Page 59 of A Killing Frost

We had to slow down once we reached the residential streets, if only because they were narrower and twistier, winding past homes and businesses. The sidewalks were mostly deserted this late at night, although some people were out walking their dogs. One of them stepped obliviously in front of us, unable to see our enchanted car. Danny swore, hauling the wheel to the side and hitting the brakes at the same time, sending us into a stomach-wrenching spin. I grabbed the handle above the door, hanging on for dear life, suddenly grateful that I hadn’t eaten anything since Walther’s pizza.

The screech of the brakes split the night like the crack of thunder, Danny grimacing as he pulled the wheel, the car shuddering to a stop against the far curb. Miraculously, we’d managed to avoid hitting anything, including the woman and her dog. She was looking around in confusion, probably trying to figure out where that noise had come from. Her dog, on the other hand, was looking directly at us, front paws braced in a defensive stance. He was ready to challenge the car for the sake of his mistress, which would have been more impressive if he hadn’t been a Corgi.

I’ve never seen a Corgi fight a car and come out the victor, but this one was clearly ready to try. The woman leaned down and patted his head, trying to calm him. He cast her a look full of heartbreaking adoration, and she said something I couldn’t hear through the closed windows or over the sound of Danny’s labored, stress-laced breathing. The woman laughed and continued across the street, dog by her side.

A kelpie stepped out of the shadows of an alley right where she’d been standing. Like the dog, it looked directly at us. Unlike the dog, it knew what it was looking at. We locked eyes across theroad, and it began to trot daintily forward, probably assuming we were in more distress than we were.

“Danny, you need to drive,” I said. The woman was in no danger—kelpies will stalk humans, but they almost never attack them, and I’ve never heard of one attacking a human with a dog; they’re cowardly creatures at heart, and they don’t want to go up against anything that might fight back. A kelpie vs. a Corgi wouldn’t end well for the dog, but the kelpie wasn’t going to push the issue if it thought there was easier prey around.

For all that they have big appetites and the teeth to match, kelpies usually content themselves with fish and garbage scavenged from human dumpsters. I’d say they were no better than seagulls, if that wouldn’t be such a massive insult to seagulls.

“I almost hit her,” Danny moaned, hands shaking where they gripped the wheel. “She never woulda seen us coming. How could she?”

“Danny...” The kelpie was getting closer, head down and ears up, scenting the wind for signs we were as helpless as we appeared. Rolling down the windows to release the smell of Barghest might have dissuaded it, but even a kelpie could tell the small predators weren’t in the car. I didn’t want to start gambling on the problem-solving capacity of kelpies. “How much actual steel is left in this car?”

“Huh? None. I had it stripped and replaced with spelled wood years ago. It’s perfectly safe. How have you been drivin’ with me this long, and you don’t know that?”

“Then youneed to drive, because there is akelpiecomingtoward the car,” I snapped.

Danny sat up, hands still clutching the wheel, and turned in the direction I was facing. “Huh,” he said. “Wouldya look at that. I’d figure the Selkies would do a better job of keepin’ the kelpies off their front porch, but I guess they don’t mind murderous water horses as much as the rest of us. That lady and her dog clear? We’re not going to be handing them over to the kelpie if we leave?”

“She’s gone,” I said. “Come on, drive.”

“Tobes, I’m made of stone, and every time I ask you to be more careful, you take great joy in reminding me that you’re basically indestructible. What’s that kelpie gonna do, break its teeth on us?”

“I’m indestructible, but pain hurts.” No one likes kelpies. They’redangerous predators, invisible to humans, which makes them even worse. But they only come out at night, when the streets are close enough to empty that there’s not a lot of damage they can do, and killing them for following their natures has never seemed entirely fair. Plus, every time there’s been a major cull, the kelpies that inevitably escape react by going on a murderous rampage through the surrounding cities. Fewer humans die when we just leave them alone.

But oh, it stung sometimes. It stung even now, as Danny restarted the car and began driving, much more slowly and cautiously, down the street. There was a rattle in the engine that hadn’t been there before. Danny grimaced as the kelpie dwindled in his rearview mirror.

“Clover’s gonna yell,” he said. “She always yells when I do somethin’ stupid to the car.”

“Not hitting a woman and her dog wasn’t stupid,” I said. “If anything, it was smart, since a hit-and-run with no vehicle would have attracted attention.”

Danny brightened. “You really think so?”

“Yeah.” We were passing out of the city limits, onto the even more twisty, winding residential streets that led to the beachfront homes. Those houses came in one of two varieties: either so nice that no one outside of tech millionaires and celebrities could afford them, or old, somewhat rundown, and in the same family for generations. About a mile outside of town, we came to the curling driveway leading to one of the latter houses.

It was massive, almost large enough to compete with some smaller knowes, and had the distinct appearance of having been built up over the course of several decades, with each new architect ignoring whatever blueprints the former might have left behind. Porches and cupolas sprouted almost at random, and windows bristled on every possible surface.

But the shutters were all painted the same cheery shade of blue, and the white paint covering the house itself was fresh and new. The roof was freshly shingled, and none of the many porches sagged. About half the windows were lit up from inside, although there was no porch light. The fae wouldn’t need one. A variety of cars were parked out front, filling what would otherwise have been the yard and clogging the drive. I waved for Danny to stop the car,rolling down my window and sniffing the air as I listened for the sound of screams.

Instead, I heard someone playing the violin, distant and sweet and drifting through the night air like some sort of promise. I smelled saltwater and seagrass and all the freshest parts of the ocean. And clam chowder, coming from the open kitchen window. I didn’t smell smoke or oranges.

Maybe we’d been wrong. Maybe this wasn’t Simon’s destination after all.

“Stay here,” I said, unfastening my belt. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“What, you’re gonna make the strong guy made of living rock sit in the car ’cause you think it’s too dangerous?” Danny demanded.

No sense in lying. “Yes,” I said.

Danny scowled at me. “I hate you sometimes.”

“I hate me sometimes, too,” I said, and opened the car door, sliding out into the cool night air. I didn’t look back as I started toward the house.

The smell of smoke and rotten oranges had yet to put in an appearance by the time I reached the porch and rang the doorbell. Someone shouted inside; someone else shouted back. There was a brief scuffle before Diva, daughter of the former Selkie clan leader, opened the door. Her hair was disheveled, hanging mostly over her strikingly green eyes and also—more importantly—hiding the points of her ears. She blinked at the sight of me, in all my own uncovered glory, and shoved her hair back with one hand.

“It’s Toby!” she yelled over her shoulder. “Told you no one human would be ringing the bell after midnight!” Laughter and some good-natured grumbling answered her pronouncement. She lunged over the threshold and caught me in a tight hug.

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