Page 67 of A Killing Frost

“Once you can sit up, you can see him. I’m afraid he’s been banished to the couch for the crime of hovering.”

“Gettingreal tiredof having people cast compulsion spells on me,” snapped Quentin, irritation and exhaustion painting his Canadian accent in broader strokes than usual. “I need to pee, and I can’t get up!”

“Should’ve listened the third time I told you to sit your butt down or I’d make you,” said the Luidaeg, sounding almost jovial. “Most kids your age listen when the sea witch tells them to do something.”

Quentin made a rude scoffing sound. I really did break that boy.

My muscles were still in near-rebellion, refusing to obey when I told them I wanted to move. At least there was no pain, and blinking was getting steadily easier. I made a frustrated noise. Tybalt straightened, giving me an almost unobstructed view of the ceiling. I could still see his shoulder and the side of his head, which kept the “motionless and can’t see anyone” tension from kicking back in.

“How much longer?” he asked.

“Poppy is upstairs with Officer Thornton, and she’s promised to bring a strengthening potion with her when she returns,” said the Luidaeg. “I’m sure your alchemist could brew something almost as good, if you don’t want to wait.”

Walther sighed gustily but didn’t argue. It wasn’t just that the Luidaeg can’t lie, meaning she wouldn’t have been able to say that if she didn’treallythink her strengthening potions were better. Which, again, sea witch. If anyone had had the time to really refine what they were doing, it was her.

“I’m here! Here’s me!” As always, Poppy made announcing her own arrival sound like something of vast and unspeakable import. “Brought what you asked for, yes I did, but the man’s restless as anything. He doesn’t want to stay asleep or abed. You’ll need to be seeing to him, because I’ve reached the limits of what I can do.”

Poppy suddenly appeared in my field of vision, looming over me in all her orange glory. She had an uncorked bottle in one hand and beamed like this was an ordinary situation. “Want you up and about, we do, so it’s time to help with that,” she said, and slid her free hand behind my head, lifting it away from whatever I was lying on until she could press the bottle to my lips. “Drink careful.”

The liquid tasted like bubblegum, blueberries, and tequila—not the best combination ever, but not the worst I’d ever come across. She trickled it past my lips slowly enough that I could swallow without choking, which was good, because she seemed determined not to stop until I’d swallowed it all. I did my best. After the firstfew mouthfuls, she took her hand away, and I was delighted to discover I could hold my head up without assistance. For that, I would drink all the weird bullshit she wanted.

She kept pouring, stepping backward as she did, forcing me to follow her if I didn’t want the liquid to dribble down my front. Tybalt gasped. I ignored him and kept swallowing until Poppy pulled the bottle away and smiled radiantly, and I realized I was sitting upright, unsupported.

“Better, isn’t that?” she asked.

I looked around, still a little dazed and dizzy, and the rest of the Luidaeg’s living room became clear. There was Quentin on one end of the couch, with Simon on the other. Neither of them was standing, although Quentin looked like he wanted to. Simon looked like he’d been hit in the head with a plank and was lolling limply. If not for the fact that I knew it wasn’t her way of doing things, I would have suspected the Luidaeg of hitting him with elf-shot.

Danny was looming off to one side, looking profoundly uncomfortable, with the Luidaeg standing nearby, back in her “ordinary, harmless human teenager” guise, down to the electrical tape in her hair. She smiled at me, and that was the last thing I saw before Tybalt swept down and grabbed me in a fierce embrace, burying his face in my shoulder.

This time, when I tried to move my arms, they obeyed, and I wrapped my arms around him, stroking his back with one hand.

“Hey,” I said. “Hey, I’m okay.”

“Elf-shot, May still sleeping, Quentin kidnapped, half of Goldengreen enchanted, and you’d call that ‘okay’? My love, we need to buy you a dictionary.” His voice was slightly muffled by the fact that he was speaking into my shoulder, but he at least sounded amused enough that I probably wasn’t in any real trouble.

At least not with him. If Walther didn’t wake May up soon, Jazz might be a different story. I twisted around to plant a kiss on the side of his head, and said, “We found Simon.”

“Which is most of the problem, as far as I’m concerned.”

“Don’t worry; I have a bigger problem for you to deal with.” I pulled away. He let me go reluctantly, and I turned to the Luidaeg. “I need two favors, and I am willing to pay for them if you feel it necessary.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Are you, now? I’ve never met anyone so eager to fall into my debt. What can I do for you, October, daughter of Amandine, returned once again from beyond the borders of death? The night-haunts must curse your name every time you deny them, and dream of the day their bellies will be full.”

“I need you to wake Simon up, and I need you to unlock Officer Thornton’s room,” I said.

Her second eyebrow climbed to join the first. “Such small requests to risk your soul upon. I assume you have what you consider a good reason?”

“I do,” I said. “To be clear, August traded her way home for your father’s return, and Simon took her debt upon himself. If he found your father and brought him back, would his way home be fully restored, no conditions, no strings?”

“That’s the deal as struck, yes,” said the Luidaeg, still looking at me quizzically. “It’s a simple enough thing, on the face of it. Find one man in a vast universe largely made up of spaces he can reach, and no one else even knows for certain still exist, and convince him to come back to his eldest daughter who misses him very much. If Simon can find and recover my father, his debt is paid.”

“What if someone else did it?”

“Then Simon’s debt becomes unpayable, and he is lost.” The confusion faded from her face. “October, what is it you think you’ve done?”

“We’ll find out in a moment, won’t we?” I slid off the Formica table where I’d been stretched out like a corpse, walking toward Simon. My knees were still weak and a little wobbly, but that was fine; that made it easier to hide my nerves. If I was wrong...

I wasn’t wrong. It all made sense. Things in Faerie never start making sense until the moment they’re ready to unravel, and then they all fall into place at once, like the mystery has gotten tired of holding its breath and just wants to be finished. I walked toward Simon as if I were in a dream, only realizing when I was halfway there that I was unarmed; the knife that was normally at my belt was absent.

---