Rosemary and Rue (43 page)

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Authors: Seanan McGuire

BOOK: Rosemary and Rue
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“Manny?”
“Just put it down.”
“I thought Evening was your friend, Manny. What are you—”
He gestured violently with the gun, looking upset enough that I didn’t trust him not to fire without meaning to. “She didn’t listen! You won’t listen! You want to stay alive around here, when the boss talks, you
listen!
”
I knelt, careful to move slowly as I placed my gun on the floor. “Where’d you get the gun, Manny?” I asked, not rising. “Did Devin give it to you? He did, didn’t he?”
“Be quiet, Toby,” Devin said. His voice was flat. Maeve’s bones, had I really let him touch me? Had I really touched
him?
What kind of a fool was I? “Manuel, shoot her. Don’t kill her, just hurt her. The leg, I think.”
Manny was crying now, and his hands were clutching the gun so tightly that his knuckles had gone white. I cleared my throat, pulling his attention back to my face. “Do the bullets burn, Manny?” I asked, in as conversational a tone as I could manage. “Do they make your skin crawl? That’s iron, Manny. He wants you to shoot me with iron bullets.”
“Manuel, shoot her
now
.”
I stood carefully, holding my hands up at shoulder level. “Can you do it? Can you torture me with iron, for him?”
“Manuel, are you listening to me?” Devin snapped. “Don’t make me take that gun away from you.”
“He won’t do it himself.” I kept my hands raised. “Don’t you wonder why?”
“Be quiet, bitch.” Devin stormed over to me, grabbing my arm and twisting it behind my back, just like I’d done to Dare on the day we met. His fingers dug into my elbow. I winced, gritting my teeth against the pain. “Don’t confuse him.”
“Why not, Devin? Don’t you want him to understand? You always told me that knowledge was power.”
“October . . .” For a second—just a second—I thought I saw the man I knew behind the blankness in his eyes. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”
“Don’t you want him to grow up just like you?” I could see Dare out of the corner of my eye, creeping toward Manuel.
Be careful, little girl,
I thought,
please, be careful . . .
His hand tightened. I could almost feel the bruises forming. “I didn’t want to kill Evening. I worked with her, for you. I let her pretend you were still alive, and so she helped us. She never did it for us. Just for you. I never wanted her dead. But she wouldn’t give me the hope chest, and I needed it, Toby, more than you can dream. You played at being a pureblood, but you know you’ll never be one. You know why I needed it. Changeling time runs out so fast.” He sighed. “She had to die.”
“Why are you telling me this?” I needed to keep him talking, if only for Dare’s sake. That girl was still doing her damnedest to turn me into a hero. “Scooby and the gang aren’t here yet.”
Devin released my arm, stepping away. “I want you to understand that it wasn’t personal. I missed you. I wasn’t lying when I told you that.”
By moving, Devin had given Manuel a clear shot at my entire body. Dare was too far away to reach him in time, and in a way, I was grateful. She wouldn’t get hurt trying to save me.
“You changed.” I turned to look at him, resisting the urge to rub the circulation back into my arm. If I was going to die, I was going to do it with something resembling dignity.
“So did you.” He sounded almost sorry. Then his eyes hardened, the moment passing, and he turned to Manuel. “Take your time, make it hurt. She’ll tell us where she hid it.”
Manuel raised the gun, whispering a prayer. I closed my eyes, hoping his aim was bad and the first bullet would do the job. That it would end quickly.
I didn’t see what came next. I opened my eyes to see Dare leaping onto her brother’s back, momentum sending them both crashing to the floor. The gun went off when it hit the floor, bullet punching through the ceiling. I dove for my own gun an instant too late, shying back as Devin grabbed it from under my hands.
“Toby, get the gun!” Dare shrieked, trying to keep Manuel pinned. He had fifty pounds and six inches on her: there was no way she’d keep him down for long. I pushed myself to my feet, keeping my eyes on Devin. His attention was entirely on Dare, face twisted into an expression that went past rage or sanity. He was gone.
He’d been gone for a long time.
“No one disobeys me!” he snarled.
Dare looked up, eyes going wide, and screamed as the first bullet hit her in the side. Blood sprayed over the wall behind her, hitting Manuel across the face. The terror in her eyes turned to pleading as she glanced toward me, like she was hoping I could take it back. Even then, she thought I’d be her hero.
She finished her scream and jerked back, trying to curl into a ball. It was too late. The next two bullets were close behind the first, and by the time I’d recovered enough to lunge for Devin, her screams had stopped. Manuel was doing the screaming for her. My shoulder caught Devin in the ribs, bowling him over and sending the gun sliding across the floor. I had an instant to wonder where it landed before his foot caught me in the stomach, flinging me back.
I curled around myself, retching, as he climbed back to his feet; his second kick caught me in the chest, sending stabbing pains through my ribs and sternum. “Look what you did! You killed her.” There was no sanity left in his voice: he believed what he was saying. He pulled the trigger, and he still blamed me. Not that it mattered. I’d blame myself enough for both of us.
“Devin . . .” I gasped.
“Shut up!” The scope of the world had narrowed, becoming nothing but Devin, pain, and the growing taste of roses. I think his world had become just as small. He’d abandoned his sanity in the twisting maze of changeling time, and the balance of his blood had thrown him to the point from which there was no coming back. Sitting on the fence isn’t easy. Sometimes the fence breaks, and you fall.
Neither of us expected the gunshot. Devin raised a hand to his chest, touching the stain blooming there before looking back to me, eyes gone terribly wide. Mouth moving with words he never managed to finish, he folded and fell.
Behind him, still crying, Manuel lowered the gun.
The taste of roses rose and burst in the back of my throat, choking me as it dissipated. I hadn’t realized how constant it had become until it was gone. I stood with agonizing slowness; every breath hurt, but at least I was alive. Manuel didn’t move as I walked over and pried the gun from his fingers, dropping it to the floor.
He lifted his head when it hit the ground, expression bleak. “He . . . he . . .”
“Shhh. I know.”
And I put my arms around him, and held him.
TWENTY-SEVEN
WE STOOD THERE FOR almost fifteen minutes before I pulled back, looking at Manuel. “Is there anyone else here?” He gazed at me, eyes gone wide and glassy with shock. I shook his shoulders, as gently as I could manage. “Manuel, is there anyone else here? Anyone at all?”
“He . . . sent them all away,” he said. “He knew you were coming. He didn’t want anyone else to be here when you came.”
He sent away everyone but the two kids I cared about. I closed my eyes. Until today, I’d never known that he could be evil. “Come on, Manuel. Let’s go get your things.”
“I don’t want to leave her.”
I looked back to his face, forcing myself to smile. “You have to, Manny. It’s time for the night-haunts to come, and they won’t do it while we’re here.”
“But . . .”
“Come on.”
The room Dare and Manuel shared with half a dozen more of Devin’s kids was dark and cluttered, hammocks hanging from the middle of the ceiling to keep the mattresses from using up all the available floor space. It was familiar enough to hurt like hell. I used to share a room just like it with Mitch and Julie and a rotating group of others, all of us fighting for our little corners and the pretense of dignity that having “a little privacy” could create.
I leaned against the wall, watching as Manuel packed up their meager store of possessions. The hollow echo of the night-haunts’ wings whispered down the hall from the front of the building, warning the living to stay away; their only business was with the dead. The night-haunts work fast. By the time Manuel came back to the doorway, clutching a duffel bag in one hand and a tattered red suitcase in the other, the sound of wings was gone.
Eyes still glassy, he looked at me, and asked, “Where are we going?”
“I don’t know.”
The bodies in the front weren’t any easier to look at now that they seemed human. I forced myself to keep my eyes on the door, tugging Manuel along in my wake. He went silent again at the first sight of his sister’s manikin, retreating back into shock. I couldn’t blame him. He’d lost his sister and his teacher in the same night. Who was going to take care of him now?
“Wait here,” I said. Manuel didn’t respond; just stood there, staring dully at the wall. “I’m going to go to the office. Can you wait here for me?” I paused, giving him time to answer. He didn’t. “All right. Just scream if anything comes.” I left him there, standing silent in the company of the artificial dead, as I turned to enter Devin’s office for the very last time.
The lights were off, casting the whole room into shadow. I paused at the doorway, just looking at the darkness. No one ever went into Devin’s office without him, and he was never in the office with the lights off. He was really gone.
We’d have to come back later and search the place, tear it brick from brick to find out who might have known what he was planning, who he’d hired, what he’d paid them. For right now, that could wait; the dead weren’t coming back, no matter what we did. The first aid kit was underneath the desk. I picked it up, wincing as the movement put pressure on my ribs, and turned toward the door. Then I paused, looking back toward the bulletin board on the wall. All those pictures . . .
Finding my picture was easy. Mitch towered above Julie and me, making us both look very small, and even younger than we were, in our brand-new street clothes and our nervous attempts at looking dangerous. I took out the tack, continuing to scan the board.
In the end, I found their picture by the eyes. That shade of glaring green even photographed too bright to overlook. I pulled the shot of Dare and Manuel off the wall, tucking it, and the picture of my little gang, into the back pocket of my jeans. Then I turned, leaving the ghosts behind me as I walked back out to where Manuel was waiting.
He wasn’t waiting alone. I stopped in the doorway, blinking.
Help arrived while I was in the office, in the form of Sylvester Torquill and all the knights he’d been able to recall in the time it took for Lily’s message to reach him. The knights were arrayed around the room, looking uncertain—what were they supposed to be fighting? There was nothing left standing—while Sylvester stood beside Manuel, sheathed sword hanging by his side.
“Hey, Your Grace,” I said wearily. I walked toward him, putting the first aid kit down at his feet. “Please tell me you brought a car. I am so not taking another taxi.”
“Are you hurt?” Sylvester reached out, wiping a smear of blood off my cheek. “Tell me this isn’t yours.”
“It’s Devin’s,” I said. I could feel myself starting to cry. “Or Dare’s, maybe. I don’t know. I’m hurt, but I’ll probably live.”
Sylvester winced. “I’m so sorry. I called back the knights as soon as Lily told me where you were going, but the warding spells on the building were stronger than I expected them to be. We couldn’t find our way in.”
“There’s a Coblynau charm above the door outside,” I said, and frowned. “If you didn’t find the sign, how did you . . . ?”
“We followed the night-haunts.”
“Oh, oak and ash.” I took a step forward, leaning my head against Sylvester’s chest. “It was Devin. It was Devin all along. You were right. I should never . . . I should never have . . .”
“Shhh,” he said, putting his arms around me. I made a pained noise, and he pulled back, eyes gone wide. “October?”
“Sorry.” I forced a smile. “It’s my ribs. I think they’re broken.”
“How?”
“Devin decided I needed some kicking.” I indicated the first aid kit. “Think we can have somebody patch me up?”

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