One Salt Sea: An October Daye Novel

“You didn’t need to.” She shook her head, looking profoundly uncomfortable. “If he is . . . Toby, he’s got a lot of pull at Court.”


“Yeah, he does, as long as he stays on the Queen’s good side. How happy do you think she’s going to be when I tell her he’s been trying to instigate a war she can’t possibly win?” The “can’t possibly win” part was really the important thing. I was pretty sure the Queen of the Mists would be more than happy to get involved with a war if she thought she’d be leading the winning side.

“Not very,” admitted Marcia.

“Exactly my thought. All I have to do is prove that he’s the one who’s been providing Raysel with magical support. She can take things from there.”

“So why not tell her now?”

“Because if I’m right, and he’s behind all this, he could lead her to the children. I don’t want that to happen.” I shook my head, reaching for the coffee. “I’m supposed to stop this war, not give the Queen a bargaining chip she can use to force Saltmist to surrender. I don’t want anyone to surrender. I just want this whole thing to be over.”

“You and me both,” said May. I turned to see her standing in the kitchen doorway. Quentin was behind her, looking a little green around the edges, like he’d just taken the worst roller coaster ride of his life. “Your car’s out front. You should probably get your brakes checked.”

“The brakes would be fine if you ever drove under seventy,” muttered Quentin.

“What was that?” asked May.

“Nothing,” he said quickly, and pushed past her into the kitchen, staggering over to collapse on the bench next to me.

I gave him a comforting pat on the back with my free hand, asking, “Where are Jazz and Raj?”

“Jazz had to go to work, and Raj decided to take the shadows,” said May. “He didn’t want to ride with me for some reason.”

“Lucky jerk,” said Quentin.

“I’m not that bad of a driver,” said May. She lobbed my keys to me, underhand.

I caught them and stood. “Yes, you are. But that’s okay, because you won’t have to drive again any time soon. Call Danny when you want to go home. He can come and pick you up.” I glanced toward Quentin. “You want to come with me?”

“Yes,” he said fervently, scrambling to his feet. “Please.”

“No,” said May, just as fervently. I raised an eyebrow. She glared. “You’re not going anywhere until you tell me what happened. Where’s Gillian? Is she here? Is she . . .” She stopped, no more capable of finishing her sentence than I would have been.

“I don’t know where she is, but I know who has her,” I said. “Raysel took her. Just went right into the house, and took her. I have to get her back.”

“So what, you’re going to drive all over the city?”

“Not quite. There was a Selkie named Margie. Raysel took her captive down at the docks. I’m hoping there might still be a blood trail for me to follow.” And while I was down there, I could pay Bucer a visit—there was no way he’d skipped town already. Maybe he’d be able to tell me about a stone room in a shallowing where redwood trees grew. He might not want to tell me, but I can be very convincing, when I have to be.

“Was a Selkie?” asked May, slowly.

“She’s dead. Raysel killed her. It was an accident.”

“The Law doesn’t care about accidents,” said Quentin.

May, on the other hand, was staring at me with a new type of fear in her wide gray eyes. “If you haven’t already found the blood trail, how do you know about the Selkie?”

“I called the night-haunts.”

She stiffened. Only a bit. I probably wouldn’t have noticed, if I didn’t know her so well. “What did they say?”

“That Gillian isn’t with them. Neither are the Lorden boys. There’s still time, but that doesn’t mean that we should be wasting it.”

“That’s a relief,” said May.