going to call the Luidaeg, and ask her for a quick and dirty version of the ritual I used to summon the night- haunts.”
“
“
“I really don’t have time to argue about this.” I corked the bottle, checking twice to be sure the seal was tight. Dianda said it would find her. I wanted it to find her with the contents intact. “I’m going to call the night- haunts.”
“Why?” asked Marcia.
“Rayseline killed a Selkie in her effort to steal the Lorden boys from their home. October believes that the murder victim will be able to provide her with answers,” said Etienne, a slow mixture of revulsion and admiration in his tone. “Sir Daye, I cannot recommend this course of action.”
“Wow, I suggest something this crazy and I go back to being ‘Sir Daye’? What do I have to do to get you to call me ‘Countess’?”
“Let’s not find out,” said Etienne flatly.
“The night is young.” I whistled. One of the knowe’s seemingly countless pixies appeared from inside a cabinet—I probably didn’t want to know what it was doing in there, or how many others were in there with it—and came to hover in front of me at eye-level. I held up the bottle. “Can you throw this into the ocean, please? Don’t open it. Just throw it in the water.”
Pixies are smarter than most people give them credit for. This one planted her hands on her diminutive hips, wings buzzing like mad, and said something incomprehensible in the tinkling language of the pixies.
Fortunately, I’ve had enough experience with the local colony to know what she was probably asking for. “A loaf of bread and a pitcher of cream,” I said, like I was agreeing to something.
The pixie darted forward and grabbed the bottle from my hand before flying out of the kitchen and down the hall. Five more pixies appeared from inside the cabinet and flew after her. The bread-makers didn’t even look up. After you’ve been in Goldengreen for a little while, this sort of thing becomes commonplace.
Marcia looked at me quizzically. “Why did you bribe the pixies? I could have thrown your bottle in the water for free.”
“Mostly because I’m about to summon the night-haunts into their knowe, and I figure that if I’m not going to ask for permission, I should try to make sure they’re in a good mood.”
“I wish that didn’t make sense,” said Marcia, and sighed. “Are you
“Got a better plan?” Neither of them said anything. “Didn’t think so.”
“I have no desire to witness this,” said Etienne. “I’ll be returning to Shadowed Hills now, if you have no further need of me.”
“No, I’m good,” I said. “Let Sylvester know what’s going on, and what I’m doing.”
Etienne nodded, and offered a small bow to Marcia. Then he turned, stepping out into the hall. The smell of limes and cedar smoke wafted in his wake, and I knew, even without checking, that he was gone.
Marcia glanced after him before asking, “Is there anything I can do?”
“Make bread for the pixies?” I smiled a little. “And tell anyone who comes asking for me that I’m busy until further notice.”
“Got it.” She smiled back, hesitantly. “Are you sure this is safe?”
“Nope. But I need to know.”
There were other things I could have done. I could have called Bucer and tried to bully him into finding me more information. I could have called Danny and begged him to drive me all over the city, looking for traces of Raysel’s magic. I could have asked Tybalt for the loan of his Court, and sent them searching. There are always other options. But all of them would take time, and time was the one thing I wasn’t sure Gillian had. Maybe if I hadn’t passed out after Tybalt threw me into the shadows . . .
But I had. And I needed to find Rayseline, fast.
I dialed my home number as I walked down the hall, nodding genially to the people I passed. I still didn’t know all their names. That made me feel like a bit of a heel, when I thought about it.
May picked up, asking hopefully, “Toby?”
“How did you know it was me?”
“I’ve been answering the phone like that since Jin called to say that you’d left Shadowed Hills. Where are you? Is Tybalt with you? What
“I’m at Goldengreen, and I’m pretty sure you’d just freak out more if I told you what happened over the phone, so how about I tell you when you get here?”
May paused. “When I get there? What?”
“I need you to bring the car over.”
“Um.” May managed to pack a truly impressive amount of dubiousness into a single syllable. “Toby? Jazz doesn’t drive, Quentin’s too young to get a license—and I don’t think he’s had driver’s education—and Raj is, well, Raj. How are we supposed to get the car to you?”
“You’re going to get the spare key from the bowl on my dresser, and you’re going to drive.”
“You’re not really Toby, are you? You’re a Doppelganger or something. Toby would
“Desperate times call for desperate measures. Besides, how bad can it be?”
“I hate you,” said May balefully.
“So you’ll come?”
“We’re on our way.” She hung up.
I had to smother a smile. My former Fetch is the worst driver I’ve ever met. She might, with a little effort, be the worst driver in the world. I just hoped Quentin and Raj were smart enough to wear their seat belts.
I dialed again as I walked across the courtyard, heading for the hall that connected it to the knowe’s unused throne room. It was the only room in the knowe that Evening really seemed to be fond of. We’ve left it empty, partially in honor of her, and partially because it creeps the rest of us out. Even the bogeys stay away. I don’t know exactly why . . . but Evening’s fondness for using pixies as lighting fixtures may have had something to do with it.
Getting through the mortal phone system and into the limited fae exchange requires a unique approach to dialing. I hit all the keys in a clockwise spiral, then repeated the pattern in the opposite direction. I hit the “five” three more times for good measure.
“Please hold while your party is reached,” I said, singsong. “You may press the pound sign to return to this menu at any time. To be assassinated by a tribe of warrior grasshoppers, press three.”
The phone beeped twice before beginning to hiss shrilly. That was a good sign. That meant the connection was working. I punched another succession of buttons, this time running through the multiples of nine, until the hissing was replaced with the sound of cement grinders grinding away on the other end. I stopped walking, leaning up against the wall next to the dais that used to hold Evening’s throne.
The cement grinders ground for a few seconds more, then stopped abruptly, replaced by the Luidaeg demanding, “October? Is that you?”
The sound of her voice filled me with a profound sense of relief. I closed my eyes, allowing myself to sag against the wall. “Luidaeg,” I said. “Yeah. It’s me.”
“What’s going on? Did the transformation charm work? Why haven’t you checked in?”
“Yes, it worked, I haven’t checked in because I passed out after Tybalt threw me onto the Shadow Roads to keep me from getting elf-shot, and what’s going on is that Rayseline’s insane. She took my daughter, Luidaeg. She took Gillian.” My voice was verging on a panicked whine. I forced myself to pull it back. “Why would she do that?” I asked, more softly. “Why would she take Gilly?”
“To throw you off-balance,” said the Luidaeg, not missing a beat. “To hurt you.” There was something in her voice I didn’t like. Normally, the Luidaeg is so honest it hurts. She may not give complete answers, but the ones she does give are entirely true. Now . . . I didn’t get the impression that she was lying to me, but I definitely felt like there was something she wasn’t letting herself say.
I took a deep breath. “Luidaeg? What aren’t you saying?”
“Toby . . .” The Luidaeg sighed. “She’s just a quarter-blood. Maybe less, given what your mother did to you
