Page 14 of The Brightest Fell

“No. She forced them to transform, and then she put them in cages.”

Raj hissed at that, his lips drawing back to reveal teeth that were larger and sharper than the human norm, and larger and sharper than they’d been only a few seconds before.

“There’s your answer. Amy always did like pets. She’ll keep them as long as she has a use for them, and when she breaks them—and make no mistake, she will break them—she’ll say she’d forgotten they were originally fae, and not just vermin. No one will believe her, but that won’t matter. She’ll be above reproach.”

“I have to save them.”

“You do. But I can’t help you.”

“So who can?”

“Talk to the people who remember August. The people who knew her before she went missing. Maybe one of them will be able to do something.”

I paused. “I need to ask you something, and I need you not to get angry with me.”

“For Dad’s sake, Toby . . .” The Luidaeg sighed again, angrily this time, like she couldn’t believe I was making her say this. “No. I don’t know where August is. I’ve never known where August was. If I did, I would have told Simon when he came to me, and I would never have let him do what he did in the name of saving his daughter. I may be a monster, but I know the meaning of mercy. Now go and bring your people home.”

The line went dead. I slowly lowered the phone. My tears were drying on my cheeks, leaving itchy trails behind. I stood frozen, not wiping them away. Not doing anything.

“Well?” said May, finally.

“I know what we have to do,” I said.

Oak and ash preserve me, but I didn’t want to. And I didn’t have a choice.

FIVE

“THIS IS A TERRIBLE idea,” said May.

“I know,” I agreed, and kept my eyes on the road.

We were rocketing toward Pleasant Hill at what would have been an unsafe speed even without the don’t-look-here spell I’d asked Quentin to throw over the car. As it was, if I let my attention veer for a second, somebody was going to get seriously injured, and it probably wasn’t going to be me. Predawn traffic is vicious in the Bay Area, as commuters try to beat the rush to work, and succeed only in moving commute hours earlier every year. Luckily for us, we were going against the grain. Getting back into San Francisco was a nightmare for later.

It had taken us less than ten minutes to get out of the house and on the road, which was a record I might have been proud of under other circumstances. As it was, those ten minutes had felt like ten too many. We would have gone faster, but leaving without grabbing weapons, supplies, and my leather jacket had been out of the question. I didn’t know when we’d be coming back. I wasn’t going out there unarmed. Not when Tybalt’s life was at stake.

“It’s not the worst one she’s ever had,” said Quentin, from the back seat. He was taking his exile well. It would have been difficult for him not to, considering the situation. If Mom had taken Dean, he would have been baying for blood as loudly as the rest of us, and their relationship wasn’t even that serious yet.

“Top ten,” snapped May. “You don’t know Simon like I do. You don’t remember what he did to us.”

“No, but I heard the stories, and I remember what he tried to do to Jazz when she got in his way,” said Quentin. “Sometimes the enemy of your enemy is your friend.”

“He’s not Amandine’s enemy! He’s her husband!” May twisted in her seat to glare at my squire. “This isn’t going to work.”

“The Luidaeg can’t help us, and I can’t think of anyone who’d know August better than her own father,” I said, tightening my hands on the wheel. A compact car zipped by, coming a little too close for comfort. I hit the gas harder. They couldn’t hit us if they couldn’t catch up with us. “We’re doing this.”

“I don’t like it, but I’m not trying to stop you, because you’re right,” said May. She twisted back into her original position, staring at the road ahead of us like a condemned woman. “We have to do the impossible and find a missing person who disappeared so long ago that the trail isn’t just cold, it’s fossilized. Refusing to let someone help just because they’re an asshole won’t do us any good. It won’t do Jazz and Tybalt any good, either.”

Quentin’s phone beeped. He picked it up, scanning the screen.

I glanced at the rearview mirror, watching him. “What’s the news?”

“Raj tracked Walther to his apartment and woke him up, and he’s got the countercharm. He’s taking the Shadow Roads, and he’ll meet us at Shadowed Hills.” Quentin paused before adding, “Walther says good luck.”

“We’re damn well going to need it,” I said grimly. “Is Raj still with him?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Let Walther know that we may still need him, and ask if he can head for his office. I’ll call him there if there’s something he can do.” I might have felt bad about my high-handed assumption that Walther would help, if the situation hadn’t been quite so dire—but then again, I might not have. As Walther himself has pointed out, more than once, I have a tendency to grab for whatever tools were handy when there’s a job to be done. Sometimes those tools are my friends. In my line of work, saving lives is more important than asking nicely.