“But, Toby—”
“No buts. I don’t care if she’s the one starting everything. I’m too tired to deal with this on top of everything else.”
He sighed. “All right.”
Jan fixed a stern eye on Gordan. “The same thing goes for you. Both of you behave.”
“Whatever,” Gordan said, taping the gauze on my hand before starting to repack her first aid kit.
I eyed this and asked, “Can I have some painkillers first?”
Jan smiled, almost sadly. “Gordan?”
“Yeah, she can have some Tylenol.” She pulled a bottle from the kit, tossing it to Jan, who removed the cap with a flick of her thumb. I held out my unwounded hand, and she placed three small white pills on my palm as solemnly as if she were handing me the crown jewels of India. I popped them into my mouth, dry-swallowing them in a single convulsive gulp. I don’t know how we dealt with magic-burn before we had over-the-counter painkillers, but I think there’s a reason the faeries in the old stories are so incredibly cranky.
Gordan snatched the bottle out of Jan’s hand, scowling. “Be careful,” she said. “Your hand will be weak for a while, and you should really have stitches. Don’t strain yourself if you don’t want to lose a finger.”
“Got it,” I said, nodding.
“Don’t mention it.” She raked a hand through her spiky hair, shooting a glare toward Quentin. He glared right back. “I sure won’t.”
“Gordan . . .” Jan began.
“Whatever,” Gordan said. She turned, shaking her head, and walked out of the room.
Quentin scowled as he watched her go. “What a—”
“Stop right there,” I said, levering myself to my feet. Connor moved to support me. “I know she is, okay? You don’t need to stress. Just don’t hit her again.”
“Fine,” he said. The tips of his ears were red, although I couldn’t tell whether it was from anger or embarrassment.
Elliot sighed. “That went well.”
“It could’ve been worse,” I said, as diplomatically as I could.
“I’m sorry, both of you,” Jan said.
“It’s all right. We’re all stressed.” I forced a smile, leaning on Connor. “If you don’t mind, I need to fall down until my head stops hurting.”
“Of course.” Jan looked away, but not before that strange, half-aware expression had crossed her face a third time. What the hell was going on? “Elliot, are you coming?”
“Sure.”
I kept leaning on Connor as we left the cafeteria and made our way down several of the knowe’s endless halls. Quentin took up the rear. We stopped at a small room containing a futon, a table and an ancient color television. Ignoring the TV and the fact that I was almost definitely showing how vulnerable I was, I collapsed on the makeshift bed, closing my eyes.
“Toby?” Quentin said.
“Stay with Connor,” I said, eyes staying closed. “If you get bored, ask April to come talk. You like April. Don’t . . . make trouble . . .” I was more tired than I’d thought: I was already starting to drift away.
“All right,” he said. “Sleep well.”
Connor bent over me; I felt him brush my hair back, fingers lingering against my skin before he whispered, “Don’t you dare bleed to death.”
I smiled, not opening my eyes. “I’ll just work on that.”
“You’d better. Don’t you leave me again.” Then he was gone. I heard three sets of footsteps leave the room. I stayed quiet, waiting.
I didn’t have to wait long. Jan stepped closer, sneakers scuffling on the carpet, and said, “Toby? We haven’t—I haven’t told you everything, and I think it’s important for you to understand what we’re really working on. Promise you’ll come find me when you wake up?”
“I’ll find you,” I mumbled. I wanted to make her tell me now, but I couldn’t find my legs, much less make them work. We all have our limits, and I’d exceeded mine.
“Okay. What you said about the memory? This may explain. And I think it’s important that you know.” She sighed. “I need you to know everything.”
“Promise . . .” I said. Something in me was screaming for answers, but the fog didn’t care. I don’t remember how long she sat there or when she left; all I remember is the fall into darkness and the half-dreamed sound of the night-haunts’ wings.
TWENTY-TWO
MY DREAMS WERE A TANGLE of twisted snapshots. April disappearing in front of the building in a hail of sparks and oak leaves; Gordan shouting in a dozen languages as she ran down an endless hall; Alexa and Terrie, bloody hands intertwined, laughing. Pale-faced knights and maidens littered the ground, and I was looking for the birds. I had to find them. A phrase kept repeating, scrawled on walls and bulletin boards: “. . . and no birds sing.” Why did it matter whether or not the birds were singing? And above it all there was the faint, constant buzzing of the night-haunts’ wings, and a voice saying, “You were my hero. I’ve had few enough of those.”
“What about the birds?” I shouted. The walls were falling, leaving me scrambling for purchase on the dissolving ground. “I have to find the birds!”
“Do you think that they will sing for you?” the voice asked, almost gently.
The world continued to fall. Someone I couldn’t see was shaking me. I thought it was part of the dream and swung wildly, only to find my arm caught. Alex’s voice broke through the remains of my dreams, vibrating with barely restrained terror: “Toby, wake up. Please.”
Panic is a wonderful stimulant. I pulled my arm free and sat up. “What’s wrong?” I was too busy processing the situation to get mad at him for touching me. Yet.
“We can’t find Jan.” He looked haggard but alert; at least someone had been finding time to rest. Connor was asleep next to me, and Quentin was curled up on the floor, using his coat as a pillow. I must have been asleep for hours if they’d both gone down, and asleep hard if I didn’t even hear them coming in.
“When did you last see her?” I stood. Dizziness washed over me. I caught myself against the wall.
“About an hour after sunrise.”
Oh, oak and ash. “What time is it now?”
“Almost eleven-thirty.”
I stared. “Why the hell didn’t you wake me sooner?” I demanded. Quentin made a small grumpy noise and rolled over, still asleep. That wasn’t going to last long.
“Elliot said to let you sleep until we were sure she was gone. Gordan just got back from checking her apartment. He said it was time to wake you.” Catching my expression, he added, “He’s her seneschal, Toby. Whether or not it was a good idea, he’s allowed to make the call.”
“I know. I know.” I took a deep breath, trying to calm down. “Is her bike still here?”
He paused. “I don’t think so.”
“That’s a good sign. Everything we know about has happened on company grounds, so if her bike’s gone, she’s probably okay. You go check; I’ll wake the guys and be right there.”
“Can you find your way out?”
I felt the irrational need to comfort him, and glared. He put his hands up.
“I’m not doing it on purpose, I swear. I’m just nervous. It happens when I get nervous.”
“We can find it. Now get out.” I was willing to believe he couldn’t help it. That didn’t mean I wanted him near me. “Go see if her bike is there.”
“All right.” He shut the door as he left, and my thoughts cleared almost immediately. I shook my head, disgusted.
My dislike of Alex didn’t have anything to do with the matter at hand. Jan was missing. Oberon help us all. Bending over the futon, I shook Connor’s shoulder. He muttered something unintelligible and opened his eyes.
“Get up,” I said. “Jan’s missing.”
Connor sat up almost as fast as I had, swinging his feet around to the floor and kicking Quentin in the shoulder. Quentin staggered to his feet with eyes still half-closed, looking dazedly around the room.