Page 55 of Night and Silence

I frowned. “How did you—?”

“You’re sweating. And you’ve been bleeding again, which is something you can’t afford to be doing right now.” His eyes narrowed. “Where is May? Did that former lover of yours strike you? I would take the greatest pleasure in taking him apart, if he did.”

“No. No, it’s nothing like that. It’s nothing . . .” I laughed unsteadily. “It’s nothing that normal. We’re about to have another passenger.”

“Who?” asked Quentin.

“Miranda. She’s coming with us. And her name isn’t Miranda, it’s Janet. And she’s my grandmother.” The words sounded ridiculous when I put them out there like that. I tried again. “I mean, she’s my mother’s mother. She’s human, and she’s my mother’s mother.”

“That does happen,” said Tybalt, carefully not looking at Quentin.

As far as either of us knew, my squire didn’t know his own mother had been born a changeling, or that her human heritage had been the price of marrying the Crown Prince and eventually ascending to her own place in the nobility. It wasn’t our place to tell him. I shook my head.

“Mom’s Firstborn, and her mother is human. Oberon loved a human.”

“Wait,” said Quentin. “That would make her at least—”

“Five hundred years old,” I said. “I know.”

Quentin shook his head. “That’s not . . . no. That’s just a story. It’s not real. She can’t really be that Janet. Can she?”

“I don’t know.” I paused. “I think so.”

“Root and branch,” breathed Tybalt. “How is this possible?”

“A second ago you were the one reminding me that human ancestors happen,” I said.

“Yes, and a second ago, you were not intimating that Janet of Caughterha was going to be in your car.” He shook his head. “This can’t be so. She spins a story well enough to ensnare you.”

“May remembers seeing her in Oberon’s Court. She’s from Scotland. She fits the description. She knows things she shouldn’t. I don’t want to believe it either, but I think maybe I should. Maybe not believing is a luxury we don’t have time for right now.” I took a deep breath. “She owns that courtyard we found. It’s hers. She’s been here since Gilad’s parents held the throne. Whoever took Gillian may be trying to hurt Janet as much as they’re trying to hurt me.”

“Is that why she’s joining our merry band?” asked Tybalt. “Because you fear for her safety?”

“In part, yeah,” I said. “Also because I fear for Cliff’s. She’s indestructible. He isn’t. And doubly also because I want to question her further, and I don’t want Cliff walking in on us. So we’re taking her to the safest dangerous place I know.”

“Where’s that?” asked Quentin.

I smiled. Tybalt raised his eyebrows.

“I am suddenly grateful that I can’t see the blood,” he said. “Your expression is frightening enough without it.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve learned from the best,” I said. “We’re taking her to the Luidaeg. Let’s see how many questions we get answered now.”

FOURTEEN

IF I’D THOUGHT the atmosphere in the car was uncomfortable before—with Tybalt brooding and Quentin exhausted, and me and May trying to deal with Gillian’s disappearance—it was nothing compared to what happened when we added Janet to the mix. She sat in the middle, crammed between Quentin and May, both of whom eyed her mistrustfully all the way across the city. It would have been funny if it hadn’t been so damn tense. Janet looked like an ordinary housewife, rumpled and out of place. May had returned her purse, and she clutched it like she feared it was going to be taken away again. Quentin watched her warily, not saying a word. May slumped against the window on her side of the car, obviously exhausted, making no effort to conceal her hostility.

“Where are we going?” Janet asked, after we’d been driving for ten long, silent minutes.

“To see a friend of mine who may be able to clear up some of what’s going on, and better yet, who makes an excellent babysitter for unexpected grandmothers in need of temporary protective custody,” I said tightly.

Janet’s eyes widened. “What? I thought you were taking me with you.”

“No, we’re taking you away from your unwarded, indefensible home, so Cliff doesn’t get hurt when whoever may or may not be messing with you shows up.” Keeping my voice level was more difficult than I’d expected. “You’re not coming with us. We need to be free to go anywhere the trail leads, and I don’t feel like you’d be welcome in most places, especially if you want to play ‘innocent little mortal woman’ and not have us broadcast your identity to anyone who wants to know why we’re hauling you around.”

“Where are you—”

“To my favorite aunt. She can answer a lot of questions for me, and I know she has space. I mean, her guest room is currently full, but she has a couch. You can probably sit on it, assuming she doesn’t make you stand in the corner and think about what you’ve done.”