An Artificial Night

“Patience! Dad’s balls, they don’t teach kids any manners anymore. I should slaughter the lot of you.” She shook her head. “There are other roads.”


“How do I find them?”

“You’ve been on one of them before. The Rose Road.”

“What?” I frowned. “But I thought—”

“Luna sent you on the Rose Road the first time you came here, and that means you have the right to pass there. I can’t open it for you, but she can.”

Luna Torquill was one of the last people I wanted to deal with. I put the thought resolutely aside, nodding. “All right. I’ll ask her.”

“Little problem. It won’t be that easy.”

“What do you mean?”

“It starts now.” She snapped her fingers. My candle lit, burning blue-green. I felt the shock of the blood inside the wax waking up again. “When you leave this room, you’re on the road. You can get there and back by the candle’s light, but Lily didn’t do you any favors; it’s going to be harder now. The Rose Road has rules when you use it for more than just a shortcut.”

“What are they?”

“When you leave—and you’d better do it soon—don’t look back, no matter what you see or hear. You can take any help you find, but you can’t ask for it; it has to be offered.”

“So they’re the same as before. Got it. Anything else?” I asked sourly.

“Actually, yes.”

I sighed. “I had to ask, didn’t I?”

“I’m serious; this is important,” she said. “You have twenty-four hours, no more. If you can’t get there and back in that time, you won’t get there at all, and the Rose Road will be closed to you forever.”

“But—”

“That means more than you think it does. You can’t take the Old Road; the Blood Road would kill you; the Tidal Road is lost for anything bigger than bringing you to me. It’s this road or none, and you’d better go.” She crossed to a small wardrobe, opening it. “Lily thinks too much about appearances—you can’t go in what you’re wearing. Here.” She tossed me a sweater, a pair of black leggings and a belt with an attached sheath. “Get changed and get out.”

“Luidaeg, I—”

“Toby, do it.” Something in her expression told me not to argue.

Getting the robe off was easy. Getting the sweater on without dropping the candle or setting my hair on fire was hard, but after a few false starts, I managed to get everything in place. I straightened, shoving my knife into the sheath. “Now what?” I asked.

“Now you leave.” She pointed to the door. “Go that way. Now.”

“Are you—”

“When you reach Shadowed Hills, tell Luna to send the horse-girl to me. I’ll try to help.” She paused. “If you get yourself killed, I’ll hurt you in ways you can’t even imagine.”

“I—”

“Go!”

I backed away, stopping when my shoulders hit the wall. The Luidaeg folded her arms, glaring until I found the doorknob, fumbled it open, and backed out into the hall. The door slammed shut in my face. The hall seemed to stretch as I made my way to the front door, the shadows growing darker and harder to deny. I gripped my candle and kept walking. If I’d been the only thing at stake, I might have wavered, but it wasn’t just me. Stacy didn’t deserve to lose her daughter; Quentin didn’t deserve to lose his girlfriend. And I was going to get them back.

I was halfway down the hall when the screaming started, hitting a high, endlessly angry note, as pitiless as the sea. I shivered, but didn’t look back. I’m not Orpheus. I’m not that easy to trick.

The front door opened when I twisted the knob, and I stepped out into the cold air of the September night. I frowned, muttering, “There was sunlight inside . . .” Now time was screwing around with me, too. Just what I needed. I had twenty-four hours to get from downtown San Francisco to Pleasant Hill, break into Blind Michael’s lands, rescue Karen, and get out. All without cash or a car, when I wasn’t allowed to call for help. Right.