An Artificial Night

“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.

And I was physically back to the correct age.

“What the—?” I looked up. At least I wasn’t the only one confused; May and Connor were staring at me, mouths hanging open.

Lily inclined her head, looking satisfied. “As I thought. This suits you far better, given the circumstances.” She knelt, pouring tea into a set of black-and-white patterned cups. “See to the girl; I know you too well to think you’ll listen before you know she lives.”

“Karen!” Suddenly reminded, I rushed over to drop to my knees and press my ear to Karen’s chest. I didn’t really stop holding my breath until I heard the steady, muffled beating of her heart. She had a heartbeat. She was alive. “She’s alive.” I sat up, turning toward the others, and beamed. “She’s alive.”

“I told you that,” said Lily, chidingly. “She’s alive and whole, and there is nothing I can do for her. Now come, all three of you, and drink your tea.”

“Lily—”