“Toby! Oak and ash, October, why didn’t you call before? We’ve been waiting. Your hotel says you haven’t been checking messages there, either. What’s going on? Where are you?”
“What . . . what are you talking about? You know where I am! You told us to stay here.”
Now he sounded wounded; more than that, he sounded scared. “I did no such thing! Tybalt came to tell us you were worried about tampering with the phone systems, and I’ve been waiting here ever since. When it wasn’t me, it’s been Etienne, or Garm. Even Luna’s taken her turn. You haven’t called.”
Oh, Oberon’s blessed balls. Gritting my teeth, I said, “The problems with the phones may go a little bit past tampering.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I called you right after Connor got here, and you said we should all stay put.”
He paused. “Do you mean . . . ?”
“Uh-huh. Connor and Quentin are still with me.”
“Oh. Oh, October. That’s not good.”
I glanced over my shoulder toward the boys. Quentin was leaning against one of the soda machines, while Connor was making himself a cup of tea. I’ve always been wary of men who don’t drink coffee. Tea’s just such an inefficient way of getting your caffeine on. “No,” I agreed. “No, it’s almost certainly not.”
Something in my tone must have telegraphed how serious things had become, because there was a pause before he asked, “Are you hurt?”
“A little bit. Nothing I can’t handle.” My head was pounding, my hand felt like hamburger, and the cuts on my face had barely started to scab. Oh, yeah. I was in top condition.
“What about Quentin?”
“He’s scraped up, but he’s fine. We had a minor accident with the car.” It was technically true. We were already out of the car when it exploded. “Connor got here after that; he’s fine, too.”
There was another pause before he said, more quietly now, “Not everyone’s fine, though, are they? I can hear it in your voice.”
“January,” closing my eyes and letting my forehead rest against the cool metal of the pay phone. “She’s dead.”
“Ah.” There was a world of pain in that single tiny syllable; a world of mourning that he didn’t have time to give in to. “How?”
“We’re still not sure. She didn’t die like the others, though. Her death was more . . .” I hesitated. Somehow, I couldn’t quite bring myself to say “violent.” Not when I could already hear Sylvester crying. Lamely, I finished, “. . . disorganized. Either she wasn’t the intended victim, or it was more personal than the others were. I don’t know yet.”
“I see.” He was silent for a long time. I held the line, waiting until he said, “If she’s dead, I suppose Riordan’s wishes don’t matter as much anymore. Can you stay alive until I can get there?”
Before Luna, before peace and Shadowed Hills and developing a reputation as a sweet, slightly bewildered man who just happened to run the largest Duchy in the Bay Area, Sylvester was a hero. A real one. He was one of the lucky ones—he survived long enough to quit—but that didn’t change where he’d started out.
Almost crying from relief, I nodded. “We can. How long will it take you?”
“Not long. Tybalt’s already on the way.”
I jerked upright, eyes snapping open. “What?”
“You didn’t really think he’d sit out this fight, did you?” A flicker of dark amusement crept into his tone. “Not once you told him a Queen of Cats had died.”
“Oh, Maeve’s tits.” I glanced back at Quentin and Connor again. This was going to make things even harder to deal with. Just what I needed. “Any clue when he’ll get here?”
“Not a one. I’ll see you soon. Stay safe.”
“Always do,” I said, voice bright with artificial cheer.
“You’re a terrible liar.”
“I know. Just get here.”
“As quickly as I can. Open roads, all of you. And Toby . . . thank you for trying.” He hung up before I could say anything about his thanks—and more, before I could say good-bye. I understood that all too well. He didn’t want to hear it when it might just be forever.
“You, too,” I whispered, and set the phone back in its cradle.
“What did he say?” asked Quentin.
“He’s on his way, and he’s bringing in the cavalry. We just need to keep ourselves alive until he gets here.” I looked at him, seeing how much of the calm, arrogant facade he tried to project had collapsed since our arrival. He