Page 22 of Be the Serpent

“She was making pancakes,” said Quentin. “She dropped the batter on the floor, so I think she left pretty fast.”

Mitch blinked at him. “And didn’t wipe it up? Oh, God, did one of the kids get hurt?”

“Her car’s still here,” I said. “And . . . yes. I’m sorry, Mitch, but yes. Whatever happened before we got here . . . Anthony’s been stabbed. He’s in Muir Woods now. Arden took him there to see a healer.”

The color drained out of Mitch’s face. “Anthony—he was picking up Andrew from his day camp program. Is he . . . ?”

“Andrew’s in Muir Woods with his brother, but he’s fine,” I said, keeping my voice as reassuring as I could. I was about to run out of reassuring things to say. Might as well keep it going as long as possible. “He was upset and freaked out, but he’s not hurt. I’m sure Arden and Nolan are spoiling him rotten by now. They like kids.”

Even if they didn’t, the Luidaeg was there, and Madden, and so many others who would be happy to step up and help a ten-year-old boy.

Mitch paused, clearly doing some mental math. It wasn’t hard. There were only five pieces to be counted. “Toby, why won’t you let me go inside?”

“I needed to talk to you first.”

“Cass and Karen were with you at Court,” said Mitch. “Anthony’s there getting medical care. Andrew is with him. My wife is missing. Toby, where is Jessica?”

I swallowed, hard, and forced myself to meet his eyes. “I’m so sorry. It was too late by the time we arrived.”

Realization washed over him like a terrible wave, draining the rest of the color from his face. His breath came faster and faster, going from normal to hyperventilation in a matter of seconds, and then, without saying a single word, his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed to the ground.

SIX

“You don’t have much experience at this, do you?” asked Simon, looking at the unconscious man in front of us.

“It’s not normally a part of my job!” I snapped. “I’m a private detective! People hire me to find out whether their significant other is cheating on them, or to help them untangle custody disputes! Dead people aren’t usually a part of my day-to-day.”

“And yet I’ve seen you handle far too many corpses for my own comfort,” said Tybalt, moving behind Mitch and hoisting the other man off the ground.

“Not when they’re the children of close personal friends of mine,” I said. I knew I had handled that poorly, even by my own somewhat loose standards, but I hadn’t known what else to say, or how else to say it. It was a situation I’d never wanted to be in, and never dreamt I might be. And where the hell was Stacy?

“Where should we put him?” asked Simon, moving to support Mitch’s other side.

“Quentin knows where their bedroom is, and there shouldn’t be any blood there,” I said. “Get him to his bed. He should wake up someplace safe and familiar.”

They nodded, and the three of them went back into the house, Quentin pausing in the doorway to look at me.

“You coming?”

“In a second,” I said, and reached into my jacket pocket, fishing around until I found my phone. Portable phones are a lot more common in the mortal world than they are in Faerie, where human tech doesn’t always work reliably, but our friend April has been trying hard to get us all up to modern standards. I tapped the screen to wake it up, then scrolled through my starred contacts until I found Stacy’s name.

If I’d been thinking more clearly, I would have tried this sooner. I raised the phone to my ear, listening as it rang. “Come on, pick up,” I said. If she picked up, she could explain everything. She could tell me where she’d gone, why she’d left in such a hurry, why she’d run out without her car or her daughter. It wouldn’t bring Jessica back, but it would give me a chance to try telling someone else without getting it quite as wrong this time. It would be a second chance to be a good friend.

The phone rang and rang and rang, until it clicked over to voicemail. Stacy’s cheerful voice began telling me to text, because she never had time to listen to her messages anyway, and I hung up.

I don’t do voicemail or answering machines. I have my reasons.

Instead of texting, I called again. And again after that. On my third try, the line clicked and Stacy said, “Hello? October?”

“Stacy!” I started crying as soon as I said her name, unable to stop myself. The relief and grief were too immense, and they overwhelmed me. I put a hand over my face, staggering to the side until my hip hit the porch rail and stopped me. “Are you okay? Where are you?”

“I’m at the grocery store,” she said, all puzzled bewilderment. “Is something wrong?”

“Which one? We’ll come and get you.” It would be a tight squeeze getting all of us into the car, but Tybalt could ride in cat form, or could run ahead to Muir Woods with Simon while the rest of us drove.

“The Safeway in Daly City. Toby, what’s going on?”

“I’ll tell you when we get there, okay? Just stay where you are. Can you promise me that? Promise me that you’ll stay right where you are until I can come and get you.”