Seanan McGuire - An Artificial Night

“ ‘If we shadows have offended, think but this, and all is mended,’”I said. The smell of copper and cut grass rose around us, damped down and made small by the alien nature of Blind Michael’s lands. “ ‘That you have but slumbered here while these visions did appear …’ ” The spell wasn’t taking hold. I needed more blood; I wasn’t strong enough to catch her without it. I’ve never been strong enough to work without the blood.

I raised my wounded hand to my mouth and sucked at the deepest of the scratches. The blood was hot and bitter. “ ‘And this weak and idle theme, no more yielding but a dream.’ ” The smell of copper burst around us, leaving me with a pounding headache. Magic takes strength, and I was running out.

Katie’s face went slack as the spell took hold. I shook my head to clear it and said, “Katie, you don’t feel well. You have an upset stomach, and you want to go home. You don’t see anything strange, you just feel a little sick. Your boyfriend is going to walk you home. Do you understand?” She nodded, expression unchanging. I patted her hand, and she didn’t pull away. “Good. Quentin will be here in a moment.” She nodded again and smiled, settling in to wait. She’d wait until Quentin came or the spell ran out, whichever came first. As long as nothing broke my illusions, she’d be fine, but any major shock could jolt her back into the present. I needed to keep her away from mirrors and away from Blind Michael.

I stood, breathing unevenly. “Quentin, hurry. You need to get her out of here.”

“Are you all right?”

“It’s just a little magic burn. I’ll be fine. Now hurry.” He nodded and walked back over to Katie, kneeling in the straw. “Kates? You okay?”

She smiled. The spell was working; thank Maeve for that. “Hi, Quentin. I’ve been waiting. Are you gonna take me home now?”

“Yeah,” he said, and smiled back. I don’t think she could see his tears through the illusions clouding her eyes. “I’ll take you home. Are you ready to go?”

“Oh, yeah. I just don’t feel good.” She stumbled as she stood, and Quentin caught her. The tail was throwing her off-balance. Katie frowned. “I think I need to lie down.”

“It’s okay,” he said, leading her toward the exit. “I’ll get you home.”

I followed as fast as I could, trying to pretend that it didn’t hurt to leave the other locked doors behind. There were more children behind those doors, changing into something they didn’t understand, and I couldn’t save them. That much magic wouldn’t just hurt me; it might kill me, and then what would my children do? Blind Michael was going to pay for everything he’d done, but most of all, he was going to pay for making me walk away and leave those children behind. I’d come back for them if I could, but my kids needed me first. And it wasn’t fair. Life so rarely is.

Just once, I’d like to find a real hero, someone who can save the day, because I’m obviously not cut out for the job. I followed Quentin and Katie out of the stable, half blinded by pain and anger, and once we were safely hidden by the shadows of the plains, I let myself cry. I’d have to stop before we reached the forest—the kids needed me to look strong—but for the moment, it helped.

Where the hell’s my hero?

JESSICA CAME RACING OUT OF THE TREES as we approached, already sobbing. She slammed into me and buried her face against my shoulder. I managed to brace myself enough to absorb the impact without falling over, but it was a close thing; we were too similar in size for that kind of collision to be comfortable. “Aunt Birdie!” she wailed, voice muffled. “I thought you weren’t c-coming back!”

I sighed, letting go of Quentin’s hand and stroking her hair. “I’ve been getting that a lot lately.” Spike came slinking out of the woods and sat by my feet, thorns bristling as it whined in the back of its throat. I understood the warning it was giving us; we couldn’t afford to dawdle. Blind Michael promised safety once we were out of his lands—or at least he’d promised safety for the kids I’d bargained for, and I didn’t want to consider what that might mean for the rest—but he’d never said anything about leaving us alone inside his borders.

“Are you back for keeps? Can we go home now?”

“I’m back.” I looked over Jessica’s head to watch Quentin guide Katie the last few yards.

Katie had fallen into brittle silence as we walked, using Quentin as much for guidance as for balance. The spell clouding her vision could only take so much abuse, and she could keep it alive longer if she refused to see what was going on. Smart girl. I wondered numbly whether Quentin realized she’d lost a shoe, and whether, if he did, he realized that it was because her feet were already broad and blackened, more than halfway to being hooves. The changes were continuing. They were slow, but they weren’t stopping.

“Come on,” I said, shifting Jessica so that she was just clinging to my arm. “We need to get back to the others.”

“And then we’ll go home?” whispered Jessica.

“Yeah, baby. Then we’ll go home.” I started walking, heading toward where we’d left the rest of the children. The word “home” seemed to give Jessica some of her confidence back, because she let go of me after a few steps, darting ahead and vanishing into the trees.

Raj and the others had been hard at work while we were away. Five of the older kids were busy lashing bundles of sticks together as they finished Helen’s litter, and there were sentries posted in the trees, almost invisible through the leaves until you walked under them. I smiled faintly. “Leave it to the Cait Sidhe to take to guerrilla warfare without blinking,” I said.

“What?” asked Raj, appearing accompanied by the smell of pepper and burning paper.

Quentin jumped, nearly knocking Katie over. I just shook my head. One good thing about spending years being tormented by Tybalt: I don’t surprise as easily as I used to where the Cait Sidhe are concerned.

“I was just saying that you seem to have things pretty organized,” I said, taking a better look around. The kids that Raj didn’t have on sentry duty or building a litter had mostly gone to sleep, pillowed in the leaves and clinging to one another. Those that were still awake but unoccupied were sitting with Helen, listening raptly as she spoke. From the way she was moving her hands, I guessed she was telling them a story, and for a moment, I almost envied her. Whether we lived or died, the pressure wasn’t on her. She was taking care of the children and leaving the heroics to Raj—and to me. Lucky us.

“Busy is easier than idle,” he said, one ear flicking back. Turning, he looked at Quentin and Katie, and frowned. “Is this your friend?” he asked.

Quentin nodded. “This is Katie.”

“I thought you said she was—”

“That’s enough,” I said. The spell I’d cast on Katie was keeping her from noticing the changes in her body—and don’t think I didn’t see the irony, considering what the Luidaeg had done to me—but it wasn’t going to stand up to someone questioning her humanity where she could hear it. “Raj, is the litter ready?”

“Almost,” he said, looking bemused.

“Good.” Andrew rose from the group around Helen when he heard my voice, walking over to take hold of my sweater. I sighed and stood a little straighter, sliding my arm around him. I had to be their hero whether I liked it or not; I was the only option they had. “Quentin, Raj, leave Katie with me and start collecting the others. We need to move.”

Helen looked up, eyes going wide. “But everyone’s exhausted!” she protested. “We can’t move yet.”