network without me. How could she do that? She has to take care of me.”
“I’m sure she took good care of you.” I winced as soon as I spoke, realizing how patronizing that had to sound.
April realized it too, because she raised her head, expression fierce. “She did take good care of me. She always did.” She paused, continuing more quietly, “People said she only cared about me because I was new, and she’d forget me when she found something else new. But they were wrong. She took care of me. When I was hurt or sick or confused or anything, she took care of me. She always . . .” Her voice trailed off.
“She always what, April?”
“She kept my systems operational,” she said. “She loved me.”
That surprised me more than it should have. I knew April was devoted to Jan. I hadn’t realized she understood what love was. Quietly, I said, “I think I understand.”
“Do you?” she asked, pulling away. It was hard to get used to the emotion in her voice. She’d been sounding steadily more alive—more “real”—since Jan died.
I only wished her mother could have seen it.
“I think so.”
“I would never have let anything hurt her.”
“I know.”
“I hope so,” she said, and shook her head. The tears on her cheeks disappeared like they’d never been. “There aren’t many choices left. I have to go now, and you have to think. It’s important.” Then she was gone in a haze of static, leaving me alone.
“April? April, come back—what’s important? April!” I stared at the empty air, hoping she’d reappear and explain herself. No such luck. “What was that about?”
Picking myself up off the floor, I raked the fingers of my good hand through my hair, looked toward the futon room door, and turned, with a sigh, to walk back toward the cafeteria.
I couldn’t go. I wanted to, and I couldn’t. If it had just been Jan, maybe I could have left the mess for Sylvester, but April . . . April needed someone to find out what had happened to her. I owed that to her, and I owed it to her mother.
To my surprise and mild disappointment, the cafeteria was not the site of further carnage. Terrie was gone, and Tybalt and Elliot were at opposite sides of the room, Tybalt glaring, Elliot trying to look like he wasn’t uncomfortable about being glared at. Tybalt straightened as I entered, attention refocusing on me.
I moved until I was standing nose-to-nose with Elliot, and said, “We’re staying until Sylvester gets here. Not for your sake. For Jan’s. And if Alex comes near me again, night or day, I’ll kill him. Do you understand?”
He raised his hands, supplicating. “We weren’t trying to endanger you.”
“You could’ve fooled me.”
“Terrie can’t help what she is—it’s her nature to make people love her, just like it’s your nature to pull answers from the dead.” He paused. “I’ve always wondered why the Daoine Sidhe have that gift. You’re Titania’s children. Why are you so tied to blood?”
“Because we’re also Oberon’s, and no one else was willing to take the job. Cut the crap, Elliot. Do you want my help or not?”
He looked at me blankly. “Yes. We do.”
“Then you need to follow my rules. Can you do that?”
“I can,” he said slowly, like he found the words distasteful. Tough.
“Good.” I stepped away from him. “First rule: no one goes anywhere alone, no matter how secure you think the area is or how certain you are that nothing will happen. There aren’t many of you left. I’d like to keep the ones we have.”
Elliot nodded. “I’ll order everyone that’s still here to travel together.”
“Can you make them listen?”
“I think so.”
“Good. Second rule: if I ask a question, I want an answer, not an excuse and not a string of technical terms you know I won’t understand. A real answer. Can you promise me that?”
“I promise.”
“Swear.”
“Toby, do I really need—” He saw the look on my face, and stopped. “Fine. I swear by root and branch and silver and iron, by fire and wind and the faces of the moon. May I never see the hills of home again, if I deceive.” He paused. “Will that do?”
“For now.”
“And you’ll help us?”
“We will. Let’s go give Connor a status, check on Quentin, and . . .” I paused. “Where’s Terrie?”
“She left,” Tybalt said, sounding satisfied. “Best she stays gone.”
“So she’s alone?” If she wasn’t our killer, she might well be a target. I didn’t like her. I didn’t