Chimes at Midnight

WE DIDN’T LINGER ON THE BEACH. We were too close to the Queen’s knowe for comfort, and the night was slipping through our fingers, already skating down the long slow slope toward dawn. I put my leather jacket back on, drawing it tight. Then Tybalt, Quentin, and I piled into the car while May produced her cell phone from somewhere inside the candy confection of her dress, raising it to her ear. I didn’t worry about them. Danny would get them safely home.

Quentin sat quietly in the backseat for the first part of the ride, mirroring Tybalt, who sat stiff and silent next to me. I was just starting to consider turning on the radio when Quentin said, in a careful tone, “Toby? Can I ask you a question?”

“You just did, but you can ask another one.” Anger and dread were warring for control of my emotions, and it felt like they were negotiating a team up. I had to find a way to fight this. If the Luidaeg couldn’t help me, I still had to come up with something. But what? She was the Queen. I was a changeling with some weird skills and a bunch of allies that I cared way too much about. What if she decided to go after them? Tybalt couldn’t abandon his Court. Sylvester wouldn’t abandon his Duchy. They were going to be sitting ducks if I was forced to leave.

I didn’t want to be in this situation. She hadn’t given me a choice.

“Why do you hate goblin fruit so much? I mean . . .” Quentin paused, choosing his words more carefully before he said, “I mean you hated it even before you knew for sure that people were dying. Lots of things can kill people. You don’t hate them all.”

“Most deadly things come with a choice. A changeling who tastes goblin fruit once—just once—doesn’t get any choice after that.” I frowned at him in the rearview mirror. “You’ve been watching me chase the stuff all over the Bay Area for months. I thought you’d know this by now.”

“Yeah, but you started when you were still . . .” His voice faltered as he realized he’d almost mentioned Connor. He glanced guiltily at Tybalt. Tybalt, bless him, didn’t say anything.

Purebloods don’t like to think about death much. It upsets them to remember that people aren’t eternal. Connor’s death nearly broke me. But he died to save my little girl, and I couldn’t shame him by refusing to go on with my own life. “The goblin fruit started showing up on the streets after Connor died,” I said. “I was looking . . . I don’t even know what I was looking for. I was looking for trouble. I found it.”

“I thought you were going to die, too,” Quentin admitted in a small voice. I stared at his reflection, shocked. That was something he’d never said out loud, no matter how much his behavior told me he was feeling it. He looked down at his hands, twisting them together in his lap, and said, “It’s why I kept telling Tybalt where you were going, and how much danger you were putting yourself in. I hoped maybe you’d listen to him, even if you wouldn’t listen to me.”

Tybalt nodded, confirming Quentin’s story. I winced.

“Oak and ash, Quentin, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well.” He raised one shoulder and let it drop again in a classic teenage half-shrug. “When I had to break up with Katie, I sort of felt like dying for a little while. I guess having someone you love die has to be a whole lot worse.”