Then, because those words didn’t feel like enough, I added, “I forgive you.”
Simon’s smile was slow and indescribably beautiful, in a way that had nothing to do with the mortal awe for the fae. He looked genuinely happy.
“Then we go,” he said, and took the candle from my hand. The wick burst into flame, burning a mellow pink, like rose petals, like dawn. He looked toward Madden. “Your hospitality has been much appreciated, and will be remembered. You are a credit to your name.”
“If you hurt her, I’ll rip your throat out with my teeth, and nobody will punish me, because the Queen in the Mists loves me more than she loves almost anyone else in the world,” said Madden pleasantly.
Simon nodded like this was exactly what he’d been hoping to hear. “Then we are in agreement,” he said. “October?”
He reached out his hand. I took it. There was a ghost of a scent in the air, the faintest overlay of smoke and mulled cider, mixed with rotting oranges. I inhaled it greedily, grateful for even that small reminder that there was still magic in the world, that I hadn’t cut myself off from it completely. Unlike August, I hadn’t traded my road home for anything. It was narrower than it had been, harder to see through the briars, but it was still there, and I was going to take it.
The weight of Simon’s don’t-look-here settled over us. Still hand in hand, we followed Madden up the stairs and into the body of Borderlands Books. Jude, the general manager, was behind the counter, looking at something on the store computer. She looked up at the sound of the door closing, and frowned.
“Everything okay, Mads?” she asked.
“Oh, everything’s fine,” said Madden, stepping to the side and casually holding the door open so that Simon and I could make it past. The basement door opening when there wasn’t supposed to be anyone downstairs would definitely attract attention. “I just needed to call home. I guess I didn’t do the dishes this morning.”
Jude made a sympathetic face. “Your turn?”
“Yeah.” Madden shut the basement door. Simon and I walked on, two people following the flickering light of a candle. The screen door sometimes swung in the breeze. I took a chance and pushed it open with my free hand, allowing the two of us to step outside.
Through the store window I saw Jude glance in our direction, confused by the door opening on its own. Her eyes focused on me for just a second. Then, quickly, they unfocused again, and she no longer knew I was there. To the mortal world, I was a ghost.
Simon squeezed my hand. “Courage,” he whispered, and held the candle higher. The flame leaped, a burning rose clawing at the sky, and we started down the street, following the light, letting it guide us down August’s trail.
It was funny. It was the middle of the day: Simon had to be exhausted, but I felt almost invigorated, now that I’d adjusted to the oddly heavy feeling of my limbs. The caffeine coursing through my body was like live electricity. Kicking the habit had definitely resensitized me. That was nice. At least one thing was going right today.
I was virtually human, walking hand-in-hand with a man who I would have once called my greatest enemy, and while I couldn’t say I was happy—there was too much at stake—I was at least willing to pause, and breathe, and allow myself to hope that everything would eventually be okay.
Speaking of okay . . . I pulled my phone out of my pocket and winced as I saw that I had six missed calls. I dialed my voicemail and raised the phone to my ear.
Beep. “Um, Toby, hi, it’s Quentin. I hope Simon hasn’t turned you into a rock and run away or anything like that. Anyway, I just wanted to call and let you know that the Luidaeg has Officer Thornton. She wants me to stay for a while, so she can question me about where we found him and what his living situation was like. Um. Call if you need me? And let me know where you are.”
Beep. “Toby, it’s Quentin again. Are you okay? Seriously, you’re freaking me out. The Luidaeg put Officer Thornton to sleep in her room. She says he’s really malnourished and probably sick from being in deep Faerie for so long. Oh, and she wants to know when the hell you decided she was your new home for misfit toys. Call me.”
Beep. “October, this is Quentin. Please call me back.”
Beep. “Toby, please. You’re freaking me out bad. Danny’s going to give me a ride home. I want to feed Spike and the cats and get some new clothes and charge my phone, since obviously I need to have enough battery to answer when you finally remember that I’m your squire and you need to call me.”
Beep. “I hate you.”
Beep. “I hate you and I’m eating the last of your ice cream because you suck. Please call. Please, please call.”
I hung up and tucked the phone back into my pocket, glancing at Simon. He was watching me out of the corner of his eye, most of his attention still focused on the candle. He was doing an excellent job of steering us around the pedestrians, avoiding collisions that seemed like they should have been inevitable. I admired that, even as I was glad someone else was leading for a change.
“Quentin,” I said. “He called from the Luidaeg’s to update me on Officer Thornton, and then he called a bunch more times to tell me what a terrible knight I am for not picking up or calling him back.”
“How cruel of you, to ignore him so while you were unconscious and recovering from a near-disastrous act of blood magic,” said Simon gravely.
“I know, right? I’m the worst.” I shook my head. “The officer’s not doing great.”
“Humans were never meant to live that deep. They cannot thrive there. They can only wither or endure, doing their best to swim against a tide that means them only ill.”
“Yeah.” What would Annwn make of me in my current state? I had already felt a little unwelcome there, unable to quite relax into the embrace of a land that had never known mortality. Now . . . it might throw me out entirely. And I would probably go willingly.
We had turned off Valencia at some point, and were now walking up a familiar street. I didn’t see it during full daylight all that often, but some landmarks don’t change. I stiffened.
Simon caught the change immediately. He cast a more direct look toward me, frowning. “What’s wrong?”
“I know where we are.”
“I thought you knew San Francisco quite well.”
“I do, but we’re heading for my house.” I started to walk faster, forcing Simon to match my pace. The candle flame didn’t so much as flicker. We were still going in the right direction, and that was exactly what I’d been afraid of.
Simon’s eyes widened. “August—”