Page 47 of Night and Silence

I pulled into a space under the eucalyptus trees that circled half the lot, turning off the engine and announcing, “We need to go for the cliffside entrance. The shed’s too visible this time of day.”

“Perhaps you have forgotten, but the last time you went over a cliff in this place, you nearly drowned,” said Tybalt.

I didn’t correct him. I was pretty sure I had drowned, and that sort of thing isn’t soothing to announce. “That was when the wards had been locked down and the doors had been sealed,” I said. “There’s a chance that’s happened again, so May can go first. She’s indestructible.”

“Here’s a song we’ve sung before,” muttered May.

“You know you’re my favorite sister.”

“Because your only other sister is a raving—”

“We’re wasting time,” snapped Quentin as he got out of the car, forcing the rest of us to hurry if we wanted to keep up with him and hence stay within the sheltering confines of the don’t-look-here.

Evening had a vicious sense of humor when she designed the knowe. The easiest, most secluded entrance is straightforward, as such things go: all you have to do is walk the right path to the right spot on the towering cliff that is the museum’s thin slice of coast, and step over it without hesitating. Do it right, your feet hit the floor of the hall and you’re home free. Do it wrong, it’s a long fall to a cruel sea, and most people don’t survive that sort of thing.

May caught up with Quentin right before he was about to step over, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him back. “No,” she said. “Fetches first.” Then she turned, stepped off the cliff, and disappeared into thin air.

“Oh, thank Titania,” said Quentin, and charged after her.

Tybalt and I were close behind, his hand clasped so firmly over mine that it ached a little. I didn’t mind. He was scared, but he was trying. He was staying with me. Right now, that was all I could have asked and more.

We stepped over the edge of the cliff together. The world twisted and bent around us, spinning wildly for a few precious seconds before it settled into the hallway of Goldengreen. I staggered, and Tybalt held me up. No matter how far I pushed myself toward fae, as long as I was holding onto the shards of my humanity, that kind of transition was going to be hard on me.

I got my breath back and straightened, looking around. I don’t think Evening would recognize her own knowe if she saw it. That’s a good thing. Under her, Goldengreen had been sterile and static, devoid of clutter, of people—of life. She had grown herself a perfect flower and then she had frozen it like a rose in ice, keeping it exactly the way she wanted it to be. That had started to change while I held the County, if only because I’d taken in the displaced residents of my friend Lily’s knowe after she died. The presence of people always changes things.

Now, under Dean’s leadership and Marcia’s gentle hand, the knowe was blossoming. The hall seemed to have grown wider, accommodating the bookshelves and low tables lining the walls. Some of the shelves were laden with sunken treasures, no doubt dredged from the bottom of the San Francisco Bay. Tapestries showing scenes from the surrounding Summerlands hung above the tables, interspersed with the coats of arms of the people who resided here, when applicable. Not every resident of Faerie has their own crest, but those who do are often very proud of them.

Multicolored lights glimmered from the tops of the shelves. The knowe’s pixie population was asleep, dreaming the day away. I relaxed when I saw that. If the pixies were still sleeping peacefully, there probably wasn’t anyone here who shouldn’t have been.

At the same time, much as I would have liked to know that Dean was in no danger, I would have been equally happy to find and save my daughter in these familiar halls, where I knew the territory and it knew me. Knowes are alive. Goldengreen might not be mine anymore, but I like to think I was kind enough for it to remember me fondly.

Quentin exhaled, his own relief mirroring mine. Then he started swiftly forward, not pausing to see if the rest of us would follow. We did, of course, hurrying behind him until a noise from one of the rooms caught my attention. I stopped, pulling Tybalt to a halt, and pointed. He nodded, understanding what I was signaling, and we turned away, leaving May to follow Quentin toward his final destination.

I just hoped Dean liked to sleep clothed, or May was probably about to see a bit more than either of us had any desire to.

Tybalt and I moved closer to the noise. It was coming from the main kitchen, I realized, and it wasn’t the only thing: I smelled cinnamon rolls and fresh-brewed coffee. My stomach rumbled, reminding me that I had been hauled out of bed, hadn’t stopped for breakfast, and had lost a remarkable amount of blood at the hands of the Baobhan Sith.

Marcia looked up as we stepped into the room, blinking at us blearily but without surprise. She was wearing a green housecoat with reeds and rushes embroidered around the edges, turning it into a cloth recreation of a swamp, and her always tangled blonde hair was piled atop her head in a messy bun, giving her the overall air of a slightly flustered cockatoo.

“Toby,” she said. “Tybalt. To what do we owe the honor at this uncivilized hour of the day? My cinnamon rolls aren’t that good.”

My stomach growled audibly, as if in argument. “How long have you been up?”

“I don’t know. Not long. Long enough to bake, but I made the dough yesterday and had one of the girls put it under a stasis spell.” Marcia’s gaze sharpened as she looked at us, taking in Tybalt’s discomfort and my overall condition. She frowned, looking more bewildered than upset. “Why are you covered in blood?”

Trust Marcia to treat my exsanguination as another minor inconvenience. “I got into a little argument with a Baobhan Sith. She thought I was a breakfast buffet. I thought it was rude to eat someone to whom you hadn’t even been introduced. I guess we both sort of won. She got a good meal, I got away with all my limbs.”

“Your definition of victory will never cease to shock and horrify me,” muttered Tybalt.

“You need cinnamon rolls,” said Marcia, and grabbed a spatula. “You probably also need bacon, but I’m not safe to fry anything until I’ve had another cup of coffee. I think there’s some sliced beef left from last night’s dinner. I can check the pantry.”

I raised an eyebrow and waited. Marcia dished out two cinnamon rolls, then paused.

“You didn’t tell me why you were here,” she said. “Toby, why are you here?”

“My daughter’s been kidnapped from her college.” The words didn’t become less painful with repetition. If anything, they got worse. Someone had my daughter, and I wasn’t saving her.

Marcia’s eyes went wide and round. “Gillian’s missing? Again?”