An Artificial Night

The other Riders stayed behind, fanning out in an obvious search pattern. I held my breath, but none of them approached our hiding place. They circled farther and farther away, looking behind stones and through the sparse underbrush. I clutched the kitten to my chest, trying to come up with a way out. The forest was less than a hundred yards ahead of us. If the Riders went far enough, we’d have a chance.

In the end, we didn’t need it. The horns began to sound, and the remaining Riders turned as one, galloping out of sight. The sound of hooves faded before the horns did, but eventually even they were gone. I pulled out my candle and was reassured to see that the flame had gone back to a steady blue, flickering upward. I relaxed, assuming that meant we were as close to safe as we were likely to get.

The cat squirmed loose and ran to the edge of the briar, where it stopped and eyed me suspiciously. I didn’t try to stop it. If it wanted to run away, it could take care of itself. “Go ahead,” I said. It flattened its ears and hissed. I sighed. “Okay, whatever.”

Bracing my elbows in the dirt, I crab-walked my way back into the open and stood, holding up the candle and beginning to pick thorns out of my knees with my free hand. The cat crept out after me. I watched it out of the corner of my eye while continuing to remove the thorns from my jeans.

After sniffing warily at the ground, the cat stretched and reared up onto its hind legs. The air crackled with the smell of pepper and burning paper, and the cat was gone, replaced by a gangly teenage boy with bruises covering the left side of his face. He looked like a small fourteen, dark-skinned, with glass green eyes and hair that was the same russet red as his fur. His pupils were thin black slits, and his ears were more feline than human, tipped with fringes of black fur. Cait Sidhe pureblood. “Who are you?” he demanded.

“October Daye,” I said, tucking the thorns I’d collected into my pocket. You never know what you might need later. “Yourself?”

He narrowed his eyes, looking at me disdainfully. I recognized that look; I got it from Tybalt all the time. “My name is Raj. I am—”

“You’re the local Prince of Cats,” I said, cutting him off. “Yeah, I know.”

He wasn’t expecting that. His eyes widened, wariness returning. “How did you know?”

I sighed. I didn’t have the heart to tease him—not after seeing his companion taken. “Like I said, Tybalt sent me. He’s . . .” How could I describe my relationship with the King of Cats? I finally settled for saying, “A friend of mine.”

Raj frowned, eyes narrowing again. “That’s not possible.”

I frowned back. I was too tired to put up with adolescent royalty. “So we’re not friends as much as we’re enemies who haven’t killed each other yet. Does it matter? He sent me to save you.”

“You? Save us?” He laughed bitterly. No child should ever laugh like that. “Come back when you’re older.”

“What?” The disorientation rushed back, trying to keep me from putting the pieces together. Unfortunately, ignorance was becoming a luxury I couldn’t afford. Fighting the impulse to ignore what Raj had said, I looked down, already nearly sure of what I’d see.

Just once, it would be nice to be surprised.