An Artificial Night - BK 3 (32 page)

The mist got thicker and colder as I moved through the wall. I filled my hands with it, reweaving my human disguise as I walked. I had no interest in being mistaken for an alien invader just because my mother had the bad grace to pass on her pointed ears. It was late enough in the year that I might be mistaken for a kid who’d started trick-or-treating early, but that didn’t appeal either.

Connor was sitting on the sidewalk with his back to the alley wall when I emerged. He stood as he saw me approaching, and I was glad that my illusions were hiding the blood. Selkies don’t have an enhanced sense of smell in their human forms; I could fool him, even though I’d never have been able to fool Tybalt.

He waited until I was closer before offering his hand. “I’m sorry. I was a jerk.”

“Yes, you were.” Never stop a man from admitting his faults. Still, I paused, and said, “I was a jerk, too.”

“It’s okay. I’m just worried about you.”

“You were still a bigger jerk than I was.”

“I know.” He sighed. “I just . . . we lost you once. I don’t want to lose you again.”

I sighed, slipping my hand into his. Maybe he was a jerk, but he was a jerk who cared, and that’s worth a lot in my book. Besides, it wasn’t like it mattered. It would all be over soon.

He looked up, something like hope in his eyes. “Toby . . .”

“We’re okay.” I smiled wanly. “We need to get to Lily’s. Can you just stop being a jerk until we get there? Please?”

“I think I can manage that,” he said, and smiled. It was worth it just for that.

I left my hand in his as we walked past the car and toward the gates of Golden Gate Park. The height difference was jarring at first, but the feeling passed, and for a few minutes, everything was all right. May joined us while we were waiting for the crosswalk to be clear, Spike following at her heels, and somehow, that was right, too. The rose goblin ran ahead, and the Fetch followed behind as we walked, hand in hand, into Golden Gate Park.

I told Tybalt the truth, after all. I was almost finished.

M
ARCIA LEANED OUT OF HER BOOTH as we approached, beaming. “Toby! Connor! Hey!” I was ready to get annoyed—Connor and Tybalt recognizing me was one thing, but Marcia?—when she looked down, asking, “And who’s your little friend?”

The phrase “little friend” pissed me off when I was actually the age I seemed to be, and it hadn’t gotten any less annoying as I got older. I was tired, my knees ached, and I didn’t have time to be patronized. “Can it, Marcia. Is Lily available?”

“What?” She blinked. “That’s not a nice way to talk to your elders, you know.”

“You were born in nineteen eighty-three,” I said. “If you’re my elder, I’ll eat my socks. Can we see Lily?”

“Who’s stopping you?” She squinted, the faerie ointment around her eyes reflecting the afternoon light in sparkles of turquoise and gold. “You’re not what you look like.” She looked toward May, still squinting. “Neither is she.”

“Marcia, please, just let us in,” I said.

Marcia is only a quarter-blooded changeling, and she needs faerie ointment to see our world at all. Ironically enough, the ointment opens her eyes a little wider than most. She not only sees through illusions; sometimes, she sees through realities. I guess that’s why Lily likes her. It certainly can’t be for the stimulating conversation.

Marcia pulled back, frowning. “I think you’d better leave. I mean, Toby isn’t Toby, and your kid’s not a kid, and Connor . . . well, Connor’s okay, and I think that’s Toby’s rose goblin, but that’s all I can tell. People I don’t recognize shouldn’t come here. Lily doesn’t like it.”

“Please refrain from exerting yourself, Marcia,” Lily said, stepping up to the edge of the garden; she couldn’t come any farther. Each Undine is literally bound to their domain, unable to ever leave it. In exchange, they know everything that happens in their own lands, and control them more intimately than any noble has ever controlled a knowe. I’ve always wondered whether it’s a fair trade, but I’ve never been able to get up the nerve to ask. “I know our guests.”

“Lily,” I said. “Hey.”

“Hello, October,” she said. “I see you found the moon. Connor. It’s been too long.”

“I know,” he said, his hand tightening in mine. “I’ve been busy.”

“Of course.” She turned to May. “You would be . . . ?”

“May,” said my Fetch, expression grave.

“A good name. Ironic, but good. Whatever will we do when the months of the year are used entirely?” Lily looked back to Marcia. “These are my guests. October Daye, daughter of Amandine, albeit in slightly reduced circumstances; Connor O’Dell of Shadowed Hills; and May, who is, unless I am much mistaken, October’s Fetch.” Her voice stayed calm, but she looked at me when she said May’s name, eyes unreadable.

Marcia stared at me, eyes wide. “You’re
Toby?
” she squeaked.

“Is that a problem?” I asked.

“But you’re so little!”

“And you’re so blonde.”

“Marcia, Toby and her friends look very tired, and I’m sure she wants to see her friend.”

“Karen,” I said. “Is she . . . ?” I let the question trail off, not sure how to finish it. She wasn’t talking like Karen was dead, but we were in a semipublic place. She might just be waiting to get us alone.

“No, October. I’m sorry.” Lily shook her head. “I tried everything. I failed.”

Oh, root and branch. How was I supposed to tell Stacy that Karen wasn’t coming home? Swallowing, I asked, “How did she die?”

Lily frowned, looking bewildered. “Die?”

“Karen. How did she die?”

Marcia blinked. “Somebody died?”

“October, I think perhaps you and your company ought to come with me,” said Lily, still frowning. “The sun will be down soon, and it seems we have much to discuss.” She turned. Too confused to argue, I followed her, not releasing Connor’s hand.

She led us to the base of the moon bridge, then stopped and knelt, putting her hand over my knee. “You’re hurt,” she said, disapprovingly. “That won’t do, but I can’t fix it here. Fetch?”

“Huh?” said May, blinking.

The folds of Lily’s kimono rustled as she straightened. “Carry her. We must get her into the knowe, and she can’t possibly handle the bridge with her knee in that condition.”

“But—”

“There will be time to weep and wail and play the Banshee soon enough. For now, carry her. Connor?”

“Yes?”

“Come.” She held out her arm, obviously expecting him to take it. Connor glanced at me as he released my hand and slid his arm through hers, letting her lead him up the bridge and out of sight. Spike bounded after them, leaving me alone with May. Peachy.

May looked at me, frowning. “She wants me to carry you.”

“I noticed.”

“Of all the ludicrous—”

I sighed, holding up my arms. “Come on, May. The sooner we finish this, the sooner you can carry me off to my eternal reward.”

“I’m still not sure I’m allowed to help you.”

“Look, I won’t tell if you won’t. Do you want to piss off Lily?”

She blanched. When she got my memories, she got the full set. “No.”

“I didn’t think so. So come on and pick me up.”

May sighed and knelt. “Oh, fine.” Even shifting so she could lift me piggyback-style hurt my knee, and I hated to think what climbing the bridge on my own would’ve been like. Lily was right—I needed to be carried—but still, being carried by your own Fetch is just embarrassing.

May leaned forward to counterbalance my weight as she mounted the bridge. It worked well enough that we didn’t fall backward, but it was slow going. She stopped, grabbing the railing as she panted for breath.

“What have you been eating?” she asked. “Bricks?”

I “accidentally” dug my heels into her sides. “I thought you were indestructible.”

“No, I’m unkillable,” she said, panting. “I still get tired, and you’re heavy.”

“Stuff it.”

“Such gratitude.” She started climbing again. There was a soft popping sound as we reached the top of the bridge, and we were standing at a crossroads with four small cobblestone paths stretching out across a checkerboard expanse of marsh. Only the paths provided a clear route to solid ground. We were in Lily’s knowe.

“Cute,” May grumbled, starting down the nearest path. We were halfway to land when she slipped.

Riding piggyback doesn’t give you much in the way of the ability to catch yourself, and with her arms around my legs, May couldn’t catch us. We barely had time to shriek—in perfect unison—before we hit the water. It was lukewarm, like fresh blood.

The thought was enough to make me shove away from May and start thrashing, and the fact that I was in the water at all was enough to make me keep thrashing. I spent fourteen years living with Lily. Neither of us planned it that way; a man named Simon Torquill decided I’d make a lovely koi and had the magic to test the theory. He transformed me and left me in one of the ponds that riddle the Tea Gardens. I haven’t been real big on water since that happened. I don’t even take baths anymore, just showers. Put me in water and I tend to panic a little.

Okay, more than a little. I kept thrashing, struggling to find the surface. Most koi ponds are shallow, but Lily’s ponds aren’t exactly what you’d call standard. I don’t remember what they were like when I lived there, but I’ve never found the bottom while I was in my original shape, and I’m not going looking. I tried to scream, and water filled my mouth, choking me.

Great,
I thought wildly,
this is how I die. My Fetch drowns me by mistake.

Hands grabbed my shoulders and wrenched me out of the water, dropping me on something solid before hitting me on the back. I started coughing. Air. There was air in the world. Opening my eyes, I found myself staring up at Connor.

“Are you all right?” he said.

“Y-yeah,” I stammered. “Sorry.”

“Not your fault. May dropped you.” He glared back over his shoulder.

“I didn’t mean to!” May was a few feet away, wringing water out of her hair.

“It’s okay, Connor. I’m okay,” I said, sitting up and looking around. “She didn’t mean to drop me. Where’s Lily?”

“The pavilion,” said Connor, almost smiling.

“Which would be where?”

“Try looking behind you,” said May.

I looked over my shoulder. The pavilion was there, just like last time. Lily was seated at the table, mixing herbs in a small mortar. Spike was off to one side, watching and occasionally reaching out to bat at the pestle. She didn’t seem bothered by the rose goblin’s antics; she ignored it, placidly continuing to work. And Karen was lying on the cushions behind the table, just where I’d left her.

It took a moment for that to process. When it did, I scrambled to my feet and ran for the pavilion, only to fall again as my knees buckled beneath me. “Maeve’s
teeth!
” I snarled. “Lily!”

“Oh, crying for me now, are you?” She looked up, expression unreadable. “What would you ask from me?”

“Lily, you—I—I need to get to Karen! I need to see that she’s okay.”

“Do you?” She rose, walking down the pavilion steps with a fluidity even Tybalt could only envy. “It seems to me that what you need is to hold still for a time.”

“Lily . . .” May and Connor were both standing, but they weren’t moving. Turning toward Lily, I said, pleadingly, “Lily, please.”

“If I truly loved you, I would refuse,” she said, smiling sadly as she came to kneel on the moss in front of me, the mortar still in her hand. “I’d say ‘no, you’ve had enough gifts of me,’ and I’d let you heal at your own pace, just this once. Perhaps then your charming twin would leave us in peace, and while you might hate me for a while, you would be here to do it.”

“I don’t think it works that way,” said May. She sounded sorry.

“I know that as well as you do. I’ve known more of your breed than you’d believe,” chided Lily, pulling a chunk of moss off the ground and pressing it into her mortar. “Once you arrive, events must play to their logical conclusions. I hope you don’t mind my hating you.”

“It’s okay,” said May, coming to sit beside us. “It comes with the territory.”

“Yes. It does. October?”

“Yes?”

“Connor is behind you. What is he doing?”

She sounded curious enough that I turned. Connor was watching me bleakly; he looked like he was losing his best friend. “He’s not doing anything, Lily. Why did you—”

Her fists slammed into my knee. I screamed, whipping around to face her. She was empty-handed, looking at me innocently. I started to shout, and stopped as I realized that the pain was gone. I settled for glaring. “That
hurt.
”

“Such things often do.” She stood, leaving the moss on my leg as she walked back into the pavilion. “Come now, all of you. I am sure you have places to go and deaths to face.”

I stood and followed her into the pavilion, letting her makeshift poultice lie where it fell. There was a flash of light as I climbed the steps, and the smell of hibiscus tea filled the air. I staggered, catching myself on the wall, and realized I was clean, dry, and wearing a purple robe embroidered with red heraldic roses. My hair was braided smoothly back.