I tucked my phone away, started up Vincenzo, and drove back toward the city and the doorway in the abandoned naval base on Treasure Island that I’d used to come from Boise to San Francisco. The ache from using my rock armor was more pronounced than it had been when I made the drive in to the Stone Order’s fortress, and my entire front torso was tender. I was drained from having conjured armor three times in less than twenty-four hours, and I’d need to do something about it soon. I wanted to find Van Zant before I had to travel to the Duergar palace on the sister-rescue mission and really hoped that errand wouldn’t require more armor.
On the drive, my mind buzzed around Nicole. Her name and the headshot were all I really had, and her face hovered in my thoughts. My hair was a medium neutral walnut and my face defined by my jawline and cheekbones, whereas she was honey-haired with a softer, heart-shaped face. Nicole had the face of a prom queen, and I looked like I played lead guitar for an all-girl ska band. We didn’t even look related. I wasn’t sure if I felt surprised, disappointed, or relieved about it.
I couldn’t see her build in the photo, but imagined from her slim, graceful neck that she was more petite than I was. They said that changelings often had a sense of separateness, of never quite feeling like they fit into their human world. Nicole looked happy in the picture, but that was just a brief second in time. Perhaps she’d had moments when she’d felt that inexplicable aloneness or glimpsed a vision of a different world in a dream. I wondered what kind of life she’d had, growing up with a human family. Nicole was old for a changeling coming home to Faerie—usually it happened in the teenage years or sometimes younger—and I suspected it was going to make it that much harder for her.
I couldn’t imagine living twenty-seven years without knowing I was a New Gargoyle. I made every effort to steer clear of Marisol and Faerie politics, but still. I was Fae, and I’d always known it. The thought of getting thrust into some strange alternate world was so foreign to me it was hard to wrap my head around it. I’d been raised in Faerie, but from a young age I’d spent some time here and there on the other side of the hedge. Oliver had thought it important that I understood the Earthly realm and its people. I always suspected he felt that way because of what happened to my mother, maybe thinking that if she’d been less na?ve about vampires and other workings of the Earthly realm she might not have died. He’d taken me on many excursions to sightsee around the San Francisco Bay Area. Later, he’d allowed me to go through the hedge with friends, on occasion. When I decided to move out of Faerie altogether, perhaps he’d felt that encouraging my familiarity with the Earthly realm had backfired. He’d never voiced that regret specifically, but he’d made it clear he would prefer to have me permanently in the fortress.
I wheeled my ride into the doorway in the naval base, and a moment later the obliterating cold of the netherwhere swept away all thought.
I emerged in the MonsterFit vestibule in Las Vegas and quickly pushed Vincenzo out into the searing midday heat. I briefly wondered if the gym owners ever wondered about the faint tire tracks I sometimes left on the linoleum. Leaving my scooter in one of the free parking spots associated with the strip mall, I turned back to the doorway.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught movement. Lemony, the yellow-eyed stray, came over and nuzzled my shin with the top of his head. He must be lonely to turn on the affection like this. He was usually more aloof.
“Lemon-cat, what are you doing out in this heat?” I asked, reaching for a treat. I squatted to offer it and then scratched him between the ears. “Must have missed me, huh?”
When I straightened, Lemony scampered away, probably seeking shade.
I went back into the vestibule, where I used the doorway to hop to the Strip, emerging next to Druid Circle, the club where King Sebastian had been attacked.
I walked the short distance to the nightclub’s entrance. The door to the club was cracked open and unguarded, which gave me a tiny zing of disappointment. I would’ve enjoyed harassing that jerky Elf bouncer.
Inside, I breathed a grateful sigh for the darkness and AC. The place was nearly empty. I went up to the bar and asked the bartender—not the Sylph girl, but a petite, busty redheaded Fae of too many races to be distinguished—to summon the owner, Gregory.
“Tell him it’s the New Garg who kept King Sebastian from getting knifed on the balcony last night,” I said to her.
When Gregory appeared in the doorway next to the bar, his dark eyes were guarded.
“Seen Van Zant around?” I asked, skipping the pleasantries. “The tip about the Millennium didn’t pan out.”
“Hold on a second,” he said, glancing around even though there was barely anybody in the place, let alone within earshot. He tipped his head toward the doorway where he’d emerged and then led me about ten feet into the hallway.
“He hasn’t come back here,” Gregory said in a low voice. “But I heard he’s in Faerie.”
I frowned. A vamp couldn’t just wander around in Faerie at will. Non-Fae required escorts, someone from this side of the hedge to act as a sort of guide and sponsor. Non-Fae couldn’t even physically pass through doorways without an escort.
“Who’s he with?”
Gregory shrugged. “Someone with Unseelie ties.”
I narrowed my eyes. “And?”
His gaze slanted down at an angle, and his mouth tightened into a line.
“C’mon, Gregory. He’s passing VAMP3 blood in your club. That’s a huge liability to you. One of his customers might go rogue. Can you imagine what a massacre it would be when it’s shoulder-to-shoulder in here and everyone’s drunk off their asses? It’d be a bloodbath.”
His shoulders sagged, and he passed a hand over his weary eyes. “I don’t know if it’s true, but some are saying there’s a Spriggan-Duergar woman with him.”
My frown deepened. Huh, a mixed Seelie-Unseelie was escorting Van Zant around Faerie.
“First, you said it was someone with Unseelie ties, so if it’s a Spriggan-Duergar woman that means she could be sworn to the Duergar kingdom,” I said.
He lifted a palm. “Maybe.”
He was right to be uncertain. Just because Van Zant’s escort was part Duergar by birth didn’t mean she was sworn to the Duergar kingdom. Gregory called her Spriggan-Duergar likely because those were the bloodlines that were obvious from her appearance. But it didn’t mean those were her only Fae bloodlines. She might have additional Unseelie blood in her lineage that allowed her to align with some other Unseelie kingdom. Every kingdom has its own rules about who can swear fealty. With the Stone Order, you had to be able to demonstrate rock armor as a sign that you had sufficient New Garg blood. Some kingdoms were fairly lax in their requirements because they cared more about numbers that purity of blood, but with very few exceptions you had to offer at least something supporting your blood ties. Without knowing the woman’s name or any other details about her, it would be hard to ask around to find out more.