An Artificial Night - BK 3 (40 page)

And I could see the woman standing at the circle’s edge, hands held in front of her, palms turned downward. She wasn’t tall, but something about her made her seem almost as vast as Blind Michael. Her hair fell in dark curls, like the waves of an angry sea; her eyes were white as foam, and she wore a gray robe stitched with patterns of mingled white and black that made the shared eyes of the Ride turn away. Only Acacia didn’t look away: she knew her, named her and showed her to me with a delight that was close to rejoicing. The Luidaeg.

Something woke in me that remembered how to hope, because I recognized her as soon as I knew her name—the sea witch, Blind Michael’s sister, who sent me to him in the first place. There were figures in the darkness behind her, but none of them mattered; the Luidaeg would save me if anyone could. I owed her, after all. She needed me alive to pay my debts.

I landed on my captor, shivering as the pain faded. The woman beneath me must have had an easier trip through the light than I did, because she was already stirring. Bully for her. She flipped me over as soon as I was breathing again, keeping her arms around my waist and pinning my legs with her knees.

“Sorry,” she said, in an almost familiar voice, “but I’m not letting you go.”

“That’s okay,” I managed. “I don’t think you’re supposed to.” The scene was still playing out behind my closed eyes, and I didn’t know who I wanted to win. I wanted to be free, but Blind Michael’s spell was strong. He still had my loyalty.

“What is the meaning of this?” demanded Blind Michael. The remaining procession shuddered behind him. Someone in the back whimpered and was silenced. All eyes were on their lord, and on his sister.

“Tonight is All Hallows’ Eve, and the faerie-folk Ride,” the Luidaeg said. “The Ride has rules, little brother. Did you forget? You can ignore them, but you can’t unmake them.”

“You have no right,” he snarled, and every word was like a knife in my heart. I threw back my head and screamed. I wasn’t the only one: all the children that had been pulled from their horses were screaming with me.

“Shhh,” hissed the woman above me. “Get past the pain. Grit your teeth and get past it. You can do it—I know you can.”

The Luidaeg waited for the screaming to stop before she said, “I have every right, little brother. Every right in both the worlds.”

“You aren’t allowed to interfere!”

“Not within your realm. We set those rules when we came here, and I’ve abided by them, even when it hurt to obey them, even when I saw you destroying everything you’d ever loved. I followed the rules. But you’re not in your realm now, little brother. You’re in mine.”

“My passage is allowed! I took
nothing
of yours!” This time his words were blows, not daggers. I whimpered.

“Didn’t you?” The Luidaeg’s voice was soothing, smoothing away the bruises her brother left behind. “You bargained for one you knew was under my protection; you couldn’t even wait for her candle to burn down. You took her while she still belonged to me.”

“All children are mine! The children are always mine.”

“Amandine’s daughter wasn’t a child when you took her. She’s not yours.”

“Mine!”
he screamed. This time it wasn’t just the fallen that cried out: all the children writhed in pain, some of them falling off their horses as they tried to make it stop.

It hurt enough to fracture the spell that bound me, giving me control of my own body, but not my mind. It couldn’t destroy the urge to return to my lord and master. I was too pinned to move, and so I sobbed, beating my fists against my captor’s shoulders. I wasn’t escaping that easily, and secretly, I was glad.

“Not yours!” the Luidaeg snapped. The wind rose around her, churning her hair until she seemed to be the sea itself taking physical form and come to kick some serious ass. “Never yours. The Ride has rules, Michael, and you broke them first!”

“It’s not fair!” There was no fight in his words this time, just the petulance of a man who’d never been denied in all the centuries of his long, long life.

“Family, friends, and blood-tied companions have the power to break a Ride. They broke our mother’s Ride, when the Carter woman stole her sacrifice.” She didn’t sound angry; resigned and almost sorry, but not angry. “They broke hers. They can damn well break yours.”

“Who would come for her?” he snarled, rallying.

Behind me, a voice shouted, “Tybalt, King of Cats. My claim precedes yours.”

“Cassandra Brown, student physicist,” shouted another voice. “Give me back my aunt!”

“Quentin, foster of Shadowed Hills. You
will
give me back my friend and my lady!” I could hear hooves beating the ground in tandem with his words. He was the one who grabbed Katie’s reins. Oh, oak and ash. Little hero.

“Connor O’Dell! She’s my friend and you can’t have her!” Connor has always been that great cliché, a lover, not a fighter, but there was no fear in his voice. He was taking me home or he wasn’t going home at all.

They’d come for me? All of them? Titania wept. I didn’t know whether I should laugh or cry. Challenging the Firstborn is never wise, not even when you have one of their number on your side, and you can never be really sure whose side the Luidaeg is on. It’s usually her own.

I didn’t think there was anything left that would surprise me. Then the woman pinning me shouted, “May Daye, Fetch!”

Opening my eyes, I found myself staring into a mirror. “May?” I squeaked. The split vision of the Ride was starting to fade, leaving me looking out of only my own eyes.

Familiar lips split in an unfamiliar smile. “In the too, too solid flesh,” she said.

“What the hell is going on?”

“We cast our compass ’round,” she said, looking past me. “Now we’ll pay for it.”

I craned my neck to follow her gaze. Blind Michael had dismounted. He walked to the edge of the circle and stopped, glaring. The Luidaeg was barely three feet away from him, shielded only by the light.

“Little brother, you’ve lost. Go home,” she said, gently. “Take the children you still have, and go. We won’t follow. I’ll keep Amandine’s daughter from chasing you, and when you Ride again in a hundred years, no one will remember this but you and I.”

“There are rules,” he answered. “I can try to take them back again.”

“You can, if you accept that you might lose them, and more, if you try,” she said. “Can you accept that fact?”

“I can.”

“Oh, Michael. You always were a fool.” The Luidaeg shook her head. “Start your games. Any who releases their quarry are lost; the rest are free to go.” She turned, her gown eddying around her in a wave, and May braced herself above me.

“May, what—”

“You rode the white horse. Now we’re finishing the song.” There wasn’t time to say anything more. Blind Michael turned toward me, raising his hand.

Transformation burns. I barely had time to realize I was being changed before it was done, and the weight of Blind Michael’s magic was forcing my mind to conform to my new shape. May was suddenly huge, pinning me to the ground with a bulk that exceeded my own by a factor of at least three.

I had to get away; I had to flee and fly or she was going to kill me and use my bones to pick her teeth. I knew it as well as I knew the shape of my wings and the feeling of wind over my feathers. I beat myself against her arms, hissing and jabbing at her with my beak. All that mattered was escape, no matter how badly I was hurt in the process.

Connor lunged forward, pinning my wings while May grabbed for my head. I kept struggling, but I was trapped. I couldn’t get away.

“And he will turn me in your arms into a swan so wild,” the Luidaeg said. Her voice broke through the fog around me, clearing the madness from my mind. I stopped fighting. Connor let go and May folded herself around me, holding me down. “But hold me tight, don’t let me go, and I will love your child.”

The world changed again. This time I was thin and smooth, with no wings to beat against my captor. I slithered halfway out of her grasp before she grabbed me behind the head, pinning me again. Someone screamed, and I heard Cassandra chanting, “I am not afraid of snakes I am not afraid of—oh God, I think she’s poisonous—snakes—”

I broke free and twisted around, sinking my fangs into May’s wrist. She winced but didn’t let go. “Damn it, Toby, don’t bite,” she said. “It’s rude.”

“And he will turn me in your arms into an asp and adder,” shouted the Luidaeg. I released May’s wrist and turned toward the sound, tongue scenting the air. “But hold me tight within your arms—I am your baby’s father!”

Things shifted again. I was suddenly larger than May, tall and vast and angry. She was clinging to my neck, hands clasped beneath my jaw. I roared and tried to claw her off, unable to think of anything but freedom. I had to escape. If I didn’t, something terrible would happen; something I didn’t understand but knew enough about to fear.

Then Tybalt was in front of me, pressing his hand against my nose. I subsided, growling at him. He merely looked amused, reaching up to scratch my ears as he chided, “Calm yourself, little lioness.” May took advantage of my confusion and got a tighter grip around my neck. I started to snarl, but stopped when Tybalt smacked me on the head. All cats belong to their King. For the moment, I was more his than Blind Michael’s.

“Good plan, Tybalt,” said May, face muffled against my neck.

“I thought so,” he said. He started scratching my jaw, and I sat down, wondering confusedly if lions could purr.

“And he will turn me in your arms into the lion’s might,” said the Luidaeg. I turned toward her, forgetting my fealty to Tybalt. “But fear me not, don’t let me go, and we’ll see through this night!”

Everything shifted again, and this time I couldn’t move; the world was nothing but May trying to fold herself around me, and heat—burning, searing heat. May screamed, and suddenly Connor and Tybalt were there, forcing her not to let me go.

In the distance, Cassandra and Quentin were screaming. They were probably in the same fix as May; if Katie had joined me in the realm of “really hot things,” they’d be forcing each other’s arms around her. Burns are bad, but somehow I thought letting go might be worse.

“And he will turn me in your arms into a burning sword,” the Luidaeg said. Her words cooled me; I still couldn’t move, but it felt like the arms around me were holding just a little closer. “Hold me tight, don’t let me go; I am your one reward.”

The world shifted for the final time, and I was myself, sandwiched between Tybalt, Connor, and May. A moment later, I realized that I was naked. Gee, that was an improvement. “Please let me go,” I said.

Tybalt smirked and stood, stepping back. Connor let go as well, turning away, but not before I saw him blush. May removed her cloak and threw it over me, pulling me further into the circle as she stood. Connor and May were covered in scratches and bites, and all three of them were singed, but no one seemed to be badly burned. There were two small punctures in May’s wrist where the snake—where I—had bitten her. I hoped Fetches were really immune to physical harm, or we were going to have a whole new problem.

Katie was crying in the distance, and I could hear Cassandra scolding Quentin. I allowed myself a small, tired smile. Looked like I wasn’t the only one who was myself again.

“And he will turn me in your arms into a naked knight,” the Luidaeg said. Then her tone changed, leaving the lyrics behind. “That’s it, little brother; you’ve lost, and by your own rules, you can’t touch them again.” Her robe had turned black, making her seem like a hole in the night. Blind Michael looked wraithlike beside her, all white and gleaming ash, with Acacia like a golden ghost beside him.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because you took her while she was mine.”

“And the human child?”

“Because everything is connected.” She shook her head. “Nothing is free.”

“I won’t forget this.”

“No,” she said sadly, and glanced toward me. “You never do, do you?”

I shrugged May’s hands away and moved to stand beside the Luidaeg, looking at my former captor. His Hunt was splayed behind him, children and Riders huddled in confusion, while behind me, those that had come to free their children wept with joy. Softly, I said, “I don’t forget either. And I never forgive.”

The Luidaeg looked down at me and smiled. Blind Michael didn’t say another word; he just turned, cloak billowing behind him as he walked back to his horse and mounted again. He led the remains of his Hunt into the night, and they faded away as they rode, dissolving into mist and shadows. Only Acacia stayed behind, watching them go.

“Well met, sister,” said the Luidaeg.

“For some of us. It’s good to see you,” Acacia said, still watching the Riders fade away. When the last of them was gone she turned to me, and smiled. “You did it. You’re free.”

“I’m as surprised as you are,” I said, pulling May’s cloak more tightly around myself. “Are you going with him?”

“Yes. I am.”

“Why? He was ready to replace you.” I wasn’t sure what that would have meant for her. I was certain it wouldn’t have been good.

“I’ve taken this Ride too many times; I have no other roads.” She shook her head, looking to the Luidaeg. “Blind Michael is my lord and husband. I follow him.”

“You don’t have to,” I said.

“Don’t I?” Acacia smiled. “There isn’t anything for me in these lands.”

“Nothing?” asked the Luidaeg.

“Mother?” said a voice behind me. It was soft, almost afraid. Acacia froze, her gaze going over our heads as she stiffened. I turned, watching as Luna stepped out of the darkness.

She walked over to the Luidaeg’s other side, and stopped, pulling back her hood. She looked tired, and there were circles under her eyes that hadn’t been there when I’d seen her last. What had she paid to put me on the Rose Road? But her eyes were still brown, and silver-furred fox ears still crowned her head. There were roses in her hair, perhaps in acknowledgment of what she’d been, once upon a yesterday. “Mother,” she repeated.