“Got it,” he said, and headed off down the hall at a fair clip. I watched him go, shaking my head. If nothing else, we could raid the cutlery section at the local all-night grocery store or something. There’s always an option if you’re willing to be creative. When he was out of sight, I turned and walked the short distance to my own room, digging the key out of my pocket.

Housekeeping had been through while I was out, replacing the wet towels with fresh ones and folding down the covers on the bed. It’s nice to have someone play Brownie for me—that’s one faerie service changelings can’t sign up for, and I really need it. The word “slob” doesn’t even start to cover my household skills.

My duffel was on the floor of the closet. I dropped the sealskin and scooped the bag onto the bed, rummaging through my wadded-up clothes until I found the velvet box at the bottom under my spare jeans. The ribbon fell off as I pulled the box free; not that it mattered. I’d been using it to keep things closed. It was time to open them.

We don’t get to redo the past just because we don’t like the way things turned out. Dare died for me. It was up to me to survive for her.

I pulled out the knife she gave me, sliding it into my belt and anchoring the hilt through one of the loops before tugging my shirt down to cover it. It was a standard faerie fighter’s blade, hardened silver sharpened to a killing edge. It was also the best talisman I had. Silver doesn’t burn the way iron does, but it comes closer than anything else.

The baseball bat was under the bed, tucked away where it wouldn’t upset the cleaning staff more than was necessary. I picked it up, hefting it thoughtfully, and let out a breath I’d barely known I was holding. Being armed always improves my mood, especially when something’s been killing people. Maybe a dead girl’s knife and a stick of aluminum aren’t “mighty weapons,” but they’d have to do.

I picked up the phone after cramming my clothes into the bag, dialing the number for Shadowed Hills. Melly answered on the second ring. “Shadowed Hills, how may I be of service?”

“Is Sylvester there?”

She paused. “October? Child, you sound exhausted. What’s the matter?”

The sound of her voice—of any voice that meant I had a chance of reaching my liege—was like sunlight through the clouds. I sat down on the edge of the bed, closing my eyes. “Just put Sylvester on, Melly. Please. It’s sort of urgent.”

“All right, dear, all right. Just hold on a moment.”

“I’ll be right here.”