An Artificial Night

“Just wanted a look at the dead woman walking,” she said, and smiled.

Rayseline Torquill would have been scary no matter who she was, and what I’d learned about Luna’s side of the family didn’t do anything to make her less unnerving. It didn’t help that she looked more like her father than her mother, with the Torquill family’s characteristic fox-red hair and honey-colored eyes. With her porcelain complexion and delicate features, she projected the illusion of perfect, unquestionable purity and goodness. At least until she opened her mouth.

“Toby?” said May, uncertainly. “She doesn’t really mean that, does she?”

I wanted to tell her no, but I wasn’t sure that I could lie to my Fetch and make her believe it. I shook my head instead, and Rayseline laughed, sounding utterly delighted.

“Look at that! She can’t even admit to it!” She took a step forward, chin dropped so that she was looking at me from beneath lowered brows. She looked like a predator. “He’s got claws in her. He’s got hands on her. She’s going back.”

“Toby . . .”

“He kept my knife,” I said, as reasonably as I could. “Dare gave me that knife. He doesn’t get to keep my knife.”

“There are other knives.” May grabbed my arm,jerking me a step to the left. Spike rattled in protest, but didn’t remove its claws from my shoulder. “There are entire stores that sell just knives. We’ll get you a new knife.”

“Oh, this isn’t about knives, is it, October?” Raysel kept smiling. “My husband cried himself to sleep whispering your name. I hope you die screaming. Better yet, I hope you live that way.”

“Toby, don’t be stupid. I already broke the rules to save your life. I can’t do it again.”

“Gosh, little Fetch, did you really?” Raysel’s attention swung toward May. “My grandfather takes his time breaking things. Maybe you just didn’t want to wait around.”

May gasped. Pleasantly, I said, “Raysel, if you don’t get out of here, I’m going to punch you in the face.”

A brief spasm of rage twisted Raysel’s features before smoothing back into her predatory smile. “I should kill you right here, but I won’t,” she said. “What’s ahead will hurt you ever so much worse.” She turned on her heel and stalked out of the room, leaving us to stare after her.

Voice shaking, May said, “She’s wrong, isn’t she? You’re not going back.”

“I have to. He’s in my head, May.” I turned toward her. Her face was still the twin of mine, but it wasn’t a mirror anymore; she’d had weeks to make it her own. She looked worried, frightened, and like herself. That was reassuring. At least she’d had a chance to have a life. “I can feel him. I can almost hear him, sometimes. I don’t think I can get away from him without facing him.”

“That’s stupid. It’s stupid, and it’s suicidal, and I won’t let you.”

“I don’t think you get a say, hon,” I said, gently removing her fingers from my arm. She didn’t fight me. She just stood there, watching bleakly, as I took Spike from my shoulder, set it down on the floor, and turned to walk out of the room. She didn’t follow.

Spike did. I walked about halfway down the hall, the sound of its claws always clicking a few feet behind me on the marble floor. Finally, I turned to look at it. It promptly sat down, watching me with lambent, narrowed eyes.

“You’re not coming,” I said.

It stood and walked forward, sitting down right next to my feet.

“You’re not coming. It’s not safe.”

The look it gave me was almost disgusted. If you’re going, said the look, I can go, too.