Rosemary and Rue

THE DRIVER KEPT HIS EYES on the road, grunting, “You’re gonna have to pay for that.” “What?” I looked up from my hasty attempt at turning my previously discarded bra into a tourniquet for my injured leg. It worked pretty well, once I remembered to remove the underwire.

“The seat. I don’t care what happened, and if you don’t wanna go to the hospital, that’s your deal, but you’re gonna have to pay for the upholstery.”

Oh. Right. “I thought Lily already paid you,” I said, lamely.

“For the ride, she paid me. For the cleaning I’m gonna have to do after I drop you off, she didn’t pay me.” He glanced at me through the rearview mirror. “You don’t mind my saying, you should really rethink that hospital idea.”

“I’ll take it under advisement,” I said, sagging back against the seat and closing my eyes. “I don’t have my purse with me.” I didn’t have my purse anywhere, since I’d left it in the car when I turned and ran. “If you’ll walk me to my door, I can pay you for the cleaning.” If he walked me to my door, I was guaranteed to get there.

“Deal,” he said.

We made the rest of the drive in silence.

At my apartment complex, he pulled into one of the visitor’s spaces in front of the manager’s office and stopped the cab, moving to open my door before I could convince my stiffening leg to move. “Come on,” he said gruffly, offering his arm. “You ain’t gonna make it up there on your own.”

I gave him a startled glance, finally noticing the shimmer of the human disguise wrapped around him. He smiled, amused.

“What’s the matter? You ain’t never seen a cab driver before?”

“It’s been a while,” I said, using his elbow to pull myself out of the car. I tasted the balance of his blood automatically as I rose, and relaxed. Bridge Troll. They’re big, placid, dependable people, and they take their responsibilities—even ones as small as walking a woman to her front door in order to get paid—seriously.

We didn’t talk as he helped me up the path toward my apartment. I came to a sudden stop when the door came into view, almost stumbling.

“Hey, lady, careful,” he said, big hand going to my shoulder to steady me. He eyed my porch with suspicion. “That guy a friend of yours?”

“Yeah,” I said, relief washing over me. “He is.”

For the second time in less than a week, there was someone waiting on my doorstep. Devin looked up when he heard our voices, and then jumped to his feet, almost running toward us.

“Toby!” Ignoring the cabbie entirely, he put his hands on my shoulders, yanking me toward him. I hissed as he hit the poultice, world briefly whiting out from the pain. “Oh, root and branch, Julie said it was bad, but I had no idea . . .”

“Julie?” I said, as the cabbie said, startled, “Toby?”

Devin and I both turned to stare at him. That was all right; he was staring at me.

“Toby?” he repeated. “As in October Daye?”

“Sadly, yeah,” I said, blinking as confusion won out over the pain in my thigh and shoulder. “Do I know you?”

“No, but you helped my baby sister outta a tight spot once, about seventeen years ago.” He grinned, showing teeth that not even an illusion could make look like anything but chunks of craggy stone. “You forget what I said about the upholstery, you hear? I don’t want your money. There’s a Bannick I know, he’ll do it almost free anyhow. You need a cab, you just call and ask for Danny. ’S the least I can do.” He paused before adding, almost shyly, “ ’S good to see you’re back in business. This Kingdom needs more folks like you.” Then he was gone, heading rapidly back down the path, leaving me to lean on Devin and stare be musedly after him.

“That was weird,” I said finally.