There was a click. The sound of waves stopped, replaced by empty air. That, at least, was unusual. I frowned. Normally the Luidaeg answered her phone by yelling at me. “Luidaeg?” I said.

There was no response. I thought I heard someone breathing, but it was a thin, distant sound, and it could have just been air running over the receiver.

I tried again: “Luidaeg? Are you there? Is something wrong with the connection?” I could always hang up and recast the spell, if that was the case. The fragments of my magic were still hanging in the air around me, ready to be grabbed.

Still the silence, and the faint, distant sound of what could be breathing.

“Okay. I’m going to try again.” I hung up, raising my head to look at the others. “Something was wrong with the connection. I didn’t get her.”

“That’s weird,” said Quentin. “That’s never happened before, has it?”

“No,” I said, barely keeping myself from snapping. Fear was beginning to rise in my throat, thick and cloying. I dialed again, this time in an X-shape. “Five’s for silver, six for gold, seven for a little girl who dreams of getting old,” I chanted. The magic rose, burst, and fell into the air around me as I raised the phone back to my ear.

Again, there was the sound of waves, followed by a click and silence. This time, I held the phone out to Tybalt, motioning for him to come closer and listen. Cait Sidhe have exceptionally good hearing. It’s a part of their feline nature.

He leaned in, bringing his ear to the phone. Then he frowned, and plucked the phone from my hand without saying a word as he straightened up. Seconds ticked by. He raised a hand, motioning for the rest of us to remain silent. Finally, he said, “If this is some form of punishment for October having asked you things she should not have asked, say so now. Failure to speak shall be taken as consent for what you know will follow.”

More seconds ticked by. He hung up the phone, tossing it back into my hands.

“Your squire has learned the necessary skills to drive in this mortal world, has he not?” he asked. There was a tight edge to his voice, like he was just this side of losing his composure. That was bad. When Tybalt loses his composure, things are always bad.

“I don’t have my license, but I can drive,” said Quentin.

I set the census aside as I stood, shoving the phone back into my pocket. “Why are we making Quentin drive? How freaked out am I supposed to be right now?”

“Someone was there, but it was not the Luidaeg,” said Tybalt, stepping in close to me. I recognized this as preparation for towing me into the Shadow Roads, and zipped my jacket as he continued: “The tempo of the breaths was wrong. Someone else is answering her phone.”

There was no way in this or any other world that that could be a good thing. “We need to go back to her apartment.” I pulled the car keys out of my coat pocket and lobbed them underhand at Quentin, who plucked them from the air. “Get there as fast as you can. Call when you’re at the alley.” Don’t be dumb; don’t walk into a potential ambush. In short, don’t be like your mentor, since I was about to run headlong into yet another life-or-death situation.

What can I say? I know my strengths, and I like playing to them. “Leaping before looking” is absolutely in my top ten Greatest Hits.

“I’ll see you there,” said Quentin.

I glanced to Mags. “Sorry. Not paying my debt about Mom today.”

“I’m sure I’ll be seeing you soon,” she said, ingrained politeness overwhelming the dismay that I saw written clearly on her face.

Then Tybalt’s arms closed around me and we fell backward into the shadows, descending into the darkness that never broke. He let go of my waist as soon as we were through, his fingers locking around my right wrist, and together we ran down the Shadow Roads. I quashed my rising panic; it’s hard to panic and hold your breath at the same time, and I wouldn’t do the Luidaeg any good if I gave myself hypothermia by trying to breathe in a place where there was no good air, only the endless cold. Instead, I focused on trying to match my stride to Tybalt’s, counting his steps instead of counting the breaths that I wasn’t taking. It helped a little, and anything that helped me to survive the shadows was a good thing.

Tybalt and I emerged from the Shadow Roads and into the more mundane shadows of an alley near the Luidaeg’s apartment. Her wards prevented him from getting us any closer. I hit the ground running—or tried to, anyway. I made it four steps before the lack of air and the glimmers of frostbite at my extremities brought me to a screeching halt. I caught myself against the alley wall, coughing the ice from my lips and out of my throat. Tybalt stood nearby, wary and watching. The Shadow Roads were hard on the Cait Sidhe, but it was a difficulty that they dealt with for their entire lives. Those same Roads were still new and cruel to me, and I was reminded of that fact every time we had to use them.

“If you can run . . .” he began.

“I can run,” I said, and pushed myself away from the wall as I did just that. Tybalt paced me, close enough to leap to my defense if I triggered a booby trap, far enough away that we weren’t going to trip over each other. Running that way was almost second nature for us these days. Anything that thought we were easy pickings would find itself in an awkward situation. With enough warning, we could even—

The thought died half-formed as we came around the corner and entered the Luidaeg’s alleyway. Her door was right in front of us . . . or it should have been, anyway. I stumbled to a stop, eyes wide, and stared in disbelief.

The apartment door had been kicked in, knocking the rotten wood right off of its rusted hinges. Chunks of broken doorframe littered the front stoop. The Luidaeg had never seemed to be that worried about personal security—she maintained her wards, because that’s just what you do, but she’d never given any indication that she expected to have them challenged. I guess being an immortal water demon from the dawn of Faerie makes you a little bit careless. The life that was likely to be endangered by anyone foolish enough to break into her home wasn’t going to be hers.

“Blood,” I whispered. “I smell blood.”

“October . . .” Tybalt’s hand caught my wrist. I froze. I hadn’t even realized I’d started moving again. I couldn’t take my eyes off that gaping hole where a door should have been. “This isn’t right.”