An Artificial Night

“Good for you two,” I said. “Come on, kids. Let’s go.” They glared as I deposited Spike on the seat and got out of the car, but neither moved to follow. In their own odd ways, they’d both known me long enough to know better.

The children were silent as they left the car, leading me across the street into one of the alleys flanking the park. I released my human disguise once we were out of view of the street—it’s rude to enter someone else’s Court looking like something you’re not—and kept guiding the group along. Shadows began gathering around us, shallowly at first, then growing heavier until they were almost a physical presence. I stumbled to a halt. Someone grabbed my hand, yanking hard, and I fell into the dark. I gasped, struggling for breath in the sudden cold . . .

. . . and staggered into the light. We were at the end of a broad alley, our backs toward the wall. Cats ringed the walls, and more cats filled the alley, perching on fences, crates, and trash cans. Several human-form Cait Sidhe stood or sprawled on heaps of cloth and newspapers on the alley floor. There was a moment of stunned silence, cats and children staring at each other, before the alley erupted in triumphant howls from both sides. They were home.

A gray and white tabby transformed into a man with matching stripes in his hair and ran toward us, sweeping Raj into a hasty embrace as an Abyssinian cat with long, lithe limbs leaped up onto his shoulder. They started talking rapidly in an Arabic-sounding language, the cat yowling comments that both seemed to understand. The other Cait Sidhe swirled around us, laughing in delight as they reclaimed their children.

Folding my arms, I smiled. “Well,” I said, quietly, “looks like we win this one.”

The sounds of laughter and greeting masked the footsteps. There was no warning; just sudden pain as a hand grabbed my throat and whipped me around, slamming me hard against the wall. I found myself staring into wild, familiar eyes, open wide above a death-mask grin.

“Hi, Toby—miss me?” chirped Julie. Streaks of dirt were smeared down her cheeks, and her tiger-striped hair was matted. That was bad. The Cait Sidhe are obsessive about cleanliness; if she’d let herself go that far, she probably wasn’t going to listen to reason. Crazy people rarely do. “Enjoying your second childhood? Let’s make it your last!”

She raised her free hand, extending her claws. As a half-blood, Julie didn’t inherit many of her long-dead fae parent’s physical traits; the claws are an exception, but they could be a deadly one. Sunlight gleamed off them, making them look sharp enough to cut through glass. Her grip on my throat was tight enough that I could barely breathe, much less try to escape. Still grinning, she brought her hand down toward my chest in a hard slashing motion.





TWENTY-ONE



RAJ SLAMMED INTO JULIE FROM THE SIDE, his own claws extended. I saw his face for an instant as he rammed into her, and there was a sharp, feral madness in his eyes. I’d seen that madness before in Tybalt, usually just before something died.

Blood was running down the sides of my throat. I reached up to touch it, almost wonderingly, just before my legs buckled and I fell. Something popped in my right knee. I rolled onto my side, biting back a scream. Maybe I was smaller than normal, but my knees still weren’t all that good. The Luidaeg made me younger. She didn’t take away my scars.

The other Cait Sidhe had pulled away from the combatants, giving them room to fight without interfering. Raj’s teeth were buried in Julie’s shoulder, and she was trying to claw his arm off, both of them shrieking. Cats don’t fight quietly. The two of them started rolling over each other with the fury of their attacks, moving away from me. I scrambled to my feet, grabbing the nearest heavy object—a two-by-four I could barely lift—and started forward, trying to avoid putting any weight on my right leg.