An Artificial Night - BK 3 (42 page)

She left us once we were inside, saying she needed to find Sylvester, while Quentin and Cassandra went off to call Mitch and Stacy. Connor followed after Luna, and I realized that I hadn’t seen Tybalt since we left the bus. I glanced to May.

“Where’s—”

“He said he had a cat thing,” she said, and shrugged.

“Right. Now what?”

“Come on this way. Luna said you’d be hungry. And, y’know.” She flashed another tired but sunny smile. “Nudity taboos.” With that, she was off and walking, navigating the knowe with the sort of casual ease that told me a lot about how much time she’d been spending at Shadowed Hills since I disappeared. This wasn’t borrowed familiarity. This was all her.

After about five minutes of walking through the halls, she opened the door to a small, oak-paneled antechamber. A meal of cold cuts, bread, fruit, and cheese had been laid out on the room’s single table, and a pile of clean clothes was folded on one of the chairs. Spike was curled up on the pile of clothing, head down on its paws, looking despondent.

“Hey, Spike,” I said.

Its head snapped up and it launched itself from the pile of clothes, mewling frantically as it raced toward me. I surprised myself by laughing as I held out my arms, and it jumped into them, still mewling as it rammed the top of its spiky head against my chin, barely managing to avoid puncturing me.

“I missed you, too, baby. I did,” I said, stroking it.

“I had a hell of a time getting it to eat,” May said. Crossing to the chair, she picked up the bundle of clothes. “These are from home. We figured they’d still fit, although you lost a little more weight than I was counting on. Didn’t they feed you?”

“I don’t remember,” I said.

Getting dressed while trying to deal with a rose goblin that vehemently didn’t want to be put down was an exciting experience, but with some creative juggling and a little help from May, I managed it. I felt a lot better once I had some clothes on, and better still when May managed to remove Spike from my shoulder long enough for me to shrug into my jacket. The leather still smelled, faintly and comfortingly, of pennyroyal.

“So now what?” asked May, as she stepped back.

I picked up a slice of bread, eyeing the cold cuts for a moment before starting to slap a sandwich together. “I’m going to eat this, check in with Sylvester, and—”

“She’s going back to my grandfather’s lands.”

The voice was unfortunately familiar. I stiffened, sandwich forgotten as I turned to face the woman standing in the antechamber doorway. “Rayseline.”

“October,” she replied, almost mockingly. “You’re secretly a cockroach, aren’t you? Don’t worry, you can tell me. It won’t make me think any less of you. Really, I don’t think that anything could.”

“I’m not a cockroach, I’m just hard to kill,” I said, putting my half-assembled sandwich back on the table. “Can I help you with something?”

“Just wanted a look at the dead woman walking,” she said, and smiled.

Rayseline Torquill would have been scary no matter who she was, and what I’d learned about Luna’s side of the family didn’t do anything to make her less unnerving. It didn’t help that she looked more like her father than her mother, with the Torquill family’s characteristic fox-red hair and honey-colored eyes. With her porcelain complexion and delicate features, she projected the illusion of perfect, unquestionable purity and goodness. At least until she opened her mouth.

“Toby?” said May, uncertainly. “She doesn’t really mean that, does she?”

I wanted to tell her no, but I wasn’t sure that I could lie to my Fetch and make her believe it. I shook my head instead, and Rayseline laughed, sounding utterly delighted.

“Look at that! She can’t even admit to it!” She took a step forward, chin dropped so that she was looking at me from beneath lowered brows. She looked like a predator. “He’s got claws in her. He’s got hands on her. She’s going back.”

“Toby . . .”

“He kept my knife,” I said, as reasonably as I could. “Dare gave me that knife. He doesn’t get to keep my knife.”

“There are other knives.” May grabbed my arm,jerking me a step to the left. Spike rattled in protest, but didn’t remove its claws from my shoulder. “There are entire stores that sell just knives. We’ll get you a new knife.”

“Oh, this isn’t about knives, is it, October?” Raysel kept smiling. “My husband cried himself to sleep whispering your name. I hope you die screaming. Better yet, I hope you live that way.”

“Toby, don’t be stupid. I already broke the rules to save your life. I can’t do it again.”

“Gosh, little Fetch, did you really?” Raysel’s attention swung toward May. “My grandfather takes his time breaking things. Maybe you just didn’t want to wait around.”

May gasped. Pleasantly, I said, “Raysel, if you don’t get out of here, I’m going to punch you in the face.”

A brief spasm of rage twisted Raysel’s features before smoothing back into her predatory smile. “I should kill you right here, but I won’t,” she said. “What’s ahead will hurt you
ever
so much worse.” She turned on her heel and stalked out of the room, leaving us to stare after her.

Voice shaking, May said, “She’s wrong, isn’t she? You’re not going back.”

“I have to. He’s in my head, May.” I turned toward her. Her face was still the twin of mine, but it wasn’t a mirror anymore; she’d had weeks to make it her own. She looked worried, frightened, and like herself. That was reassuring. At least she’d had a chance to have a life. “I can feel him. I can almost hear him, sometimes. I don’t think I can get away from him without facing him.”

“That’s stupid. It’s stupid, and it’s suicidal, and I won’t let you.”

“I don’t think you get a say, hon,” I said, gently removing her fingers from my arm. She didn’t fight me. She just stood there, watching bleakly, as I took Spike from my shoulder, set it down on the floor, and turned to walk out of the room. She didn’t follow.

Spike did. I walked about halfway down the hall, the sound of its claws always clicking a few feet behind me on the marble floor. Finally, I turned to look at it. It promptly sat down, watching me with lambent, narrowed eyes.

“You’re not coming,” I said.

It stood and walked forward, sitting down right next to my feet.

“You’re
not
coming. It’s not safe.”

The look it gave me was almost disgusted.
If you’re going,
said the look,
I can go, too.

I sighed. “Fine, Spike, whatever you want.” I started walking again, steps accompanied by the soft
click-click-click
of the goblin’s claws, and tried to hide how pleased I was. I trusted Spike to be safe, and I really hadn’t wanted to go alone. There are a lot of ways to die and alone has always seemed like one of the worst. Almost anything else would be better.

We made it out of the knowe and back into the mortal world without seeing anyone else. The door in the oak slammed shut behind us with a hollow finality, and I stopped, staring blankly out across the hillside.

The others might think they’d saved me, but I knew all the way down to my bones that they hadn’t. Blind Michael had me too long for that sort of salvation to work. Part of me was his—might always be his, no matter what happened next—and if he was allowed to live, that part would just keep trying to find a way to drag me back to him. I could pretend that nothing was wrong, or I could admit that nothing was right and try to do something about it.

Blind Michael was a monster, and he’d been allowed to go unchallenged for too long. How many kids had he taken and twisted over the centuries? Hundreds? Thousands? Faerie prizes children above almost everything else, and still no one had dared to try stopping him—not since the Luidaeg tried, and failed. Someone had to do it. Someone should have done it a long time ago.

I just wished it didn’t have to be me.

There was no warning before the hand dropped onto my shoulder. I stiffened, ready to run, until Sylvester said, “I know where you’re going, October.”

I turned to look up at him. “How long have you been out here?” I hadn’t seen him until he moved. For someone with such red hair, he could blend astonishingly well.

“Since Luna told me they’d brought you home.”

“I’ve been just inside. Why did you come wait out here?”

“Because I know you better than you think I do.” He sighed, looking deeply weary. “I know the rest of this conversation. You apologize, I tell you it’s all right. You tell me you’re going back to Blind Michael’s lands and say I can’t stop you. Does that sound about right?”

“Yes . . .”

“I wouldn’t dream of trying to stop you.”

Okay: that was something I hadn’t expected to hear. I stared at him, and he smiled. I wanted to ask why he wouldn’t try to stop me, but I couldn’t find any words. Not a single one.

“I know you too well, Toby,” he said, still smiling. “Sometimes I wish I didn’t, believe me. I’d love to have some illusions to cling to—but I don’t anymore. I just know you too well.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“Don’t be. I went off to play the hero myself, once. I’d do it again, if I had to.” His smile turned wistful. “I’d do it all again, and I’d do it differently. When certain people wanted to walk away, well . . . it would be different. But we can’t change the past, and now I get to watch you ride away. I saw you born. I watched you grow from a confused little girl into one of my finest knights. I shouldn’t have to see you die.”

I closed my eyes, shuddering. He wasn’t trying to talk me out of it, and somehow, that made it worse. “I’m sorry. But this is important.”

“That’s the only reason I can let you go. Look at me, please.” I opened my eyes. He was holding out his sheathed sword with steady hands. “I know where you’re going. I won’t stop you. But I won’t let you go alone.”

“Sylvester—”

He kept talking, ignoring my objection. “This was my father’s sword. He gave her to me the first time I rode to war; he said she’d never failed him, and that she wouldn’t fail me either. If I had a son, she would be his—she would have belonged to Raysel, if Raysel wanted her. But my daughter never understood what it meant to bear your father’s sword.”

“Sylvester?” This was too much, too fast. I didn’t know how to defend myself from it.

“She’s not a gift: I want her back. If I have to, I’ll reclaim her when I ride to avenge you. But you wouldn’t forgive me if I followed you now; you wouldn’t let me steal your vengeance, and dear May’s presence tells me you won’t come home whether I ride with you or not. I can let you go if you take my father’s sword.”

“Why?”

“Because when I was younger, I was a hero.” He leaned down and kissed my forehead as he pressed the sword into my hands. “Go in glory, Toby. If you have to die, do it well. If you can come back to us, come home.”

I bit my lip to keep myself from crying. “Sylvester—”

“You can’t thank me, and you can’t promise to come back, and those are the only things I want to hear.” He smiled again, smoothing my hair with one hand. “If he kills you, take him with you. End this. That’s all I ask. I love you.”

Turning, he walked away into the woods, leaving me alone with Spike and, clutching his father’s sword. When I was sure he wouldn’t hear me, I whispered, “I love you, too.”

I knelt, meeting Spike’s eyes. “You stay here. Watch Sylvester. Don’t let him cry for me. All right?” It looked at me assessingly before bounding after Sylvester. I straightened. If someone was looking after Sylvester, even a rose goblin, I could go. I could leave him if he wasn’t alone. Not that I had much of a choice.

The sword was surprisingly light; I wasn’t large, but I could lift it. That was probably part of why Sylvester gave it—her—to me. He knew she’d serve me well, and while he couldn’t take vengeance himself, he could make sure his sword did it for him. Clever guy. I could almost make myself forget that he’d mourn for me. Almost, but not quite. Slinging the scabbard over my shoulder, I started down the hill, pausing at the edge of the trees to fill my hands with shadows and wrap myself in a human disguise that hid both my pointed ears and the sword. I shivered as the illusion settled over me, unable to keep from thinking,
This is the last time.
There wasn’t time to start regretting things. It was time to go.

Danny was waiting in the parking lot. Sylvester really
had
known that I’d be leaving. One of the Barghests was sitting in the front passenger seat, panting amiably. I slid into the back. Danny looked up and smiled, catching my eyes in the mirror.

“Long time no see, hey, Daye?”

“Hey, Danny.” I closed my eyes. “Wake me when we get there, okay?”

“You got it.”

We pulled up in front of the Luidaeg’s house a little more than an hour later. Danny was true to his word and didn’t wake me until we were parked at the front of the Luidaeg’s alley. The Barghest followed him out of the car when he climbed out to hug me good-bye, hopping and slobbering on us like the corgi it utterly failed to resemble. I leaned down to scratch its ears, and it washed my face thoroughly with a raspy tongue.

“This one’s Iggy,” said Danny, proudly. “He’s almost house-trained already.”

“You must be so proud.” I straightened, offering him a small smile. “Open roads, Danny. It’s been fun.”

“Come see the kennels next weekend, and that’s an order,” he said, picking Iggy up under one arm and climbing back into the cab. I waved as he drove away, then turned to head for the Luidaeg’s door.

It opened before I had the chance to knock. “I expected you hours ago.”

“Sorry. I had to get a few things.”

The Luidaeg glanced at the scabbard on my shoulder. “Is that Sylvester’s sword?”

“Yeah.”

“He was always a bit of a sap.” She looked to my face, studying me. There were dark circles around her eyes. She was tired, and if I could see it, she was
too
tired. Would she have the strength to do what I needed her to do? “You’re planning to do the hero thing, aren’t you?”