A Red-Rose Chain

Quentin blanched. “I’ll drive.”


“Good squire.” I grabbed a handful of shadows from the roof of the car, weaving them into a makeshift human disguise. The smell of cut grass and copper rose to fill the cab, only to be beaten back by the smell of musk and pennyroyal as Tybalt did the same. His disguise was much better than mine: he looked like an actual human, while I just looked blurry and somewhat less pointy than I usually did. I didn’t want to spend the magic or time to spin something more believable, not when we were going to be spending at most five minutes on the street.

“If you see anything unusual, or if the police come by and seem too interested in why you’re sitting here, drive away,” I said, before opening my door. “I don’t want you casting a don’t-look-here on the car. You may need that magic later.”

Quentin nodded. He didn’t argue. That was good. I wasn’t sure I could handle arguing with him right now.

The last thing I wanted was another war—and when I said “another,” I really meant “my first.” The only other time in my lifetime that the Mists had almost gone to war, I had managed to avert it by finding the missing sons of the local Undersea Duchess. This time, I didn’t think there was going to be an answer that easy.

Tybalt met me on the sidewalk. We moved toward the bookstore together, only to find a small, carefully displayed sign in the front window cautioning us that the property was protected by a local alarm company. “Oberon’s ass,” I muttered. “So much for picking the lock. I’d been hoping to avoid this, but—Tybalt? Could you?”

“It will be difficult, as my pride has been wounded by your hopes to avoid my contribution, but I think I can manage,” he said, with a hint of amusement. “Take a deep breath.”

I did. He took my hands and pulled me with him as he fell gently backward, into the shadows that pooled around the bookstore door. We toppled into absolute blackness, second only to the absolute cold that suddenly surrounded us. The Shadow Roads were lightless, airless, and most of all, freezing. They’re among the most accessible of the secret paths that run through Faerie, and strange as it might seem, they’re also among the gentlest: the Rose Roads are almost impossible to access, and roses have their thorns; the Blood Roads will drain you dry and leave your body as a warning to others. Nothing comes without a price. Not even passage.

We fell through another wall and back into the world of warmth and air, although not much more light: we had emerged in the Borderlands basement, where there were no windows to cut the darkness. I was just glad we weren’t standing on the stairs.

I put out my hand, finding Tybalt’s chest, and pressed my palm flat against his shirt. He froze, understanding my intent without a single word needing to be spoken. I smiled despite the situation. How I loved that man. Not bothering to close my eyes, since I couldn’t see anything anyway, I sniffed the air.

Blackberry flowers and redwood bark. Arden was here.

“Arden, it’s October and Tybalt,” I said, letting my hand fall away from Tybalt’s chest. There was no point in trying to sneak up on her. If she didn’t know it was us, we might spook her, and I had no idea where she’d go from here. If she did know it was us, well . . . we still might spook her. It was hard to say. “We need to talk to you. Can you please come out?”