An Artificial Night - BK 3 (25 page)

I didn’t pause to think. I pulled my hand out of the thorns, grabbed Andrew and shoved him at her, then pushed Jessica after him. Raj and Quentin seemed to get the idea, because they started herding the children toward the door. Katie and Helen were among the first. Then the Riders came over the hill, and there was a mad rush as children raced for freedom. In no time at all, it was just Raj, Spike, and me, standing on the wrong side of a door between the worlds.

“Toby, come on!” shouted Quentin, reaching back toward us. I looked over my shoulder, shoving Raj into his arms. The weight of the Cait Sidhe knocked Quentin backward, leaving me with a clear escape route. Spike jumped after him, hissing as it went.

That was it. “Toby!” the Luidaeg shouted. I jumped, reaching for her—

—and a hand grabbed my ankle, dragging me back. I screamed, scrabbling for purchase in the thorns.

“The candle!” the Luidaeg called. “You don’t need it anymore!”

The candle? I twisted around and flung it away as hard as I could, catching a glimpse of darkness and horns as it hit the Rider holding me. He let go of my ankle, falling back with a scream. Then the Luidaeg had me, pulling me through the hole in the world. Everything went dark. There was a boom, like something sealing itself, and the light returned in a flash.

I was on top of the Luidaeg in the middle of her kitchen floor, surrounded by frightened, crying children. I blinked at her, trying to figure out what had happened.

“Are you done, or do you need a nap?” she demanded. “You’re heavy. Get off.”

“Sorry.” I pushed myself away from her, wincing as I put pressure on my sliced-up hands. The kitchen seemed too large, and the children were still too close to my height; leaving Blind Michael’s lands hadn’t broken the spell. Swell. “Is everyone here?”

“All of us,” Raj called, helping one of the others stand. “We’re all here.”

“Alive,” added Helen. I looked around anyway, reassuring myself. The kids were frightened and crying, but none of them looked any worse than they had on the plains. Katie was seated in one of the few intact chairs with Quentin behind her. He was stroking her hair, wincing when his fingers hit a patch of white. My spell was holding; she was smiling, oblivious to it all.

“Oh, thank Maeve,” I breathed, looking back to the Luidaeg. “Your gifts worked.” Thanking her mother was as close as I could get to thanking her.

She smiled, the brown bleeding back into her eyes. “I knew they would. You made it.”

“Yeah, we did.” I paused. “Luidaeg . . . I’m still a kid.”

“And a cute one at that.” She grinned. “Bet your mom could just eat you up. You’re a bit pointier than you used to be, but that’s what you get for wrestling with thorn briars.”

“How long is this going to last?”

“Not long.” She sobered, shaking her head. There was something I didn’t recognize behind the darkness in her eyes. I didn’t like it. “Not long at all.”

“Luidaeg?”

“What?” She frowned, the strangeness fading. “You need to get these brats out of here. I can’t stand kids.”

“Of course.” I make it a rule not to push the Luidaeg when she doesn’t want to be pushed. I don’t want to be a snack food. “Can I use your phone?”

“Why?” she asked.

“I can’t exactly drive like this.” Although the idea of a car full of kids careening down the highway was amusing, it wasn’t practical. For one thing, I wouldn’t be able to reach the pedals. “We need someone to pick us up, unless you want to drive us.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Me, play taxi? No.”

“Thought so.” Andrew and Jessica were still clinging to each other as I slipped out of the kitchen, heading into the living room. The phone was on an end table next to the couch. I walked over to it, ignoring the crunching sounds underfoot, and paused.

Who was I supposed to call? Tybalt didn’t drive, and I didn’t want to explain the current situation to Connor. Mitch and Stacy didn’t need the added stress, especially not given what I thought I’d learned about Karen. There would be time to tell them that their daughter was probably dead later, after I’d managed to get the rest of the children home.

The Luidaeg’s phone had a dial tone; that surprised me. It implied a more solid connection to the real world than I’d expected. I dialed Danny’s number from memory. Six rings later, Danny’s voice announced jovially, “You’ve reached Daniel McReady—”

“Danny, great! It’s Toby. I—”

“—and I’m not available to take your call right now, on account of I have a job. If you’re calling about breed rescue, please leave a detailed message, including your name, address, and how many you want.” Something barked in the background. Muffled, he shouted, “Tilly! You stop biting your sister!” before returning to say, more normally, “Everybody else, you can leave a message, too, and I’ll call you just as soon as I can. I gotta go break up a fight in the kennel. Later.” With that, the connection was cut, leaving me groaning.

Danny wasn’t available. Now who was I supposed to call? Santa Claus? He could fly through the city dropping us down chimneys . . . no. Not Santa, but someone almost as good. I dialed again, quickly, and waited.

The phone was answered immediately. “You’ve reached October Daye’s place, this is Toby.”

“No, it’s not,” I said. “If you were me, you’d know I never sound that happy when I answer the phone.”

“Toby!” said May, delighted. “Where are you?”

“At the Luidaeg’s; I need a ride. Can you take a cab over here? My car’s here, but I can’t drive it right now.”

“I guess. Where did you
go?
Don’t you know you’re not supposed to leave without telling me? I can’t do my job if I don’t know how to find you!”

My Fetch was yelling at me for ditching her. Surrealism lives. “I’ll keep that in mind, okay? Just get over here.”

“Sure thing, Boss,” she said, and hung up. I shook my head, putting down the receiver as I rose. Doesn’t anyone believe in saying good-bye anymore?

Of course, the fact that May existed meant I’d be saying some final good-byes in the near future. I walked back into the kitchen, almost grateful for my exhaustion. I was too tired to get as upset as I wanted to.

The Luidaeg was leaning against the refrigerator, keeping a wary eye on the children. Most were asleep in piles on the floor; the ones who were still awake were sitting with Helen. Raj, back in feline form, was dozing in her lap. Quentin was still behind Katie, unmoving.

“Well?” said the Luidaeg. “Who did you call?”

“No one,” I said, kneeling to pick up Spike and pressing my face against its thorny side. “Just Death.”

M
AY ARRIVED ABOUT HALF AN HOUR LATER. Most San Francisco taxi drivers are barely this side of sane and drive like they expect scouts for the Indy 500 to be hiding on every corner. When you add that to their creatively broken English, you’ve created a taxi experience everyone should have once. Just once. Only once. Unless you’re in such a hurry that you’re considering grabbing the nearest Tylwyth Teg and demanding a ride on a bundle of yarrow twigs, wait for the bus. If that’s too slow for you, you may want to look into the local availability of yarrow twigs, because splinters in your thighs are less upsetting than taking a San Francisco taxi.

The Luidaeg answered the door in her customary fashion: she wrenched it open, snarling, “What do
you
want?” Then she froze, staring. Nice to see I wasn’t the only one who reacted that way. “What the fu—”

May waved, a grin plastered across her face. “Hi, I’m May. Is Toby here?”

The moment was almost worth the entire situation. I’d never seen the Luidaeg flustered before. It only lasted a few seconds before she narrowed her eyes. “Whatever you are, you’re not Toby.” Her voice was suddenly pitched low, and very dangerous. “You smell wrong. What are you?”

“I should smell wrong—I just doused myself in strawberry eucalyptus bath oil. It’s disgusting!” Her grin broadened. “Is Toby here? She told me to meet her here. This is the right place, isn’t it? You are the Luidaeg, aren’t you? You look like the Luidaeg . . .”

“Yes,” said the Luidaeg, not relaxing. “I am. Now who the hell are
you?
”

“I already told you.” May blinked, smile fading in confusion. “I’m May Daye.”

The Luidaeg stiffened. I stepped forward, putting my hand on her arm. “Luidaeg, wait.” Somehow I didn’t think letting her gut my Fetch would prevent my impending death. Pity. “She’s my Fetch.”

“What?” The Luidaeg turned to stare at me, eyebrows arching until they almost hit her hairline. There was something in her eyes that looked like fear. Why would the Luidaeg be afraid of my Fetch? May was there for me, not her.

“Fetch,” said May, cheerful as ever. My sudden second childhood didn’t seem to be bothering her. It wasn’t surprising her either. I really should’ve paid more attention when my mother taught me about Fetches. I knew May was created with my memories, but I didn’t know how much she’d know about what happened to me after she was “born.” “I’m here to escort her into the valley of the damned. Only first I’m going to give her a ride home. And maybe stop for Indian food.”

I smiled wearily. It was hard not to admire her enthusiasm, even if she existed because I was about to die. She’d go when I did, and I couldn’t have been that cheerful if I had that short a time to live. Oh, wait. I
did
have that short a time to live, and I wasn’t that cheerful. “Hi, May.”

“Hello!” she said, waving again. “Could you do me a teeny little favor?”

“What’s that?” I asked warily. Call me crazy, but I’m not big on granting my personal incarnation of death little favors, no matter how much I like her attitude.

“Tell me before you run off to get yourself killed, okay? It would
really
help me do my job.” She looked at me pleadingly.

How was I supposed to answer that? I struggled for a moment before settling for sarcasm. “Far be it from me to hinder your efforts to carry me off into the great beyond.”

“Great!” she said, grinning again. She was apparently invulnerable to sarcasm. Her smile faded as she realized that the Luidaeg was still blocking her way. “Um, can I come in?”

“Luidaeg?” The sea witch was looking between us, eyes narrowing. I could almost see her losing her temper. “Can she come in?”

“Sure,” she said, tone tight as she stepped aside. “I’m always glad to invite death into my home.”

“I’m not death,” said May, stepping into the hall. “I’m just part of the auxiliary plan.”

She obviously didn’t get my survival instincts when she inherited my memories. I would never have brushed the Luidaeg off like that, at least not if I wanted to keep my head attached to the rest of my body. “May—” I began.

“Oh, don’t worry,” she said. “She can’t hurt me.”

“She’s right,” snarled the Luidaeg. The look in her eyes was more than angry—it was furious, and I suddenly wondered whether she’d be the one who killed me. “You’re her target. I can’t hurt her unless I do it by hurting you.”

I frowned, trying to conceal my worry. “So what, she can get away with anything?”

“Just until you die,” said May, in a tone that was probably meant to be reassuring.

Rolling my eyes, I turned and walked back to the kitchen. May waved to the Luidaeg one more time and followed, staying close at my heels.

I should have thought about what would happen when I walked into the kitchen with my adult double, but I was tired and scared and worn down, and I didn’t even consider it. Most of the kids stayed where they were, huddled together and more than half-asleep. They’d never seen what I really looked like, and my former adulthood was just a story to them.

I have to give Quentin credit—his hands tightened on the back of Katie’s chair, but he didn’t move. He just waited for my signal, ready to attack or run on my command. The kid was learning. Jessica was less discreet. She looked up and screamed, shielding her head with her arms as she tried to hide behind Andrew. Katie jerked, the spell that was keeping her calm visibly weakening. The other children were awake and scrambling to their feet in an instant, eyes wide with panic. I ran across the room to Jessica, pulling her arms away from her head and making shushing noises. There’d been too much screaming already.

Andrew frowned at his sister and looked solemnly from me to May, taking his thumb out of his mouth. Jessica kept screaming, screwing her eyes shut until I slapped my hand over her mouth in exasperation. That got her attention. Her eyes snapped open, staring at me.

“Jessie, you need to calm down, please,” I said. “It’s okay. She’s not here to hurt us.” The screaming stopped, but her breathing didn’t slow. I took my hand away from her mouth and wrapped my arms around her.

Andrew studied me, then looked to May. “You’re not my auntie,” he said gravely.

May nodded. “You’re right.”

“She is,” he said, and pointed to me.

“Right again.”