Ashes of Honor: An October Daye Novel

Quentin’s frown vanished, replaced by a wide grin. “I was hoping you’d say that. Do we need to go see Walther first, while we’re already in Berkeley?”


“I’ll call him and let him know the situation, but we don’t need to go by. I still want to drive past Chelsea’s school and see whether we can find the spot she disappeared from—the human authorities may have missed something—but we can head for the Luidaeg’s after that. Maybe we can even get there before dawn.”

“Can we stop for donuts?”

The question wasn’t as crazy as it sounded. Yes, we were in the beginning stages of a kidnapping investigation, and yes, time was not on our side…but if we were going to the Luidaeg, a little bribery wouldn’t hurt.

The Luidaeg is the daughter of Oberon and Maeve, which technically makes her my aunt. Maybe that’s why she hasn’t killed me yet, although it’s just as likely to be the fact that I amuse her. May says we’re reenacting The Princess Bride, one “I’ll most likely kill you in the morning” at a time. Whatever her motives, the Luidaeg is one of my strongest, and strangest, allies. If anyone would know how to handle the issue of a changeling with more power than she was supposed to have, it was the Luidaeg.

She was also the single person most likely to let me explain things without freaking out. The Luidaeg is older than any of the laws of Faerie, and remembers a time when humans and the fae consorted openly, with no lies or illusions between us. She might not approve of Chelsea, but she wouldn’t be horrified by her the way some others would be.

And the Luidaeg likes donuts. “Sure, we can stop,” I said. “What time is it?”

“Almost four-thirty.”

“Let’s get back to the right side of the Bay, park long enough for dawn to pass, and then swing by Dynamo for the early morning batch. The Luidaeg likes their salted caramel.” Quentin wrinkled his nose. I sighed. “I wouldn’t take us onto the bridge if I thought there was any chance we’d be caught out by the dawn. We have nearly an hour until sunrise. Trust me?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said.

“Don’t call me ma’am,” I said, and started the car.

Quentin smirked.

His concern wasn’t unfounded. Dawn is anathema to faerie enchantments. Something about the way the sun hits the land during the first moments of the day tears down small spells and weakens great ones, smashing the magic out of the world. It never lasts more than ten minutes, but that was more than long enough to have a fatal car accident if I was behind the wheel when it hit. Dawn isn’t as painful for me as it was before Amandine shifted the balance of my blood, but it’s still impossible to breathe in those few minutes when the air pushes down like a blanket made of lead and everything tastes of death and ashes.

We drove down Colusa with the windows open. Patches of the smoke-and-lily scent that meant “Chelsea” appeared along the length of the street, some fresh, some faded. None of them stood out as the place she’d disappeared from, and Quentin didn’t seem to notice them at all. I stopped the car next to one of the stronger patches, frowning at him.

“Do you smell anything?”

“Not really,” he admitted. “Her room smelled like old magic, a little. Out here, there’s nothing.”

“Great. One more attraction for the freak show that is my life—apparently, Dóchas Sidhe are magic detectors, not just blood detectors. Chelsea was here. She was here a lot. I think she opened some of her doors from this spot.”

Quentin opened her notebook, riffling through the pages. “Is this the corner of Portland and Colusa?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“This says she opened a door from here to…um. To Portland, Oregon. And then back again.” He raised his head, staring at me. “Can she do that?”

“You’ve heard the old stories. What do you think?”

He closed the book. “I think we need to find her.”