An Artificial Night

I did, raising my aching head until the King of Cats swam into view. His shirt was half-shredded, and he was covered in blood, but he didn’t look hurt. “We should go,” he said, offering his hand. “The rest of Blind Michael’s men won’t be very amused.”


“How did you—” I shoved the knife into its sheath, taking his hand and using it to lever myself off the ground. The motion made my head spin. Damn it. Just once, I’d like to be attacked without somebody trying to crack my skull.

“The Luidaeg called me,” he said. I must have stared, because he flashed a brief, genuine smile. “She said you weren’t allowed to ask for help. She, on the other hand, is welcome to ask for whatever she wants.”

“Did she actually ask?” I said, checking my candle to make sure it wasn’t damaged. The flame was still burning clean and blue, thank Oberon.

“No,” he replied. “Does she ever?”

“I guess not,” I said. “You just here to save my butt?”

“She seemed to think you might like an escort.”

I stared at him, pride fighting a brief, losing battle with my common sense. Did I want to admit that I needed help? Hell, no. Was I going to make it to Shadowed Hills if I didn’t? Probably not.

“Yeah,” I said, with a sigh. “I could use one.”

He chuckled, and the hair on the back of my neck rose in an entirely different way. “Sometimes, you are entirely too proud. I’m not trying to get you back into my debt, you realize. You saved the children of my Court. I’m glad to have a chance to help.”

“I ...” I stopped, not sure what to say. Tybalt was my enemy, damn it; we sniped and argued and held each other in debt. We didn’t do favors. He shouldn’t offer to help me without any strings attached. It wasn’t right. And he definitely shouldn’t smile while he made the offer. Because if we weren’t going to be enemies anymore, I didn’t know what we were. Slowly, I asked, “You’ll get me there?”

“If I can. You need me. Every minute you waste is a minute you can’t afford.”

He had me there. “Fine,” I said. “You can help me.” I was trying to make it seem like I was doing him the favor. It made me feel better, even though we both knew it was a lie.

“Good.” He rose and started walking, forcing me to follow or be left behind. My head was spinning, but I found that if I kept my eyes on him, I could move in a straight line. That was a good sign. I wasn’t having any trouble walking; that was another good sign. If we kept collecting good signs, I might reach Shadowed Hills alive.

We’d gone almost a mile when Tybalt stopped and sniffed the air, stiffening. I glanced at my candle, reassured to see that it was still burning a clean blue. “Tybalt, what’s—”

“Shhh,” he hissed. “Something’s coming.”

“Where?” I peered down the street. There was no one there, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything: if Tybalt said something was coming, he meant it. “Tybalt—”

“I think it’s time to consider running,” he said, grabbing my free hand.

“What?”

“Run!” He bolted, hauling me with him. I stumbled but forced myself to ignore the sickening jouncing of the landscape all around us. Finally I just squeezed my eyes shut and ran blind, letting him guide me through the dark.

I could hear them around us as soon as my eyes were closed. The air came alive with hungry, panting sighs and the shrill cries of the monstrous children from Blind Michael’s halls. The Riders weren’t working, so the bastard was trying something new. He’d unleashed the only hounds he had—the children nobody had saved.

We ran until my legs buckled under me and I fell, nearly yanking my hand out of Tybalt’s. He paused long enough to grab me and swing me up into his arms before he started running again, faster than before. I huddled against him, gasping for air. The sounds of pursuit were getting dimmer: we were outrunning them, at least for now.