Chimes at Midnight

And then it stopped moving.

It hovered in place, turning a sad little circle in the air, like it couldn’t decide what it was supposed to do next. Tybalt and I stopped behind it. Carefully, I lifted my hand until the bug was resting on my palm. I closed my fingers around it, and finally, mercifully, Tybalt opened a door from the shadows back into the comfort of the mortal world.

We were standing on the corner of Valencia and 20th Street, where the spreading branches of some kind of waxy-leafed tree provided enough cover that no one had seen us appear. I took a deep, gasping breath that turned into a cough at the end. Then I did it again. After three of those, I was breathing almost normally, although the ache in my chest made it clear that it would be a while before the “almost” went away.

“You okay?” I asked, still wheezing.

“Mostly,” said Tybalt. He released my hand. “Check your bug, I beg, while I regain my dignity.”

I managed a faint smile before reaching up and scraping the ice crystals from my eyelashes. With that done, I opened my fingers to check on the firefly. It was glowing more weakly than before, and it willingly crawled back onto my lapel when I raised my hand and tipped it into place. “Sorry about that,” I said. “Next time, we’ll take a taxi.”

“Ah, yes, I forget how eager modern drivers are to respond to commands like ‘pray, take direction from the bug.’”

“You know Labyrinth, you should know ‘follow that cab.’”

“I do.” Tybalt smiled. “I just enjoy watching the faces you make when I become overly archaic.”

“Me and my five-hundred-year-old boyfriend.” I raked a loop of hair that had escaped its complex net of ribbons away from my face. Then I frowned, looking at the street around us. “We’re near the house. This is where the police station is.”

“There’s more to a road than a single landmark, especially in this city. What did she say?”

“That Arden would be in a place I never see and don’t want to go.” My frown deepened. “I see this road all the time.”

“Then anything new should stand out like a beacon in a storm.”

He was right. I knew this street. I walked it twice a night, at least. I remembered the way Devin hid Home from mortal eyes, using a misdirection spell anchored to a piece of Coblynau metalwork. Whatever magic Arden was hiding behind had to be something similar, and that meant she didn’t need to be in a knowe, or even a shallowing. She could be anywhere.

Tybalt held out his arm. I took it, leaning close in an effort to borrow some of his body heat. I needed to replace what the Shadow Roads had taken. Together we walked side by side down Valencia Street.

It was a beautiful morning. Most of the shops were open or opening, and the foot traffic was still sparse, leaving the sidewalks wide open. Dire as the situation was—goblin fruit killing changelings, missing princesses, my impending banishment and all—it was nice to just walk with him, knowing that together, we could handle anything the city wanted to throw at us. It had taken us a long time to reach the point where moments like this were possible. I wanted the moments to last a lot longer . . . all of which made it all the more important not to get my changeling ass tossed out of the Kingdom of the Mists.

I glanced down at the firefly on my jacket. It was glowing steadily, like a tiny Christmas light pinned to the leather. Then I glanced back up again, and stopped dead.