“I mostly grew up in the Summerlands.”

“That explains a few things.” He added some clear liquid to the test tube, flicking it gently with his forefinger. “What and where have you eaten today?”

“A few Pop-Tarts and some coffee, in the car. May made the coffee. Oh, and some coffee from the snack bar in Golden Gate Park, but I didn’t get to drink much of that before Tybalt froze it solid.” I paused. “Long story.”

Walther looked up. “I’ll take your word for that. You said May made the first batch of coffee—you mean your Fetch?” I nodded. He frowned. “She lives with you?”

“Why not? She pays half the rent, and she does dishes.”

“But isn’t she supposed to, well, kill you?”

I almost laughed. “If anyone’s interested in keeping me alive, it’s May. She’s the one who ceases to exist when I die.”

“I see.” Walther held up the test tube. Somehow my blood and the clear liquid had combined to make something bright purple. He shook it, and the contents turned green. He frowned. “That’s strange.”

I moved to stand behind him. “Is that supposed to happen?”

“No.” He dropped the test tube back into the rack, starting to chant in Welsh. The liquid flared incandescent white before dimming to a dark gray.

“What does it mean?”

“It means you were poisoned more than twenty-four hours ago, with a recent ‘booster.’ ” The liquid kept getting paler. “If you didn’t eat anything questionable, did you drink? Touch anything unusual? Get something in your eye?”

“No—wait. Yes. A goose splashed water in my eyes. How can you tell I’ve been poisoned?” I’d almost been expecting him to say it, but it was still jarring.

“Are you sure it was a goose?” He looked at me levelly until I shook my head. I couldn’t be sure. Life in Faerie doesn’t work that way. “What I’m doing isn’t exactly chemistry; it’s a sort of cheater’s alchemy, a mix of science and magic. I get faster results, and science can’t handle most Faerie things, anyway.”

“You should meet my friend Stacy’s eldest daughter,” I said. Cassandra would love this guy. “But how do you know I’ve been poisoned? Or when?”

“The colors tell me.” The stuff in the test tube was almost white now. “I don’t know everything they used, but there’s absinthe and gentians in here, and maybe some lavender. This wasn’t supposed to kill you, just confuse you. Probably also give you one mother of a headache.”

“You’re doing a pretty good job of confusing me right now,” I said. “Aren’t gentians for protection?”

“In magic, yes; when you ingest them, no. Everything I can identify here acts as a mild hallucinogen to the fae. This should make you more susceptible to suggestion and less likely to understand what’s going on around you. Have you been seeing things?”

“I think so.” Oleander laughing; my headache; the scent of sulfuric acid and oleanders on the wind; hallucinogenic poison in my blood. Things were making sense. Bad sense, but sense. “Does this stuff make it easier for me to get caught in a glamour?”

“Definitely. Anybody with halfway decent illusions could ensnare you. Hell, I might be able to do it.” Walther turned, squinting into my eyes before I could move away. “How long have you had the headache?”

“Since the Beltane Ball at Shadowed Hills,” I answered. “How—?”

“That’s probably when you were first dosed. As for how I know you have a headache, you wince every time I raise my voice. I can make an antitoxin for this, but it’s going to take longer than the cure for Tybalt’s people. Hell, if I were working with a mortal lab, I wouldn’t be able to make you an antitoxin at all. Without magic . . . ”

“Am I in immediate danger?”

“It’s not going to kill you, if that’s what you mean. You should take some Tylenol and try to avoid getting poisoned again.”

“Good.” I stepped back, raking my hair away from my face with both hands. “The Cat’s Court comes first. No deaths because you were busy trying to cure me.”

“I knew you’d say that.” He sighed. “I’ll take care of the Cait Sidhe first, but you shouldn’t make major decisions or operate motor vehicles while you’re like this.”

“I’ll take that under advisement,” I said. “How long will the antitoxins take?”

“A few hours for the Cat’s Court; longer for yours. I have to figure out exactly what I’m countering. And I’m going to need more blood.”

“Do whatever it takes.” I held out my hand, not looking away this time.

“Toby . . . ” Walther took my hand, reaching for a clean lancet. “Whoever did this didn’t want you dead, just confused.”

“I figured that part out for myself.”

“They could be . . . ” He paused, slow horror creeping across his face. “They could be planning to frame you for Lily’s murder.”

“They’re probably going to frame me for more than Lily; there’s also Luna and the Cat’s Court.” I managed not to wince as he pricked my index finger and pressed it against the side of a jar. “I figure they plan to set me up and have me executed.”

“How can you be so calm?” he asked. “This is dangerous!”

“That’s why I have to get back to Shadowed Hills. Sylvester needs to know what’s going on.” Assuming he’d understand what I was trying to say; assuming Luna was still alive. Those were some pretty big assumptions, but they were what I had.

“What?” Walther frowned. “You’re not driving anywhere . You could kill yourself if you got behind the wheel of a car. Doesn’t Shadowed Hills have telephones? Just call them. And don’t argue with me. You’re not safe to drive, and I don’t want to be forced to shake my finger at you in a threatening manner.”

“Walther, Rayseline has decided I’m trying to kill her mother. What makes you think Sylvester will get any message I try to give him?” He was still holding the hand he’d pricked. I had to fight the urge to pull it away from him and use it to shove my hair back. “If I want him to hear what I need to tell him, I have to tell him myself.”