“We must go as quickly as we can,” Kitsune said, both to Blue Jay and to Jenny. “There isn’t time for—”
“There is one thing we must do first,” Frost interrupted, the look in his eyes a challenge to anyone wishing to contradict him. “Oliver’s family does not know what has become of him. I’m going to take him through the Veil so that he can call them.”
Kitsune blinked in surprise. “Now?”
“Now?” Jenny echoed.
Blue Jay traced a finger along his own jaw and studied Oliver closely. The mischief went out of his eyes and his gaze was cold. “Yes, now. He may not have another chance. Of course. You must,” the shape-shifter said, and for the first time Oliver thought he could almost see the bird in the Borderkind’s face. The blue feathers tied in his hair seemed to dance and sway of their own accord.
“Yes,” Frost agreed. “While the Mazikeen confer. You’ll remain here and learn whatever more there is to learn of this conspiracy?”
“If you wish.”
“I would be grateful. We should not be gone long.”
Blue Jay and Jenny Greenteeth sat side by side on the table. Oliver wondered if anyone ever used the mahogany chairs in the courtyard. Kitsune glanced at him, brow furrowing.
“Be careful,” she said. “Much of the mystery was gone from your world forever when the Veil was created, but some still remains. And there are times when only a little mystery can be quite dangerous indeed.”
There was something in her eyes and in her face that made him want to stay, to remain with her and not be parted. But from the moment Frost had mentioned taking him back through to make contact he had been thinking of Julianna, and of Collette, and the longing to hear their voices and to soothe their fears was stronger.
“I’ll keep an eye out.”
Blue Jay wore a smile, but Jenny’s expression was dark with foreboding. “Go on, if you must. But hurry, yeah? This is all happening too fast.”
The winter man flowed up beside Oliver with a bone-chilling gust of wind. He nodded. “Come here.”
Oliver followed him to the fountain on the opposite side of the courtyard from where the Mazikeen conferred. Frost gestured to the water that sprayed into the air and it became snow. Winds buffeted Oliver as the snow became a small blizzard in that spot alone, even blotting out the false sunlight from above. And through the snow, he could see an opening.
“Go,” Frost told him. “I will be with you.”
Oliver stepped through.
* * *
It was midday in London, mothers pushing babies in prams through the park, when Oliver appeared from nowhere, stepping out of nothing and back into the world of his birth. He knew the city immediately by the red double-decker bus he saw rumbling by far across the green grass and over the tops of bushes and a wrought-iron gate that went round the park. A gust of frigid air was the only sign that Frost had accompanied him, and when he looked down he saw a sprinkle of icy rime upon the lawn, like frozen dew.
“Mum!” a little girl shouted. “Mum!”
Oliver turned to see her, a pretty little thing with a ribbon in her hair and her coat buttoned up tight. It was nearly Christmas . . . how many days away he was not certain . . . but there was no snow in London. It snowed rarely in the British capital, though that had not always been true. With an oversized mitten she pointed at Oliver.
“Mum! That man!”
The mother peered suspiciously at Oliver and then turned to her daughter, her voice lower but still audible. “What of him, Ellie?”
“He just . . . un-vanished! Wasn’t there a minute ago!”
Heart hammering in his chest, Oliver gave the mother and child a warm, indulgent smile. Isn’t she the cutest little thing, he hoped his smile would say. Her mother smiled back and rolled her eyes a bit before taking the girl by her mitten-clad hand and walking away.
Oliver let out a relieved breath and looked around, trying to orient himself. He’d spent a semester living in London during college and it had been one of the greatest experiences of his life. He’d taken a classical drama class and gone to see more plays in a handful of months than he’d seen in the cumulative years of his life to that point. He’d become passingly familiar with the city, but did not recognize this park at first glance. He could see a lake to his right and far off to the left a bandstand at the bull’s-eye center of the walkways that threaded the park. A sign beside the path had arrows pointing in several directions he might walk to find a Children’s Zoo and a Deer Enclosure, amongst other things. Another for Sub-Tropical Gardens. Distant memories flickered across his mind, and then he put it together. This was Battersea Park. He had never been here before, but had heard about the variety of attractions it offered.
Public land. So a part of the world beyond the Veil was made up of a mirrored version of Battersea Park. The Borderkind had a gift, that much was certain.
For a moment he just breathed in the damp, chilly air of London. It was warmer and the sky clearer than he would’ve expected as the year drew to a close in the United Kingdom, and he felt fortunate just to be able to feel the sunlight of his own world. It was the first time he had been on his own in many long days, however, and he felt exposed. Frost was somewhere nearby, he knew, perhaps riding the frigid winds that blew to England all the way from the Russian steppes. But still he felt vulnerable.
And the clock was ticking. He was frightened for his own life, but he was now equally concerned for the danger his friends faced. Several times during the quiet confrontation in the courtyard of the Mazikeen he had considered releasing Frost from his vow. The other Borderkind needed him, and they had to find out who it was that controlled the Hunters. But the truth was that he had saved Frost’s life, not once but twice, and Kitsune’s once as well. It wasn’t so much that he felt they owed him their loyalty, but that he had pledged his to them, even if they were not aware of it. Presuming he was able to find a way to get the order of death lifted from him, he knew that he would not abandon them to their fate.
“Okay, okay, clear your head,” he whispered to himself.
A slim, bald man with glasses and a cigarette dangling from his mouth gave him an odd stare as he passed, but did not stop. Oliver surveyed the park again, no longer focused on his location or the people who were enjoying the unseasonably pleasant December day. He was searching for only one thing. Not finding it, he began walking toward the fence in the distance and the road beyond. The path curved and he followed it out to a gate.
On the sidewalk just outside, he finally found a phone booth, one of the red-painted boxes that spoke of London tradition. He felt shaky and oddly warm in the rustic peacoat Oliver Larch had given him. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and stepped inside, and a kind of happiness touched his heart. He was not out of danger, but at least he could make contact. He could hear the voices of the people he loved. Julianna must be furious with him, and he could not blame her. Even now he was not sure that missing the wedding was a bad thing. But all of those considerations had to wait. Regardless of how much shit she might give him, he had to at least let her know that he was all right.
Oliver plucked the phone from the cradle and dialed for an operator, then asked for international help. His awareness of the crisis beyond the Veil made him impatient as he went through three different people before an operator could help him make an overseas call and charge it to his credit card. It was probably shortly after noon, which would make it pretty early back home, maybe seven o’clock or so. But the call couldn’t wait, and he doubted anyone would want him to wait.
Yet at home, there was no answer.