An Artificial Night
Page 11

“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 go!”
“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.”
Mitch frowned. “He can sleep in the room with us for now. He won’t like it, but he’ll do it, and it might make Stacy feel better.”
“Good. I don’t know exactly what’s wrong with his room, but I don’t want him near it.” I looked down at Karen. “It’s not safe.”
“Are any of us safe?”
“I don’t know,” I said. Mitch watched blankly as I turned and walked away. There was nothing left to say; even good-bye would have been too final. Spike dogged my heels as I walked to the car, Karen cradled in my arms. Inside, Stacy started to wail. I flinched, but no one came out of the house.
It took ten minutes to strap Karen into the passenger seat; the bandages made my hands clumsy, and the pain was getting worse. Burns hurt for a long time. And still no one came out of the house. Spike jumped into Karen’s lap once she was settled, and I got into the car and drove away.
FOUR
FINDING DAYTIME PARKING in Golden Gate Park isn’t easy. I finally had to park behind the snack bar, wedging my car into the space between the dumpsters and the side of the building. I tried to be careful, but I still hit the wall at least twice. I’m hard on my automobiles. The latest was a battered brown VW with a bumper covered in political stickers that were outdated well before I disappeared. At least the new dents were unlikely to show.
I got out of the car, locking my door before turning around. I wasn’t expecting anyone to be standing there, so I didn’t have time to stop before I collided with Tybalt. He grabbed my shoulder, steadying me until I no longer looked like I was going to fall.
I stepped backward, yanking myself out of his grasp. “Tybalt.”
“October.” His expression was composed to the point of being unreadable. “This is an interesting choice of locales. I was unaware of your love for the smell of rancid grease.”
“Nowhere else to park,” I snapped, pushing past him. Opening the passenger side door, I began trying to undo Karen’s seat belt. Spike was curled on her lap. It chirped at me before jumping down to the pavement, rattling its thorns at Tybalt. “What do you want?”
“Isn’t the pleasure of your company enough?”
I looked up, eyes narrowed. “Hasn’t been for a while now, has it?”
“You know, in that brief absence, I’d almost forgotten how much you frustrate me.” Tybalt sighed. “I had my reasons. I apologize if my disappearance troubled you.”
Given the amount of time I’ve spent avoiding Tybalt over the years, I couldn’t think of a good response to that. I settled for placing one hand on Karen’s shoulder and glaring.
When he worked at it, Tybalt could be the most infuriating person I’d ever met. Being a cat, he worked at it a lot. He was pureblooded Cait Sidhe, powerful enough to hold his position as the local King of Cats—not an easy thing to do, given the literal viciousness of Cait Sidhe politics. He might have been less annoying if he wasn’t every bit as good-looking as he thought he was. Black streaks in his brown hair suggested the stripes on a tabby’s coat, and his eyes were a deep, clear green, made slightly alien by feline pupils. He had a cat’s casual elegance and an athletic build, combined to irritatingly good effect with the sort of face that made women give him pretty much whatever he wanted. It wouldn’t have been so bad if he’d had the decency to freckle or at least tan, but I guess freckling is beneath the Cait Sidhe.