We turned a corner, bringing the cafeteria door into view. Quentin sped up, dashing through, with Alex following at a more sedate pace. When he reached the door, he stopped, opening and holding it for me.

“After you,” he said, with exaggerated gallantry.

“After Quentin, you mean.” He was obviously trying to make me feel better. It was almost working. All this would make more sense once I’d eaten. Food would settle the queasiness in my stomach and my head; if it didn’t, it would at least cover up the taste of blood. This looked like it was going to be a long day, and I needed whatever help I could get.

“Right,” he said, and followed me inside.

TEN

TEN

AFTER GETTING MYSELF a cup of coffee, I made my way to the pay phone mounted on the wall. There was no dial tone. I frowned at the receiver before remembering what Jan said about outside lines, and dialed “nine.” Success: the familiar buzz began. I punched in the number for the Japanese Tea Gardens, pumped in quarters until the prerecorded operator stopped prompting me, and waited.

The ringing went long enough that I was starting to lose hope when a soprano voice picked up with a breathless, “Hello?”

I relaxed. “Hey, Marcia. How far did you have to run?”

“Other side of the—Toby? Is that you?”

“That’s me,” I confirmed.

As a quarter-blooded changeling, Marcia is proof that Lily has a generous soul; most purebloods would never think of employing someone like her. She’s too human to have any real magic, too fae to want to live in the human world, and too flaky to do much beyond sitting around and looking decorative. Still, she’d been nice enough, after we got past the part where I introduced myself by enchanting her into letting me in without paying.

“Did you want me to get Lily?” she asked.

“No, actually, I was calling for you. I wanted to ask a favor.”

Now her tone turned wary. “What kind of favor?”

“I know the Court of Cats doesn’t have a phone. Can you go find Tybalt and tell him I need him to call me at ALH Computing? I have the main number, and I need to talk to him.”

“Go find Tybalt? How are you expecting me to do that?”

“I don’t know. Get a can of tuna and go around the Park calling ‘Here, kitty, kitty’?” I sighed. “Look, you know I wouldn’t ask this if it weren’t important. Please?”

“All right,” she said, dubiously. “But if he guts me . . .”

“If he threatens you, tell him to take it out on me instead.”

“I will.”