Chimes at Midnight

  “Where now?” asked Tybalt.

  “Find Dianda, punch the asshole that locked us in the dungeon, get the hell out of here,” I said, and started walking.

  The hall outside the treasury was deserted, but it wasn’t difficult to know which way to go: Dianda hadn’t been wearing shoes in her bipedal form. Her footprints were the only ones that were both bloody and bare. We followed them through the halls of the Queen’s knowe, until we came to a pair of slightly-ajar double doors. There was only silence from the other side.

  Cautiously, I pushed one of the doors further open, and found myself peering at a stretch of the Queen’s receiving hall.

  “There you are.” It was Dianda’s voice. She sounded perfectly fine. Restless, but fine. “I was getting bored.”

  I turned toward her voice, and blinked. She was sitting on a plain wooden chair, with seven of the Queen’s guards behind her. The one who’d been the first to swear fealty to Arden was among them, I noted. Six more, including the man who’d tried to leave us for dead in the dungeon, were unconscious and tied up on the floor in front of her.

  “. . . okay, that works,” I said. “We have a treatment for iron poisoning, and we have the Prince. We need to get moving. Does anybody have a car?” Treatment or not, I wasn’t trusting the Shadow Roads until I’d seen Tybalt have a good night’s sleep, and I doubted my ability to make Nolan teleport me more than a short distance. His control wasn’t good when he was asleep.

  “I do,” said one of the guards, a diminutive female Glastig with a faint Welsh accent.

  “Okay, we have a car. What’s your name?”

  “Lowri.”

  I paused, looking at her assessingly. “Were you recruited out of Silences?”

  “After the fall, yes.” She met my eyes without hesitation.

  “Great.” If she was a former member of the guard in Silences, she was a lot less likely to be loyal to the Queen, and that made it safer to get into a car with her. “Come on, guys. Let’s blow this Popsicle stand.”

  Dianda frowned. “What’s a Popsicle?”

  I sighed. “Okay, see, that would have been a dramatic exit, but you had to go and spoil it. Come on. We need to get to Muir Woods before the fighting ends.”

  “Why?” asked one of the guards.

  “I figure either they need us, or I’ll get to see the bitch whose house this is,” I indicated the room, “getting her ass handed to her. Either way I win.”

  “I’m out of things to hit anyway,” said Dianda, and stood. “Let’s go.”

  Leaving the six guards behind with their former fellows, Dianda, Tybalt, and I followed the Glastig out of the hall, still carrying Nolan between us. It was time to get to Muir Woods. It was time for us to end this.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  LOWRI LED US OUT of the receiving hall and through the familiar rocky cave to the beach. We trudged across the beach to the parking lot, where only a few cars had stuck out the night without being ticketed or towed. I glanced toward the horizon, which was only just beginning to brighten with false dawn. Tybalt followed my gaze.

  “We should have time to reach the woods,” he said.

  “If we don’t hit traffic,” I agreed.

  “This is me,” said Lowri, drawing our attention to a battered brown station wagon that looked like it had been manufactured sometime in the mid-1970s. Electrical tape held the back and front bumpers in place, and patched a large hole in the rear passenger-side door.

  “I don’t know much about human-world cars, but I’m pretty sure that’s not a good one,” said Dianda dubiously.

  “Her Highness doesn’t allow her guard to take jobs in the mortal world,” said Lowri, digging keys out of her pocket. The human disguise she had crafted for herself concealed her hooves and goat-like ears, and made her royal livery look like jeans and an old green sweater. I wasn’t sure where the pocket was on her actual clothing, and for once, I had the sense not to ask. “Surprisingly, most mechanics don’t accept payment in dewdrops and moonbeams.”

  “But it runs?” asked Tybalt, eyeing the car.

  “I can usually talk somebody who understands cars into a freebie when things get bad,” she said. “It runs.” Glastig are masters of persuasion. If Lowri focused on a mortal mechanic, they’d have no chance of telling her no.

  Somehow, I couldn’t find it in myself to judge her. We do what we have to in order to survive in this world. When your regent won’t let you work, you find another way to keep body and soul together—no matter how unethical that may seem.

  “Help me get Nolan into the back,” I said, dragging the unconscious Prince the last few feet toward the car. “Dianda, can you ride with him?”

  “Sure.” She eyed Tybalt speculatively as she opened the car door. “Where’s he going to ride? In the way back?”

  “He’s not going to ride at all,” I said. “He’s going to take the Shadow Roads to Muir Woods and find out what’s happening there. That way, we’re not walking in blind.”

  Tybalt shot me a look that was half gratitude, half annoyance, grabbing Nolan’s knees and helping me hoist him into the backseat. “When were you intending to tell me I was doing this?”

  “When you saw the car and realized you were too tired to deal with this shit.” I guided Nolan into a seated position, fastening the belt across his waist. He slumped sideways. Dianda, who was in the process of getting into her own seat, pushed him upright again. “Taking the Shadow Roads alone shouldn’t be too tiring. You can meet us at the parking lot with an update.”

  Tybalt eyed the car for a moment. Then he sighed. “I suppose some early reconnaissance would not be amiss. If she,” he indicated Lowri, “proves to be another turncoat, please dispose of her before she can dispose of you.”

  “I promise,” I said, and shut the car door. “See you in Muir Woods.”

  “Indeed.” He turned and walked away, vanishing into the shadows at the edge of the parking lot.

  I turned back to the car to find Lowri watching me. I shrugged. “He gets protective.”

  “It’s not that,” she said. “It’s . . . I’d heard rumors that you were involved with the King of Cats? But I didn’t credit them. Not because you’re a changeling,” she added hurriedly. “I’ve just never known a Cait Sidhe monarch to court outside the, um, well, Court.”

  “We’re a special case,” I said, getting into the car. “Do you know the way to Muir Woods?”

  Lowri nodded.

  “Good. Then drive.”

  It was late enough that the beginnings of the morning commute were trickling onto the roads, making the freeway a hit-or-miss proposition. I handed the flagon and cruet back to Dianda, telling her how to use them to treat her iron poisoning. Lowri drove like a native, choosing side streets and back alleys over congested intersections, and I closed my eyes, starting to relax. I was exhausted. Maybe some people can suffer a mortal wound, use a hope chest on themselves, get iron poisoning, and manipulate someone else’s magic in a single night without getting tired, but I’m not one of them.

  “Is this woman’s claim to the throne really legitimate?”

  Lowri sounded anxious enough that I opened one eye, and replied, “Yes, it is. She’s King Gilad’s daughter. She looks like him. His knowe opened for her. She’s the real Queen in the Mists, and she’s claiming her crown. The guy in the back is her brother. He’s been asleep for a while, thanks to the lady you used to serve. Taking him was sort of the last-ditch attempt to make Arden back down.”

  “She has the support of the Undersea,” said Dianda. “In case that matters.”

  “I served the current Queen because my family died in the War of Silences,” said Lowri. “I lost my liege, my home, my family . . . everything. I had nowhere else to go. But I never gave her my loyalty. Just my service.”

  “We’re not the ones you have to convince,” I said. “As long as you don’t drive us off a cliff, I’m good.”

  “We’d hit the water, so I’m good either way,” said
Dianda.

  “I want my normal sidekicks back,” I said.

  She smirked at me in the rearview mirror. We kept driving.

  Lowri turned off the road leading to the Muir Woods parking lot as the first rays of dawn were starting to tint the sky. True to his word, Tybalt was waiting at the gate, which was standing open for us. He stepped aside as Lowri pulled into the first available space, and she killed the engine just as the sun crested the horizon and dawn slammed down on us like a hammer. All the air went out of the world, taking the illusions that made us seem human with it. In that moment, we were defenseless.

  I scrabbled for the door handle, finally managing to open the door and lean out into the fresh morning air. It had the distinct ashy taste of dying magic, but that didn’t matter; it was a little easier to breathe, and I was willing to take what I could get.

  Then dawn passed, and I could breathe again. I pulled in a great whooping gasp, choked, and did it again, more slowly this time. “Everyone all right?”

  “I’m good,” said Dianda. She left the flagon and cruet in the back as she got out of the car. I nodded my approval. I didn’t want to risk them getting broken when we might need them later.

  “Yes,” said Lowri.

  “There are human rangers in the gateway building,” said Tybalt. “I’ve found another route through the woods.”

  “Oh, yay,” I said flatly, and got out of the car. “Tromping through the woods carrying an unconscious man is my favorite way to start the day.”

  “That’s good, because that’s what you’re about to do,” said Dianda.

  I sighed. “And apparently, the Undersea doesn’t have sarcasm. All right. Let’s move.”

  “I can get him,” said Lowri. We turned to look at her. She shrugged. “I’m stronger than I look.”

  Glastig are essentially part goat. Even the weakest among them could win a human weightlifting competition. I nodded. “Okay. Lowri, you carry Nolan. Tybalt, you’re on point; Dianda, guard the rear. Now let’s move before the rangers come to see whether we need help.”

  Working together, we were able to lever Nolan out of the car. Lowri hoisted him into a fireman’s carry. Tybalt gestured for us to follow him into the trees, and the five of us melted into the brush. For once, I wasn’t the loudest as we walked toward the knowe: that honor went to Dianda, who couldn’t seem to avoid stepping on every twig and branch we passed. Tybalt moved like a shadow, and Lowri was almost as quiet, her hooves finding easy purchase on the uneven ground. I was somewhere in the middle, not pureblood silent, but not a walking advertisement for our position, either.

  Tybalt slowed to match me, murmuring, “I fear we may be walking into something.”

  “That’s not encouraging. Didn’t you check the knowe?”

  “The door is guarded by the Queen’s men. Either Arden has swayed them to her side . . .”

  “Or we’re about to walk into a trap, got it.” I looked back over my shoulder at Dianda. “You want to cut down to the beach and see what’s going on with the Undersea?”

  “No. I want to punch your former monarch in the throat until she sees starfish. But I’ll go. We may need reinforcements, and I’m not sure how much longer I can stay on my feet.” She grimaced. “I mean that literally. My knees are starting to go wobbly. I need to get into the water.”

  “Send whoever you can. We’ll see you soon.”

  “Kind tides,” Dianda replied, and turned, hiking off in a different direction. I didn’t question whether she’d know where she was going. Merrow can always find the sea.

  The rest of us kept going. The air shimmered around us as we stepped from the well-traveled walkway onto the final approach to Arden’s knowe, and the open door in the gnarled old tree became suddenly visible. Two of the Queen’s men were standing there, flanking the opening. I looked to Lowri. She was frowning.

  “I know them,” she said. “There’s no way they’ve turned against the Queen.”

  “Okay.” I turned to her. “This is where I trust you, and you either prove me right, or you betray us the minute our backs are turned. I want you to stay out here with Nolan. Guard him with your life. Can you do that for me?”

  Lowri blinked. Then, sensibly, she asked, “What’s in it for me?”

  “If Arden wins, she’s going to need a guard. I’ll praise you to the skies. And if she loses, you’re in the perfect position to either tell the old Queen you were on her side all along, or run like hell. You can’t lose if you don’t walk through those doors. So will you do this?”

  “If Arden doesn’t take the throne, I’ll run,” said Lowri, and nodded. “I’ll be here.”

  “Great. That’s a start.” I turned to Tybalt. “Now let’s go for the finish.”

  We stepped out of the bushes, walking toward the doors to the knowe. The Queen’s men turned to face us, dropping their spears into position. I ignored them, continuing to walk.

  “Halt,” said one.

  “Bite me,” I replied.

  “In the name of Her Majesty, Queen of the Mists, I command you to halt,” said the other.

  “In my own name, I refuse,” said Tybalt.

  The two guards exchanged a look, clearly puzzled. Then, to my surprise, they raised their spears. “Then pass,” said the first.

  I blinked. Normally, getting past a guarded door isn’t as easy as going “nuh-uh” when you’re told you can’t come in. “Oooookay,” I said. Eyeing the guards warily, I walked to the door. They didn’t stop me. I pushed it open and stepped through, with Tybalt at my side. The guards didn’t say a word as they closed the door behind us.

  The Hobs had clearly been hard at work: the cobwebs that had choked the hall when we first entered were gone, revealing a vaulted ceiling of polished redwood and stained glass. It was beautiful. It was also empty.

  “I don’t like this,” I murmured.

  “Neither do I,” said Tybalt.

  We kept walking. At this point, there didn’t seem like any other option. The people had to be in the knowe somewhere; two conflicting armies, however small, don’t just disappear . . .

  My head was starting to throb again. I shook it, hoping I could will the pain away. It got worse, and I realized I could hear humming from the receiving room. “Oh, crap. Tybalt.” I grabbed his arm. He kept walking, dragging me with him for almost a foot before I let go. He didn’t seem to notice. He just kept going.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered, and turned, running back the way we’d come.

  The guards blinked when I burst through the door. “Don’t mind me,” I said, grabbing the nearest fallen redwood branch. It was sticky with sap, clinging to my fingers like glue. Good. “Carry on,” I said, and went charging back inside. They might have stopped me if I’d given them time to realize what I was doing, and I couldn’t afford that.

  Once I was back in the knowe, I scraped off as much sap as I could, rolling it between my fingers until I had a thick ball. I pulled it apart and jammed it into my ears, grimacing. The throbbing in my head stopped instantly. I closed my eyes. “Well, crud,” I whispered.

  I’d guessed right when I heard the humming: the Queen was part Siren, and we’d backed her into a corner. We should have stopped to think about what that might mean. And now it was me and a knife versus her and all my allies.

  “Isn’t this the best damn day.” I opened my eyes and started walking again, not quite running, but not wasting time as I made my way down the hall to the reception room. The scene that waited for me there wasn’t a surprise. I’d still been praying for something different.

  The Queen was draped languidly over the throne that was rightfully Arden’s, wearing a long white gown that looked like it would get dirty if you so much as thought the word “mud.” Her lips were moving, probably in some vicious comment about my timing or my appearance. I couldn’t hear her. The redwood sap was doing its job. That was one threat down—but only one, and I was about to have a hell of a lot more to deal with.

  The receiving h
all was full of people who should have been my allies. Sylvester and his guards lined the walls. Danny loomed above the rest. He’d never seemed menacing before. He was managing it now—and so was Tybalt, who stood at the Queen’s right hand. Arden was at the Queen’s left. All of them were looking at me with the same blank-eyed stare and no signs of recognition.

  “This is gonna suck,” I muttered. Louder, I said, “You didn’t have to go all supervillain and take over the whole room. You could have just ceded your throne and walked away.”

  The Queen’s mouth moved. It was a relief not to know what she was saying.

  “No, seriously. Let everyone go and get out. Leave the Mists now, and we won’t come after you. I give you my word.”

  She threw back her head, and I didn’t have to hear her to know that she was laughing. Then she pointed at me, and May walked out of the crowd of Sylvester’s men, a long dagger in her hand. She moved to the exact center of the room and stopped, staring into the distance.

  The Queen opened her mouth, not speaking this time—singing. In a flash, I knew what was about to happen, and I didn’t move.

  I’m sorry, May, I thought.

  May—who the Queen must have chosen because she was politically useless, but still important to me—raised the dagger and slit her own throat. Blood cascaded down her front like a waterfall, and her eyes widened, understanding coming back into them for a split second before she collapsed to the floor. I walked forward and knelt beside her, picking up the dagger and checking for a pulse at the same time. She didn’t have one.

  “She’s dead,” I said, struggling to keep the horror and revulsion out of my voice. She would be fine—she had to be, she was a Fetch—but she was my friend, and her face was my own. I was going to be seeing that moment in my dreams for years. I raised my head and looked at the Queen, who was smirking at me. “You killed her. You violated Oberon’s Law, and for what? To make a point? You killed her. You know what I have to say to that?”