An Artificial Night - BK 3 Page 7

  He paused, looking thoughtful. “What did Lily mean? The mistletoe and the oak?”

  In for a penny, in for a pound. If he was trusting me to find his Court’s missing children, I might as well trust him with the realities of the situation. Squaring my shoulders, I met his eyes and said, “My Fetch showed up this morning.”

  “Ah,” he said, softly. “I should have known it would be something of the sort.” Before I had a chance to react, he stepped forward, kissing me on the forehead. “I have to return to my Court and let the parents of the missing ones know that you’ve agreed. I’ll come to you later.”

  I stared at him, stunned. “What . . . ?”

  “Open roads, Toby. Find our children.” He hesitated like he was about to say something else, but he didn’t; he just turned and walked to the edge of the parking lot.

  “What . . . ?” I repeated, standing there with my keys dangling in my hand.

  Looking back over his shoulder, he smiled, almost shyly, stepped into the shadows, and was gone.

  “This is officially getting strange,” I said, as much to hear my own voice as anything else. Missing children, a Fetch on my doorstep, Lily being freaky, and now Tybalt was deciding to redefine “acting weird”? The day wasn’t getting any better. I got into the car and started the engine.

  I needed coffee, and I needed it now.

  SIX

  I ARRIVED HOME HALF AN HOUR and a McDonald’s drive-through later, with most of an extra-large coffee doing its best to settle my stomach. It was failing. The failure became more profound as I approached the apartment and got my first look at the front porch. Quentin was sitting there with his arms wrapped around his legs and his chin resting on his knees, looking for all the world like an enormous kicked puppy.

  At least he’d had the sense to put on a human disguise, blunting the points of his ears and making his features a little more believably attractive. Daoine Sidhe are gorgeous, but it’s not a human beauty. With the disguise, he could have been a teen idol; without it, he would have started riots. He was wearing blue jeans and a black T-shirt that proclaimed YOU’RE JUST JEALOUS BECAUSE THE VOICES TALK TO ME. It didn’t look like his corn silk-blond hair had been combed in days, and one of his sneakers was untied.

  The only time I’d ever seen him look that untidy was right after he’d been shot. Something was wrong.

  He scrambled to his feet when he saw me, almost stumbling over his shoelaces. “Toby,” he said, voice cracking. “I—”

  Loose lips sink ships and panicked kids say things they shouldn’t. I live in a decent area, but I have neighbors and neighbors hear things. “Wait until we’re inside. You want to get the door?” I tossed him the house keys, getting a better grip on both my bundle of clothes and my skirt in the process. “I do not like walking in this thing.”

  “So why are you wearing it?” He caught the keys, frowning quizzically.

  “It’s a long story.” I snapped my fingers, muttering a quick snatch of “Mary Had a Little Lamb.” The wards around the doorframe flared red and released. “Just open the door.”

  Lucky for me, that boy has been schooled in obedience since the day he was born. He shrugged and turned, unlocking the door. His courtly manners even carried over into holding it open for me before he followed me inside, where he collapsed onto the couch and dropped his head into his hands. I had to admire that—like most teenagers, regardless of breed, he had an almost instinctive grasp of the theatrical.

  “Tie your shoes,” I said, dropping my bundle of clothes on the bookshelf before locking the door and turning to head for the kitchen. I needed to make a pot of coffee. He’d talk when he was ready, and most of my cheap fast food coffee was long-since gone.

  I was filling the filter when he said, tentatively, “Toby?”

  Jackpot. “Yeah?” I turned. He was standing in the kitchen doorway. “You going to tell me why you were camping on my porch?”

  “Katie’s gone.”

  I put the filter down. “You want to try that again?”

  “Katie’s gone. She disappeared this morning.”

  The name was familiar, it just took a moment to figure out who he meant. Oh, no. “Your human girlfriend.” He nodded. There was a sudden sinking feeling in my stomach. Please let him be here to tell me they broke up . . . “When you say gone, what do you mean exactly?”

  “I don’t know. Away.” He looked down at the floor, continuing in a monotone, “She didn’t come to school this morning.”

  It’s getting harder for the purebloods to pretend that the mortal world doesn’t matter, so they’ve started sending their kids to school—human school. Call it the hot new way to play faerie bride. I’m not sure what I think of the idea of a bunch of pureblood kids getting the human childhood I never had, but my opinion won’t reverse the trend. Quentin was in his second year at the human high school near Paso Nogal, and he was doing surprisingly well, all things considered.

  I leaned against the counter. “She could be sick. Humans get sick.”

  “I know that,” Quentin said defensively. “I went to her house at lunch to check on her.”

  “And she wasn’t there?”

  “No. Her mom said Katie was gone when she got up. She didn’t take her shoes or her bag or anything.” He swallowed hard before continuing, “I asked if I could look around her room to see if she left a note or something. You know. Investigating, like at ALH.”

  “That was clever of you.” The sinking feeling in my stomach was getting worse. “What did you find?”

  “No note,” Quentin said. “But . . .” He paused. “Don’t laugh, okay?”

  “I won’t laugh,” I said quietly. Somehow, laughter was the last thing on my mind.

  “The air in her room tasted funny. Like . . . well, like blood.”

  “And candle wax,” I muttered.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Did you touch the windows?”

  He frowned. “Of course not. Why would I touch the windows?”

  I held up my hands. Lily did a good job, but I could still feel the burning if I thought about it too hard. “I don’t know. But if you had, you’d probably be in a world of pain.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Finish your story, then I’ll tell you mine.” He eyed me, and I added, “Promise.”

  “All right.” He sighed. “Her mom came in and said I needed to leave. She was pretty worried.” He bit his lip. “So am I.”

  “Understandably.” I picked up the filter and slotted it into place, then turned on the coffee maker. I needed more caffeine before I tried to deal with any more of this.

  “Are you going to tell me what’s going on now?”

  “I probably should,” I said, and sighed. “Come on.” I pushed past him into the living room, not waiting to see if he was following; it’s not that big of an apartment. I sat on the end of the couch, tugging the hem of my skirt until it was even.

  Quentin followed, sitting on the other end of the couch. Spike leaped into his lap, and he started scratching the rose goblin behind the ears. “Why would the windows hurt me?”

  “Because Katie’s not the only one that’s gone,” I said. “Stacy Brown called this morning because her two youngest children were missing. When I searched their rooms, I found the same scents you found in Katie’s. I’ve also spoken to Tybalt, and he says five children disappeared from his Court last night.”

  “Same smell?”

  “Same smell,” I said. “I touched a window when I was following the scent trail. It burned my hands.”

  “But they don’t look—”

  “Lily healed them. Katie . . .” I sighed. “She’s pure human, right? Not thin-blooded or a merlin?” Humans with very small amounts of fae blood are sometimes still capable of working magic and perceiving the fae world; it’s rare, but it happens. We call them “merlins,” and we avoid them when we can. They’re dangerous, in their way.

  “She’s human,” Quentin said, glaring.


  I winced. “I didn’t mean to imply anything. But Quentin—whatever this is, it’s snatched purebloods, changelings, and now a human girl. What does that mean?”

  “It means we have to get her back,” he said, jaw set in a hard line.

  “Right,” I said, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Does anybody know you’re here?”

  “Not exactly. I came straight from school.”

  “So kids are disappearing and you just ran out? Did you at least tell Sylvester and Luna you’d be home late?” Quentin’s parents fostered him at Shadowed Hills to be trained in the courtly arts. I’ve never met them, but they must have been fairly minor nobility to place him in a court as unfashionable as Sylvester’s. Judging by the slight accent Quentin displayed in times of stress, they were somewhere in or near Canada. The Torquills are both his liege lords and his parents now, at least until the fosterage ends.

  “No . . .”

  “Maeve wept, Quentin.” I stood. “Stay where you are. Understand?”

  He nodded as I stalked back to the kitchen, where I grabbed the phone and dialed the number for Shadowed Hills. The phone rang twice before a man’s voice came on the line, saying, “Shadowed Hills. How may I assist?”

  I paused, amazement overwhelming my annoyance. “Etienne, is that you?”

  “Oh, blast. Hello, Toby,” he said, wearily. “Please don’t start.”

  “Was the phone in danger? Did they have to get a big, brave knight to guard it?” Etienne is one of Sylvester’s most reliable knights. Pureblooded Tuatha de Dannan and so honorable that he squeaks—in short, boring as hell. I respect the man and even like him in the abstract, but when it comes to actually spending time around him, well, let’s just say that we’ve devoted a lot of time to driving each other crazy.

  “Melly is out, so someone had to mind the phone. What’s going on?” It was impossible to miss the disapproval in his tone. I’m a lot more likely to just show up, trouble following on my heels, than I am to call ahead.

  “Right. Sorry.” I sobered, saying, “Quentin’s at my place. He’s fine, and I’m about to bring him back to the knowe.”

  “Quentin’s there? Why in the world would he be—”

  “He came on his own, Etienne, I didn’t steal him or anything.” His answering silence betrayed how close I’d been to guessing what he was thinking. I sighed. “Please let people know that Quentin is safe and will be there shortly for you to yell at in person.”

  “Of course,” he said, stiffly. “Open roads.”

  “Kind fires, Etienne,” I said and hung up the phone.

  I was smacking my head rhythmically against the wall when I heard Quentin clear his throat behind me, saying, “Toby? What’s wrong? Who was that on the phone?”

  I stopped banging my head and straightened, turning to face him. “Come on. We’re leaving.”

  He followed me to the front door, asking, “Where are we going?”

  “I’m taking you back to Shadowed Hills.”

  “What?” He stopped, staring at me. “Why?”

  “This situation is too dangerous. I’m not going to risk your life again.” The last time Sylvester sent me on a job, Quentin came along to watch and learn. He learned, all right. He learned what it’s like to get shot and nearly die, and what it’s like to bury your liege lord’s only niece. There are some lessons I really don’t feel like reinforcing.

  “But—Katie!” Quentin protested.

  “I’m on it. I don’t need your help.” I’d risk my own life to bring the children home, but I wouldn’t risk anyone else. Nobody was going to get hurt on my watch; especially not Quentin. I’d already hurt him enough.

  He stared at me, looking like I’d just slapped him. “But she’s my girlfriend. You’re supposed to . . .”

  “To what? Let you help?” I shook my head, doing my best to sneer. It hurt, but not as badly as the thought of his broken body. “Haven’t you been paying attention? When people get involved with me, they die. I’m not taking you on this case.”

  “I have to find her. Please, Toby, she’s just human; she doesn’t know—”

  “You’re not trained and you’re not coming.” I was being cruel, but there was no other way. Not unless I wanted my Fetch to stand for his death as well as mine.

  Quentin recoiled, eyes wide and hurt for an instant before his expression hardened. He nodded curtly. “Fine. I’ll find her on my own.”

  “No, you won’t. Come on.”

  “What?”

  “Like I said, I’m taking you back to Shadowed Hills.” He glared. I glared back. I’ve had more practice, and he looked away first, hunching his shoulders. I briefly considered changing my clothes, but dismissed the idea. Quentin might sneak out if I left him alone. I wanted him where I could see him until I got him back to the knowe.

  “Toby . . .”

  “Come on.” I grabbed his arm and tugged him outside. Spike followed, darting between my feet and nearly tripping me. Letting go of Quentin, I stooped and scooped up the rose goblin, dropping it into his arms with an unceremonious, “Hold this.”

  Quentin frowned, automatically cradling the rose goblin to his chest. Spike chirped, compacting itself and beginning to make the weird grating sound that served as its purr.

  I ran my fingers down the sides of the door, muttering fragments of nursery rhymes under my breath. The smell of copper and cut grass rose around me as the wards flared red, reactivating, and a bolt of pain hit me behind the temples. The spell worked, however much good it was going to do. Mitch and Stacy kept their house warded, too.

  Lowering my hands, I turned to Quentin. “Let’s go.”

  He handed me Spike without saying a word and stalked off toward my car. I sighed, but didn’t object. If he wanted to play silent treatment, I could play silent treatment. It might even be easier that way.

  The drive to Pleasant Hill seemed to take forever. Quentin sat in the passenger seat glowering and refusing to look at me, while Spike had decided to ride in my lap rather than in its usual spot on the dashboard. I don’t know whether it was trying to comfort me or be comforted, but between that and my skirt, it was pretty hard to shift. My thoughts kept creeping back to Karen. I wanted to believe she’d wake up on her own. Somehow, I just couldn’t.

  Especially, said a nagging voice at the back of my mind, if Quentin’s girlfriend and the Cait Sidhe kids vanished the same way Andy and Jessica did. I shivered. Something was starting that I didn’t like at all and, by the root and branch, I didn’t see any way to stay out of it.

  The sun was descending into afternoon as we pulled into the parking lot at Paso Nogal. “Come on. Let’s go.”

  Quentin looked at me solemnly. “Please change your mind. I want to help.”

  “I’m not getting you hurt again. Now get out of the car.”

  Quentin glared but opened his door, obviously intending to stalk away. One problem: I didn’t trust him to actually stalk back into the knowe. I got out of the car and walked around the car to meet him, offering a sunny smile as I grabbed his elbow.

  “Let me walk you home.”

  “That isn’t—” He tried to pull himself loose and scowled. “That isn’t necessary.”

  “Funny thing is I think it is. Now come on.”

  It was a good thing the park was basically empty, because anyone who saw our progression up the hill would have had good reason to call the police and report me for kidnapping. Quentin didn’t struggle, but he didn’t help, either; he just let himself be half led, half dragged through the complex series of steps that opens the door to Shadowed Hills. Completing the steps with him in tow took most of my attention. There was no way to keep my skirt from getting torn. I gave up trying after the third time it snagged on the hawthorn bushes. It wasn’t like I paid for the damn thing.

  Quentin tried to jerk free again as the door into the knowe finally swung open. This time, I let him go. I wasn’t willing to let him risk his neck if I had any say in the matter, but there was no
reason to embarrass him on top of everything else.

  Spike darted past us as we stepped into the entrance hall, nearly sweeping me off my feet. Its ears were pressed flat against its head, and it was running fast enough that it was out of sight around the corner almost before I realized it was moving. Visions of its strange behavior at Mitch and Stacy’s place flashed through my mind. “Quentin, stay here!” I snapped, and took off after it.

  It’s hard to get purchase on a marble floor while wearing sneakers. I careened around the corner in the direction Spike had gone, already stumbling as I pursued it into the next hall.

  The hall was already occupied. Luna was sitting on a low velvet couch about twenty feet away, expression distant as she arranged dried roses in a vase atop a cherry-wood table. Spike raced ahead of me and jumped into her lap. She looked down at it for a moment before she raised her head, taking note of my approach. Twitching one silver-furred ear, she tucked her feet beneath her body, letting go of the vase.

  “Hello, October,” she said mildly.

  “Uh . . .” I tried to bow and stop running at the same time. The skirt snarled my legs, my feet slid out from under me, and I landed flat on my back.

  Luna watched my descent, apparently unperturbed. It’s hard to fluster Luna. She’s a three-tailed Kitsune who voluntarily married into one of the most frustrating noble families I’ve ever dealt with. Someone like that is either crazy or patient as a rock. I sometimes suspect that Luna might be both.

  She waited for me to slide to a stop before asking calmly, “New dress?”

  “Lily,” I said, by way of explanation. Sitting up, I rubbed the back of my head with one hand. “Well, that was a little overdramatic.”

  “But funny, which forgives many sins.” She stood, cradling Spike against her chest. “The return of Quentin is appreciated. He’ll need to be spoken to, of course. I’m sure Etienne will cherish the opportunity.”

  “Better him than me.”