Authors: Seanan McGuire
Rosemary and Rue (28 page)
“Whoa, big fella,” I said, stepping backward. I’d run if he missed . . . and if he didn’t, I was pretty much screwed. “No need to get violent—” The gun went off half a second before the pain hit. I screamed, clapping my hands over the new hole in my right thigh. Judging by the pulse of blood between my fingers, he’d managed to miss the major artery—and considering how close he was, that wasn’t good. He’d been shooting to wound. He wanted to take his time.
Forcing myself not to hyperventilate, I raised my head. If I was going to die, I was going to do it with my eyes open. He was standing right in front of me, Julie crumpled on the ground behind him.
“Nice driving, bitch,” he growled, and raised his gun.
Evening, I’m sorry,
I thought. I kept my eyes on his, squaring my shoulders, and waited for him to pull the trigger. This was it: end of game.
I thought. I kept my eyes on his, squaring my shoulders, and waited for him to pull the trigger. This was it: end of game.
Tybalt dropped out of the trees above us, landing solidly on the Redcap’s head.
The gun went flying, and I fell backward, barely catching myself. I still don’t know why I didn’t pass out. I couldn’t move; all I could do was stare, openmouthed. I’d never seen the King of Cats fight before. He was suddenly everywhere, made of nothing but fangs and claws and fury, snarling like a chainsaw trying to sing opera. Our witless assassin never stood a chance.
Julie crawled to her feet, shaking herself before running back into the darkness. My heart sank as I realized that I hadn’t heard a sound from Ross since the fight began. I wanted to follow her, but I couldn’t get my feet to move. Tybalt’s hand, claws extended, was coming down across the Redcap’s throat. I managed to turn my head before the blow fell, and spotted the gun, now easily three feet away. I struggled to my hands and knees, crawling across the grass to grab it. The wounds in my thigh and shoulder screamed with every move.
There were still three iron bullets in the gun, enough to kill a dozen changelings. I guess I should’ve been honored that someone would go to so much trouble to get me out of the way. I just felt sick. The remaining bullets sang to the wounds in my shoulder and thigh, making the pain even worse. Iron knows itself. That’s part of what makes it so dangerous.
A faint sniffling started behind me, climbing in pitch and volume to become a sustained wail. I pushed myself to my feet and turned, still looking at the ground. I didn’t want to see what I knew was waiting there—but I had to. Even the purebloods mourn their dead.
Julie was cradling Ross in her arms, hair fanned out over both of them like a shroud. There wasn’t much blood, just a few streaks splattered down the front of Ross’ shirt; it wasn’t enough to explain why he wasn’t moving until Julie raised her head, the motion pulling her hair aside and revealing the pitted hole that had taken away most of his forehead above the left eye. He must have died almost instantly. Somehow, I doubted telling Julie that would help. Lily sent them to protect me. So why did I feel like I was the one that had failed to protect
them?
them?
A hand fell on my shoulder. I tried to jump, and staggered as the pain in my leg reasserted itself. Tybalt slung a bloody arm around me, stopping my fall by bracing me against him. He looked down at me, pupils contracted to slits, and I swallowed.
“I . . .” I said. He glanced over at Julie and Ross, then back to me. I nodded. “I didn’t mean to.”
“I know you didn’t mean them any harm; neither did Lily,” he said, in a gentler tone than I’d ever heard him use before. “Julie will know that, too, when she can. But she won’t understand it now.”
“Are you hurt?” I looked over as much of him as I could, from where I was pulled against his chest: none of the blood seemed to be his. The Redcap lay where he had fallen, not moving, but somehow—thinking of the blankness in Julie’s eyes—I couldn’t find any pity in my heart. He was hired to kill, and he did his job. Hopefully, whoever it was also paid him well enough to die.
Tybalt blinked, looking startled. “I’m not hurt. You, on the other hand—”
“I’ve already got iron poisoning. With this much Undine water in me, this isn’t going to make it any worse.”
“Still . . .”
“I can stand,” I said, and pushed myself away. After a moment’s hesitation, he let go. Never taking his eyes off me, he lowered his hand to the wound at my thigh, pressed two fingers against it, and raised them to his mouth, tongue flicking out to taste the blood. I suppressed a shudder.
“This isn’t dying blood,” he said finally. “You’ll live.”
“Great, that’s great reassurance. It makes me feel all better.”
“It should. Having you die tonight would be inconvenient.”
I pressed my hands tight around my leg, biting back several sharp retorts. The blood was slowing down—Tybalt was right. It wouldn’t kill me. “Because you’d be stuck with the damn box?”
“Of course,” he said.
Silly me. Why would he rescue me if it wasn’t for his debts? Under normal circumstances, he’d probably have brought popcorn. “You fought well. I’ve never seen you fight before.”
He allowed himself a thin smile. “You kept him distracted long enough for me to get up into the trees.”
That was as close as Faerie’s complex laws of etiquette would let us get to thanking each other. I nodded instead, asking, “What were you doing here?”
“I’ve been waiting for you.”
I blinked. That wasn’t what I’d been expecting to hear. “What?”
“You were . . . injured when you entered the Tea Gardens,” he said, glancing briefly away. “I thought you might have trouble getting out again, and I was right. I’m usually right when it comes to you and trouble.”
“You . . . why?” I asked, dumbfounded.
He shrugged. “The terms of my promise.” I gave him a blank look, and he continued, “I said I’d give . . . it . . . back to you. I can’t do that if you die.”
“I realize that. I just . . .” I paused. “I guess I didn’t think you’d take it quite that seriously.”
“I take my promises
very
seriously—all my promises. Now if you don’t mind, this wasn’t exactly subtle, and the gunshots alone would attract the police. I need to dispose of the evidence.”
very
seriously—all my promises. Now if you don’t mind, this wasn’t exactly subtle, and the gunshots alone would attract the police. I need to dispose of the evidence.”
Evidence? The Redcap’s body would need to be moved until the night-haunts came; the same went for Ross. I didn’t know if his body was different enough from the human norm to need replacing, or whether he was close enough to immortal for the night-haunts to want him, but it didn’t matter. Whatever happened to him now, he’d still be just as dead.
He’d be dead. His blood wouldn’t. If there was one thing I’d learned from Evening’s death, it was that the dead still had a lot of things to tell me. A hired Redcap wasn’t likely to have any nasty blood curses lurking to surprise unwary changelings, either. “Tybalt, the body. I need to—”
“You need to get out of here.”
Julie was still wailing, rocking Ross’ body back and forth. I started to step toward her, but the pain in my leg stopped me even before I felt Tybalt’s restraining hand.
“Go home, October,” he said, voice pitched low. “I’ll take care of this.”
I turned back to glare at him. “Don’t you
care?
” I demanded, gesturing toward them.
care?
” I demanded, gesturing toward them.
“I care more than you’ll give me credit for. But dead is dead, and I’m going to keep my word. Go get your leg taken care of, and make sure you’re not going to make me a liar by dying. Go
home
.”
home
.”
I shook his hand away from my shoulder, glaring at him, but turned to limp the rest of the way down the hill. If he wanted to pick up the pieces, I’d have to let him, and he was right; there wasn’t time to fiddle with the body before the mortal police showed up. I had enough to worry about without getting arrested for hanging around in a public place drinking the blood of a corpse.
The taxi Lily promised was waiting on the street, radio turned up so loudly that the driver probably hadn’t even heard the gunshots. I slid into the backseat, snapping out my address. No one would follow me; Tybalt would make sure of that. I had to trust him, because I’d already committed myself to trusting him, and it was do or die.
The driver grunted assent and pulled out, guiding us into the late December fog. Despite the blare of the radio, I thought I could still hear Julie crying. Whoever killed Evening now had more to answer for than the taste of phantom roses; they had a man who loved a Cait Sidhe girl, and who died in the company of friends that couldn’t save him. And they were going to pay.
SEVENTEEN
THE DRIVER KEPT HIS EYES on the road, grunting, “You’re gonna have to pay for that.” “What?” I looked up from my hasty attempt at turning my previously discarded bra into a tourniquet for my injured leg. It worked pretty well, once I remembered to remove the underwire.
“The seat. I don’t care what happened, and if you don’t wanna go to the hospital, that’s your deal, but you’re gonna have to pay for the upholstery.”
Oh. Right. “I thought Lily already paid you,” I said, lamely.
“For the ride, she paid me. For the cleaning I’m gonna have to do after I drop you off, she didn’t pay me.” He glanced at me through the rearview mirror. “You don’t mind my saying, you should really rethink that hospital idea.”
“I’ll take it under advisement,” I said, sagging back against the seat and closing my eyes. “I don’t have my purse with me.” I didn’t have my purse anywhere, since I’d left it in the car when I turned and ran. “If you’ll walk me to my door, I can pay you for the cleaning.” If he walked me to my door, I was guaranteed to
get
there.
get
there.
“Deal,” he said.
We made the rest of the drive in silence.
At my apartment complex, he pulled into one of the visitor’s spaces in front of the manager’s office and stopped the cab, moving to open my door before I could convince my stiffening leg to move. “Come on,” he said gruffly, offering his arm. “You ain’t gonna make it up there on your own.”
I gave him a startled glance, finally noticing the shimmer of the human disguise wrapped around him. He smiled, amused.
“What’s the matter? You ain’t never seen a cab driver before?”
“It’s been a while,” I said, using his elbow to pull myself out of the car. I tasted the balance of his blood automatically as I rose, and relaxed. Bridge Troll. They’re big, placid, dependable people, and they take their responsibilities—even ones as small as walking a woman to her front door in order to get paid—seriously.
We didn’t talk as he helped me up the path toward my apartment. I came to a sudden stop when the door came into view, almost stumbling.
“Hey, lady, careful,” he said, big hand going to my shoulder to steady me. He eyed my porch with suspicion. “That guy a friend of yours?”
“Yeah,” I said, relief washing over me. “He is.”
For the second time in less than a week, there was someone waiting on my doorstep. Devin looked up when he heard our voices, and then jumped to his feet, almost running toward us.
“Toby!” Ignoring the cabbie entirely, he put his hands on my shoulders, yanking me toward him. I hissed as he hit the poultice, world briefly whiting out from the pain. “Oh, root and branch, Julie said it was bad, but I had no idea . . .”
“Julie?” I said, as the cabbie said, startled, “Toby?”
Devin and I both turned to stare at him. That was all right; he was staring at me.
“Toby?” he repeated. “As in October Daye?”
“Sadly, yeah,” I said, blinking as confusion won out over the pain in my thigh and shoulder. “Do I know you?”
“No, but you helped my baby sister outta a tight spot once, about seventeen years ago.” He grinned, showing teeth that not even an illusion could make look like anything but chunks of craggy stone. “You forget what I said about the upholstery, you hear? I don’t want your money. There’s a Bannick I know, he’ll do it almost free anyhow. You need a cab, you just call and ask for Danny. ’S the least I can do.” He paused before adding, almost shyly, “ ’S good to see you’re back in business. This Kingdom needs more folks like you.” Then he was gone, heading rapidly back down the path, leaving me to lean on Devin and stare be musedly after him.
“That was weird,” I said finally.
“I don’t really care about weird.” Devin’s tone was sharp. “I care about getting you inside and taking a look at those wounds. What did you
do,
Toby?”
do,
Toby?”
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