One Salt Sea: An October Daye Novel

“I’m not,” she said sweetly. I was still staring at her when she continued, “I may look like the Selkie lass whose death I wear, but without that death, I’d look like nothing at all. Don’t forget that we are two things at once, and never only the thing you can see.”


“This can’t be the only reason you called us.” The night-haunt with Devin’s face flew around the circle to land next to Margie. “You take your work seriously—in part, I think, because you have so little skill for some of it—but this is too big a danger for this stage in the game, over something as small as two children that you’ve never met. What else is going on, October? What else is wrong?”

“It’s my daughter, Devin.” The name slipped out before I could stop it. I blinked back sudden tears and kept going, saying, “She’s missing. Rayseline took her, and she’s probably holding her with the Lorden boys. I have to get her back. I have to.”

“Oh, October.” He looked at me gravely. “Keep hope. She is not among our number. Her blood is thin, but her death would call us all the same.”

My eyes widened. “I . . . really?”

“Really.” I felt his hand brush my knee. The gesture was so much something Devin would have done when he was alive, before he went crazy, that I stopped being able to keep my tears from falling. “Keep hope.”

“I’ll try.” I wiped my eyes with my left hand, remembering the blood too late. Oh, well. I’ve had worse things on my face. “I don’t know how free you are to go where nothing has died, but . . . if one of them dies . . . can you find me? Can you tell me?”

I didn’t want to think of any of the three missing children as expendable. Two of them would start a war, and one of them was my only daughter. But if it happened, if one of them died . . . maybe I could get to the other two in time.

The night-haunt with Devin’s face turned to the others. Buzzing and rattling filled the room, like a thousand dead branches scraping against each other. Finally, the susurrus faded, and he turned back to me. “We will,” he said. “This one time, we will.”

“I . . .” Biting back the urge to thank him was almost impossible. I swallowed hard, and said, “This is very kind of you. I know you don’t have to do this.”

“So return the kindness,” he said. “Answer a question for us.”

I blinked. “Of course. What do you want to know?”

“Why aren’t you dead?”

I hadn’t expected the question, or the naked confusion in his voice. I stared at him for a moment before managing to say, “I’m alive because . . . well, because I haven’t died. I don’t know why. How the hell am I supposed to know?”

“A Fetch was called for you,” he said. “We sent her off with weeping and all proper ceremony. But here you are, and your Fetch is still alive.”

“The natural order of things is not preserved,” said the night-haunt with Margie’s face, punctuating the statement with a snap of her wings. “You can’t exist like this.”

“Since when does the natural order of things have anything to do with Faerie?” A soft grumbling swept through the night-haunts. I sighed. “The natural order of things is going to have to cope, because I need May to keep paying her share of the rent.”

“This isn’t right.” The night-haunt with Oleander’s face muscled her way forward, glaring at me. We didn’t part on the best terms. I killed her, after all. “You should be dust and memory. Your Fetch should be a rattle on the wind, a warning to our children.”

“She’s not, and neither am I,” I snapped, tucking my hair back to display the recently sharpened point of one ear. “See? I died. Mom just refused to let it stick.”

“Must your line forever be so cavalier with death?” asked the Devin-haunt. The others sighed, like dry leaves brushing together. “We’ll come to you if we learn anything, but you can’t do this again, Toby. The courtesy we can afford for the sake of the life you saved can only extend so far. We’ll be going now.” The flock began to rise.

“Wait!” I said. “What are you—”

I was too late. The night-haunts left as quickly as they’d come, leaving me standing alone in my rough circle of blood.