Chimes at Midnight

The Luidaeg opened it the second my foot hit the step, leaving me with one hand raised to knock. Our relative positions made it look like I was getting ready to punch her in the face. I froze. She gave my fist an interested look before asking, “Do I need to give that whole ‘sound of the waves running over your bones’ speech again? Because seriously, I can only do fucking terrifying once a day before I get bored and want to go do a crossword puzzle or something.”


“Um. Sorry.” I dropped my hand. “The fireflies. Can they survive on the Shadow Roads? That’s how Tybalt and I got here.”

“Uh-huh.” She held up a finger. “They’re magic bugs.” She added a second finger. “I caught them in Annwn. Winters in Annwn get colder than a Banshee’s tit. I wouldn’t worry about them. Just don’t drop the flask while you’re in there, or you’ll never get them back.”

“What would happen if I let one of them go in there?” The various fae Roads stretched through the empty spaces of the world, at least insofar as I understood them—which admittedly, wasn’t that well. But Tybalt and I had been able to use one of Luna’s Rose Roads to search for someone marooned in another realm of Faerie. If we were trying to find someone hiding in the mortal world, the Shadow Roads should be able to serve the same purpose.

The Luidaeg looked surprised. She blinked, the edges of her irises doing something so odd and reptilian that my brain refused to deal with it, choosing to shunt it to the side where I wouldn’t need to think about it. Then she said, thoughtfully, “You know, that might work. Or it could lose you a firefly before you even have a plan of attack.”

“I’ve gambled more for less,” I said. “It’s worth a try.”

“Important things always are. Don’t die,” she said, and shut the door in my face.

I turned back to Tybalt, who was watching me with undisguised bemusement. I held up the flask of fireflies. “I think I know what we try first.”

“What, pray tell, is that?”

“Dowsing.”

The flask’s cap was screwed on tight, and gave way only after I strained hard enough to bite my tongue. Finally, the cap slipped, and I was able to remove it. The fireflies ignored their sudden chance for freedom, choosing to keep buzzing happily around their artificial home. “Um, would one of you like to help me?” I asked, sticking a finger through the narrow opening. Requesting help from a bunch of bugs made me feel faintly ridiculous.

A bunch of magic bugs. Most of the fireflies continued to ignore me, but one landed lightly on my finger, glowing momentarily brighter. I pulled my hand out of the jar, holding it against the collar of my jacket. “Just, uh, hang out there for right now, okay?”

The firefly obligingly crawled off of my hand and settled on the leather. I couldn’t see it directly, but I could see the glow it cast reflected off my hair, making it look like I was wearing a small flashlight clipped to my shoulder. I put the cap back on the flask, screwing it tight—although not quite as tight—before tucking it back into my pocket. Then I looked up at Tybalt. “Okay,” I said. “Now we can go and get me that coffee.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Were you planning to tell me the precise nature of your plan, or am I doomed to guessing games for the duration of our relationship?”

“These fireflies respond to the Luidaeg’s magic. The Shadow Roads compress distance. I figure if I let this little guy go while we’re on the Road,” I indicated the firefly, “it’ll head for the nearest patch of her magic it can find. All we need to do is make sure we don’t lose sight of it, and we can at least come out in the same neighborhood, if not actually in Arden’s location.”

“That is . . .” Tybalt stopped, an odd look crossing his face. Finally, he said, “That is so nonsensical that I believe it stands an excellent chance of working.”