Three mugs of coffee and the last box of donuts were sitting in the middle of one of the tables, as decoratively placed as any tea party preparations. A bottle of Tylenol was sitting next to one of the mugs. Elliot, sleeves rolled prissily up to keep them from brushing the floor, was kneeling next to an open vent, peering into it. Tybalt was nowhere to be seen.
I cleared my throat.
Elliot looked around, and said, “Your coffee’s on the table,” before returning his attention to the vent.
“What’s going on?” I didn’t let my confusion prevent me from heading for the coffee. It was still hot. Blessed caffeine. Better yet, blessed caffeine with a side order of painkillers. Maybe mortal medicine can’t beat fae healing, but it comes close, and it’s a damn sight more reliable.
“He believes he’s found a trail.”
As if on cue, a burly tabby- striped tomcat popped out of the vent, looking disgusted. The smell of pennyroyal and musk rose around him, and Tybalt was seated on the floor. “Nothing,” he said, sounding disgusted. “What a charming place this is.”
“Have some coffee,” I suggested. “You’ll feel better.”
“Will it bring back the dead?”
“No. But it may save your sanity.”
“Excellent.” He stood, moving to join me before turning baleful eyes toward Elliot. “What have you people been doing here?”
“Nothing,” said Elliot, looking uncomfortable.
“Dying,” I said. “Tybalt, come on with me. I’ll show you Barbara’s work space. Maybe you can find a trail there.”
He looked at me, clearly trying to decide whether I was simply trying to distract him, before finally offering an imperious nod. “Very well.”
“Elliot—”
“I’ll get April to escort me to Alex’s office. He and I have some things to go over, anyway.”
“All right.” I held up the phone. “I’m keeping this.”
“Excellent. I’ll have you notified at once if Sylvester shows up.”
“Good. Tybalt, come on.”
He gave me a dubious look, but followed me out of the cafeteria and back into the halls. It was almost five- thirty; sunset was still hours away, and Sylvester was Maeve-knows-where.
I just hoped he’d get here soon. We were running out of options.
TWENTY-SIX
SPENDING SEVERAL HOURS WITH TYBALT was surprisingly easy, maybe because we had a common task to focus on: sorting through Barbara’s personal effects. When I asked, hesitantly, why she left her files in a place where they’d be so easy to find, Tybalt laughed, replying, “She was a cat, October. Where would the fun be if she hid them?” There was the Cait Sidhe mind-set in a nutshell.
I became a PI because I was good at focusing my attention and shutting out the things that wanted to distract me from the task at hand. I was so preoccupied with studying the contents of Barbara’s desk, trusting Tybalt to notice any threats that might arise, that it was a genuine surprise when Elliot walked up, saying, “It’s time.”
“What?” I looked up. “Oh. Elliot. Sunset, already?” I frowned, glancing toward the wall like I expected a window to appear. “Sylvester’s not here yet?”
“No. But you should come with me, please. Terrie will be here soon.”
“Right.” I put down the papers I’d been holding and moved to follow him, Tybalt silently trailing us.
Elliot glanced at me as we walked, and said, “We haven’t been entirely honest with you.”
“I noticed,” I said. “You’ve never embraced ‘full disclosure’ around here, have you?”
“In more ways than you know. Alex will meet us in the cafeteria.”
“Alex?” I stared. “Oak and ash, Elliot, I don’t want to accuse his sister of murder in front of him!” I didn’t like the man, but there are limits.
“Don’t worry.” He smiled regretfully. There was something I needed to know in that expression. I just couldn’t tell what. “She never gets here before sunset.”
“What are you talking about?” I paused. “If she’s some sort of bloodsucker and you haven’t told me—” Faerie has its vampires, sort of, and most of them can’t stand the sun.
“That’s not it,” Elliot said, stopping at the cafeteria door and pushing it open. “After you.”
Alex was sitting at one of the tables, wearing a denim jacket over a white cotton shirt and a pair of leggings. He looked exhausted. Glancing up, he saw me and paled. “Uh, hi, Toby. Elliot. Dude I don’t know.”
“Tybalt,” I supplied. As for Tybalt, he had moved closer to me, starting to snarl almost silently. I glanced at him, surprised.
“Uh,” Alex said. “Right.”
“It’s almost sunset, Alex,” said Elliot. “Toby needs to talk to your sister.”
“What?” Alex sounded almost frightened. I narrowed my eyes, watching him. “She’s not here. You know that.”
“We need you to stay until she comes.” Elliot shook his head. “I’m sorry.”
“Elliot . . .” Alex began.
“Toby,” Elliot said, not looking at me, “please tell Alex your suspicions.”
I took a breath. “I don’t think that’s any of his business.” Tybalt’s growl was getting louder, distracting me.
“It’s important that he know why he needs to stay.” Elliot sounded serious.
I frowned. “If you’re sure . . .”
“I am.”
“All right.” Turning to Alex, I said, “I think your sister is involved with the murders.”
He made a startled squeaking noise. “Really?”
“I don’t know what her motives are, but she has no alibis, she hasn’t participated in any of the searches, and she was alone when she found the first body. She may not be guilty. She may have good reasons for everything. But it doesn’t look good.”
“And now you want to see her.”
“I do. There’ve been too many deaths. We can’t just let this lie.” If I didn’t find someone for the nobility to punish, they’d choose someone on their own, and they tend to be a lot less picky than I am. They might take all of us, on charges of obscuring justice.
“Elliot?” Alex looked toward him, eyes wide.
Elliot shook his head. “This one’s yours.” His smile was bitter. “You should have been more careful. I’ve told you before not to play games.”
That seemed to mean something to Tybalt that it hadn’t meant to me. His snarl became suddenly louder, and he all but pounced on Alex, hoisting the other man by the upper arms like he weighed nothing at all. “How
I stared. “What the hell—”
“I didn’t hurt her!” Alex shouted, his attention fixed on Tybalt.
“You’re not going to have the chance.” Tybalt released Alex’s left arm, pulling back a hand that was suddenly bright with claws.
And the sun went down.
Transformations in the real world never happen the way we expect. The light around Alex blurred as his hair melted from gold to black, the tan bleaching out of his skin, the focus shifting until Tybalt was holding a gasping Terrie off the ground. The change seemed to have disoriented him, because she was able to squirm out of his grip and wobble in place. Women have smaller lungs than men do; sunset had to feel like the worst asthma attack ever.
