Late Eclipses

  “If this doesn’t work, there’s nothing else I can do,” he said, not looking up.

  “I understand,” I said.

  Prying Spike’s jaws open, Walther uncapped the vial and poured its smoky purple contents down the rose goblin’s throat. Spike went limp, and Walther began chanting in rapid Welsh.

  May grabbed my arm, hissing, “What’s he doing?”

  “Trying to save us.” I put my hand over hers. The air crackled with the scent of yarrow and the cold, bitter tang of ice as Walther’s human disguise started to waver, flickering around him like a bad special effect. That wasn’t a good sign. Everyone has their limits, and I didn’t know where Walther’s were.

  I stepped forward, putting my free hand on his shoulder to steady him as his chanting took on a more frantic pace. He flashed me a grateful look, finishing his chant with a string of repeated syllables. The magic shattered, and Walther sagged into my arms.

  Spike opened its eyes, making a small, bemused sound.

  “Spike!” cried May, rushing to embrace the rose goblin. It chirped and scrambled onto her shoulder, holding itself in place with three paws as it started grooming the fourth.

  I was occupied with keeping Walther from knocking us both over. He wasn’t a small man, and he was heavier than he looked. I wound up locking one knee and shoving, supporting him against my shoulder. “You okay in there?”

  “I’m fine,” he managed, trying to stand. “Ow. My head.”

  “Magic-burn. It’s not pleasant, but you get used to it.” I glanced at Spike. It looked perfectly normal. “What did you do?”

  “Something I shouldn’t have?” he said, rubbing his forehead as he managed to get his feet back underneath him. “I’d rather not get used to this, if it’s all the same to you.”

  “Seriously, what did you do?” If he’d cured Spike, he might be able to cure Luna.

  He must have guessed what I was thinking, because he shook his head, expression grave. “I pulled the salt out of its—sap, blood, whatever—and replaced it with gypsum.”

  “So you couldn’t do that for Luna,” I said, letting go of my fragile hope. Even I know that mammals need salt, and even if Luna was part-plant, she was still a mammal.

  “It would kill her,” he said. “As it is, I don’t know how long this ‘fix’ will last. The salt’s still in the soil. Your goblin’s probably going to get sick again.”

  “If we don’t fix this, you mean,” I said.

  “If you don’t fix this, a sick rose goblin is going to be the least of your problems.”

  “True enough.” Something rustled in the bushes, and two more thorny heads poked through the leaves. One had electric pink eyes; the other’s eyes were a mossy green. Rose goblins. I smiled. “Looks like your spell was more effective than you thought.”

  “That explains my headache,” he said, wincing again.

  “Toby gets those all the time,” said May, reaching up to pry a thorn out of her shoulder. Spike chirped, annoyed. “Usually after she does something stupid.”

  “I’m not normally this dumb,” he said wryly.

  May flashed a smile. “Toby inspires stupidity.”

  “Hey!” I protested, not really minding. Walther got dragged into things by Lily’s death, and May was involved as long as I was; if they could relax, even a little, more power to them. “I do not. Walther, are you safe to drive?”

  “I should be. I have some aspirin in the car.”

  “Good. I want you to head for Golden Gate Park. Find Tybalt; give him the antitoxin and tell him what to do with it. Get things started.”

  “Right.” He gave me a sidelong look. “And you?”

  “I’m going to send a message to Sylvester. I’ll meet you at the Tea Gardens in a little while.” Assuming I got out of Shadowed Hills alive.

  “Your wish is my command,” he said, and smiled, a trace of impish humor showing in the set of his jaw.

  “Good. Let’s get moving.” Spike rode on May’s shoulder as we walked back to the parking lot, watching with interest as our train of rose goblins increased. There were more than a dozen of them following us by the time we reached Walther’s car.

  “There’s something you don’t see every day,” I commented.

  Walther laughed. “Maybe you would if you gardened more.” He opened the car door. I suppressed the urge to tell him to check the backseat. “See you soon?”

  “Count on it.” He waved to May, then climbed into the car and drove away.

  “He’s nice,” May said, lifting Spike from her shoulder and putting it on the top of my car. “Weird, but nice. And what he did for Spike, I mean, that was really cool.”

  “What he did for Luna, too,” I said. “This is the best lead we’ve had in a while.” I glanced toward the top of the hill and frowned.

  May followed my gaze, asking, “Is it safe to go in?”

  “No, probably not.” I looked away. “I should call. See if I can get Quentin to come out. I just wish . . . ”

  “I know.” May put her hand on my shoulder.

  The payphone at the edge of the parking lot rang. I jumped.

  May laughed, starting toward it. “It’s just a phone. Relax.”

  “May—”

  “It’s just a phone.” She picked up the receiver, still half-laughing. “May Daye here.” Then she paused, going quiet.

  “May?” I called. “May, are you okay?”

  She turned and held the phone toward me, expression uncertain. “It’s for you.”

  TWENTY-THREE

  THE SCENE WAS STARTING TO ACQUIRE A strange, dreamlike quality, like it wasn’t really happening. I must have been poisoned again, I thought, as I walked over and took the phone. I wonder when that happened. “Hello?”

  “I see you found the salt,” said Oleander. “I have to admit, you’ve impressed me. I heard about your little game with Blind Michael, but I thought it must have been dumb luck. When did you learn how to think?”

  I dug the nails of my free hand into my bandaged palm. The pain was almost reassuring. “I’m not going to let you get to me. And you’re not getting near Luna ever again.”

  “How were you planning to stop me? It’s brave of you to rattle your spears in my direction, but you don’t know where I am. You don’t even know whether you’re really talking to me. I could just be a dial tone.”

  “May heard you.”

  “Who’d believe the word of a Fetch? She’ll see you dead, you know.”

  “You poisoned me.”

  “So I did; three times now. You check your car so carefully, but you never wipe the handles on your door.” She sounded amused. “Did your little Tylwyth Teg tell you about my work? Meddler. He won’t be helping you anymore.”

  “What did you do to Walther?” May’s eyes widened. I waved her back. “I swear, if you’ve touched any more of my friends—”

  “You’ll what, whine me to death? ‘Oh, poor me, I’m poisoned, my friends are dying, I’m a fish, oh, I should die.’ ” Her voice dropped, becoming predatory. “Don’t worry about the last part. It’s going to be arranged.”

  “Oleander—”

  “Is it already time for the empty threats of violence? I thought you’d go slow with me. After all, I’m going slow with you.”

  “Leave us alone!” I shouted, my pent-up anger boiling to the surface. Spike yowled, thorns rattling.

  Oleander laughed. “Not likely; I have unfinished business with your ‘friends’—and with you.” The venom in her voice answered a question I’d almost forgotten: whatever she had against me was bigger than I could have earned on my own. What Karen showed me—the dream she sent me—really happened. It was the only explanation. “You’re taking the fall for this one.”

  “You’re not getting away with this.” It was a cliché, but I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  “I already have. Checked on Luna recently? I understand she’s about to take a turn for the worse.” The phone went dead. Spike was still y
owling, and the other rose goblins were picking up the cry, creating a chorus of chirps and snarls.

  “Toby? What’s going on?”

  I dropped the phone. “Oleander’s coming,” I said numbly. “We’re too late.”

  “What are you—” May began, but I was already running for the hill. Answering her didn’t matter. What mattered was getting to Luna before Oleander did; what mattered was finding a way to haul this situation around to a happy ending before it ended all on its own. There was no time to think.

  There was only time to run.

  Spike raced ahead of me. It was all I could do to keep it in sight, scrabbling for balance whenever the loose dirt of the hillside rolled beneath my feet. I fell twice, catching myself on hands that felt more and more like ground hamburger. We were skipping the normal leisurely assault of the summit; this was a full-on siege, and for all I knew, we were already too late.

  Spike keened, and more rose goblins flashed out of the trees, joining my escort. They covered the hill in a flood of thorny bodies, yowling as they charted the fastest path to the summit. It always helps to have native guides. We halved my best previous time, taking small paths and hidden shortcuts I’d never seen before. I was scratched and dirty when we reached the top, and blood was seeping through the bandages on my hands, but we were there. The rose goblins flashed through the pattern to unlock the knowe, darting over, under, around and through as they forced their way inside.

  I wrenched the door in the oak open as soon as it appeared, racing inside with the rose goblins at my heels. The hall was still deserted. I skidded to a stop, looking down at the goblins that thronged around me. I’d never seen so many rose goblins before. “Find Luna,” I said, gasping for breath. “Find Luna, Spike.”

  My goblin rattled its thorns and turned, taking off into the depths of the knowe. Its family followed, and I ran after them, struggling to keep up. My sneakers were coated in mud, and they found no purchase on the marble, slowing me down. The rose goblins stayed in front of me, keening their distress and doubling back when I fell too far behind. They knew that something was wrong.

  I knew Shadowed Hills, but they knew it better, and they knew where Luna was. I followed, and prayed we weren’t already too late.

  The rose goblins stopped at a filigreed silver gate set against what looked like a solid wall. I knew that gate; it was one of the gates people didn’t try to pass without an engraved invitation and possibly a formal escort. There were very few restricted areas in Shadowed Hills, and that meant it was best to respect the ones that existed. The enchantments used to lock the doors didn’t hurt, since they made it practically impossible to violate the restrictions by accident.

  I’ve always done my best to serve Shadowed Hills, and I’ve always believed the knowe could understand that. It was time to test that theory. I kept running.

  The brick dissolved just before I would have slammed into it, allowing me to stumble into the private quarters of the royal family of Shadowed Hills. I stopped to catch my breath, looking frantically around. The room I’d broken into was actually a small, carefully tended garden ringed with marble benches. Cobblestone paths circled a decorative fountain before branching out to mark the way to two smaller, freestanding versions of the silver gate. The sky overhead was pristine gold, studded with two small green moons—a Summerlands sky.

  Connor was seated on the edge of the fountain with his head in his hands, letting the spray wash over him. “Connor!” I shouted.

  His head jerked up, eyes widening. I’ll give him this: he didn’t waste time. I’d just burst into a place I wasn’t supposed to be, panting and trailed by a dozen or more rose goblins. He didn’t bat an eye as he stood, asking, “Toby? What’s wrong?”

  “Where’s Luna?”

  He must have seen something in my eyes that didn’t allow for debate. He pointed to the gate on the left, saying, “In her room with Sylvester and Jin. Are you okay? How did you get in?”

  “It doesn’t matter.” I started down the path. I was suddenly, unspeakably tired, and I wanted nothing more than to call a five minute time-out and huddle in his arms. Sadly, not an option. “I have to go save your mother-in-law’s life.”

  “What?” He stood, falling in behind me.

  “Oleander’s on her way.”

  Connor made a choked noise somewhere between a gasp and a seal’s startled bark. “That isn’t possible.”

  “There isn’t time to explain,” I said, and froze as the leaves in the hedge behind him began rustling. The rose goblins keened a high, warning tone, alerting me to the danger I’d already spotted.

  Sometimes speed is all that saves us. The world comes down to action and reaction, physical science becoming all-too-physical reality. I was braced to run before the archer behind Connor finished standing. It was a man I didn’t recognize, tall, thin, and scarred, with ears like a bat’s. He was one of Faerie’s shock troops, nothing more, and it didn’t matter, because he was also the one holding the crossbow.

  My knives were strapped to my waist; I’d never reach them before he had time to shoot. Fighting wasn’t an option, and with Connor standing between us, neither was running away. He’d try to save the day if I gave him the chance, and he’d fail. He wasn’t made to be a hero.

  I was. “Connor, look out!” I dove forward and slammed my shoulder into his chest, forcing him to the ground. He made a small, startled sound as he fell, reminding me of the last time I tackled him, just a few years and the better part of a lifetime ago, in the darkness of Goldengreen.

  The momentum of my leap dragged me down with him. I’d moved fast; Connor was down before he really realized what was going on. I didn’t move fast enough.

  The first bolt hit my left shoulder, penetrating just below the scar tissue left by a long-dead assassin’s bullet. The arrowhead wedged against my collarbone, seemingly without encountering any resistance from my flesh. The second bolt hit lower, sinking even deeper before hitting bone. There was barely time to turn my head, see the shafts protruding from my shoulder, and realize I’d been hit. Then the world exploded in pain, like acid flowing into my blood.

  I was on fire, I was being eaten alive, and it would never end. I’d never felt that kind of pain before, but I knew what it was: there’s only one thing in Faerie that hurts like that. And I finally knew how I was going to die.

  Oberon wouldn’t stand for killing in his Kingdoms. Find another way or answer to me, he said. Pain without death became the way to fight—as much pain as you could manage without causing lasting harm. They were clever and cruel, those Firstborn, especially when they were waging war on each other. They set out to make something that could hurt without killing, and they succeeded. They created elf-shot, a weapon that caused crippling pain followed by a sleep so deep it could last for a hundred years. Sleeping Beauty didn’t prick her finger on a spinning wheel; she was shot by an angry sister who refused to live another day in her shadow. Elf-shot hurt the purebloods before it put them to sleep for a long, long time. As for changelings . . .

  Humans were still something to hunt for sport when elf-shot was created, and Oberon’s law didn’t say anything about their lives. By the time anyone realized elf-shot was deadly to changelings, it was too late; the weapons had been made.

  Devin was the one who warned me about elf-shot. It isn’t used much anymore—there are fewer compunctions about killing these days, with Oberon and the Queens showing no signs of coming back—but he told me what it looked like, what it would feel like, and that if I ever saw it, I should run. I was too close to human. I’d never wake up.

  Connor pushed himself out from beneath me, eyes wide. He’d seen the arrows hit me. Even if they hadn’t been elf-shot, I would have been in trouble. As it was . . .

  “Toby, are you all right?” He pulled me into a sitting position, leaning me against his chest. “Don’t die, please, don’t die. Guards! I need some guards over here!”

  The pain was fading. It hit too hard to last for long; it
was burning itself out, and it was taking me with it. Devin never told me that. He never told me that when sleep comes, the pain stops.

  I tried to force a smile, looking at Connor through increasingly unfocused eyes. I’d just been elf-shot, and he was yelling for the guards? He’d have been better off yelling for someone to open the windows and let the night-haunts in. “I loved you, you know,” I murmured.

  “I know. I always . . . Toby, please.” He moaned, but I couldn’t see his face; he was gone, faded into black as my eyes stopped working. That was too bad. I would’ve liked to look at him while I was dying, to take that sight with me into the dark.

  The footsteps of the guards echoed like thunder as they ran toward us, and past us, without slowing down. Past us . . . what was wrong with that? Part of my mind was screaming, trying to break through the peaceful mist that was wiping out the pain. That part of me demanded action, motion, resistance from a body that wasn’t paying attention anymore. Why were they running past us? Why didn’t they stay? Connor called the guards because I was hurt. They should have stayed with us, not run toward Luna’s . . .

  Luna.

  Oh.

  I went limp, turning toward the choked sound of Connor’s breathing. I could feel my human disguise burn away like fog in the sun as my magic deserted me. It didn’t matter. Not if the guards ran past us to the Duchess’ chambers. Not if I’d failed.

  The darkness was almost complete. Part of me was still able to look at it analytically and say, “I’m going to die.” The rest of me just wanted to beat its fists against the walls and scream. For myself, for May and Luna, and for Sylvester, because damn me forever, I’d failed him again.

  “Connor . . . ” I whispered. “Connor, the Duch . . . ” And then my body, which had seen me through fire, iron, and Firstborn, finally betrayed me. I could still hear Connor crying, and the keening of the rose goblins, but even that faded, and there was nothing but the black. And then even that was gone, and I was gone with it, and I was glad.