The Unkindest Tide (October Daye #13) - Seanan McGuire Page 0,25
It wasn’t like she was suffering for fun.
“No,” said Gillian firmly. Janet turned back to her. I . . . didn’t. I had some idea of what was going to come next, and I didn’t want to see it.
“No,” said Gillian again. “I’m not a toy that passes from hand to hand. She doesn’t get to ‘take’ me just because I have to change again. The only way you’d lose me is if I died, and since I’m not going to do that, you’re just going to have to get over this. Toby?”
“Yeah?” I asked roughly. Hearing her tell Janet “no” was more satisfying than I wanted it to be. It wasn’t as heartbreaking as hearing her tell Janet that she wasn’t going to lose her. No matter what, Janet Carter was always going to be my little girl’s mother in so many ways.
“Tell me where to be and I’ll be there.”
I took a deep breath. “I’ll send a friend of mine to pick you up at midnight tomorrow. As soon as the clock ticks over into May, he’ll be waiting for you. I’m sorry, but Janet can’t come. She’s too human, and we can’t tell people who she really is.”
“I understand,” said Gillian, and I could tell from her tone that she didn’t. And it didn’t matter because I’d done what I’d come here to do. We were all going to have to live with it.
“Great,” I said. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Janet, I appreciate your hospitality. We’ll be going now.” I turned to Tybalt, offering him my hands. He nodded once, immediately grasping my intent, and tangled his fingers through mine, pulling me into the shadows, leaving the warm, well-lit kitchen behind.
I didn’t start crying until we emerged back into my bedroom. He put his arms around me and held me until the tears stopped and the ice had melted from my hair, and neither of us said anything because there was nothing left to say.
FOUR
STACY WATCHED ME THROUGH the driver’s side window of my car, one hand resting on the wheel. “You sure you’ve got everything?” she asked.
I nodded, hoisting my backpack as if she would somehow be able to see and approve of its contents. “I even packed a toothbrush.”
“Good.” She nodded her approval. “You know May will never let me hear the end of it if I don’t make sure you’re keeping up with your dental health.”
“That’s May. Really concerned about my flossing.” I tried to keep my tone light. I thought I almost managed it.
Jazz was in no condition to go on another wild adventure, even if this one had been directly relevant to her—Selkies and Raven-maids are both skinshifters, but that’s where the relationship ends. Air and sea have never been as close as they could have been. With Jazz staying home, May was staying as well, preferring not to leave her girlfriend alone. Much as I wished things had been different, it was good to know someone would be at the house to feed the cats and Spike, none of whom did well when expected to fend for themselves.
“Are you okay?” Stacy studied me, making no effort to conceal her concern. “This is a lot. If it wouldn’t mean certain death, I’d give the sea witch a piece of my mind for putting this on you.”
“It’s my job, Stacy.”
She shook her head. “It shouldn’t have to be.”
Stacy Brown has been one of my best friends since we were both kids living in the Summerlands and trying to figure out what the world had to offer to a pair of clumsy changelings with no magic to speak of. We ran through the halls of Shadowed Hills together, we got into trouble together, and when the time came, we left for the human world together, off to seek our fortunes in the land of our mortal ancestors.
We’d both been swept up by the machinations of a man named Devin, who had run a sort of thieves’ den-slash-orphanage for changeling kids. He’d called it “Home,” and it had been one for both of us, at least for a while. At least until Stacy had found her true love and slipped away, off to settle down in a small house in Colma and raise her ever-increasing brood of changeling children. I’d been—I was—an adopted aunt to her children, and she was still one of my best friends because sometimes, when you’re lucky, the good things don’t have to change.