cheek against the pavement so hard that it left my ears ringing. The cats around me were yowling at the top of their lungs. Well, it was nice to know they’d noticed. I went limp, letting whoever was above me think that I’d given up, and then pushed myself into a roll, ignoring the renewed pain as the gun dug farther into my leg. I was rewarded with an earsplitting shriek, and found myself pinning Julie to the alley floor. She howled, bucking against my hands, and managed to flip me over. At least I’d gone from my stomach to my back; she was straddling me now, face bestial with fury.
“What are you doing?” I demanded, just before she grabbed my throat with both hands. Conversation didn’t seem to be high on her list of priorities: banging my head against the ground was. I screamed, scrabbling for the purchase I needed to shove her away.
I was still screaming when hands grabbed her from behind and Tybalt threw her against the nearest wall. She rebounded and bounced back to her feet, hands crooked to expose her claws. He roared at her, full-throated, and she paused in apparent chagrin before opening her mouth and roaring back. Her tone didn’t even begin to approach his in strength or primal fury. Stalking forward, he smacked her across the face, knocking her to the ground. Julie hissed, more kitten than tiger, and he roared again.
That was the end of it. She whimpered and flattened herself against the pavement, rolling over to expose her neck. Tybalt knelt and ran one clawed finger down the length of her jugular vein before pulling her off the ground into a rough hug. The message was clear: she could have died, and he had spared her. Now she would obey.
I pushed myself to my feet, watching them despite the pain in my head. I’d never seen that sort of fight before, but I understood it. Julie’s attack was unexpected, but it wasn’t just an attack on me: when Tybalt involved himself, it became a dominance challenge. Unsurpris ingly, the changeling lost.
“Kill her,” Julie hissed, pulling away from him. “Kill her or let me.”
Tybalt frowned, lowering his arms. The shirt that he’d been wearing in the park was draped over one shoulder, pale cloth mottled with dried blood. “No,” he said, voice rough. There were undertones of the jungle there, dark and alien. “I will not. She’s here under truce.”
“Then I’ll follow her, and kill her when she’s not under truce,” Julie said, glaring.
“Why do you want to kill me?” I demanded.
The look she shot me was so full of hate that I stepped back, surprised. “You killed Ross,” she hissed.
“I did not!” I protested. I might have led him to his death, but I didn’t kill him. Sometimes semantics matter. “It wasn’t my fault!”
“Yes, it was, you stupid bitch!” She started to rush me again. Tybalt raised one arm to block her.
“I’d leave now if I were you, October. This Court is closed.” He took the shirt from his shoulder and threw it to me. I caught it one-handed, crumpling it in my fist. The bloodstains covered half the fabric: it would be enough.
Actually, it was too much: some of the blood had to be Tybalt’s. He was handing me the key to his own memories, and that’s not something any faerie gives lightly. “Tybalt . . .”
“Go.” He shook his head. “This isn’t the time or the place.” Julie shrieked, and he pulled her back again. The other human-form Cait Sidhe were standing now, their eyes glowing through the darkness. It was starting to feel like a scene from a Hitchcock film. I nodded, clutching the shirt, and managed a clumsy bow before I turned and walked toward the mouth of the alley. The cats parted to let me pass, their voices fading behind me as I stepped over the discarded mattresses and pillows of Tybalt’s throne.
When I had reached the sidewalk outside to find myself facing Golden Gate Park’s east gate I turned, looking back into the now empty alleyway. The Court of Cats never stayed in one place for long; as soon as I had stepped outside, it had probably moved on, leaving me and Tybalt’s bloodstained shirt behind.
I lowered the shirt, studying it. The blood was clotted in dark patches, staining the front and arms. I scraped at one of the larger stains with a fingernail. It wouldn’t flake off. All right: I’d try the direct method. I stepped back into the alley, out of view of the street, and raised the shirt in order to run my tongue across the stain. The taste was foul—blood, sweat, and dirt—but it was just a taste; there was no magic in it. I frowned. The blood had been dry for too long: if I wanted to ride it, I’d have to wake it up first. Maybe riding the blood wasn’t my best idea ever, but it was the only lead I had.
I turned to look at the park, just on the other side of the road. Lily was an Undine: water was her purview and the focus of her fiefdom, and if anyone could wake the blood, it was her. She might not like the idea, but she’d probably do it if I asked. She might even forgive me later.
TWENTY-FIVE
MARCIA WAS BEHIND THE TICKET booth, chin in her hand. I paused, trying to figure out what she was doing there before dawn, before shaking my head and continuing to walk. I didn’t have any money on me; hopefully, she’d let me in anyway.
She lifted her head and smiled as I approached, chirping, “Good morning! Lily said you’d be coming, and I should go ahead and let you right in.”
I paused. “Lily’s expecting me?”
“Of course!” she said, still smiling. I half expected her face to crack. “She was sure you’d be here. We were all told to watch for you.” She leaned forward conspiratori ally, and I caught the gleam of faerie ointment around her eyes. Maybe her blood wasn’t as thin as I’d guessed. “To tell the truth, I’m surprised you weren’t here sooner.”
“Right,” I said, slowly. “So should I just . . .”
“You can just go on in. Lily’s waiting.” Her smile faded, message delivered, and she looked at me with an odd coldness in her bland blue eyes.
“Right.” I know a brush-off when I see one. I walked on into the Tea Gardens, keeping my eyes off the water as I headed for the highest of the curved moon bridges. Its apex was almost hidden by a jigsaw-mesh of cherry branches, making it look like it ascended forever. That little optical illusion is more accurate than most people realize; it’s just that mortal eyes can’t see all the way up. Gripping the handrail, I began my climb.
The branches of the surrounding trees knit closer and closer together as I climbed, hiding me entirely as I stepped onto the air above the visible top of the bridge. I continued to climb, and they continued to twist together, becoming a solid ceiling of green. My final step brought me from clear air to solid, marshy ground. Lily was kneeling by a low table not far away, facing me.
Two teacups sat on the table, and the matching pot was in her hands. All three were painted with curved black lines suggesting the arch of cherry branches or of bones. “October. Please, come sit.”
“Hey, Lily,” I said, walking over to kneel on the other side of the table. The gun in my pocket pressed against my skin. I felt the iron through my clothes, like the beginnings of frostbite. “I’m sorry to barge in on you like this, but I need—”
“I know what you want.” She leaned across the table, filling the first cup. “I knew it would come to this when I heard that Ross had died in shepherding you, that the King of Cats killed a man outside my fiefdom’s bawn, that Juliet would no more claim my charities.” A pained expression crossed her face, flickered, and was gone.
I winced, looking away. “Lily, I’m so sorry. I . . .”
“You are more like your mother than you seem ever willing to believe,” she said, and sighed. “Are you sure there is no other way?”
“I’m sure,” I said, turning back to her. I hate it when I’m the last one to figure things out—but I’m getting used to it, at least where Lily’s concerned. “I have to know.”
“You may be your mother’s daughter, October, but you are not Amandine. This is not safe for you as it would be for her. Find another way.”
“There isn’t another way,” I said, biting back a bitter laugh. She had no idea how dangerous this was. “I’m running out of time. I need to know.”
“Why?”
I just looked at her. We held that tableau for a long moment before she put the teapot down, one webbed hand still wrapped around the handle.
Voice soft, Lily said, “Please don’t do this. For the sake of your survival, and your sanity, please. Can’t I make
