An Artificial Night

I led the way onto the plains with Jessica on my arm and Andrew clinging to my shirt, the hand-holding chains re-forming behind them. Quentin walked beside me, supporting as much of Katie’s weight as he could. I’d been more concerned about Helen, but I’d also underestimated how quickly Raj would be able to find the strongest among the children: six of them traded off dragging the litter, taking turns so that no one got too tired, while the youngest took turns riding with Helen. It was a good system, and it kept us moving faster than I’d hoped.

Spike stayed near the back of the procession, whining and rattling its thorns as it urged us to keep moving. Blind Michael couldn’t miss us forever. Worse, my candle was still melting; it was barely half the size it was when the Luidaeg gave it to me, and I didn’t know how much longer it would last.

Raj wandered up to the front after rotating the litter-bearers, glancing back over his shoulder. “Where are we going?” he asked, voice low. “Everyone is getting tired. We’ll have to make Helen walk soon.”

Sometimes you have to admire the bloody-minded selfishness of cats. It was obvious that he didn’t care about most of the kids, but Helen was his. He wanted her to be safe.

I was too tired to lie. “I don’t know.”

“What?” he demanded, ears flattening. Even Quentin turned to stare at me, his arm tightening around Katie.

“We can get there and back by the light of a candle.” I shrugged. “We have the candle. Now we just need to find the way out.”

“Didn’t you get a . . . a . . . a tracing spell, or a map, or something?”

“I got a candle.” The instructions said to get “there and back again.” That meant I needed to exit where I’d started, if I was going to exit at all, and that meant the plains.

“What if it’s not enough?” he asked. Jessica raised her head, eyes wide. I glanced around. Several of the other children were staring at us, expressions troubled. He was scaring them.

Right. I glared, saying, “That’s enough. Raj, please don’t make this worse than it is. I’ll get us out of here. I promise.” Me and my big mouth. Promises are binding; I need to learn to stop making them. The Cait Sidhe looked at me for a long moment before turning and walking back to Helen’s litter, posture telegraphing his displeasure. I couldn’t blame him—I wouldn’t have been any happier in his place—but we needed to keep moving.

We walked for what felt like hours before the landscape began becoming more familiar. The rocks began to look less random and more like landmarks. I stopped when I saw the first footprints. Waving the group to a halt, I knelt, studying the ground. “Quentin, Raj, come here.”

Quentin reluctantly handed Katie off to one of the litter-bearers and walked over, reaching me just as Raj did. “What’s up?” he asked.

I indicated the footprints. “Are these mine?”

“They smell like you,” Raj said.

Quentin’s answer took more time as he looked from my reduced feet to the marks in the dirt and back several times. Finally, he nodded. “Yes.”

“Good.” I rose. This was where I’d entered Blind Michael’s lands. If there was a way out, we’d find it here. “We rest here.”

The children dropped where they were, forming loose circles as they flopped on the stony ground. Quentin led Katie to one of the larger rocks, helping her settle. The tail was a problem; she wasn’t aware of its existence, but she couldn’t sit on it without hurting herself. Quentin finally reached around and moved it out of the way, pulling his hands away from the silky hair like he’d been burned.

Katie smiled glassily. “Will we be home soon?” The changes were continuing; thin lines of white hair now ran down her cheeks like a parody of sideburns.

“Sure, Kates. Sure.” He gave me a pleading look. Of course. Leave it to Toby—she needs another ulcer.

My candle was dwindling, still burning a steady blue. We were safe, but for how much longer? I was afraid to risk another invocation.The two I’d done already had used up most of the wax, and we couldn’t afford a failure.