Rosemary and Rue Part 13

"Charmed," he said, extending his hand. I took it, shaking firmly as I studied him. He was quarter-blooded at best, and his heritage was subtle; there was something in the shadows of his eyes that should have given me a clue, but I was too tired to quite put my finger on it. "Julie talks about you a lot."

"Now I'm worried," I said, taking my hand back and glancing toward Lily.

"His mother was a servitor of these lands," Lily said. She leaned up onto her toes, ruffling Ross' hair. He took it with good grace, even stooping to make it easier. "In her absence, we act as his home and hearth. He needs aid to see through our more basic illusions, but that isn't enough to rob him of his place."

Thin blood is a social stigma in Faerie. It isn't enough to ban you completely. Some of Faerie's greatest scholars and magical theoreticians were thin-blooded: it gave them the ability to see us for what we were, but at a distance, and that made them stronger than most people could understand. It said something about Lily that she was willing to take in Ross and Marcia the way she had.

"Fair enough," I said, sliding my hands into my pockets. Looking back to Julie, I said, "I guess you know what's up?"

"Lil says you're having problems with idiots with guns, so Ross and me are here to get you through the big bad park and down to your waiting chariot, which happens to be a San Francisco city taxicab," she said, hugging Ross' arm to her chest in a proprietary manner. "It'll be a cakewalk."

"Right," I said and glanced at Lily, who shook her head. This was my choice. She knew that Julie was Cait Sidhe enough to never take threats of physical violence seriously: she thought of herself as the biggest threat on the block, even though her blood was as thin as mine. As for Ross . . . he might mean well, but he was quarter-blooded, which meant his magic would be weak, if it existed at all. She was giving me a quarter-blood who probably couldn't do anything but scream and hide and a Cait Sidhe changeling who thought she could scare just about anything away by shouting and showing her claws. Why?

Because she thought it would convince me not to go. Shaking my head, I started for the gate. If anything attacked us, we could just panic at it until it went away. "Come on. Let's get this traveling freak show on the road."

Lily followed as far as she could. As we pa.s.sed from her land back into the park proper, she stopped, saying, "October?"

Juliet and Ross were a few feet ahead of me, Julie still holding his arm. I looked back to Lily, silhouetted by the garden gates, and said, "Yeah?"

"Be careful."

"Aren't I always?" I asked. Then I turned, not waiting for an answer, and followed my escort out the gate.

It was almost totally dark outside the Tea Gardens, the shadows broken only by randomly s.p.a.ced streetlights and the sparkle of pa.s.sing pixies. Figures both fae and human moved through those shadows, taking whatever trails the night held for them. None of Golden Gate Park's nighttime inhabitants need much in the way of light; all it would do was show them the things they'd rather leave hidden.

Julie led the way once we were clear of Lily's domain. Her Cait Sidhe heritage gave her night vision that put mine to shame, and even mine was probably worlds better than Ross'. Faerie ointment lets humans see through illusions, but it can't change the human eye. He was stuck with what his blood could give him. I did my best to keep pace. The throbbing in my shoulder was constant, but not enough to be more than a mild distraction. Lily did her work well.

"It's a nice night, for December," I said, squinting into the foggy dark. "I can almost pretend to see my hand in front of my face."

"I guess," Julie said. "It's not raining. That's something."

"I like the rain."

Julie threw me a dirty look, eyes glowing a pale, annoyed green. I smirked at her. Most cats don't like water, and despite her pretensions of tigerhood, Julie was no different. Yes, tigers have stripes; so do tabbies. If you want to know the difference, try tossing one of each into your swimming pool. Then I would recommend running.

"I don't," she said, sullenly.

"I do," Ross said. Some of the tension slipped out of Julie's shoulders and she smiled, giving me a "what can you do?" shrug. I grinned back. Cliff taught me a lot about the sort of att.i.tude changes you sometimes have to pull midstream if you want to keep peace in a relations.h.i.+p. I was starting to think this Ross guy was something more than a casual fling.

The Cait Sidhe don't fall in love often; mostly, they get involved in short, torrid affairs that don't mean anything to either side, and they never fall in love with changelings if they can help it. It's easier that way. Falling in love with someone that's going to get old and die while you live forever isn't a survival trait, and so they've learned to keep their distance . . . but all that means is that when they finally fall, they fall hard. Julie's only half Cait Sidhe, but I'd never seen her look at anyone the way she was looking at Ross. I studied him with a bit more interest, trying to puzzle out where his fae blood had come from.

He must have been used to those sorts of looks, because he smiled, and said, "My mother's father was one of the Roane."

"Oh, I see," I said. The Roane are gentler cousins to the Selkies. They aren't as inclined to vengeance, and their magic is innate-they're shapes.h.i.+fters, like the Cait Sidhe, not skins.h.i.+fters like the Selkies. They're also practically extinct.

Julie flashed another grin my way. "He's my guy."

"That's cool," I said. The light was getting brighter as we approached the street, where my taxi was hopefully waiting. I wanted to go home, drink a gallon of orange juice, and eat something before I started calling people to let them know I was alive. I grimaced. Sylvester had to be in a state of utter panic, and Devin probably wasn't much better.

A branch snapped behind us. I whirled, wincing as the bandage on my shoulder pulled the edges of the still raw gunshot wound together. There was nothing there. I still stood there for a moment before turning back to my bewildered escort, taking the time as much to catch my breath as to scan the darkness for danger.

Julie looked amused, but Ross looked terrified. Trying to be soothing, I said, "I'm just jumpy."

"I don't smell anything," Julie said, "but the wind is blowing away from us. I don't think think we're being followed." Ross looked at her nervously, and the tiger-striped changeling smiled. "It's okay, sweetie, we're cool. You've got me and Tobes with you. What could happen?" we're being followed." Ross looked at her nervously, and the tiger-striped changeling smiled. "It's okay, sweetie, we're cool. You've got me and Tobes with you. What could happen?"

Never tempt fate. It plays for keeps. I started to turn when I heard the second branch snap-and it was closer now, so much closer-but I already knew that I wouldn't be fast enough. You're never fast enough when the danger is real.

The gunshot sounded like thunder.

Ross screamed. I didn't look back, not even when Julie started snarling like the tiger she pretended to be. There wasn't time to worry about them; there was barely time to react. I already knew what had happened, and I cursed myself for a fool even as I ducked, letting the second shot pa.s.s over my head. The Redcap who tried to kill me earlier saw me get on the bus. After that, it was just a matter of following the trail to Lily's door and waiting for me to come out again. We'd walked right into his trap.

He was standing on the open ground between us and the street below, gun drawn, fog swirling thick around his ankles. Six and a half feet of muscle and grinning, shark-toothed malice would have been enough to give me pause even without the gun . . . but having it definitely upgraded him from "possible threat" to "probable cause of death."

I was standing frozen, trying to figure out what to do when Julie hurtled over my head with a snarl, turning in midair to hit him feetfirst in the chest. He staggered back, batting her aside like a house cat. She hit the ground still snarling, bouncing back to her feet and glancing to me. I knew my cue when I saw it. Julie and I fought beside each other when we both worked for Devin; we'd even been pretty good at it. I knew how she would move. She knew how I would dodge. And tag-team tactics are your best bet when you're as outgunned as we were.

It's hard to pay attention to more than one person at a time-that's why gangs have such an advantage in most fights. I pulled my arm back as I charged, punching the b.a.s.t.a.r.d in the side of the head as hard as I could. The rebound ran all the way along my arm, and I bit back a scream as I felt something rip. Still, it had the desired effect, because he snarled and turned toward me, raising his gun. That gave Julie the opening she needed to hit him again, shrieking and spitting as she clawed at his eyes. It's never good to be a single person fighting off a gang. Unless you take them out as they appear, your opponents will just keep bouncing back and getting in the way.

Unfortunately for us, he was catching on. He swung at Julie, and she ducked out of the way, timing her dodge to match my next blow-but rather than turning his attention toward me, he adjusted his aim so that his gun was pointed directly between her eyes. She froze, eyes going wide and frightened. I don't think anyone had ever pointed a gun at her before, and at that sort of range, he didn't even need to be accurate: all he had to do was pull the trigger.

Wincing, I braced to hit him again. It wouldn't hurt him, but it might get him to look away long enough for Julie to dodge. He was a goon, and goons don't usually get the job because of their brains. If we kept switching off, we might be able to keep either of us from being shot before we had a plan, and that struck me as a good idea. Changelings don't take as much damage from iron as the purebloods, but any sort of bullet can ruin an otherwise good day.

He was still focused on Julie, c.o.c.king the hammer slowly back as I hit him from the side. He turned, gun now swinging toward me, and Julie fell back, obviously off balance. Oh, oak and ash. She wasn't going to rush him this time; she was too scared. He wasn't going to get distracted.

"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, b.i.t.c.h," 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 pa.s.s 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 a.s.sa.s.sin 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 gra.s.s 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' s.h.i.+rt; 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 rea.s.serted itself. Tybalt slung a b.l.o.o.d.y 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 rea.s.surance. 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 d.a.m.n box?"

"Of course," he said.

Silly me. Why would he rescue me if it wasn't for his debts? Under normal circ.u.mstances, 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 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." 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? 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 a.s.sent 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 advis.e.m.e.nt," 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 get there. 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 s.p.a.ces 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 s.h.i.+mmer 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 was.h.i.+ng 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.