Seanan McGuire - An Artificial Night

I didn’t pause to think. I pulled my hand out of the thorns, grabbed Andrew and shoved him at her, then pushed Jessica after him. Raj and Quentin seemed to get the idea, because they started herding the children toward the door. Katie and Helen were among the first. Then the Riders came over the hill, and there was a mad rush as children raced for freedom. In no time at all, it was just Raj, Spike, and me, standing on the wrong side of a door between the worlds.

“Toby, come on!” shouted Quentin, reaching back toward us. I looked over my shoulder, shoving Raj into his arms. The weight of the Cait Sidhe knocked Quentin backward, leaving me with a clear escape route. Spike jumped after him, hissing as it went.

That was it. “Toby!” the Luidaeg shouted. I jumped, reaching for her—

—and a hand grabbed my ankle, dragging me back. I screamed, scrabbling for purchase in the thorns.

“The candle!” the Luidaeg called. “You don’t need it anymore!”

The candle? I twisted around and flung it away as hard as I could, catching a glimpse of darkness and horns as it hit the Rider holding me. He let go of my ankle, falling back with a scream. Then the Luidaeg had me, pulling me through the hole in the world. Everything went dark. There was a boom, like something sealing itself, and the light returned in a flash.

I was on top of the Luidaeg in the middle of her kitchen floor, surrounded by frightened, crying children. I blinked at her, trying to figure out what had happened.

“Are you done, or do you need a nap?” she demanded. “You’re heavy. Get off.”

“Sorry.” I pushed myself away from her, wincing as I put pressure on my sliced-up hands. The kitchen seemed too large, and the children were still too close to my height; leaving Blind Michael’s lands hadn’t broken the spell. Swell. “Is everyone here?”

“All of us,” Raj called, helping one of the others stand. “We’re all here.”

“Alive,” added Helen. I looked around anyway, reassuring myself. The kids were frightened and crying, but none of them looked any worse than they had on the plains. Katie was seated in one of the few intact chairs with Quentin behind her. He was stroking her hair, wincing when his fingers hit a patch of white. My spell was holding; she was smiling, oblivious to it all.

“Oh, thank Maeve,” I breathed, looking back to the Luidaeg. “Your gifts worked.” Thanking her mother was as close as I could get to thanking her.

She smiled, the brown bleeding back into her eyes. “I knew they would. You made it.”

“Yeah, we did.” I paused. “Luidaeg … I’m still a kid.”

“And a cute one at that.” She grinned. “Bet your mom could just eat you up. You’re a bit pointier than you used to be, but that’s what you get for wrestling with thorn briars.”

“How long is this going to last?”

“Not long.” She sobered, shaking her head. There was something I didn’t recognize behind the darkness in her eyes. I didn’t like it. “Not long at all.”

“Luidaeg?”

“What?” She frowned, the strangeness fading. “You need to get these brats out of here. I can’t stand kids.”

“Of course.” I make it a rule not to push the Luidaeg when she doesn’t want to be pushed. I don’t want to be a snack food. “Can I use your phone?”

“Why?” she asked.

“I can’t exactly drive like this.” Although the idea of a car full of kids careening down the highway was amusing, it wasn’t practical. For one thing, I wouldn’t be able to reach the pedals. “We need someone to pick us up, unless you want to drive us.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Me, play taxi? No.”

“Thought so.” Andrew and Jessica were still clinging to each other as I slipped out of the kitchen, heading into the living room. The phone was on an end table next to the couch. I walked over to it, ignoring the crunching sounds underfoot, and paused.

Who was I supposed to call? Tybalt didn’t drive, and I didn’t want to explain the current situation to Connor. Mitch and Stacy didn’t need the added stress, especially not given what I thought I’d learned about Karen. There would be time to tell them that their daughter was probably dead later, after I’d managed to get the rest of the children home.

The Luidaeg’s phone had a dial tone; that surprised me. It implied a more solid connection to the real world than I’d expected. I dialed Danny’s number from memory. Six rings later, Danny’s voice announced jovially, “You’ve reached Daniel McReady—”

“Danny, great! It’s Toby. I—”

“—and I’m not available to take your call right now, on account of I have a job. If you’re calling about breed rescue, please leave a detailed message, including your name, address, and how many you want.” Something barked in the background. Muffled, he shouted, “Tilly! You stop biting your sister!” before returning to say, more normally, “Everybody else, you can leave a message, too, and I’ll call you just as soon as I can. I gotta go break up a fight in the kennel. Later.” With that, the connection was cut, leaving me groaning.

Danny wasn’t available. Now who was I supposed to call? Santa Claus? He could fly through the city dropping us down chimneys … no. Not Santa, but someone almost as good. I dialed again, quickly, and waited.

The phone was answered immediately. “You’ve reached October Daye’s place, this is Toby.”

“No, it’s not,” I said. “If you were me, you’d know I never sound that happy when I answer the phone.”

“Toby!” said May, delighted. “Where are you?”

“At the Luidaeg’s; I need a ride. Can you take a cab over here? My car’s here, but I can’t drive it right now.”

“I guess. Where did you go? Don’t you know you’re not supposed to leave without telling me? I can’t do my job if I don’t know how to find you!”

My Fetch was yelling at me for ditching her. Surrealism lives. “I’ll keep that in mind, okay? Just get over here.”

“Sure thing, Boss,” she said, and hung up. I shook my head, putting down the receiver as I rose. Doesn’t anyone believe in saying good-bye anymore?

Of course, the fact that May existed meant I’d be saying some final good-byes in the near future. I walked back into the kitchen, almost grateful for my exhaustion. I was too tired to get as upset as I wanted to.

The Luidaeg was leaning against the refrigerator, keeping a wary eye on the children. Most were asleep in piles on the floor; the ones who were still awake were sitting with Helen. Raj, back in feline form, was dozing in her lap. Quentin was still behind Katie, unmoving.

“Well?” said the Luidaeg. “Who did you call?”

“No one,” I said, kneeling to pick up Spike and pressing my face against its thorny side. “Just Death.”

MAY ARRIVED ABOUT HALF AN HOUR LATER. Most San Francisco taxi drivers are barely this side of sane and drive like they expect scouts for the Indy 500 to be hiding on every corner. When you add that to their creatively broken English, you’ve created a taxi experience everyone should have once. Just once. Only once. Unless you’re in such a hurry that you’re considering grabbing the nearest Tylwyth Teg and demanding a ride on a bundle of yarrow twigs, wait for the bus. If that’s too slow for you, you may want to look into the local availability of yarrow twigs, because splinters in your thighs are less upsetting than taking a San Francisco taxi.

The Luidaeg answered the door in her customary fashion: she wrenched it open, snarling, “What do you want?” Then she froze, staring. Nice to see I wasn’t the only one who reacted that way. “What the fu—”