips drew back from his teeth in an agitated snarl as he asked, “To what ends?”

“Who the hell knows with her? Maybe she was bored. Maybe she’s trying to kill us all. The possibilities are endless.” This time, I didn’t fight the impulse to pick up my too-sweet coffee. I’ve always had an easier time dealing with the world when over-caffeinated. “I need to go to Shadowed Hills. I have to talk to her parents.” I also needed to search the rooms she used to share with Connor, to see whether there was anything there that could tell me where to start hunting for the boys.

“I’m coming with you.”

“What?” I blinked. “Why?”

“Her intentions toward you have been well-established by this point, unless you can somehow interpret her attempts to have you executed for murder as a gesture of friendship. What sort of ally would I be if I allowed you to chase after her alone?”