An Artificial Night

“Because she drives like a manic on crystal meth! Now get moving before I take the wheel and do it myself!”


I didn’t think my driving was that much of a threat, but apparently, I was wrong. Connor unfastened his belt and scooted over into the passenger seat, smashing me against the door until I unfastened my seat belt, squirmed free, and balanced myself on his leg. He kept his hands on the steering wheel until May scrambled over the seat and grabbed it, shouting, “Now what?”

“You were driving earlier! Just drive!” I jabbed Connor in the side with my elbow. “Let go of the wheel and buckle up. This is going to get rough.”

May was working herself into a panic. “That was just a game!”

“So pretend this is another one!” All the kids were awake now, and several were starting to cry. Trying to sound jovial, I called, “Hey, kids, if you’re not wearing a seat belt, put it on!” They’d already been traumatized enough; they didn’t need to watch me argue with my Fetch. Then again, neither did Connor.

He fastened his belt, looking at me bleakly. I reached up to grab the oh-shit handle with one hand, offering him the other. When he took it, I squeezed his fingers. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“Liar,” he said.

May fought the wheel, trying to steer. She was being too delicate about it. We’d be lucky if they didn’t catch us before we got off the bridge. “Toby!”

I squirmed around to get a better look at the Riders behind us, snapping, “Just drive!”

“Why me?” she wailed.

“Because if you don’t, we’re all going to die!” There was something ironic about forcing my Fetch to save my life, but I could dwell on that later, after we’d survived the experience.

May stared at me, then nodded and slammed her foot down on the gas. At least she knew which pedals to use. The car roared like a wounded beast and leaped forward, accelerating at a distinctly unsafe speed. Finally.

If I even suspected that my driving was half as bad as hers you’d never get me behind the wheel of a car again. She rode wild across all four lanes of traffic, weaving between cars that couldn’t see through the Luidaeg’s don’t-look-here spell and thus didn’t realize we were there. It was a good thing, too; if they’d been able to see us, we’d have caused more than a few accidents. More and more of the children were screaming. I understood the sentiment.

Connor pulled his hand out of mine and covered his face, closing his eyes. I glanced at him, trying to pretend that I wasn’t clinging to Spike for dear life. “Coward.”

“Your point?” he muttered, not looking up. I sighed. Fine. If he wanted to be that way, it was no skin off my nose. I looked to the rearview mirror to check on the locations of the Riders and smiled. My plan was working; they were still behind us, but our lead was growing because May’s driving was too erratic for them to predict. Drivers—even faerie drivers—usually follow the rules of the road out of a sense of self-preservation. May, well . . . May didn’t.

I’ve been driving since I went to work for Devin, and May knew everything I did. Thing is, watching a surgeon on TV doesn’t make you a doctor. It just means you know what surgery looks like. May didn’t have my muscle memory. She’d actually driven a car all of once, during the relatively simple trip from the Luidaeg’s apartment to Shadowed Hills, and even then she’d shown a dismaying tendency to drive the wrong way down one-way streets, ignore traffic lights, and attempt to use the sidewalk as an extra lane. Now . . .