The Unkindest Tide (October Daye #13) - Seanan McGuire Page 0,162
autumn. Despite the time of year, a fire burned in the fireplace, crackling and bright, casting flickers that were too bright and too steady to be mistaken for candles across the walls. Hobs aren’t technically fire fae—they could no more survive in a volcano’s heart than I could—but they find comfort in the presence of a hearth, drawing peace and strength from the flame. This was as traditional as they could get in a mortal neighborhood in the middle of San Francisco.
Helen’s father, Willis, was sitting on the couch pretending to read a book. It was the same one he always pretended to read when I came a visit, some dire medical thriller with a picture of an elegantly dead woman on the cover. Why is it always the women who are elegantly dead? I would make a perfectly lovely corpse, if the need arose.
“Good evening, Raj,” he said, looking at me over his book. “Slipped the leash again?”
“Leashes are a canine affectation,” I said. “But yes, I’m at liberty for the remainder of the night, and thought your lovely daughter might enjoy my questionable company for a few hours before dawn.”
Helen giggled. Willis, who had looked as if he might say something, settled deeper into the couch, an eloquent look passing between us. He knew as well as I did that my time with Helen was limited; that one day duty and the division between our Courts would pull me away. He feared that the longer I stayed, the more I’d break her heart when the time for leaving came, and to be fair, I couldn’t say he was wrong. But he hadn’t been with us in Blind Michael’s lands. He didn’t understand how much I was already going to break her heart . . . or how much we needed each other if we were ever going to heal.
Quentin is my brother and October is my knight and both of them went into that damned country voluntarily, with their eyes open, with consent lingering on their lips. Helen and I lacked that sweet decision. We were wounded, and we were going to stay that way for a long time yet to come.
“Hi, Dad, bye, Dad, don’t wait up, Dad,” said Helen, and grabbed my hand, dragging me out of the living room toward the stairs.
I could feel Willis’ eyes on my back every step of the way.
Her room was the first in the upstairs hall. She pulled me into it and kicked the door shut behind us, her mouth already finding mine as her hands went to my hair and snarled themselves there, thumbs brushing the curve of my ears in not-so-subtle indication that the time for illusions was over, at least for now. She preferred it when I was myself before her. Ego said that it was because she couldn’t live without my handsome face. Logic painted a grimmer picture.
She wanted to be able to see me because if she could see me, she’d know for sure that it was me. That I hadn’t been replaced by some dire Rider, come to finish what their fallen Firstborn started.
I released my illusions with a wave of my hand, the other hand clamped tight against her side, holding her to me. She made a small sound of delight, mouth still fixed to mine, pushing me backward toward the bed.
It had been a hard day, then. Some nights she wanted to talk, to show me silly videos online and discuss the affairs of the day. Those nights came after days where she slept deeply, where the horrors of our past allowed her some small measure of peace. Other nights, she wanted nothing more than to speed toward some unseen and unseeable cliff, trusting me to pull us back from the edge.
It would have been so easy to be the boy her father fears, the boy who’d take advantage of her needy, gasping fear. I could hurt her badly, and I could do it without meaning to. That’s part of why I had to stay with her. It wasn’t merely that I adored her, the scent of her hair, the roughness of her hands. I cared about her. She was my friend. I’d be a coward if I walked away from her now, when she still needed something to hold onto, something to believe in.
I could be her safe harbor, at least for a time. And if I knew I would have to leave her one day, I could try to