eyes. “What the
The window looked normal, showing nothing but the front yard and street beyond. I glanced at my hands. They were already starting to blister.
I had my answer, after a fashion; the kids hadn’t run away. They’d been taken by something that made glass burn and left the scent of ashes and candle wax in its wake. Unfortunately for all of us, I had no idea what it was. The only thing I was sure of was that it was going to take more than a few missing-child flyers to get them back.
“Spike, come.” I turned away, beckoning for the goblin to follow as I left the room. Surprisingly, it came. I closed the door behind us, ignoring the pain in my hands, and turned to at least look into the girls’ room. It was much the same: messy, cluttered, and with no signs of a struggle. Their window was open, and the fresh air had wiped away any traces of the scent trail I’d followed in the boys’ room, if it was even there to start with.
Shaking my head, I walked down the stairs to where Stacy waited. There was no way I could tell her I was done, even though I knew damn well that we wouldn’t find the kids without a lot more power than I had. You don’t tell a panicking mother that her children have been taken by something you can’t identify or name; it doesn’t work that way. So I did the next best thing.
I lied. I told her I thought they might have wandered away on their own. I made a lame excuse about hurting my hands by picking up Spike the wrong way and bandaged them myself in the downstairs bathroom. The rose goblin didn’t notice or care that I’d defamed its character; it was perfectly willing to follow me through the house, although it refused to calm down. It kept stopping and snarling at nothing, rattling its thorns in challenge. I took note of the places where it stopped and didn’t touch any more windows. I
Stacy stayed in the living room, clutching Karen’s hand. She’d stopped crying about twenty minutes after I arrived, but she didn’t look like she felt any better; shock can take an awful lot of forms. I was in shock myself— fortunately for me, my version of shock normally manifests as anger. Anger, I can use—I understand it. Sometimes it can even help keep me alive.
We didn’t find anything. I hadn’t really been expecting that we would, since judging by the traces upstairs, there was nothing for us to find. Anthony didn’t even put up a pretense of searching; he just followed me, trusting that I would protect him. Cassandra at least tried, but she eventually went to join her mother in the living room, taking Stacy’s free hand and sitting in silence.
Mitch stayed with me to the bitter end, combing the house for some sign that his children had left under their own power. When we’d emptied the last drawer and searched through the last closet he turned to me, expression begging for some sort of reassurance. “Toby?”
“Yeah?”
“They’re not here, are they?”
I looked down before my face could give me away. “No, Mitch. They’re not.”
“Where are my children, October?”
“I don’t know.” I looked up. “But I’ll find them.”
“I believe you’re intending to try—and that’s not enough. In a minute, we’re going to have to tell my wife that they’re missing. I saw your hands.”
“What?”
“Your hands were fine when you got here. How did you burn your hands?
Sometimes honesty is the best policy, especially when you’re dealing with someone who could break you in two without blinking. “I don’t know, but they aren’t here,” I said. “I don’t think they’re anywhere this side of the Summerlands.”
The look on his face was beyond broken; he’d passed all the way into bereft. “Can you find them?”
“I can try,” I said.
“And Karen?”
Oak and ash, Karen. “I don’t know what’s wrong with her. But I can take a look.” I’m not a miracle worker; I’m just a half-blood with a talent for not getting killed. So far. The problems start when people assume that if I can survive, I can do anything. I wish they were right. It would make my life a lot easier.
Turning, I walked back to the stairs without another word. I was halfway down before I heard him following me.
Stacy looked up as we approached. She was still clinging to Karen’s hand. Cassandra was sitting on the other couch with her arms around Anthony, her chin resting lightly against the crown of his head. The pressures of the day had been too much for him, and he’d fallen asleep. Anthony nestled closer to his sister as I watched, whimpering in his sleep.
“Did you—” Stacy began. I shook my head. She pressed her free hand against her mouth. I’d never seen her look so old. I always knew her thinner blood meant she’d age faster than the rest of us, but it never seemed real before. She’d seemed too alive to show the signs of mortality. Now her children were in danger, and she was showing those signs in full. Looking at Stacy, I wasn’t sure she’d ever recover the vitality her fear had leeched away.
She still looked better than her middle daughter. Karen was practically a wax statue of herself, all the color bleached from her skin and hair. It was like looking at a corpse with faintly pointed ears, and my stomach lurched before I glanced away, trying to compose myself. Faerie corpses are supposed to be impossible. Unfortunately for my peace of mind, I know that’s not the case; it’s possible to keep the night-haunts away, if you really try. I don’t advise it.
Spike rubbed against my leg, whining in the back of its throat before leaping onto the couch next to Karen and curling up by her head. I knelt, studying her carefully.
Karen wasn’t dead, just so asleep she couldn’t find the way home. Her pulse was strong, if slow. I leaned forward to hold my cheek near her mouth and felt the unlabored movement of her breath. There was nothing physically wrong with her. She just wouldn’t wake up.
“She’s asleep,” I said, sitting back on my heels. “I don’t know why.”
Stacy stared at me, eyes wide. “Well, c-can’t you wake her?”
“Not alone.” I paused. What I was about to ask might be too much, but I didn’t see another choice. “I may know someone who can. Will you let me take her with me?”
“No!” she cried, moving to shield her daughter with her body. I rose and backed away, not arguing. Mothers aren’t always logical. I should know. I used to be one.
“Stacy—” Mitch stepped forward. “We need to let Karen go with Toby.”
“No! She’s our daughter—Mitch, how could you?” She clung to Karen like a drowning man clings to drift-wood. It made sense; in her own way, she was going under. “We can’t just let her
“Toby will be with her,” he rumbled. “Toby? Where do you want to take her?”
“The Tea Gardens. The Undine who guards them may know how to help.” Undine are regional fae and, once they merge with a place, they can never leave it. Lily hasn’t left the Japanese Tea Gardens since she came to America.
“If that doesn’t work?” He was talking to me, but his eyes were on Stacy; he was trying to make her understand. Good man. He knew as well as I did that unless we found out what was wrong with Karen, we might never get her to wake up. That’s how it is with enchanted sleep.
“I’ll take her to Shadowed Hills. Jin may be able to do something.”
“Let her go, Stacy. Let Toby take her.” Mitch knelt and put his hand on her shoulder, engulfing it. “She’ll bring them home to us. She’ll bring them all home.” Sobbing, Stacy sat up and threw her arms around Mitch’s neck, burying her face against him.
Mitch nodded toward Karen. I moved behind them and scooped her into my arms, ignoring the pain in my hands. “I’ll call you,” I said. Cassandra stayed silent the whole time, smart enough not to interfere.
“Please.” Mitch kept his arms around Stacy, reassuring and restraining her.
Spike was sitting by the front door, thorns sleeked down. It seemed to have calmed down. I was glad one of us had. “Don’t let Anthony go back into the bedroom. It’s dangerous. And keep your hands off the windows.”
