I pushed myself to my feet, watching them despite the pain in my head. I’d never seen that sort of fight before, but I understood it. Julie’s attack was unexpected, but it wasn’t just an attack on me: when Tybalt involved himself, it became a dominance challenge. Unsurpris ingly, the changeling lost.
“Kill her,” Julie hissed, pulling away from him. “Kill her or let me.”
Tybalt frowned, lowering his arms. The shirt that he’d been wearing in the park was draped over one shoulder, pale cloth mottled with dried blood. “No,” he said, voice rough. There were undertones of the jungle there, dark and alien. “I will not. She’s here under truce.”
“Then I’ll follow her, and kill her when she’s not under truce,” Julie said, glaring.
“Why do you want to kill me?” I demanded.
The look she shot me was so full of hate that I stepped back, surprised. “You killed Ross,” she hissed.
“I did not!” I protested. I might have led him to his death, but I didn’t kill him. Sometimes semantics matter. “It wasn’t my fault!”
“Yes, it was, you stupid bitch!” She started to rush me again. Tybalt raised one arm to block her.
“I’d leave now if I were you, October. This Court is closed.” He took the shirt from his shoulder and threw it to me. I caught it one-handed, crumpling it in my fist. The bloodstains covered half the fabric: it would be enough.
Actually, it was too much: some of the blood had to be Tybalt’s. He was handing me the key to his own memories, and that’s not something any faerie gives lightly. “Tybalt . . .”
“Go.” He shook his head. “This isn’t the time or the place.” Julie shrieked, and he pulled her back again. The other human-form Cait Sidhe were standing now, their eyes glowing through the darkness. It was starting to feel like a scene from a Hitchcock film. I nodded, clutching the shirt, and managed a clumsy bow before I turned and walked toward the mouth of the alley. The cats parted to let me pass, their voices fading behind me as I stepped over the discarded mattresses and pillows of Tybalt’s throne.
When I had reached the sidewalk outside to find myself facing Golden Gate Park’s east gate I turned, looking back into the now empty alleyway. The Court of Cats never stayed in one place for long; as soon as I had stepped outside, it had probably moved on, leaving me and Tybalt’s bloodstained shirt behind.
I lowered the shirt, studying it. The blood was clotted in dark patches, staining the front and arms. I scraped at one of the larger stains with a fingernail. It wouldn’t flake off. All right: I’d try the direct method. I stepped back into the alley, out of view of the street, and raised the shirt in order to run my tongue across the stain. The taste was foul—blood, sweat, and dirt—but it was just a taste; there was no magic in it. I frowned. The blood had been dry for too long: if I wanted to ride it, I’d have to wake it up first. Maybe riding the blood wasn’t my best idea ever, but it was the only lead I had.
I turned to look at the park, just on the other side of the road. Lily was an Undine: water was her purview and the focus of her fiefdom, and if anyone could wake the blood, it was her. She might not like the idea, but she’d probably do it if I asked. She might even forgive me later.
TWENTY-FIVE
MARCIA WAS BEHIND THE TICKET booth, chin in her hand. I paused, trying to figure out what she was doing there before dawn, before shaking my head and continuing to walk. I didn’t have any money on me; hopefully, she’d let me in anyway.
She lifted her head and smiled as I approached, chirping, “Good morning! Lily said you’d be coming, and I should go ahead and let you right in.”
I paused. “Lily’s expecting me?”
“Of course!” she said, still smiling. I half expected her face to crack. “She was sure you’d be here. We were all told to watch for you.” She leaned forward conspiratori ally, and I caught the gleam of faerie ointment around her eyes. Maybe her blood wasn’t as thin as I’d guessed. “To tell the truth, I’m surprised you weren’t here sooner.”