The Winter Long

He started. I think that was the moment when I really started to believe that he was trying, however poorly, to help: he looked genuinely surprised, and more than a little bit afraid. “The sea witch? Is she . . . is she well?”


“She died.” That wasn’t the full truth, but it was close enough that I didn’t have to fake the grief in my voice, or the tremor in my hands as I considered the magnitude of what had happened to her—and what I’d done. The roses in my arms seemed to be getting colder, threatening to freeze me clean through. “She died alone in her apartment, bleeding out on the carpet with no one to save her.”

“That isn’t possible,” Simon said, staring at me. “I did not think . . . she can’t die. She’s the sea witch. She’ll outlive us all.”

“Firstborn are immortal, not unkillable,” I said. “Hard to kill, I’ll give you that, but wow did her attacker put in the effort.”

Simon closed his eyes. “Then I am too late already. You should have let me make of you a tree, October. I am very good at making trees, and you would have had a little time. You would have been stronger still by the time you won free of the soil. That might have been enough.”

“If you so much as whisper the first word of a transformation spell, I’ll have your larynx in my hand before the second word can form,” said Tybalt, with a chilling calm.

“I assure you, no further harm will come to her by my hand.” Simon opened his eyes and then, to my utter shock, he bowed to me. “Sir Daye, you have done your bloodline a great honor. Your words and deeds will be remembered long after mine have faded into simple villainy. You have no reason to trust a single word I say as truth, but please believe me when I say that I am sorry I did not get to know you better.”

“Uh, what?” I said.

“Good luck,” he replied, before turning and walking away into the garden.

Tybalt growled, starting to step past me. I put out my arm, blocking him. He shot me a startled, almost injured look.

“Don’t,” I said. “He didn’t threaten us. He even apologized, in his weird-ass Simon way. And he gave us something.” I looked down at my bouquet of ice-white, glacial-blue roses. “He gave us a riddle to solve.”

Tybalt didn’t look happy, and I couldn’t blame him, but he followed me as I unlocked the door and poked my head into the silent house.

May and Jazz were gone, of course, departed for Muir Woods in the back of Danny’s cab. It still felt strange to come home and know that no one was there to meet us. I’d worked a long time to build a place for myself—a place, and the family to go with it. Now Simon was back, and it felt like everything was at risk. I still didn’t know why he’d come here, or whether he’d left us any unwanted surprises. I turned, pressing my bouquet into the arms of my startled squire.

“Stay here,” I commanded him. “Tybalt, you’re with me.”

Tybalt nodded, understanding my concern immediately. Quentin followed us into the kitchen, still looking utterly confused, but he didn’t ask what was going on, and for the moment, that was good enough for me.

Side by side, Tybalt and I made our way from the kitchen to the hall. I gestured for him to check the living room while I started up the stairs, drawing my knife from my belt and holding it close to my hip. It wouldn’t do me any good if Simon had hidden a monster in the upstairs closet, but holding it helped focus me a little, and I needed all the help that I could get.