An Artificial Night

“Yes. It’s time.” I got into the car, closing the door before I said, “Connor?”


He lifted his head off the steering wheel, expression bleak. “Yes?”

“Can you take us to Golden Gate Park, please?”

“Oh, sure. Can I get you anything else while I’m at it? My heart on a stick? The moon and stars for your funeral gown?” He released the parking brake and started the engine.

“Don’t be like that.”

“Don’t be like what? All you’ve left for me to do is bury you.”

“Connor—”

“If you’ve ever given a damn about me, Toby, just do me a favor and shut up.”

I fell silent. There were a lot of things I wanted to say, but I couldn’t find the words to make them come out right. Neither of us spoke for the rest of the drive. Even Spike huddled silently in my lap, occasionally rattling its thorns in distress.

The kids were in better spirits. Only the Cait Sidhe were left, and they knew they were going home. The noise didn’t bother me—they kept it mostly to themselves, trying not to intrude on the cloud of gloom that covered the front seat, and when they got out of control, Raj settled them down again by means of occasional cuffs and snarls. I didn’t intervene.

The Court of Cats is different than the other Courts of Faerie. Tybalt was the current King of the Bay Area, but someday that would change; someday, he’d be replaced, and Raj was the most likely heir. The King of Cats must be dominant in every way. He’s the one who gets the greatest share of every kill, first pick of the women, and the finest of all the Cait Sidhe have to offer, but he’s also the one who protects the Court. Cats won’t obey the weak: to be King, you must be cunning, clever, and strong. Fear matters as much as respect, and if Raj was going to be King, he’d need the loyalty of his peers. That was the glue that would cement his throne.

Tybalt would have to die for Raj to become King. That idea bothered the hell out of me.

May sat quietly in the back, looking almost pensive as she watched the kids giggle and fight. What does Death have to be pensive about? She’d die when I did, that was a start. I wasn’t sure it counted, since she only existed to foretell my death, but still.

Connor pulled up in front of Golden Gate Park, starting to turn onto the main road, and the car stopped with a rattling thunk. He tried the ignition a few times, and sighed. “It’s dead.”

“That’s fine, we’re here.” I opened the door. “Come on, kids. Connor, see if you can push the car out of the road? I don’t want to cause an accident.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Why not?” Connor drew himself up to his full height, glaring at me. He looked pissed, and I couldn’t blame him; he expected me to die anytime. He wanted to be there.

Raj kept me from having to answer. He eyed Connor imperiously as he stepped out of the car, saying, “The Court of Cats isn’t open ground, and you’re not invited.”

“That’s not fair.”

“And?” He shook his head, every inch a Prince of Cats. “You aren’t invited. She isn’t invited either,” he indicated May. “Only her.” He looked to me, eyes narrowed. “My uncle’s going to want to talk to her.”

“Gee, lucky me,” I muttered.

“I don’t like this,” said Connor. “If we can’t go, neither should she.”

“I agree,” said May.