Selkie. I'd fallen off a cliff into the ocean with a Selkie, and I'd been worried about drowning. I would've been embarra.s.sed if I hadn't been so tired. The curse was burning like it was going to hit at any second; I didn't have much time.

"Connor?" I said, voice shaking. "Will you take me to sh.o.r.e?" He nodded, swimming closer and letting me loop my arms around his neck. His body was almost as long as mine, strong and healthy as real seals so seldom are.

We were only about a hundred yards from sh.o.r.e, but when you're traveling by seal-back, that's more than far enough to be decidedly unpleasant. I kept my eyes closed, trying to ignore the waves slapping my face. It's rude to get seasick on your escort, however tempting it may be.

The tide tossed us onto the sand just as I thought I couldn't stand anymore. I staggered to my feet, stumbling away from the water. I almost made it to the dry sand before the curse hit me like a rose-tinted anvil, dropping me to my knees. There wasn't time to fight; there wasn't even time to scream. The real world dropped away, and I was lost.

Maybe it was the result of my barely restrained panic; maybe the curse was getting better at hurting me. Either way, it wasn't just Evening's death this time. It rifled my memory with casual ease, pulling up the gut-wrenching moment when my lungs forgot what air was and handing it back to me in a tidy package of blood magic and iron. The sand shuddered, first becoming b.l.o.o.d.y carpet, then the damp, sun-warmed wood of the Tea Garden path. If I screamed, the sound was buried under the memories. There was no present. There was only the past, and I was drowning in it.

Someone was shaking me. Neither of the loops of memory that had ensnared me included shaking-thrashing, bleeding, and dying, but no shaking. I tried to rise toward it and was slapped back by a branch of phantom roses, shoving me down. Dimly, far away, I heard screaming. I couldn't tell if it was mine or not, and it didn't matter. This time there was no tourist to help me into the water. The pulse of my heart was like a drum-beat, slowing down under the weight of blood and iron and tangled memory.

I wondered if I was ever going to stop hurting.

Connor slapped me.

The new pain was physical and sharp, letting me reclaim just a little ground. My heartbeat sped up as Connor slapped me again and again, the pain spiking each time to let me climb another step closer to the real world.

He was pulling back his hand to slap me again when I opened my eyes. "Hey," I said, voice harsh, "you can stop now. Please."

"I thought you were going to die," he said, eyes wide.

"Join the club," I said, trying to be flippant. I wasn't succeeding. I tried to sit up, and he put an arm behind me, letting me lean against his side.

"What happened?"

"I inhaled too much water."

"Try again," Connor said, voice cold. "I'm a Selkie, remember? We drown people semiprofessionally: I know what drowning looks like. If you think I'm going to believe you inhaled too much water, you must think I'm either blind or stupid. I don't know which is worse."

I blinked at him, flushing. I hadn't meant to offend him; I just didn't realize my lie would be that obvious. Of course, most drowning victims don't go fetal in the sand and scream their throats raw. The water in their lungs sort of prevents that. "I . . ."

"What happened, Toby? The truth."

You have to trust someone eventually. That's just how it works. Maybe Connor O'Dell wouldn't have been my first choice, but it looked like he was my last one. "Evening happened," I said, closing my eyes. "When she died, she made sure that I'd do what she asked. She wanted to be avenged, and so she-"

"Dare! She's over here!" I opened my eyes to see Manuel and Dare running toward us, Dare stumbling in her high heels. "Ma'am! Ms. Daye!" Spotting Connor, they sped up, sudden murder in their expressions.

Connor tensed, and I smiled weakly, lifting one hand to wave. "They're with me." More loudly, I called, "Hey, guys. He's with me, too."

The pair staggered to a stop. Uncertainly, Manuel asked, "Are you all right, Ms. Daye?"

"I'm fine, Manuel; just a little damp. Connor was kind enough to fish me out of the water." The ease of the lie astounded me. I guess battered, aching, and cursed had become status quo. "What are you two doing down here?"

"We saw these men go inside, only they were wearing don't-look-heres so we couldn't really look right at them, and Manny thought that maybe meant we should follow them, only we couldn't find a way in, and-" I held up my hand, stopping Dare's breathless tirade.

"Let's try it this way," I said. "Manuel? What happened?"

"We followed some men to the museum; they had a key, we didn't. We circled the building and reached the cliff just in time to see you fall," he said, tone brisk and formal.

"So you followed me after I told you not to, and saw us come out of the cliff?"

"Yes."

"Manuel?"

"Yes?"

"That was dumb."

"Yes, ma'am."

Turning to Connor, I asked, "Can you help me up? I need to get these two Home." He shook his head, and scooped me into his arms as he stood. I yelped. "Hey!"

"What?"

"Put me down!" He started to walk down the beach, Manuel and Dare trailing along behind us. "Aren't you listening? Put me down!"

"No. I am taking you-all of you-back to Shadowed Hills. You can leave when I'm sure you'll survive."

Considering recent events, that would probably be sometime in June. I sighed, settling back in his arms. My shoulder was starting to throb, providing a handy reminder that we weren't safe where we were. Shadowed Hills? All right, that would do.

"This isn't gonna calm Sylvester's nerves," I mumbled.

"Tough."

"Shouldn't we call Home first? To say where we're going?" Manuel sounded unaccountably nervous, like he was afraid Devin would blame him for my impromptu swim. Maybe he would.

Digging into my pocket, I produced the waterlogged cell phone and tossed it onto the beach. "With what? My phone's ruined. Have you got one?"

"No . . ."

"There you go, then. Connor, how are we getting to Shadowed Hills?"

"You have a car."

"I can drive!" Dare said.

Connor and I exchanged a look, and he declared, "I'll drive." Dare pouted. Connor shook his head. "Sorry, kid. Not this time." drive." Dare pouted. Connor shook his head. "Sorry, kid. Not this time."

Confident that Connor had matters in hand, I closed my eyes, letting myself relax. Shadowed Hills is safer than almost anywhere I know; most people have better things to do than bother Sylvester, who has a history of permanent solutions to temporary annoyances. He used to be a hero, after all, and some habits die hard. Besides, how often do you get to watch a Selkie try to drive?

Not that often, it turns out, even when the opportunity actually bothers to arise. Connor put me into the pa.s.senger seat, I closed my eyes, and we were there, exhaustion blanking out all the miles in between. I woke up when Connor stopped the car. Dare and Manuel cast worried glances my way as Connor scooped me out of the pa.s.senger seat, but I didn't fight; I just let him carry me up the hill and into the knowe. I wasn't entirely certain I could have made the walk.

Luna was waiting in the entry hall. There were no footmen in evidence; they had all apparently figured out that the safest place to be was far away from their worried d.u.c.h.ess. Her hair was uncombed, and her tails were knotting themselves behind her, winding and unwinding around each other in agitation.

"Are you all right?" she demanded, turning toward our sandy, water-stained party. The fact that I was curled in Connor's arms probably made things look even worse, but I didn't really have the strength to do much else. Manuel and Dare were trying to vanish behind us. Like most of Devin's kids, they were fine when they were following orders, but they didn't ad lib well. He never taught them how to be flexible. "Sylvester's gone to challenge Devin for proof that you're not dead. I hope you're pleased with yourself."

"Hi, Luna," I said, smiling tiredly.

She studied me, frowning, before she said, "You look terrible. What happened?"

"We sort of fell out of a cliff and into the ocean."

"We?"

Connor winced. "It wasn't exactly intentional . . ." he began.

Luna ignored him. "What were you doing?"

"Running," I said.

"From what?"

"I don't quite know," I said. "Mostly from the noises in the hall."

"You fell off a cliff because you were running from noises?"

"In Goldengreen," Connor said, apparently deciding he needed to contribute. Bad idea. Luna turned on him, glaring, and he cringed. I would've expected him to know better.

"Were you hurt?" she asked, turning back to me.

"Not badly." I gestured to my bleeding shoulder. "I got shot a few days ago, but that's mostly been healed."

"Shot and injured enough that you couldn't manage to make a phone call. Oh, that's not bad at all." Looking around us to Manuel and Dare, who were trying not to be noticed, she added, "And you brought guests."

Dare stared at her feet, ears turning a deep red. Manuel bobbed a quick bow and mumbled, "Nice to meet you, ma'am."

Luna's icy demeanor melted fractionally as she smiled. She's never been good at staying mad, and she usually gets that way because she's worried about someone-frequently me. I have a talent for panicking her. "It's good to meet you, too."

I poked Connor in the shoulder. "Put me down." He gave me a dirty look, but wasn't going to argue in front of Luna. I staggered as he lowered me to my feet, and Dare stepped forward, offering me her arm. I took it gratefully. "Hey, kid."

Leaning toward me, she whispered, "She has three tails."

"Yes," I said, in a normal tone of voice. Whispering is rude, especially when you're dealing with someone whose ears are sensitive enough to hear mice rustling in a field. "Her Grace is one of the Kitsune." Luna smiled, and I smiled back.

"Kitsune?" Manuel said. "Fox fairy?"

"Exactly," Luna agreed. "October, while introductions are all well and good, I hope you don't think this is going to distract me from finding out what happened. My husband's been unbearable with worry over you."

I sighed. "All right, Luna. Is there a place where Manuel and Dare can go clean up, and maybe get something to eat?" The kids stared at me, but didn't protest. Never question the boss in public.

Luna snapped her fingers. A mote of light appeared in front of her. "Follow this, and it will lead you to the kitchens," she said. "Quentin will meet you there; he can help with anything you need."

"But . . ." Dare said, glancing at me.

"Don't worry, Dare; it's safe here," I said. "Safe is what Shadowed Hills does best." That was true, as long as we didn't mention the nasty, still-unsolved matter of Luna and Raysel disappearing for a decade. "Now shoo-it's not nice to keep people waiting, and Quentin's a friend of mine." Dare started to protest, but Manuel shushed her and took her hand, pulling her along as he followed Luna's guide.

Luna turned to me once they'd vanished around the corner, asking, "Devin's?"

"Yes."

"For how long?"

"Long enough." I shook my head. "They're good kids. Manuel-the boy-has more common sense, but I think his sister's close to breaking. They need to get out."

"Were you perhaps thinking of bringing them here?"

I smiled sheepishly. "You do have a tradition of taking in strays."

"Yes, I do," she said, glancing at Connor. He stiffened, but said nothing. Luna dismissed him with a glance, turning back to me. "Is this an exchange?"

"I don't know what you mean."

She sighed. "Do you really think I can't smell him on you? But no matter. What happened?"

The question meant I could avoid the subject of Devin for a little while-but not, I knew, forever. If Luna was asking now, Sylvester would be asking later. "Look, can we go somewhere? This isn't the most private place in the knowe."

"Of course. Connor, bring her." Luna turned, starting for a pale blue door that I hadn't noticed before. Probably because it hadn't been there. Knowes are like that.

Before I could say anything, Connor had scooped me off my feet again. "Hey!"

He grinned. "Just following orders."

I sighed, deciding struggling would be more trouble than it was worth, and let him carry me through the door. There was an indoor garden on the other side, looking like nothing so much as the yard of an old English country house. Cobblestone paths wound around boulders draped with moss, while rioting roses and honeysuckle did their best to obscure delicate marble statuary. Luna led us to a s.p.a.ce between two hedges, where the ground was carpeted with clover and b.u.t.tercups. "Put her down, please."

Connor lowered me gently into a seated position. I leaned back on my hands, digging my fingers into the clover. Luna knelt beside me.

"I've never seen this garden before," I said.

"I planted it while you were away, as a memorial to my internment and your death. It has happier connotations now that we've both come home." She fixed me with a stern eye. "You're bleeding."

"I tore my scar." I pulled the fabric of my shirt aside to show the narrow fissure through the middle of the scar on my shoulder.

Luna frowned, reaching out to touch it with delicate fingers. "This is newer than it looks. And the wound was made with iron."

"You're right on both counts."

"Whose idea was it to take you to the Luidaeg?"

I froze. "How can you . . . ?"

"I've seen her work a time or two. This was her, wasn't it?"

"Yes." Luna knew the Luidaeg? I suppose I should have known-they've both lived in the Bay Area for centuries-but somehow the idea was jarring. I couldn't imagine what sort of a situation would have brought those two together.

"Of course." She produced a roll of gauze from a pocket in her skirt, pa.s.sing it to me. "Wrap yourself." Seeing my expression, she added, "You learn to carry bandages when you work with roses as much as I do."

"Right," I said, and started clumsily binding my shoulder.