Seanan McGuire - An Artificial Night

She shrugged, licking her lips a third time. “It’s your funeral. She’s an oneiromancer.”

“A what?”

“An oneiromancer, a dream-scryer. She sees the future—and probably the present—in her dreams.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

The Luidaeg sighed. “You’re not getting it. Look, the brat can read the future in her dreams. That means she doesn’t have a very good connection with her body. You with me?”

“Yes …” I said. Karen was an oneiromancer? I’d heard of them, but never met one. Fortune-telling is a rare gift, and that’s a good thing; people who see the future don’t have the best connection to the present. They tend to say too much and wind up dead. Stacy comes from Barrow Wight stock; Mitch is part Nixie. Neither breed is known for seeing the future. Where the hell did this little curveball come from?

“Michael stole the others physically. Karen wasn’t in her body when the Riders came, so they took her to him a different way; they took her in her dreams.”

“What?” I stared at her. “How?”

“What you and your mother read in the blood is the self; it can be removed. Karen’s self isn’t anchored like yours or mine because of what she is. That’s what he stole.”

“Is that why she won’t wake up?” And why I see her when I dream?

Her expression hardened. “Yes.”

“Fine.” I stood, squaring my shoulders. “I’m going to get her back.”

“You make it sound so simple. ” She crossed her arms. “It really is just like watching Daddy get ready to ride out and subdue another group of rioting idiots. Sword, shield, suit of shining armor, ingrained stupidity, and you’re ready to go.”

I blinked. “What are you talking about?”

“Heroes, Toby, heroes. You’re all idiots—and don’t tell me you’re not a hero, because I don’t feel like having that argument tonight. You’ll need this.” She pulled my candle out of the air, dropping it into my left hand as she pressed my knife into the right. “You can get there and back by the light of a candle, after all. Trouble is, you’re off the Children’s Road. I can’t set you on it more than once. Against the rules.”

“So how am I supposed to get to Blind Michael?”

“Patience! Dad’s balls, they don’t teach kids any manners anymore. I should slaughter the lot of you.” She shook her head. “There are other roads.”

“How do I find them?”

“You’ve been on one of them before. The Rose Road.”

“What?” I frowned. “But I thought—”

“Luna sent you on the Rose Road the first time you came here, and that means you have the right to pass there. I can’t open it for you, but she can.”

Luna Torquill was one of the last people I wanted to deal with. I put the thought resolutely aside, nodding. “All right. I’ll ask her.”

“Little problem. It won’t be that easy.”

“What do you mean?”

“It starts now.” She snapped her fingers. My candle lit, burning blue-green. I felt the shock of the blood inside the wax waking up again. “When you leave this room, you’re on the road. You can get there and back by the candle’s light, but Lily didn’t do you any favors; it’s going to be harder now. The Rose Road has rules when you use it for more than just a shortcut.”

“What are they?”

“When you leave—and you’d better do it soon—don’t look back, no matter what you see or hear. You can take any help you find, but you can’t ask for it; it has to be offered.”

“So they’re the same as before. Got it. Anything else?” I asked sourly.

“Actually, yes.”

I sighed. “I had to ask, didn’t I?”

“I’m serious; this is important,” she said. “You have twenty-four hours, no more. If you can’t get there and back in that time, you won’t get there at all, and the Rose Road will be closed to you forever.”

“But—”

“That means more than you think it does. You can’t take the Old Road; the Blood Road would kill you; the Tidal Road is lost for anything bigger than bringing you to me. It’s this road or none, and you’d better go.” She crossed to a small wardrobe, opening it. “Lily thinks too much about appearances—you can’t go in what you’re wearing. Here.” She tossed me a sweater, a pair of black leggings and a belt with an attached sheath. “Get changed and get out.”

“Luidaeg, I—”

“Toby, do it.” Something in her expression told me not to argue.

Getting the robe off was easy. Getting the sweater on without dropping the candle or setting my hair on fire was hard, but after a few false starts, I managed to get everything in place. I straightened, shoving my knife into the sheath. “Now what?” I asked.

“Now you leave.” She pointed to the door. “Go that way. Now.”

“Are you—”

“When you reach Shadowed Hills, tell Luna to send the horse-girl to me. I’ll try to help.” She paused. “If you get yourself killed, I’ll hurt you in ways you can’t even imagine.”

“I—”

“Go!”

I backed away, stopping when my shoulders hit the wall. The Luidaeg folded her arms, glaring until I found the doorknob, fumbled it open, and backed out into the hall. The door slammed shut in my face. The hall seemed to stretch as I made my way to the front door, the shadows growing darker and harder to deny. I gripped my candle and kept walking. If I’d been the only thing at stake, I might have wavered, but it wasn’t just me. Stacy didn’t deserve to lose her daughter; Quentin didn’t deserve to lose his girlfriend. And I was going to get them back.

I was halfway down the hall when the screaming started, hitting a high, endlessly angry note, as pitiless as the sea. I shivered, but didn’t look back. I’m not Orpheus. I’m not that easy to trick.

The front door opened when I twisted the knob, and I stepped out into the cold air of the September night. I frowned, muttering, “There was sunlight inside …” Now time was screwing around with me, too. Just what I needed. I had twenty-four hours to get from downtown San Francisco to Pleasant Hill, break into Blind Michael’s lands, rescue Karen, and get out. All without cash or a car, when I wasn’t allowed to call for help. Right.

“Piece of cake,” I said, and started walking.

The universe doesn’t like to be mocked. I was halfway to the main road when I heard engines rev behind me. Mindful of the Luidaeg’s words, I didn’t look back; I just picked up the pace, scanning for a place to hide. Nothing was really presenting itself—the street was blank, empty of both cover and assistance. The engines got louder, and I broke into a run, forcing myself to keep my eyes fixed firmly ahead.

I made it almost two blocks before the motorcycles surrounded me, engines gunning with a sound that was suspiciously like the nickering of horses. The Riders grinned down at me from behind their visors, confident in their victory. There were three of them and just one of me, and there was nowhere left for me to run.

“OH, OAK AND ASH,” I muttered, stepping backward. My candle apparently didn’t work the same way outside of Blind Michael’s lands, because it clearly wasn’t hiding me. The Riders had me surrounded, and even if I could make it to the Luidaeg’s place before they grabbed me, turning around would take me off the Rose Road. I was stuck.

Looking around, I said, “You know your timing sucks, right?”

The Riders laughed, making the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. They knew they had me.

That didn’t mean I had to go quietly. I drew my knife, falling into a defensive stance. “Come on, damn you,” I snapped. “I don’t have time to play. Come on!”