waitress.” Connor shook his head. “I know you. What’s
“Nothing,” I said. “I’m just tired.” I didn’t want to tell him about May. I didn’t want him trying to help; I just wanted to have it left alone until I was ready to deal. That might not be until after I was dead, but it was my choice, not his. I try to be straight with my friends when I can, but there are times I make exceptions. Right after I’ve had my death predicted by the fae equivalent of a singing telegram is one of those times.
Connor sighed, turning his attention to his own breakfast. “Have it your way.” After a pause, he added, “If this is about my wife …”
“It’s not. I haven’t given her a reason to kill me this week, and I’m not intending to give her one, either.” I smiled faintly. “I’m over you.”
“My heart bleeds.”
“It would if I weren’t over you and Raysel found out.” I took a bite of my eggs. They were cold and gummy, but I swallowed them anyway before I said, “Your heart, my heart, a lot of other body parts …”
“You give her a lot of credit.”
“For potential mayhem? Yeah.” I put my fork down. “She worries me. There’s something not right about her.”
“You know, most guys just have to deal with their exgirlfriends being jealous of their wives. Not coming up with elaborate conspiracy theories about them.”
“I was never your girlfriend.”
“The point stands.”
“Tell me I’m wrong.”
He sighed. “I can’t.” Glancing to the clock, he added, “I should be getting back to Shadowed Hills. I’ve got to attend formal audiences today.”
Sometimes I wonder if the essentially diurnal nature of the Duchess of Shadowed Hills is the real reason she married her daughter to a Selkie: she was looking for moral support. “I need to get going myself,” I said, leaving my mostly untouched breakfast behind as I rose. Connor eyed my plate. “If you want a doggie bag, get it yourself.”
“It’s okay,” he said, his tone making the words into a lie. He clearly wasn’t happy about my failure to eat, but I decided to let it go. I didn’t have the energy.
We paid our check and exited the restaurant. Connor, ever the gentleman, held the door for me. My fingers brushed his before he let it go, and I pulled away. Wanting each other wasn’t allowed to matter anymore.
There was a chill in the air outside, and the sky was solid gray, warning of rain. I looked up, frowning. “Weather’s taking a turn for the worse.”
“Guess so.” Connor stepped closer. I stepped away, and he stopped, not bothering to hide the hurt expression that flashed briefly over his face. “Toby …”
“Just don’t, okay? Please.” I shook my head. “Just don’t.” I hadn’t been so quick to pull away when we were in Fremont together, trapped in a knowe with a killer stalking the halls. I kissed him there, tasted the salt on his lips, remembered why I’d ever wanted him as more than a friend.
Oberon help me, I couldn’t risk that happening again.
Connor sighed. “Right. Well. Later, Toby.”
“Open roads,” I replied.
Treating Connor like that makes me feel low, but until he stops trying to get closer, I don’t have a choice. He’s married, and I have principles. I’m also smart enough to be afraid of his wife, which means I need to be even more careful about how close I am to him. Raysel strikes me as a serial killer waiting to happen. I don’t intend to be in front of her when it does.
The phone was ringing when I got home. I ignored it. I’m not normally fond of the answering machine, considering that Evening Winterrose used it to cast a binding spell on me from beyond the grave, but it has its uses. Taking calls I’m not in the mood to deal with falls into that category.
I was hanging my jacket when the machine picked up and Stacy’s half-hysterical voice poured from the speakers. “Toby, it’s me again. I’m sorry, I know I said I’d wait for you to call back, but I
I vaulted the couch and ran down the hall to snatch the phone. “Stacy? What’s wrong?”
“Oh, thank O-Oberon you’re there,” she sobbed. “I was calling and calling, but you weren’t h-home …”
“What’s going on?” Stacy’s one of the calmest people I’ve ever met. She could look a dragon running rampant in a school zone in the eye and swat it on the nose with a rolled-up newspaper. She doesn’t panic, ever.
“It’s Andrew and Jessie,” she whispered.
I froze. “What about them?”
“They’re gone.” Her voice quavered. “I went to check on the kids and make sure they’d slept through sunrise without any problems. Andy and Jessie weren’t there.”
Oh, root and branch. “When? What about Karen and Anthony?”
“An hour ago, and Karen and Anthony were still in their beds.”
I glanced at the clock. It was a little after eight. “Have you checked the backyard?”
“We checked the whole neighborhood.” She sniffled. “We even called Cassie at school, to see if she took them to class for some reason. They weren’t there. She’s on her way home.”
Great—we could get everyone in the same place for the nervous breakdown. “You’re sure you’ve looked everywhere?”
“We’ve looked everywhere. Toby, Andy’s only four! He can’t cast his own illusions!”
“Oh, oak and ash,” I muttered. That explained why Stacy was calling me instead of the police: she couldn’t involve human law enforcement even if she wanted to.
It takes children a while to grasp controlled illusions. There’s a brief period where things like that are automatic, but our reflexive magic fades as we get older, making everything a matter of focus and intent. Disguise spells take time to learn and some kids learn faster than others. Unfortunately, Andrew was one of the slow ones.
“Can Jessica hide them both?”
“For a little while. Toby, please come. We have to find them.”
“Shhh, I know. I’m coming.” I was fighting not to let her panic infect me. The kids were probably sitting under a tree in someone’s yard while Jessica showed her brother the finer points of a don’t-look-here illusion. “Just stay calm until I get there, okay?”
“I’ll try.”
Something else was wrong. Stacy shouldn’t have panicked that fast, even when two of the kids might be missing. “What else is going on?”
“I …” She hesitated. “We can’t wake Karen. Mitch even poured a glass of ice water over her head, and she didn’t move. I’m scared, Toby. I’m so scared …”
My heart lurched. “Stacy, slow down and stay with me. Is she breathing?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Make sure she’s comfortable.” If Stacy had something to do, she might not do anything foolish. “No more water. Just wait for me.”
“Hurry.” She was sobbing as she hung up. I stared at the receiver before slamming it down and bolting for the bedroom. First a Fetch, and now something was messing with Stacy’s kids. This wasn’t shaping up to be a good day.
Silently thanking Connor for getting me out of the house long enough to eat
“Ow!” I moved my hand back,putting it on the handle of my knife rather than the blade as I pulled it from the tangle of T-shirts. The sheath was a foot away, buried under a drift of socks. I pulled it free as well, slid the knife into it, and clipped it to the inside of my jeans. I try not to go into danger unarmed these days; I’ve learned my lesson and I have the scars to prove it. And I’ve gotten smarter about my weapons. I started wearing a sheath after the incident at ALH Computing, where I nearly gutted myself rolling away from my exploding car with an
