Once Broken Faith (October Daye #10)(74)

“Yeah, well, maybe after this one, we can have a nice, normal missing persons case,” I said, as lightly as I could. “Or hey, I could take a vacation. Disneyland. We have to go to Southern California anyway, so I can tell King Antonio’s heir what happened to him. I’ve always wanted to go to Disneyland. Mom wasn’t interested, and I never had the money while I was living with Devin.”

“That could be nice,” he said. I must have looked baffled by that reply, because he burst out laughing. “Honestly, October, I’ve been in California since before the Park’s construction. Do you think there’s any possible way I missed the many, many, hundreds of billboards that have been erected and removed since then? I have no idea what one does at Disneyland, but I’m aware of its existence.”

“You didn’t know how to ride in a car,” I said defensively.

He pulled himself up a little straighter. “I’m a King of Cats, with full and open access to the Shadow Roads. Why would I need to know how to ride in a car?”

Now it was my turn to laugh. I started to lean in for a kiss.

There was a sound behind me, like metal being torn, and a scent so faint that it was on the edge of existence, too thin and attenuated to identify. Tybalt blinked, giving me an inexplicably baffled look. I didn’t think; I just acted on instinct, shifting my body a few inches to the side, as if I could shield him from the source of that sound.

The pain followed immediately on the motion, sharp and piercing and somehow new, a pain I had never felt before. It seemed like every time I reached the limits of my body’s experience, someone went out of their way to hurt me in a whole new way.

I knew enough about my body and the way it worked to be certain that there wasn’t time to turn and fight before I succumbed to my injuries. Maybe it was cowardly of me, but I didn’t want Tybalt to attack my attacker only to find that I’d bled out while he was distracted.

“Run,” I hissed, feeling bloody froth burst at the corners of my mouth as I pitched forward into Tybalt, knocking him back in the process. I caught a glimpse of his eyes, now wide and round with shock, before we fell into darkness. He’d clearly seen the blood; he knew I was hurt; he knew I wouldn’t be telling him to flee unless I was also scared. So he fled.

I had never loved him more.

Tybalt carried me through the dark, my lungs aching and the blood freezing on my lips. I hadn’t been able to catch a proper breath before we fell. That, combined with the pain in the left side of my chest, told me that whatever had hit me had probably punctured my lung. Definitely a new one on me, and when combined with the cold and the lack of air, it made it hard to stay awake. I clung to consciousness the same way I was clinging to Tybalt’s shoulders, refusing to allow the deeper dark to claim me. I needed him calm, rational, and not stalking the halls of Arden’s knowe searching for my killer.

We tumbled out of the darkness and into the bright, pancake-scented confines of the Luidaeg’s chambers. She was seated at a large round table with Karen and Quentin, all of them turning toward the sound of our arrival. Karen went pale. Quentin jumped to his feet. And the Luidaeg, bless her, cleared the breakfast dishes to the floor with a sweep of her arm, creating a great clatter of crockery.

“Get her on the table!” she commanded. “Quentin, warm, damp towels, now. Karen, go to my room. Bring me the brown case.” She paused for barely a second, looking between the two of them. “Well? Move.”

“Shouldn’t we get Jin . . . ?” asked Quentin.

“Move!” the Luidaeg howled.

They moved.

Tybalt carried me to the table, lowering me onto my side. Sheets of frozen blood cracked and fell away with every motion, freeing more to seep into my clothing. The Luidaeg grabbed one of the blood crystals before it could hit the floor and pressed it to my lips, like a nurse offering an ice chip to a wounded soldier.

“Suck on this,” she said. “It’ll make you feel better.”

I managed to muster a nod and open my mouth, letting her place the blood on my tongue. It began to warm and soften, and she was right; it did make me feel better. The taste of blood always did. My blood was the best choice in some ways, because it didn’t come with any unwanted, potentially uncomfortable memories: it was mine. I already knew all the secrets it had to tell me.

It was getting increasingly difficult to breathe. I closed my eyes, focusing on the soothing taste of the blood. I was in good hands.

“What happened?” the Luidaeg demanded.

“I don’t know!” Tybalt sounded frustrated—and more, he sounded scared, like this was outside his frame of reference. “We were in her room, and there was a sound, like unoiled hinges creaking. She froze. Then she was falling into me, telling me to run. I never saw what struck her. Can you get it out?”

I knew whatever it was had to be still embedded in my back; the pressure on my lung wasn’t getting any better. If anything, it was getting worse, making it harder and harder to pull in a full breath. If I suffocate, will I still heal? I thought, dazedly. I’d drowned once, I was pretty sure—maybe more than once. Something Connor had said to me on the beach, right after I’d returned from the pond . . . I had recovered from those short deaths. What was one more?

One more was one too many. It was a relief when the Luidaeg said, “Yes, but you’re not gonna like it.” Her hand touched my shoulder, skin cool against my own. “Honey, I know you can hear me, and that’s important. The stake that hit you is like a harpoon. There are hooks. The cleanest way to get it out—forgive me, October—the cleanest way is to push it through. It’s going to hurt. It’s going to hurt bad. But it has to be done. Nod if you understand.”