Late Eclipses

“I—” I licked my lips. They tasted like blood. That steadied me a little. Blood generally does. “I saw Oleander.”

“What?” His eyes narrowed. For a moment he was the Tybalt I’d always known—cold and predatory. It was oddly reassuring. “Where?”

I pointed to the dumpsters, and he took off at a run. I levered myself off the ground and followed, more slowly. He was crouching next to my car when I caught up with him, letting a handful of gravel and broken glass trickle through his fingers. “Are you sure this is where she was?” he asked. His tone was soft and distracted.

“I’m sure.”

“I see.” He stood. “Toby … ”

“Stop, please.” I held up my hand, looking away. “Don’t say it.”

“If she’d been here, I’d smell her. I can smell you—I can smell how scared you were—but not her.” He paused. “Oleander hasn’t been anywhere near here.”

“She was here,” I said, balling my hands into fists. “I saw her.”

“Look at me. She wasn’t here.” I turned back to him, flinching at the look in his eyes. He was scared. I could see it in his face. Did he know that I was going crazy? Worse, did he know I was already too far gone to save?

“Then she was right. I’m crazy.” I started laughing helplessly.

“Please.” He sounded like he was on the verge of panic. I was right there with him. “You’re not making sense.”

“She wasn’t here, and that means I’m crazy, and I killed them. I killed them all.” My hands were starting to shake. I realized the rest of me was shaking, too. “You can’t trust me. She wasn’t here. I did it all.”

“Toby—”

“Will you kill me, Tybalt? May said I’d die soon. I didn’t think it would be now, but that’s okay.” Laughter overwhelmed me, threatening to turn into sobs.

“October, listen!” He grabbed my wrists, forcing my hands open. “You can’t break down on me. My people need you. Raj needs you. I need you.”

“But how do you know you can trust me? How do you know I—”

“I know because I know.” His claws dug into my wrists, not quite hard enough to break the skin. “Maybe she wasn’t here physically, but there are other ways of being places. Oleander is half-Peri. She has more tricks up her sleeves than just the standard parlor games and illusions.” He shook me slightly. Somehow, that stopped my own shaking. “I know because I know.”

“I … you’re right. If I’m going crazy, why see Oleander, not Devin or Gordan? Even Simon would make more sense. This is too real. It can’t be entirely me.”

“You’re a lot of things, Toby, but I promise, you’re not crazy.”

“She has to have been here, somehow. Are her illusions that strong?” Maybe I wasn’t crazy. Maybe I just needed to kick Oleander’s ass. “The Peri do a lot with illusions, but she was casting a shadow.”

“We don’t know what she’s capable of.”

“You’re right.” I nodded, and then yanked my hands out of his as the pressure of his fingers finally registered. “Ow! That hurts!”

“I’m sure it does,” he said, smiling. The panic in his eyes was gone; he was looking at me again, not some possible, dreaded future.

“I guess that means I’m still alive.” And being alive meant having options.

“What are you going to do?”

“Do?” I looked up at him. He was still smiling, and somehow, that made me feel better. The world was falling apart, but Tybalt could find something to smile about, even if I wasn’t sure what it was. “I’m going to finish this.”

“How?”

It was a good question. “Remember Walther, the chemistry teacher from—” I swallowed “from Lily’s Court” before I quite said it, substituting, “—from the Tea Gardens?” Tybalt nodded, and I continued, “I’m going to take him your meat, and the cup Luna drank from just before she collapsed. He can check for traces of poison and try to devise some possible treatments.”

“What then?”

“When we have the results, I’ll contact you and Sylvester to let you know. Will you make me a promise?”

He froze, mouth tightening as he realized what I was about to ask. Slowly, he nodded. “Yes. But I don’t want to.”

“I know. I still need you to promise.”

“Tell me what you want me to promise.”

“I think you know.”

“So say it, and let me be sure.” His shoulders were hunched, braced against my request. It was almost funny. There was a time when I’d have expected him to celebrate what I was about to ask, not turn away from it.

People change. “If it turns out it’s not Oleander—she’s just a hallucination, and it really was me who did all these horrible things—I need you to kill me, because I think we’ve reached the point where I can’t be trusted to do it myself. Will you do it? If I’ve snapped, will you kill me?”

He raised a hand, pressing it against my cheek. Something told me if I spoke before he did, he’d refuse me and walk away. I didn’t want that. So I stood there, and I watched him, and I waited.

Finally, his voice pitched so low I’d have missed it if I were any farther away, Tybalt said, “Yes. If you’ve lost your mind, I’ll kill you. Just me, and no one else. I’ll take you to the place that no one leaves, and I’ll take you there alone.”

I frowned, studying his expression. There was something there that I didn’t quite understand. Still … “I owe you for this.”

“You owe me for allowing you to ask.” He pulled his hand away and shook himself, like he was trying to get water off his skin.

“Tybalt … ”

“We’re wasting time. We need to get your hands taken care of before you go.” He turned and stalked toward the Tea Gardens. I hesitated before following. I owed him. If I wanted him to kill me, I was going to need to wash my hands.

NINETEEN

NOT EVEN MARCIA’S BEST EFFORTS had done more than dull the pain in my hands. That was another complication for the denizens of the Tea Gardens—Undine can’t teach their natural skills, and without Lily, they didn’t have a healer. The Court of Cats wasn’t in a position to be much help. Cait Sidhe are better at hurting than they are at healing.

Marcia didn’t ask how I’d hurt myself. She probably didn’t want to know. She just produced a first aid kit from the admissions booth and ordered me to go sit down in the pavilion, where underpaid teenagers in “traditional” Japanese robes sold overpriced tea to tourists. Those same tourists stared as Marcia slathered my hands with antibiotic cream before wrapping them in gauze and athletic tape.

We must have looked strange to human eyes: a rumpled brunette receiving elementary first aid from a gaunt-eyed blonde, with a glowering man looming off to the side. It made sense if you knew the situation. Like most things, my life looks stranger when viewed from a distance. I was Marcia’s temporary liege, and it was reasonable for Tybalt to bring me to her for medical care after I impaled myself on a hawthorn bush fleeing from what might have been a figment of my imagination …

Okay, my life makes even less sense when you understand it. Whose doesn’t?

Once Marcia was done taking care of my hands, I hugged her and reminded her to go to Tybalt if she needed anything. She agreed, but she wouldn’t meet my eyes; I think we both expected this to be our last good-bye. She’d seen me bleeding, and she knew things were moving toward a conclusion. Encouraging her to hope I’d still be