An Artificial Night - BK 3 (10 page)

“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.”

Luna laughed, offering her hand. “Come on. Sylvester will want to speak with you.”

“I do so love meeting with my liege when I’m dressed like an idiot and just concussed myself on the floor,” I grumbled, letting her pull me up. “Still, that’s a good thing, because I want to speak with him, too.”

Her laughter died, taking the light in her eyes with it. “I rather thought you might,” she said, quietly. “I’d hoped that someone else would . . . but it’s no matter. Come along.”

Still holding Spike against her chest, she turned and walked away down the hall, clearly trusting me to follow. Perplexed by her change in moods, I did exactly that. Sylvester needed to know what was going on.

S
HADOWED HILLS IS THE BIGGEST KNOWE I’ve ever seen and it’s easy to get lost there. I’m not sure whether it actually rearranges itself when no one’s looking, but I wouldn’t be surprised. After all, we’re talking about a sprawling Summerlands estate large enough to hold Sylvester, Luna, their daughter and her husband, their fosters, the staff, an entire Court, and all of Luna’s gardens. It’s a wonder the place isn’t bigger than it is.

Luna led me down the hall into a room with walls made of falling water. She didn’t say a word, cradling Spike against her chest and looking fixedly ahead, like she was afraid her head would fall off if she turned it. Even Spike seemed subdued, lying passively in her arms with its head down and its thorns slicked flat against its back. That didn’t strike me as a good sign.

“Luna . . . ?”

“Please, October.” She glanced back over her shoulder, expression pained. “Just give me a moment. Please. Everything will be explained.”

That answer just worried me more. Still, I quieted, following her out of the waterfall room and into a vast hall filled with darkness. There was no visible floor. Doors hung suspended in the air, scattered with no regard for where the room’s walls might have logically fallen. Luna walked to the nearest door, opened it, and stepped through, vanishing into the nothingness on the other side. Swell. I swear, if anything will eventually condemn Faerie to becoming nothing but a world of fantasy and kitsch, it’s the pureblood obsession with special effects. Hoisting my skirt around my knees, I followed her.

The darkness broke into shards of yellow and turquoise before resolving into the lush green of an English country garden. Luna and I were standing on a narrow cobblestone path that wound off in a multitude of directions, branching around trees and statuary. Ferns arched overhead, casting lacy shadows on the stones beneath our feet. Like a proper English garden, it was so artfully tended that it looked like it had never been tended at all. Fat gardenias and gladiolas nodded their heads in the shade of climbing ivy and honeysuckle vines, while morning glories twined around the arms of a hanging loveseat. Marble statues peeked out of the corners, nearly buried in the heavy greenery.

“This is new,” I said, looking around.

“This is very, very old,” she corrected. “I sealed it for some time, to let the trees grow. It seemed appropriate for today.”

I gave her a sidelong look. “Luna, what’s going on?” “Just come,” she said, and started down the nearest branch of the path. Spike looked over Luna’s shoulder at me, clearly expectant. With a sigh, I followed.