a squeaky wheel, a plastic tarp pulled over his scavenged treasures. He stopped, turned, and stared at her.
“Can’t sleep there, kid.” He pointed to the dumpster. “Rats’ll eat your face.”
She tried to move. Every muscle in her body jolted at once, burning like she’d stuck a fork into a light socket. She took a deep breath and tried again. This time she managed to get to her feet, pushing herself up on her bloody, blistered palms.
“Happened to a buddy of mine,” he told her. “Took his nose clean off. Woke up and a rat the size of a pit bull was running down the street with it. Hey, you okay?”
“Yeah,” she said. “I need to find my friends.”
He chuckled. “Don’t we all.”
She stumbled up the alley, then paused. She dug in her pocket, rummaged around until she found a couple of rumpled dollar bills, and held them out to him. He waved the money away.
“You looked in a mirror, kid? You need that cash more than I do.”
“Fair,” she said as she staggered out into the sunshine. “Fair point.”
* * *
She called on her way over. By the time she reached the studio apartment, Tyler had gone to find some food and wasn’t back yet. Nell took one look at her and rushed her into the bathroom.
“C’mon, hands under the tap. Have to clean you up so we can see the damage.”
“I can do this myself—”
Nell shot her a look and snatched a washcloth from the rack.
“You’ve done enough by yourself,” Nell said. “Now you’re going to let me help you. You don’t have to like it, but you don’t have a choice, either.”
Tyler was five minutes behind her. He ferried in a bright orange box from Dunkin’ Donuts and a cardboard tote filled with coffee, and he almost dropped both when he got a look at her. He set everything down, hustled over, and pulled her into a hug.
“Not too tight,” Seelie said. “My everything hurts.”
He let her go and took a step back, looking her up and down. “What happened to you out there?”
“Let’s see. Met the princess of the ghouls, took a nap in a coffin, talked to a magical copy of Aislin Kendricks from 1870, learned half of a new spell, cast it pretty okay, I guess, and did not get my nose eaten by a rat.”
She took a deep breath.
“Buckle up,” she said. “I know who Leda Swan really is.”
Nell cleaned and dressed her injured hands as she walked them through it. Eventually they migrated to the kitchen, sharing chocolate-glazed donuts and coffee as Seelie wound through her vision-walk. Tyler listened in rapt silence; Nell had her reporter hat on, asking pointed questions, pressing for details to light up the dark corners of the story.
“Rime is behind everything,” Nell mused. “Two hundred years of cat and mouse and murder galore, so he can keep a steady paycheck.”
“We have to tell her,” Tyler said.
Nell sipped her coffee. “Put yourself in her shoes. Would you believe us? He’s been playing a long con for centuries, convincing Leda—Arachne—that he’s her rock-solid right-hand man, and we have every reason to lie.”
His shoulders sagged. “Yeah. True.”
“Arachne’s not evil,” Seelie said. “She’s just…hurt. And she wants to keep her promise to take care of Patience.”
“A goddess with no worshipers,” Nell said. “Finally found one, then the carpet got yanked out from under her. Can see how it’d make her a little nutty.”
Seelie contemplated her cup of coffee. Calling Patience a worshiper sounded sterile. Impersonal. She knew a better word for it.
“After centuries of being alone, cursed, banished, all but forgotten outside of a myth written to tell people how not to behave…” Seelie’s bandaged fingers rapped on her cup. “Arachne found a friend. That’s who Patience was. Her friend.”
“Doesn’t change the fact that we have to stop her,” Tyler said. “I mean, I feel for her, I really do, but if the needle and thread land in her hands, the best she can do is rewind over two hundred years of history just to bring her girl back to life. Worst-case scenario, she turns the fabric of time into a Dali painting and unravels the whole universe. And it sounds like even Rime thought that was the most likely outcome.”
“He just likes the chaos,” Nell murmured.
Tyler pushed himself away from the kitchen counter. He paced while he thought it over.
“Sure,” he said. “He’s immortal and unkillable. He can ride out anything but his boss’s wrath because she’s the only thing scarier