Chimes at Midnight

“It’s a simple preservation spell, with a little herbal mixture to make the taste more palatable.” Walther turned to the counter one more time, this time producing a plastic baggie. “If you take one of these whenever the craving gets too bad, you should be able to keep it under control, for a little while. I’ll keep working on a more general treatment. This is just a short-term solution.”

“What do I do if I run out?”

“Try not to run out.” Walther swept the artificial jewels into the baggie before pressing the zip-seal closed. “This is . . . I’ll be honest, Toby, I have no idea how your body is sustaining itself. You’re the source of this blood. It shouldn’t give you any nutrition you didn’t lose in creating it. At best, this is like dancers eating ice chips to convince themselves that they’ve had an actual meal. At worst, it’s not even that much. You’re going to starve if this goes on too long, and I’m concerned that bleeding you more than once would wreak havoc on your system when it’s already overtaxed. Do you understand me?”

“Do I understand that this is a stay of execution, not a cure? Yeah. But it’s more than we had when we got here.” It might be enough to get me to a hope chest—or to Mom, although that seemed less likely. I picked up my leather jacket, shrugging it back on. “You do good work, Walther.”

“Yeah, well, I came to the Mists for the tenure, I’m staying for the excitement.” Walther smiled a little as he turned to hand me the bag of gleaming red stones. It didn’t reach his eyes. “Please try to be careful. And Tybalt, if she seems to be running out of stamina, don’t let her argue. Get her out of whatever she’s doing and back to someone who can take care of her.”

“I will have her at Shadowed Hills before she can utter a word of protest,” said Tybalt.

“Hey, right here, remember?” I protested. I took the bag from Walther, tucking it into the inside pocket of my jacket. The urge to eat another stone—just one—was strong. I forced it away.

“Yes, and we’d like to keep it that way.” Walther shook his head. “I know too much about goblin fruit, and not enough about Dóchas Sidhe. Be careful.”

“I’ll try.” That was all I could promise him. That was all I could promise anyone, myself included. This wasn’t the sort of situation that allowed for much in the way of “careful.” But there was “less stupid,” and maybe that would be enough.

It was going to have to be.

SIXTEEN

TYBALT PICKED ME UP before stepping onto the Shadow Roads. I huddled against him, holding my breath and squinting my eyes tightly shut. Better a few frozen eyelashes than a pair of frozen eyeballs. Before I got hit in the face with an evil pie, I would have joked about my eyes growing back. Now . . . well. Until we got things sorted, these were the only eyes I was going to get.

The thought was morbid enough that I clapped a hand over my mouth to stop myself from laughing. Given how little air I had left, that would have been a terrible idea.

Then we were stepping out into the warm, still air of the San Francisco night. I coughed as Tybalt put me down, steadying me with one hand while I wiped the ice from my face. Finally, I opened my eyes and said, “That’s it. You’re nice and all, but I need something with a little more horsepower if I’m going to be running back and forth across the Bay Area.”

He quirked a faint smile. “Are you dumping me for your car?”

“Come on. You always knew it was coming.” I coughed again, grimacing as my cold-chapped lips threatened to split. “But seriously. I can’t keep taking the Shadow Roads everywhere we go. If it means the Queen can track me, so be it.”

“Ah.” Tybalt paused, indecision clear. “I suppose this would be a bad time to point out that your vehicle remains in Pleasant Hill.”

“We’ll work it out.” I started walking toward the Luidaeg’s apartment. None of the Queen’s men were lurking this time—at least, none that I could see. There was always the chance that . . . wait. I stopped dead in my tracks.

“October?” asked Tybalt. “What is it?”

“I’m an idiot,” I said.

“Yes, frequently, but what now?”

“The Luidaeg said I’d be able to see through any illusion while I had the fireflies, and so what did I do? I left them in their damn flask, and then I left the damn thing at the Library.” I started to walk a little faster now. “I need my car, and I need those fireflies, at least until I can get my hands on a hope chest. You know, I did not sign up for a crazy fairy tale scavenger hunt this week.”

“Yes, you did,” said Tybalt, pacing me. I shot him a sharp look. He shrugged. “You got out of bed. The universe does seem to take that as a personal affront.”

The urge to call him something unforgiveable was strong. I settled for glaring and walking faster until we reached the Luidaeg’s door. It looked the same as always. I’d never been able to see through her illusions anyway. Raising my hand, I hammered against the water-damaged wood loudly enough to wake the dead. Then I stepped back, and waited.