An Artificial Night

me to hinder your efforts to carry me off into the great beyond.”

“Great!” she said, grinning again. She was apparently invulnerable to sarcasm. Her smile faded as she realized that the Luidaeg was still blocking her way. “Um, can I come in?”

“Luidaeg?” The sea witch was looking between us, eyes narrowing. I could almost see her losing her temper. “Can she come in?”

“Sure,” she said, tone tight as she stepped aside. “I’m always glad to invite death into my home.”

“I’m not death,” said May, stepping into the hall. “I’m just part of the auxiliary plan.”

She obviously didn’t get my survival instincts when she inherited my memories. I would never have brushed the Luidaeg off like that, at least not if I wanted to keep my head attached to the rest of my body. “May—” I began.

“Oh, don’t worry,” she said. “She can’t hurt me.”

“She’s right,” snarled the Luidaeg. The look in her eyes was more than angry—it was furious, and I suddenly wondered whether she’d be the one who killed me. “You’re her target. I can’t hurt her unless I do it by hurting you.”

I frowned, trying to conceal my worry. “So what, she can get away with anything?”

“Just until you die,” said May, in a tone that was probably meant to be reassuring.

Rolling my eyes, I turned and walked back to the kitchen. May waved to the Luidaeg one more time and followed, staying close at my heels.

I should have thought about what would happen when I walked into the kitchen with my adult double, but I was tired and scared and worn down, and I didn’t even consider it. Most of the kids stayed where they were, huddled together and more than half-asleep. They’d never seen what I really looked like, and my former adulthood was just a story to them.

I have to give Quentin credit—his hands tightened on the back of Katie’s chair, but he didn’t move. He just waited for my signal, ready to attack or run on my command. The kid was learning. Jessica was less discreet. She looked up and screamed, shielding her head with her arms as she tried to hide behind Andrew. Katie jerked, the spell that was keeping her calm visibly weakening. The other children were awake and scrambling to their feet in an instant, eyes wide with panic. I ran across the room to Jessica, pulling her arms away from her head and making shushing noises. There’d been too much screaming already.

Andrew frowned at his sister and looked solemnly from me to May, taking his thumb out of his mouth. Jessica kept screaming, screwing her eyes shut until I slapped my hand over her mouth in exasperation. That got her attention. Her eyes snapped open, staring at me.

“Jessie, you need to calm down, please,” I said. “It’s okay. She’s not here to hurt us.” The screaming stopped, but her breathing didn’t slow. I took my hand away from her mouth and wrapped my arms around her.

Andrew studied me, then looked to May. “You’re not my auntie,” he said gravely.

May nodded. “You’re right.”

“She is,” he said, and pointed to me.

“Right again.”

“Okay.” He put his thumb back into his mouth. The discussion was finished: as long as May knew she wasn’t his aunt, he didn’t care whose face she wore. Sometimes I envy kids for the way they dismiss the things that don’t matter. They still get bogged down in details, but at least they’re different details.

Keeping my voice low, I said, “Jessica, this is my cousin May. She’s here to give us a ride home.” I don’t normally lie to kids, but somehow, I didn’t think telling them their rescuer was doomed to die soon was exactly going to help. “You want to go home, don’t you?” Jessica sniffled and nodded, clutching me more tightly. “That’s my good girl.”

The Luidaeg was leaning in the kitchen doorframe, arms crossed over her breasts. She was clearly doing a slow burn, almost radiating anger.

Letting go of Jessica, I straightened, saying, “Luidaeg?”

“Yes?”

“I need to get the kids home. But my car …”

“You want me to cast an expansion spell on that junk heap you insist on pretending is a car? Blood and thorn, Toby, when you decide to go into debt, you don’t screw around.” She snapped her fingers. “It’s done, and yes, it comes with a don’t-look-here to keep your idiotic ass out of sight. Now get the hell out.”

“Luidaeg …” I wanted to thank her, but it wasn’t allowed. Why aren’t things ever simple?

She smiled bitterly. “Just get out. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“I’ll get everyone out of here,” said May with sudden, aggressive cheerfulness. Maybe she was smarter than I thought. She started gathering children out of the corners, herding them toward the door.

“Raj, Quentin, get Katie and Helen and go with May,” I said, keeping my eyes on the Luidaeg. They didn’t argue. Raj slid back to human form, and the kitchen was filled with scuffling, hisses, and whines for several minutes as they led the assembled children and cat-form Cait Sidhe into the hall. Spike got a running start, leaping first to the counter and then into my arms. I clutched it, glad for the contact. Spike hadn’t changed. I needed that.

When the kitchen was empty I said, “Luidaeg, what’s wrong?”

“Wrong?” The color bled out of her eyes as she looked at me, leaving them white and angry. The lines of her face had sharpened, becoming alien. She was losing her grip on her human shape, and that was a little scary. What had I said that upset her that much? “Why would you think anything was wrong, October Daye, daughter of Amandine? I swore I’d see you dead. It just looks like I was right.”

Oh, oak and ash, I hadn’t warned her about May. “Luidaeg, I—”

“Is that why you were willing to come to me? Because you already expected to die?” Her voice was rising. “I never took you for a coward. Now get out of my house.”

“Luidaeg—”

“Get out!” Her hands were curling into claws. I’m not stupid. I didn’t want to leave while the Luidaeg was mad at me—dangerous though she can be, I consider her a friend—but I also didn’t want her to kill me for pushing my luck. Keeping Spike clutched against my chest, I turned and ran into the hall, then out the door.

The sunlight was an almost physical shock. I stumbled, and the doorknob hit me in the side as the door slammed behind me. Spike jumped out of my arms, running to where it wouldn’t be hit if I fell. Then an arm slid under mine and Raj was there, holding me up.

“Clumsy half-blood,” he said, scornfully.

I smiled, hoping it would hide my panic. “Just pissing off the Luidaeg. No big.”

“Clumsy and stupid,” he said, with a note of respect in his voice. He let go of me, walking over to my car. May was leaning against the hood, and the children were inside. All the children. When the Luidaeg bends space, she doesn’t screw around.

You can fit four people in a VW bug if they’re friendly; you can manage five if you don’t need oxygen inside the car and six if no one cares about having feeling in their limbs. That’s it, period, you’ve reached the limit. I never got an exact count of the children I’d rescued from Blind Michael, but there were more than twenty, and all of them, except for Raj and Quentin, were in the backseat. I knew my car wasn’t big enough. My eyes were telling me it was.

Never argue with reality when it’s working for you. I walked over to open the passenger side door, saying, “Okay, everybody in.”

Quentin and Raj climbed into the back, Quentin pausing to squeeze my shoulder. I settled in the front, barely flinching as Spike jumped onto my lap with all claws extended. “Is everybody okay back there?”

There was a mumbled chorus of assent. May walked around and sat in the driver’s seat, fastening her seat belt. “Everyone buckled up?” The chorus mumbled again. “Good!”

I gave her a sidelong look as I fastened my own belt. “Worried about safety?”

“Yup. No one’s immortal.” She winked. I suppressed a shudder. “Where to?”

“Shadowed Hills.”

“Whatever you say, Boss!” She slammed the clutch back, and we were suddenly hurtling down the street at a speed fast enough to make me grab the dashboard and gape at her. Not being able to see through the windshield didn’t help. I’d forgotten how scary it is to be a kid in a car. You don’t know where you’re going, you don’t know how