Seanan McGuire - An Artificial Night

“You have the gratitude of my Court, October.”

I looked at him sharply. That was dangerously close to thank you. “Do I?”

Tybalt didn’t seem to notice his own slip. He just closed his eyes, leaning back until his shoulders hit the wall, and said, softly, “I thought I sent you to die. After what you told me, with your Fetch appearing … I thought that you were going to die because of what I asked you to do.”

“Hey.” I stepped over and put my hand on his shoulder, needing to reach up to do it. “I was already going. Mitch and Stacy’s kids are like family. If anything happened, it wouldn’t have been your fault.”

“That doesn’t matter. I’m in your debt.”

The thought was alarming. “No, you’re not. We’re even now.”

“You’ve done more than you owed, and I won’t pretend you didn’t.” He put his hand over mine, covering it completely. Eyes still closed, he said, “All threats of death aside, I had no idea how much it would cost.”

“What?” It took me a moment to realize that he meant my sudden regression to elementary school. “Oh. The Luidaeg did it so I could enter Blind Michael’s lands. He sort of posted a ‘you must be less than this tall to ride this ride’ sign at the borders.”

“I barely recognized you,” he said.

“Yeah, about that. How did you recognize me?” The world was dismayingly full of people who didn’t bat an eye when they saw me. I’m not vain or anything, but it was nice to think folks might notice my losing all the ground I’d gained since puberty.

He opened his eyes and smiled. It was a little disconcerting to be standing that close to his smile. Thankfully, being physically under the age of ten blunted most of the effect. “No matter what you look like, you still smell like you.”

“Oh,” I said, faintly.

“Are you done now? Are the children safe?”

“I think so. But a Fetch isn’t usually a long-term houseguest. They pretty much show up when the house is about to go away.” I pulled my hand out from under his, stepping back. “In that sense, I guess I’m pretty much finished.”

“Don’t give up hope.” He offered another smile. This one was smaller, but no less sincere. “I’ve seen you manage the impossible before.”

“Yeah, well.” I glanced away, trying not to focus on his eyes. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

“Not yet.” He stood, leaning down to brush my hair back with one gentle hand. “Come see me once you’ve managed the impossible again. If anyone can … my Court is open to you.”

I felt my cheeks redden. “Tybalt, what—”

“I found my answers. I know you weren’t the one who lied to me.” He pulled back his hand and vanished into the shadows, gone in an instant.

“Tybalt! Don’t you dare say cryptic shit and then run out on me!” His exit was made; he didn’t reappear.

Bastard.

I turned and limped toward the back of the alley, trusting that Tybalt wouldn’t have left me in his Court if the exits were locked. Sure enough, the brick was misty under my fingers; I closed my eyes, stepping through. Movement was getting harder. It felt like my knee was trying to lock up. That was going to make dealing with the bridges in Lily’s knowe a lot of fun.

The mist got thicker and colder as I moved through the wall. I filled my hands with it, reweaving my human disguise as I walked. I had no interest in being mistaken for an alien invader just because my mother had the bad grace to pass on her pointed ears. It was late enough in the year that I might be mistaken for a kid who’d started trick-or-treating early, but that didn’t appeal either.

Connor was sitting on the sidewalk with his back to the alley wall when I emerged. He stood as he saw me approaching, and I was glad that my illusions were hiding the blood. Selkies don’t have an enhanced sense of smell in their human forms; I could fool him, even though I’d never have been able to fool Tybalt.

He waited until I was closer before offering his hand. “I’m sorry. I was a jerk.”

“Yes, you were.” Never stop a man from admitting his faults. Still, I paused, and said, “I was a jerk, too.”

“It’s okay. I’m just worried about you.”

“You were still a bigger jerk than I was.”

“I know.” He sighed. “I just … we lost you once. I don’t want to lose you again.”

I sighed, slipping my hand into his. Maybe he was a jerk, but he was a jerk who cared, and that’s worth a lot in my book. Besides, it wasn’t like it mattered. It would all be over soon.

He looked up, something like hope in his eyes. “Toby …”

“We’re okay.” I smiled wanly. “We need to get to Lily’s. Can you just stop being a jerk until we get there? Please?”

“I think I can manage that,” he said, and smiled. It was worth it just for that.

I left my hand in his as we walked past the car and toward the gates of Golden Gate Park. The height difference was jarring at first, but the feeling passed, and for a few minutes, everything was all right. May joined us while we were waiting for the crosswalk to be clear, Spike following at her heels, and somehow, that was right, too. The rose goblin ran ahead, and the Fetch followed behind as we walked, hand in hand, into Golden Gate Park.

I told Tybalt the truth, after all. I was almost finished.

MARCIA LEANED OUT OF HER BOOTH as we approached, beaming. “Toby! Connor! Hey!” I was ready to get annoyed—Connor and Tybalt recognizing me was one thing, but Marcia?—when she looked down, asking, “And who’s your little friend?”

The phrase “little friend” pissed me off when I was actually the age I seemed to be, and it hadn’t gotten any less annoying as I got older. I was tired, my knees ached, and I didn’t have time to be patronized. “Can it, Marcia. Is Lily available?”

“What?” She blinked. “That’s not a nice way to talk to your elders, you know.”

“You were born in nineteen eighty-three,” I said. “If you’re my elder, I’ll eat my socks. Can we see Lily?”

“Who’s stopping you?” She squinted, the faerie ointment around her eyes reflecting the afternoon light in sparkles of turquoise and gold. “You’re not what you look like.” She looked toward May, still squinting. “Neither is she.”

“Marcia, please, just let us in,” I said.

Marcia is only a quarter-blooded changeling, and she needs faerie ointment to see our world at all. Ironically enough, the ointment opens her eyes a little wider than most. She not only sees through illusions; sometimes, she sees through realities. I guess that’s why Lily likes her. It certainly can’t be for the stimulating conversation.

Marcia pulled back, frowning. “I think you’d better leave. I mean, Toby isn’t Toby, and your kid’s not a kid, and Connor … well, Connor’s okay, and I think that’s Toby’s rose goblin, but that’s all I can tell. People I don’t recognize shouldn’t come here. Lily doesn’t like it.”

“Please refrain from exerting yourself, Marcia,” Lily said, stepping up to the edge of the garden; she couldn’t come any farther. Each Undine is literally bound to their domain, unable to ever leave it. In exchange, they know everything that happens in their own lands, and control them more intimately than any noble has ever controlled a knowe. I’ve always wondered whether it’s a fair trade, but I’ve never been able to get up the nerve to ask. “I know our guests.”

“Lily,” I said. “Hey.”

“Hello, October,” she said. “I see you found the moon. Connor. It’s been too long.”

“I know,” he said, his hand tightening in mine. “I’ve been busy.”