Chimes at Midnight

“Seriously, let me go.” Tybalt released my arm. I dug the baggie of blood gems Walther had made out of my pocket and popped two of them into my mouth. It barely took the edge off. I didn’t care. That was going to have to be enough, because I would need to be in way worse straits before I took another piece of the Luidaeg’s blood.

“Toby?”

I raised a finger, closing my eyes as I waited for the snarling in my stomach to subside. Tybalt was watching me with open anxiety when I opened them again. I sighed. “Better, for now. We need to move. Are you sticking with us?”

“Unless you have another fool’s errand for me to undertake,” he said.

“The only fool’s errand I have left is deposing a Queen, installing a Princess in her place, and fixing my,” I waved a hand to indicate my too-human body, “little problem.” I started for the dresser where I kept my iron knife, safely muffled in a bundle of yarrow branches and silk.

“Have you considered that curing your addiction may result in humanity no longer being an option for you?”

The question was mild. I stiffened but didn’t turn as I opened the drawer and started moving sweaters aside. “I did.”

“And?”

“And I’d rather not give up my humanity—not yet—but if that’s what has to happen, then that’s what I’ll do.” I untied the cord that held the silk in place and began unrolling the bundle across the top of the dresser. “If I come away from this completely fae, then so be it.”

“Ah.” Tybalt packed an amazing amount of relief into that single syllable.

The last of the silk came away, revealing my iron knife in all its menacing simplicity. There was nothing splendid about it: it wasn’t ornate or decorative. It was just a piece of metal, designed for killing the fae. And it was very, very good at its job.

“What, you thought you’d get rid of me that easily?” I slid the iron blade into place in the holster around my waist, relaxing a little. Using iron against the fae isn’t something to be done lightly. Iron dulls magic and causes iron poisoning, which can be fatal. It’s the sort of thing you only do when you have to. But if the Queen’s guard came for me again, they wouldn’t find me quite so helpless. “Sweetheart, you’re stuck with me until you decide not to be.”

“At this point, if your foul attitude and utter lack of manners were going to drive me away, they would have done so already.”

“There, you see? Nothing to worry about.” I stripped off my ripped, bloody jeans and pulled a clean pair out of the dresser, stepping into them without bothering to bandage my knees. They weren’t bleeding anymore, and at this point, a little pain could only focus me. I was either going to get back to normal or die before infection could set in.

“October, if there is one thing I have learned over the course of my association with you, it is that there is always the potential for something else to worry about.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere.” My jeans were looser than they would have been even a day ago. My poor metabolism had to be working double-time as it tried to keep me going on a diet of adrenaline, blood, and misery. “Throw me my shoes. We’ve got a Queen to overthrow, and that means we need to get this show on the road.”

Tybalt smiled as he bent and grabbed a pair of sneakers from the floor beside the bed. He lobbed them to me one at a time, and smiled more as I caught them. Catching the shoes stung my scraped palms, but I didn’t allow myself to show it. The last thing I wanted was to worry him more after I had just sent him away.

Voices drifted through the open door. I looked back over my shoulder as I pulled my sneakers on and quickly laced them. “Sounds like Quentin and Danny are here.”

“Ah, yes,” he said dryly. “The cavalry.”

“Stand behind the man made of stone, don’t get shot, remember?” I stepped in and gave him one more kiss before grabbing the first aid kit off the dresser. “Come on. Let’s go.”

“As you like,” he said, and followed me out of the room and down the stairs, to where the dining room was increasingly coming to resemble a surrealist dinner party. Danny was standing in the doorway, where he was less likely to accidentally break anything. May was setting out a platter of sandwiches; Quentin already had one in either hand and was eating like he was afraid he’d never be fed again. Which was a reasonable concern, given the way things had been going for the past few days.

“Everybody grab what you’re going to want, and grab it to go,” I said, stepping into the room. “Tybalt, that means you, too. You need to eat something.”

“Hey, Tybalt,” said Quentin, waving a sandwich.

“Hello, all,” said Tybalt. He took a sandwich before offering Arden a shallow bow. “Milady.”

Arden frowned. “Hello, King of Cats. Have you come to join this fool’s parade, or are you just here to make snide comments before disappearing again?”