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
“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.
We fell out of the shadows and into the narrow alley between two tall brownstone houses. The flashing lights of the police cars across the street told me where we were before I recognized our surroundings: Cliff and Gillian’s. I scrambled to my feet and ran for the house, not pausing to see whether Tybalt was following. Dragging a person through the shadows can hurt the Cait Sidhe. I knew that, and in that moment, I couldn’t care. Only Gillian mattered.
I vaulted up the porch steps and pounded on the door until it opened. A human woman stared out at me, eyes wide behind the yellow fringe of her hair. Miranda. My replacement, Gillian’s stepmother, and—since we were never married—Cliff’s first wife. Miranda and I don’t get along, maybe because I view her as a usurper, while she views me as an irresponsible bitch who thinks it’s okay to walk out for fourteen years and then stroll back in like nothing happened. In our own ways, we’re both right.
“October,” she said, sounding as surprised as she looked. “How did you—”
“A friend saw the police cars and called me,” I said, trying to see past her into the house. “What’s going on? Is Cliff here?”
“October, this isn’t a good time—”
“She’s my daughter, too, Miranda. If something’s happened, I need to know.”
“She’s gone,” said a gruff voice. I looked up, meeting the eyes of the man behind her. Clifford Marks, my ex- fiancé. It was the first time I’d seen him in over a year. I was surprised to realize I hadn’t missed him. I missed our daughter, but not her father. Not anymore.
“Cliff,” I said. “What happened?”
“Someone broke her bedroom window,” he said, gaze steady on mine. “Miranda went up to wake her for school, and she was gone.”
“Can I—”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Toby. The police will handle things.”
“Cliff . . .” Tybalt stepped onto the porch behind me. Cliff’s attention flicked briefly to him before returning to me. I raked my fingers through my tangled hair, looking pleadingly at my ex-lover. “Please.”
He hesitated before shaking his head. “No. My daughter is missing. I’m not going to risk you interfering with finding her.”
Something inside me snapped. “She’s my daughter too, damn you!”
“Maybe you should have thought of that sixteen years ago.”
That stopped me cold. How could I tell him that he and Gillian were all I’d been thinking of back then? What words were there to make him understand? I realized I was shaking just as I felt the solid, comforting weight of Tybalt’s hand on my shoulder.
“The mother has a right to help,” he said.
Cliff looked past me to Tybalt for the second time, and I found myself considering how the King of Cats must look to him. Even covered by a human disguise, Tybalt is impressive. “Who are you?” asked Cliff.
“A friend of October’s,” was Tybalt’s imperturbable reply.
“Please,” I repeated. “I have to help.”
