An Artificial Night

TWENTY-TWO

MARCIA LEANED OUT OF HER BOOTH as we approached, beaming. “Toby! Connor! Hey!” I was ready to get annoyed—Connor and Tybalt recognizing me was one thing, but Marcia?—when she looked down, asking, “And who’s your little friend?”

The phrase “little friend” pissed me off when I was actually the age I seemed to be, and it hadn’t gotten any less annoying as I got older. I was tired, my knees ached, and I didn’t have time to be patronized. “Can it, Marcia. Is Lily available?”

“What?” She blinked. “That’s not a nice way to talk to your elders, you know.”

“You were born in nineteen eighty-three,” I said. “If you’re my elder, I’ll eat my socks. Can we see Lily?”

“Who’s stopping you?” She squinted, the faerie ointment around her eyes reflecting the afternoon light in sparkles of turquoise and gold. “You’re not what you look like.” She looked toward May, still squinting. “Neither is she.”

“Marcia, please, just let us in,” I said.

Marcia is only a quarter-blooded changeling, and she needs faerie ointment to see our world at all. Ironically enough, the ointment opens her eyes a little wider than most. She not only sees through illusions; sometimes, she sees through realities. I guess that’s why Lily likes her. It certainly can’t be for the stimulating conversation.

Marcia pulled back, frowning. “I think you’d better leave. I mean, Toby isn’t Toby, and your kid’s not a kid, and Connor … well, Connor’s okay, and I think that’s Toby’s rose goblin, but that’s all I can tell. People I don’t recognize shouldn’t come here. Lily doesn’t like it.”

“Please refrain from exerting yourself, Marcia,” Lily said, stepping up to the edge of the garden; she couldn’t come any farther. Each Undine is literally bound to their domain, unable to ever leave it. In exchange, they know everything that happens in their own lands, and control them more intimately than any noble has ever controlled a knowe. I’ve always wondered whether it’s a fair trade, but I’ve never been able to get up the nerve to ask. “I know our guests.”

“Lily,” I said. “Hey.”

“Hello, October,” she said. “I see you found the moon. Connor. It’s been too long.”

“I know,” he said, his hand tightening in mine. “I’ve been busy.”

“Of course.” She turned to May. “You would be … ?”

“May,” said my Fetch, expression grave.

“A good name. Ironic, but good. Whatever will we do when the months of the year are used entirely?” Lily looked back to Marcia. “These are my guests. October Daye, daughter of Amandine, albeit in slightly reduced circumstances; Connor O’Dell of Shadowed Hills; and May, who is, unless I am much mistaken, October’s Fetch.” Her voice stayed calm, but she looked at me when she said May’s name, eyes unreadable.

Marcia stared at me, eyes wide. “You’re Toby?” she squeaked.

“Is that a problem?” I asked.

“But you’re so little!”

“And you’re so blonde.”

“Marcia, Toby and her friends look very tired, and I’m sure she wants to see her friend.”

“Karen,” I said. “Is she … ?” I let the question trail off, not sure how to finish it. She wasn’t talking like Karen was dead, but we were in a semipublic place. She might just be waiting to get us alone.

“No, October. I’m sorry.” Lily shook her head. “I tried everything. I failed.”

Oh, root and branch. How was I supposed to tell Stacy that Karen wasn’t coming home? Swallowing, I asked, “How did she die?”

Lily frowned, looking bewildered. “Die?”

“Karen. How did she die?”

Marcia blinked. “Somebody died?”

“October, I think perhaps you and your company ought to come with me,” said Lily, still frowning. “The sun will be down soon, and it seems we have much to discuss.” She turned. Too confused to argue, I followed her, not releasing Connor’s hand.

She led us to the base of the moon bridge, then stopped and knelt, putting her hand over my knee. “You’re hurt,” she said, disapprovingly. “That won’t do, but I can’t fix it here. Fetch?”

“Huh?” said May, blinking.

The folds of Lily’s kimono rustled as she straightened. “Carry her. We must get her into the knowe, and she can’t possibly handle the bridge with her knee in that condition.”

“But—”

“There will be time to weep and wail and play the Banshee soon enough. For now, carry her. Connor?”

“Yes?”

“Come.” She held out her arm, obviously expecting him to take it. Connor glanced at me as he released my hand and slid his arm through hers, letting her lead him up the bridge and out of sight. Spike bounded after them, leaving me alone with May. Peachy.

May looked at me, frowning. “She wants me to carry you.”

“I noticed.”

“Of all the ludicrous—”

I sighed, holding up my arms. “Come on, May. The sooner we finish this, the sooner you can carry me off to my eternal reward.”

“I’m still not sure I’m allowed to help you.”

“Look, I won’t tell if you won’t. Do you want to piss off Lily?”

She blanched. When she got my memories, she got the full set. “No.”

“I didn’t think so. So come on and pick me up.”

May sighed and knelt. “Oh, fine.” Even shifting so she could lift me piggyback-style hurt my knee, and I hated to think what climbing the bridge on my own would’ve been like. Lily was right—I needed to be carried—but still, being carried by your own Fetch is just embarrassing.

May leaned forward to counterbalance my weight as she mounted the bridge. It worked well enough that we didn’t fall backward, but it was slow going. She stopped, grabbing the railing as she panted for breath.

“What have you been eating?” she asked. “Bricks?”

I “accidentally” dug my heels into her sides. “I thought you were indestructible.”

“No, I’m unkillable,” she said, panting. “I still get tired, and you’re heavy.”

“Stuff it.”

“Such gratitude.” She started climbing again. There was a soft popping sound as we reached the top of the bridge, and we were standing at a crossroads with four small cobblestone paths stretching out across a checkerboard expanse of marsh. Only the paths provided a clear route to solid ground. We were in Lily’s knowe.

“Cute,” May grumbled, starting down the nearest path. We were halfway to land when she slipped.

Riding piggyback doesn’t give you much in the way of the ability to catch yourself, and with her arms around my legs, May couldn’t catch us. We barely had time to shriek—in perfect unison—before we hit the water. It was lukewarm, like fresh blood.

The thought was enough to make me shove away from May and start thrashing, and the fact that I was in the water at all was enough to make me keep thrashing. I spent fourteen years living with Lily. Neither of us planned it that way; a man named Simon Torquill decided I’d make a lovely koi and had the magic to test the theory. He transformed me and left me in one of the ponds that riddle the Tea Gardens. I haven’t been real big on water since that happened. I don’t even take baths anymore, just showers. Put me in water and I tend to panic a little.

Okay, more than a little. I kept thrashing, struggling to find the surface. Most koi ponds are shallow, but Lily’s ponds aren’t exactly what you’d call standard. I don’t remember what they were like when I lived there, but I’ve never found the bottom while I was in my original shape, and I’m not going looking. I tried to scream, and water filled my mouth, choking me.

Great, I thought wildly, this is how I die. My Fetch drowns me by mistake.

Hands grabbed my shoulders and wrenched me out of the water, dropping me on something solid before hitting me on the back. I started coughing. Air. There was air in the world. Opening my eyes, I found myself staring up at Connor.

“Are you all right?” he said.

“Y-yeah,” I stammered. “Sorry.”

“Not your fault. May dropped you.” He glared back over his shoulder.

“I didn’t mean to!” May was a few feet away, wringing water out of her hair.

“It’s okay, Connor. I’m okay,” I said, sitting up and looking around. “She didn’t mean to drop me. Where’s Lily?”

“The pavilion,” said Connor, almost smiling.

“Which would be where?”

“Try looking behind you,” said May.

I looked over my shoulder. The pavilion was there, just like last time. Lily was seated at the table, mixing herbs in a small mortar. Spike was off to one side, watching and occasionally reaching out to bat at the pestle. She didn’t seem bothered by the rose goblin’s antics; she ignored it, placidly continuing to work. And Karen was lying on the cushions behind the table, just where I’d left her.

It took a moment for that to process. When it did, I scrambled to my feet and ran for the pavilion, only to fall again as my knees buckled beneath me. “Maeve’s teeth!” I snarled. “Lily!”

“Oh, crying for me now, are you?” She looked up, expression unreadable. “What would you ask from me?”

“Lily, you—I—I need to get to Karen! I need to see that she’s okay.”

“Do you?” She rose, walking down the pavilion steps with a fluidity even Tybalt could only envy. “It seems to me that what you need is to hold still for a time.”

“Lily …” May and Connor were both standing, but they weren’t moving. Turning toward Lily, I said, pleadingly, “Lily, please.”

“If I truly loved you, I would refuse,” she said, smiling sadly as she came to kneel on the moss in front of me, the mortar still in her hand. “I’d say ‘no, you’ve had enough gifts of me,’ and I’d let you heal at your own pace, just this once. Perhaps then your charming twin would leave us in peace, and while you might hate me for a while, you would be here to do it.”

“I don’t think it works that way,” said May. She sounded sorry.

“I know that as well as you do. I’ve known more of your breed than you’d believe,” chided Lily, pulling a chunk of moss off the ground and pressing it into her mortar. “Once you arrive, events must play to their logical conclusions. I hope you don’t mind my hating you.”

“It’s okay,” said May, coming to sit beside us. “It comes with the territory.”

“Yes. It does. October?”

“Yes?”

“Connor is behind you. What is he doing?”

She sounded curious enough that I turned. Connor was watching me bleakly; he looked like he was losing his best friend. “He’s not doing anything, Lily. Why did you—”

Her fists slammed into my knee. I screamed, whipping around to face her. She was empty-handed, looking at me innocently. I started to shout, and stopped as I realized that the pain was gone. I settled for glaring. “That hurt.”

“Such things often do.” She stood, leaving the moss on my leg as she walked back into the pavilion. “Come now, all of you. I am sure you have places to go and deaths to face.”

I stood and followed her into the pavilion, letting her makeshift poultice lie where it fell. There was a flash of light as I climbed the steps, and the smell of hibiscus tea filled the air. I staggered, catching myself on the wall, and realized I was clean, dry, and wearing a purple robe embroidered with red heraldic roses. My hair was braided smoothly back.

And I was physically back to the correct age.

“What the—?” I looked up. At least I wasn’t the only one confused; May and Connor were staring at me, mouths hanging open.

Lily inclined her head, looking satisfied. “As I thought. This suits you far better, given the circumstances.” She knelt, pouring tea into a set of black-and-white patterned cups. “See to the girl; I know you too well to think you’ll listen before you know she lives.”

“Karen!” Suddenly reminded, I rushed over to drop to my knees and press my ear to Karen’s chest. I didn’t really stop holding my breath until I heard the steady, muffled beating of her heart. She had a heartbeat. She was alive. “She’s alive.” I sat up, turning toward the others, and beamed. “She’s alive.”

“I told you that,” said Lily, chidingly. “She’s alive and whole, and there is nothing I can do for her. Now come, all three of you, and drink your tea.”

“Lily—”

“Come. Sit. Don’t argue with me.”

What were we supposed to do? We sat. I knelt across from Lily, with May to my left and Connor to my right. He squeezed my knee under the table; I smiled at him. Lily simply watched us, passing the teacups around the table.

May was the first to receive her cup. She picked it up, sipped, and smiled. “Hey, peppermint.”

Connor picked up his own cup, and blinked at her. “This isn’t peppermint. It’s rosehips and watercress.”

“As you say,” said Lily, sipping her own tea.

Right. I picked up my cup and took a cautious sip. The liquid hit my tongue, and I choked, flinging my cup away. It shattered against the pavilion floor as I turned to spit out what was already in my mouth. “Blood?” I looked back to Lily, furious. “You served me blood!”

“No, I didn’t. You served it to yourself, just as May served herself peppermint and Connor served himself rosehips. The difference is what you made of it. Much like your lives, I’d imagine. And now you’ve broken another of my teacups.” She sighed. “Really, October, what am I going to do with you?”

“Is there a reason you people are so damn obscure?” I demanded, standing. The taste of blood makes me cranky under any circumstances. I’d managed to spit out most of it, but I was still getting flickering glimpses of Lily’s life, like shadows cast on a distant wall. I didn’t want them. “Screw this. Karen and I are leaving.”

“Are you, now? She’s rather larger than you can easily manage on your own.”

“Connor will help.” I glanced back toward him. He hadn’t moved; he was just watching us with a befuddled look on his face. “Won’t you?”

“Oh, sure,” he said, sounding dazed. Then he fell over.

“What the—” May started to stand, but her eyes glazed over and she collapsed in mid-motion. Spike hissed and slunk behind me, crouching at my heels.

Lily put down her teacup. “I know you too well,” she said. “I knew you wouldn’t drink your tea.”

“What did you do?” I moved to Connor’s side, fumbling for his pulse. It was strong and steady.

“I bought you some time,” she said. “You don’t have as much as you think. The tea leaves never lie.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I snapped.

“You let me help you. Your bond is mine.” She raised a hand, saying, “By sea and wave and shore, by the boon of Maeve, mother of waters, I call you to me. Accept my request and grant what I need in this moment.” Her jade eyes seemed darker than usual, and very sad.

“Lily?” I stood, taking a step backward. “What are you doing?”

She shook her head, moving toward me. “By storm and frost and tempest, in the name of Maeve, mother of marshes, I call you to me. The road is ours who are her children, and it shall open when there are no others.”

It was getting hard to keep my eyes open. I hadn’t drunk the tea, but I tasted it, and that was enough to let her put me under. I dropped to my knees, whispering, “Lily, why?”

“For your own good,” she said, and reached down to nudge my eyelids closed. I tried to pull away, but I couldn’t move. Not at all.

And then there was nothing.