The Winter Long

“It’s simple.” He didn’t walk around the table—he prowled, his feline nature surging to the forefront as he moved to slide his arms around my waist and pull me close to him. I wanted to object, to say that we were on a timetable. The trouble was, we didn’t know what that timetable was counting down to. We still didn’t know what Evening wanted, and so I couldn’t think of a single objection to taking a moment and letting him hold me.

I might regret that later, but later would happen in its own time. At the moment, I was busy looking into Tybalt’s eyes. He pulled one hand free, reaching up to tuck my hair back the way I so often did. His fingers lingered against the point of my ear, tracing the edges that had grown so much sharper in the past few years.

“You were clearly keeping company with the wrong sort of people before I decided to take an interest in your keeping,” he said, as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world. “Anyone who would betray her own sister in such a manner is no fit friend for you.”

“I have better friends now,” I said, and leaned up to kiss him, letting him pull me closer. If someone had told me this would happen in the days that followed Evening’s murder—excuse me, Evening’s disappearance—I would have thought they were pulling my leg. Now, I stood in the embrace of a man I had once sworn was nothing but an irritation, and I didn’t want to be anywhere else, ever again.

The bed I had so recently left beckoned, a silent reminder that he had been intending to let me sleep until I awoke, and that no one knew I was up—no one but him. We could spend a little time before things began to happen again. Like my unplanned nap, this was part of recuperation, and it mattered. It—

My phone started ringing. I pushed away from Tybalt, realizing how close I had just come to committing myself to a lengthy—if pleasurable—interlude, and began looking around for the source of the sound. There was a large oak wardrobe against the wall across from the fireplace that looked like a good bet. I strode across the room and hauled on the wardrobe doors, which opened to reveal my shoes and leather jacket, both clean and waiting for me. My underwear, jeans, and newly bloodstained shirt were in the bottom of the wardrobe, discarded like the trash they had become.

My jacket pocket was ringing. Stridently. I dipped my hand inside and pulled out my vibrating, ringing phone, bringing it to my ear.

“Hello?”

“Are you dead? I ask because I really want to know, and am interested in your response, and not because I’m planning to murder you myself for not answering the last three times I’ve called.” May was using her murderously perky voice again, which meant that she was pissed.

“I was asleep when you called before,” I said, directing a glare at Tybalt. He gave me his best innocent look, even going so far as to shrug, like failing to tell me that my phone had been ringing was no big deal.

On the other hand, if I’d been asleep enough not to notice the phone going off repeatedly, he might not have been able to wake me. “Uh, whatever, that’s no excuse, even if you don’t sleep enough,” said May. “Where are you? Where have you been? Are you at Shadowed Hills?”

“No, I’m not at Shadowed Hills, I’m in the Court of Cats,” I said. “I’ve been here for a while—not sure how long. I sort of ran myself ragged, and collapsed from overuse of blood magic, and then Tybalt put me to bed without asking me first.” The fact that I’d stayed there, and hadn’t even noticed being put there, spoke volumes. I paused, finally parsing her last question. “Why did you ask if I was at Shadowed Hills?”

“Because they closed their wards like ten hours ago, and they’re not letting anybody inside, not even when they come from the Queen,” said May, sounding more bemused than frustrated. “I sort of assumed you were locked in a life-or-death struggle with Simon Torquill, and would eventually emerge bloody but intact. It’s like eight in the morning.”

“Okay, we are canceling the cable,” I said. “If you think I’m behind a sealed ward fighting for my life, try calling someone other than me, okay? Like I don’t know, Danny.” He could ram the wards with his car.

“I guess,” she said reluctantly. “It’s still weird that the wards are closed.”

“Not that weird,” I said. “Evening’s there.”