An Artificial Night

“Clumsy and stupid,” he said, with a note of respect in his voice. He let go of me, walking over to my car. May was leaning against the hood, and the children were inside. All the children. When the Luidaeg bends space, she doesn’t screw around.

You can fit four people in a VW bug if they’re friendly; you can manage five if you don’t need oxygen inside the car and six if no one cares about having feeling in their limbs. That’s it, period, you’ve reached the limit. I never got an exact count of the children I’d rescued from Blind Michael, but there were more than twenty, and all of them, except for Raj and Quentin, were in the backseat. I knew my car wasn’t big enough. My eyes were telling me it was.

Never argue with reality when it’s working for you. I walked over to open the passenger side door, saying, “Okay, everybody in.”

Quentin and Raj climbed into the back, Quentin pausing to squeeze my shoulder. I settled in the front, barely flinching as Spike jumped onto my lap with all claws extended. “Is everybody okay back there?”

There was a mumbled chorus of assent. May walked around and sat in the driver’s seat, fastening her seat belt. “Everyone buckled up?” The chorus mumbled again. “Good!”

I gave her a sidelong look as I fastened my own belt. “Worried about safety?”

“Yup. No one’s immortal.” She winked. I suppressed a shudder. “Where to?”

“Shadowed Hills.”

“Whatever you say, Boss!” She slammed the clutch back, and we were suddenly hurtling down the street at a speed fast enough to make me grab the dashboard and gape at her. Not being able to see through the windshield didn’t help. I’d forgotten how scary it is to be a kid in a car. You don’t know where you’re going, you don’t know how you’re getting there, and you don’t know whether you’re going to survive the trip.

May’s driving wasn’t helping. She didn’t turn the wheel; she attacked it, like she was wrestling snakes instead of steering the car. Some of the kids roused themselves enough to treat it like a roller coaster ride, cheering as we careened around corners and through stop signs. I just closed my eyes and waited for the inevitable crash.

Shadowed Hills is normally more than a thirty-minute drive from the Luidaeg’s place. I didn’t open my eyes until I felt the car bump to a surprisingly gentle stop, and even then I only looked up cautiously, half expecting to find us dangling over a ravine or something. Instead, we were parked in the Paso Nogal parking lot, well clear of any other cars.

May grinned, looking pleased with herself. “As requested, Shadowed Hills.”

“Peachy,” I said dryly, climbing out of the car and pulling the seat forward to let the others out. Quentin and Katie came first, the young Daoine Sidhe guiding his half-crippled girlfriend with almost painful care. She stumbled as she walked; her knees were trying to bend the wrong way. The changes were still accelerating. That scared me. That scared me a lot.

I stepped over and slid my arm under Katie’s, helping to hold her up. “Watch the kids,” I said to May, more sharply than I meant to. It wasn’t fair to blame her. That’s never stopped me before. “I’m going to help Quentin get Katie inside.”

“You don’t need to,” Quentin said. He sounded exhausted. Worse, he sounded broken. I wasn’t willing to accept that. No more losses, damn it. I wasn’t giving anyone else up.

“I want to,” I said. Katie leaned on my arm, still oblivious to her surroundings. Quentin finally nodded, and we started up the hill, guiding her along. Spike followed us, stalking along at my feet as we walked slowly into the trees.





EIGHTEEN



THE DOOR IN THE OAK SWUNG OPEN under my hand. We stepped into the receiving hall, still supporting Katie between us like a broken doll. Luna and Sylvester were standing just inside the door, clearly waiting for us; someone must have spotted us coming up the hill. Sylvester’s jaw dropped when we came into view, and he stared at me with openmouthed dismay. Luna didn’t match it; she didn’t look surprised at all.