“You know what you have to do,” she said. “It’s obvious.”
I frowned. “Actually, no, it’s not. What are you talking about?”
“You have to visit the Luidaeg.” She said it like it was a perfectly reasonable idea.
Like hell. Raising the dead would have seemed like a reasonable idea compared to visiting the Luidaeg. I stared. “I have to what?”
“Visit the Luidaeg.”
“This is sudden. And sort of insane.”
“I know. But it’s what you have to do.”
Connor turned toward her, eyes wide. Good for him. It’s not every day your mother-in-law tries to send your friends to visit a demon. “Luna—”
“Connor, be quiet. This is October’s road to follow, not yours.”
“And why, exactly, do you think this is a good idea? Are you trying to get me killed?”
“No. I’m trying to save you.” Luna narrowed her eyes. “When the Luidaeg healed your wounds, she became a part of this story. She tasted your blood, Evening’s with it. She knows that binding now, how it’s built, what went into making it and catching you with it. If there’s anyone who can tell you how to get out of this, it’s the sea witch. She’s the only person strong enough, and fair enough, to do it.”
“Fair?”
“She follows the rules. Whether she wants to or not, she follows them. If you go through her, there’s a chance you’ll come out alive on the other side.” Luna sighed. “You’re too much like your mother. It’s difficult to believe that you’ve managed to live this long.”
“Luck,” I said, voice flat. I didn’t like her bringing my mother into this. It felt like dirty pool.
Luna shook her head. “I don’t think this is a good idea, or a wise one, but it’s the only one I have. She may be able to help you. I can’t.”
I looked at her for a moment, and then slowly rose, bracing myself against the hedge. “I understand, Your Grace.”
“Do you?”
“I think so.” I sighed. “I should’ve told you sooner.”
“Yes, you should have,” she said, standing. “It’s too late for that now. You have to get help, Toby. Please.”
“Do you really think the Luidaeg will help me?”
Connor had fallen silent, staring at us in dismay.
“I don’t think you have any other options,” Luna said.
“Right.” I raked my hair back with one hand. “Can . . . I hate to ask this, but can Manuel and Dare stay here until I get back?” The question was bigger than it seemed. I wasn’t just asking if they could wait for me; I was asking, if the Luidaeg didn’t let me come back, whether Luna would take care of them. Dare asked me to get them out. I couldn’t get them far, but I could get them to Shadowed Hills, and Sylvester wouldn’t let Devin take them if they didn’t want to go. They could be safe here, if they were willing to be.
Luna nodded. “Of course. They’re eating and harassing Quentin now; I’ll speak to them after you’ve gone.” She cocked her head to the side, listening to something. “It sounds like they’ve decided to teach him a new form of poker. Poor dear.”
“That’s my kids for you.” I grinned.
“Quite. Your kids, indeed. Do you know how to find the Luidaeg?”
I paused. “No. I never needed to.”
“I didn’t think so.” She snapped her fingers. A thorny face appeared in the bushes. “Hello, dear. Toby needs an escort.” The rose goblin rattled its thorns as it padded out to sit in front of her, turning vivid yellow eyes toward me.
“Hey, you,” I said, pleased. “It’s nice to see you again.” It opened its mouth and chirped, apparently pleased as well. It’s always nice to be remembered.
“It will lead you where you need to go,” Luna said, stepping back. “Trust it, but don’t let it out of your sight until you’ve reached your destination.”
“What if I do?”
“You’ll regret it.” She smiled, sadly. “Just come back, all right? We mourned you once. I’d rather not do it again.”
“It’s not on my list of goals either, Your Grace.” I straightened, getting my balance back, and looked to the rose goblin. “Any time.”
It sneezed and took off at a run, heading for the garden’s edge. There wasn’t time for pauses or good-byes: I launched myself after it, somehow finding the strength to run. Behind me, Luna called, “Trust the goblin!” just as it leaped and vanished through the stone of the wall.
Luna had never led me astray. She could be imperious and vague at the same time, but she’d never lied to me, and so I kept running, jumping after it without pause.
The wall parted like mist, opening on a long tunnel. The goblin was a slash of moving green in the dark ten feet ahead. I kept my eyes on its back, ignoring the stitch in my side as I pounded after it. It leaped for another wall, vanishing again, and I followed, landing on a swaying theater catwalk. The goblin paused, looking back over its shoulder to see that I was still behind it. Then it stepped to the edge of the catwalk, and launched itself into the darkness.
In for a penny, in for a pound. I jumped after it, managing not to stumble when my feet hit solid ground. The goblin kept running, and I followed, into the dark.
TWENTY-THREE
THE LAST LEAP LEFT US STANDING at the mouth of an alley in a part of town I’d never seen before. Seagulls shrieked overhead, and the air stank of garbage mixed with the windblown smell of rotten fish and motor oil. We had to be near the docks, and not in one of the nicer areas. It was water-hag territory . . . and whatever else the Luidaeg may be, she’s definitely a water-hag.
Every child in Faerie grows up knowing about the Luidaeg. She is more of a bogey than Oleander, whose stories are only a few centuries old; the Luidaeg has been one of Faerie’s childhood terrors since Faerie
The rose goblin sat down, yawning. I eyed it. “Is this it? Are we there?” It rattled its thorns in satisfaction. Apparently so. Frowning, I turned to study the alley.
Piles of trash were shoved up against the walls, and puddles of stagnant water had formed wherever the asphalt was cracked or pitted. A single door was set into the right-hand wall a few feet from where we stood, the wood stained with salt, the hinges caked with rust. I looked at it, stomach sinking. Someday I’ll figure out why everything in Faerie seems to end up in San Francisco. Rumor said the Luidaeg had been in the city for almost seventy years. They said she could give you anything you wanted, for a price. There were things I wanted, sure, but the cost always seemed like it would just be too high for me to pay.
If Luna didn’t know what she was doing, I was in trouble.
The rose goblin had moved to sit on my foot, grooming the space between its toes. “Are you sure this is where we’re supposed to be?” It looked up, offering a rusty purr. I sighed. “Right, great. Nice neighborhood.”
“Thanks,” said a voice behind me. “Personally, I think it sucks. But it’s home, and the rent’s lower than the property values.”
I whirled, dislodging the goblin. The woman behind me smiled sardonically, tucking her groceries up under one arm. I hadn’t heard her approaching. The rose goblin flattened its thorns and hissed: not the best sign. “Uh. Hi.”
“Hi, yourself. Nice vermin.” She gave the goblin a thoughtful look. I frowned.
“Don’t I know you?”
“Maybe,” she said, and smirked. “You never did give me my receipt,
