Rosemary and Rue

melts.” And it was doing just that, dissolving into a pool of sticky slime that was never going to come out of the carpet.

“Ms. Daye?” Dare said, in a surprisingly meek voice. Was this her first kill? Oberon’s blood, had I just watched her lose the last of her innocence? “Ms. Daye, are you okay?”

I turned to look at her, part of my brain noting idly that her eyes were even greener when I was dizzy with iron poisoning and blood loss. “No,” I said, almost smiling as I felt the pain finally start to fade. Shock will do that for you. “I’m pretty sure I’m not okay. But it was nice of you to ask.” Then I collapsed. This losing consciousness thing was becoming a habit.

NINETEEN

VOICES DRIFTED THROUGH the haze. I tried not to react, waiting for the things they were saying to come clear before I took the irrevocable step of opening my eyes. Once you’ve admitted you’re alive, you usually aren’t allowed to go back to playing dead.

“I thought I told you two to take care of her!” shouted Devin. His voice sounded like it was coming from just a few feet away—and it sounded like he was pretty pissed. If it was possible for a changeling to die of high blood pressure, he’d probably manage it one day. When did Devin come back to the apartment? I sorted through my recollections of the day and couldn’t remember letting him in.

The air smelled like cigarettes. I’ve never been a smoker, and that thought introduced the revolutionary idea that maybe we weren’t in my apartment. I tensed, then relaxed, waiting. If Devin was there, I wasn’t in danger. Well, not much danger, anyway.

“We got there in time!” Dare protested, voice desperate. Poor kid. She was a brat, but she’d done her best. If nothing else, she’d saved my ass, and I appreciated it.

“In time for what? In time to watch her get slaughtered? What a great idea! Why didn’t you bring a camera? You could have taken pictures!”

“She’s not dead!” Dare yelled, sounding like she was on the verge of tears. Devin never taught his kids to defend themselves from him; instead, he taught them that submission was a virtue. If you wanted to keep him off your back, you learned how to do it on your own time and without any outside help. That was the first lesson you needed to learn before you could leave him.

“No thanks to the two of you!”

The two of them? I’d only heard Dare speak—where was Manuel? Frowning, I opened one eye, treating myself to a blurry view of Devin’s office. I bet the neighbors enjoyed watching a pair of blood-spattered teenagers carry me out down the walkway. It was probably the most entertaining thing they’d seen all week.

Opening the other eye, I blinked until the room came into focus. Dare and Manuel were sitting on folding chairs in front of Devin’s desk, watching as he stalked back and forth. The kids looked almost sick, and Dare was clinging to Manuel’s arm like it was some kind of lifeline.

“But we—” she said.

Devin lunged, shoving her shoulders against the back of the chair. It rocked up onto its rear legs. She whimpered, and he yelled, “Be quiet! You were stupid! You should have been there hours before you were!”

“Manuel said we had time—” she protested weakly.

That was enough. Maybe I loved the man and maybe I didn’t, but no matter how scared he was, there was no reason for him to go taking it out on Dare. Using my right arm as a brace, I pushed myself upright. “Be nice to them, Devin. They did their job.” It felt like I was talking through a mouthful of cotton, but nothing hurt—at least not yet. I was sure the pain would be catching up with me soon.

“Toby!” Devin let go of Dare and rushed to kneel beside me, anxiously scanning my face. “Toby, what happened? Why did that thing attack you? Are you all right? What did it want? You’re awake!”

“Talking usually indicates consciousness,” I said, reaching out to gingerly pat his shoulder. “I’m okay. For meanings of the word that include ‘just got the crap kicked out of me by a Doppelganger,’ that is.”

Manuel turned toward us, smiling wanly. “Hello, ma’am.” Dare just kept clinging to his arm, shivering. She looked terrified, and I couldn’t blame her. Devin could be pretty scary when he put his mind to it.

“Hey, guys,” I said, matching Manuel’s smile with one of my own. Looking back to Devin, I added, “Those two saved my life, so knock it off. Stop yelling at them.”

His expression twisted, turning dark. “They were the ones that let your life be put in danger in the first place. If they’d been there when they were supposed to be . . .”

“I would have still been in bed,” I said, and shook my head. “It used my daughter’s face to get into the apartment, Devin. It was Gillian. I’d have let it in whether or not they were there. Hell, if they’d been there when it showed up, I would’ve thrown them out. If they’d been there when you wanted them to be, I’d be dead now.”

He froze, expression faltering as my words sunk in. I was right and he knew it: it wasn’t fair to blame them for my stupidity. He settled for folding his arms and glaring, saying, “You should be more careful.”

“How?” I asked. “Stop talking to people? Don’t leave the house—or what, better yet, just stay here forever? I can’t find out what happened to Evening if I do that, and if I don’t find out who killed her, you don’t get paid.” If I don’t find out what happened, paying you is going to be the least of my worries.

Devin sighed, reaching out to lay the back of his hand against my cheek. “I’d rather have you alive than get paid, Toby. There’s still time to walk away. If you don’t want this in the hands of the Courts, just tell me what you have so far, and I’ll make it someone else’s problem. You can let it be, and know that you did what you could.”

“I can’t,” I said, shaking my head. “I gave her my word.”

That was a lie: I didn’t give my word, Evening took it. Devin didn’t know that. There’s nothing shameful or embarrassing about getting caught in a binding, especially one thrown by someone as powerful as Evening, and I’d been planning to come Home to tell him everything. I opened my mouth to tell him and stopped. Something wasn’t right. The idea of telling him just seemed wrong.

“Toby . . .” he sighed.

“I know.”

We sat there looking at each other for a few minutes, Dare and Manuel watching from their seats. The poor kids must have felt like they were sitting on a nuclear testing site. Which of us was scarier—him or me?

I was almost ready to start apologizing for being dumb enough to get myself cursed when Devin shook his head, turning his face away. “If anything happens to you . . .”

“We’ll just run on past experience and assume I’ll be back in fourteen years. You can yell at me then.”

He didn’t look at me. Apparently, this was one of those situations that humor couldn’t defuse. I’ve never been very good at spotting those. “That’s not funny.”

The pain hadn’t returned; except for the couch springs poking me in the small of the back, I felt fine. That worried me. It might mean I was finally too broken to fix. “Can I walk?”

Turning back to me, Devin smiled, eyes still sad. “Would I be trying to keep you here if you couldn’t walk?” he asked, and offered his hands. “Get up. There’s a mirror in the bathroom.”

Getting up was easier said than done, even with his help. Once I was upright, I kept hold of his hands, waiting for the world to stop swimming in and out of focus. At least my legs were doing what I told them to.

“I got it,” I said, letting go and turning to stumble toward the door.

Going from the well-lit office to the dark hall was disorienting. My toes caught on the doorframe, and I tripped, catching myself against the wall with my left arm. I froze, staring at my outflung arm. Nothing hurt. Not my leg, not my shoulder, nothing.

Another unpleasant thought hit me as I pushed myself away from the wall as slowly as I could manage without overbalancing. What time was it? I’d promised Sylvester that I’d call if I needed help, and that was before I went and got myself shot. He had to be frantic with worry.

I could call once I knew how bad the damage was. Opening the door to the women’s bathroom, I stepped inside.

The only difference between the bathrooms at Home is that the men’s room gets better graffiti and the women’s room is quieter. The men’s room also has a working urinal—the one in the women’s room was spray-