Rosemary and Rue

Of course, the odds were better that I’d be handing some mortal fool a corpse with pointed ears, leaving the survivors to handle all questions that came next. Faerie’s managed to stay hidden this long on nothing but sheer chance, and chance can’t last forever.

The taste of roses was rising in my throat, overwhelming the acrid taste of blood. “Sorry, Evening,” I whispered. There are some things even promises can’t do. Dimly, I wondered what would happen when the blood stopped. Would it hurt? Or would I just go to sleep? So many questions, so little time before shock and blood loss made them academic.

The tang of incense undercut the taste of blood and roses, catching my attention. I was halfway down the side of a small hill before I realized I’d left the pavement, and my feet went out from under me, losing their purchase on the slick grass. I slid the rest of the way. At least there was no more pain: I was somewhere comfortably past pain, where nothing really mattered anymore. I knew there was something I needed to do, but I was starting to lose track of what it was. The smell of incense was getting stronger, beckoning me forward. I looked up and froze.

I was sprawled in front of a stylized Oriental gateway. It was mostly hidden by leafy trees and climbing ferns, but that didn’t matter; I knew it. I could have been dead and still known that gate. It haunted my dreams.

The Japanese Tea Gardens.

After everything that happened there, I would have been happier trusting myself to the hospitality of Blind Michael’s Hunt on a full moon night with no candle to guide me home. But even as I pushed myself upright, I knew the choice wasn’t mine. You can’t afford to be picky when you’re bleeding to death, and it would make perfect sense for me to die in the Tea Gardens. I’d failed to do it once before. Might as well get it right this time.

I picked myself unsteadily up and staggered toward the admissions booth. My left arm was dangling uselessly, and I fumbled to keep my balance as I dug my right hand into the pocket of my jeans. There was nothing there but squashed mushrooms and bloody lint. I’d thrown the last of my change in the fare box on the bus, not bothering to check to see how much I was paying. Too late now. It’s rude to trick your way into someone else’s knowe, but I was out of options and out of time. If I couldn’t pay, I’d just have to make my way inside another way.

The woman at the gate blinked, eyes widening at the state of my clothes. She was blonde, with feathered hair and a brain that was probably equally feathered, but I could see traces of faerie blood in the shape of her eyes and the way she held her head. That was probably why she’d been hired, even if the blood wasn’t strong enough to make her anything more than mortal. The fae that live in Golden Gate Park look out for their own.

This woman’s heritage was a small blessing to me; it would make her more susceptible. Even if I couldn’t convince her I wasn’t what she thought I was, I should be able to enchant her long enough for me to get into the Tea Gardens. Lily might not be able to help me, but she was the most likely of a very slim set of options. At least I knew that if I got onto her land, I could die in peace.

Biting my tongue, I whispered the first three lines of “The Owl and the Pussycat” under my breath, and stumbled as the iron wound in my shoulder burst from distant numbness into bright new pain. I caught myself on the edge of the booth, taking a deep, unsteady breath, and handed my bloody lint and mushrooms to the woman behind the counter.

It almost wasn’t enough. What little power I had was starting to fade as I slipped in and out of full consciousness. She frowned before squinting at the contents of her palm, seeming to see through my hasty illusion.