Seanan McGuire - Rosemary and Rue

“A hope chest can shift the balance of the blood. So, yes, it can make you human, if that’s what you were thinking; it can also take you the other way.” Her smile was sharp. “I don’t recommend that road, Amandine’s daughter. You’re not ready for the consequences yet.”

“Oh,” I whispered. I’d touched it: I’d held the power to choose one world over the other. Why did that scare me? “Next question: why did you heal me?”

“Devin paid me.” The Luidaeg shrugged, tossing her empty can aside. “They were going to burn me at the stake about sixty years ago, and he managed to stave it off. I’ve owed him since them. He gave me a chance to pay that debt, and I took it.”

“Iron wounds?”

“I won’t even charge you for that one, half-blood. I wanted my freedom pretty bad.” She shook her head. “When you’ve lived as long as I have, any kind of captivity is chafing.”

“Did he tell you why?” It was a shot in the dark: there were only so many roads this could go down, and none of them looked good. At least I was probably safe on this one.

The Luidaeg smiled. “Oh. Finally, a good question.”

“What?” I didn’t like that smile.

“Why did he ask me to heal you? Why did he let a demon out of his debt for something so small? He said,” she continued in Devin’s voice, “I’m not done with her yet. She hasn’t found it. Now heal her, or I’ll see you burn!” She chuckled, returning to her own voice. “Like he could. Jerk.”

The bottom dropped out of the world. “What?”

“Don’t like that answer? Sorry; I promised you the truth. How you take it is up to you. Last question.”

I stared at her. She smiled. Then I swallowed, hard. I knew what came next, but that didn’t stop me from wishing I could ask her for just one more thing: just one bit of proof that my sudden suspicion was wrong. “No,” I said, and tossed her the key.

She caught it, blinking. “No? What do you mean no ?”

“No, I won’t ask now. Later.” An image was coming together in my mind, sickeningly obvious now that I was letting myself consider it. Blood was where this started: Evening’s blood on the carpet, my blood on the concrete, the blood of an assassin and an innocent man drying on the grass at Golden Gate Park. Everything looped back to the beginning of everything else, like the metalwork on Evening’s key. It all came back to blood and roses.

Sometimes I think everything in Faerie boils down to one of those two.

“What?” she demanded, half-standing. “You can’t do that!”

“I can. I owe you a question, too, you know. You can ask it now.” I smiled, trying to hide the sickening thud of my heart. She could kill me without thinking twice. It would almost have been kinder than what I was about to do. At least then I wouldn’t be a traitor—just dead. “I have to tell the truth.”

“What’s to stop me from gutting you where you stand?” she snarled, hands twisting into claws. “Answer that! ”

“Simple,” I said, keeping my arms wrapped tight around the rose goblin. “If you kill me, I’ll die with you in my debt. You won’t stand for that. You said so yourself.”

She backed off a half step, glaring at me. “You’ll ask that question someday.”

“Maybe.”

“I’ll have the right to kill you when you do.”

“Maybe; maybe not. We aren’t there yet.” Besides, there was no guarantee I’d live that long.

The Luidaeg paused, and then actually, grudgingly, smiled. “You’re pretty smart, considering your mother. Maybe the brains skipped a generation.”

“I’ll take that in the spirit in which it was given.” I half bowed. The rose goblin squirmed out of my arms, perching on my shoulder.

“What are you going to do now?”

If it hadn’t been for the attack in the park, I could have gotten out of it, because what I was thinking wouldn’t have been a viable option without blood. My blood wasn’t good enough, and neither was Evening’s. I needed the blood of someone who was involved, blood that would hold at least a trace of the truth. Without the attack, I could have let it go. But the attack happened, and we had the blood—Tybalt had been covered in the stuff. It would be dry by now, but it was worth trying. There was a chance, and I had to know.

“The only thing I can do,” I said, sighing. “I’m going to ask the dead.”

FINDING A TAXI NEAR the docks after dark is something I never want to do again. I would have called Danny; unfortunately, I couldn’t find a phone, and I was reduced to waving my arms whenever a likely car passed by, hoping someone would take pity and stop. Eventually, someone did.

The rose goblin had never been in a car before. It kept peering out the windows, making interested mewl ing noises until I had to fight not to laugh. The last thing I needed to do was convince the driver the woman he’d picked up in one of the worst parts of town was crazy. Besides, I was afraid the laughter would be more hysterical than anything else. I’d left the Luidaeg’s apartment in a daze, fumbling for a line of reasoning that didn’t lead back to blood. There wasn’t one. The entire case was bound in blood magic and chains of broken lives; it made sense to solve it the same way. So what if I didn’t want to? That never stopped me before.

It was past midnight when we reached my apartment. I paid the cabbie with the last of my cash, wincing as I did it. If I didn’t find a new job soon, I was going to be replacing fae problems with more mundane ones. Maybe I could learn to be a bartender. They work nights, don’t they?

The rose goblin rode my shoulder as I walked up the path to my door. The wards hadn’t been reset the last time I left, mainly because I’d been carried out by Manuel and Dare. I hesitated, contemplating what might be inside, then unlocked the door and opened it, flipping on the living room light. Waiting rarely solves the question of what’s under the couch.

There was barely time to take in the carnage left by the Doppelganger’s attack before two angry brown-and-cream shapes darted out from under the coffee table, yowling. The rose goblin rallied, leaping to the floor and rattling its thorns. The cats backed off a few feet, bemused, and glared at me. Not only had I gone away, but I’d come back with a . . . well, with a something, and it was threatening them.

I laughed, closing the door behind me. “Cagney, Lacey, back off. This is . . .” I paused, trying to think of a suitable name. “This is Spike. He’s visiting.” The rose goblin looked up at me and rattled its thorns, chirping.

The cats weren’t as easy to mollify. They yowled again, now circling us both. Spike turned in circles to match them, rattling whenever they got too close. “Spike, guys, stop it. You can fight later.” All three stopped, turning to look at me. I’d just gotten cats to obey. Wonders never cease.

I crouched to look at them, and they looked back, oddly calm. Sometimes, when they do things like that, I wonder if they’re actually Cait Sidhe planted to keep an eye on me—but that way lies madness. They’re just cats, and all cats know the same strange roads, in the end.

“I need to speak to your King,” I said. They blinked luminous blue eyes, looking blank as only cats can. I sighed. “I need to see Tybalt. I know you can find him.”

They gave no evidence of understanding; Lacey started to wash Cagney’s ear, ignoring me. Spike looked between them and rattled its thorns, confused. I stayed where I was, waiting. “Guys, don’t make me force the issue,” I said. “You know you have to take me to him if I demand it. You can find the Court of Cats. I can order you. I’d rather ask.”