An Artificial Night

“Ow!” I moved my hand back,putting it on the handle of my knife rather than the blade as I pulled it from the tangle of T-shirts. The sheath was a foot away, buried under a drift of socks. I pulled it free as well, slid the knife into it, and clipped it to the inside of my jeans. I try not to go into danger unarmed these days; I’ve learned my lesson and I have the scars to prove it. And I’ve gotten smarter about my weapons. I started wearing a sheath after the incident at ALH Computing, where I nearly gutted myself rolling away from my exploding car with an unsheathed knife tucked into the waistband of my jeans.

Life has been interesting lately.

Returning to the living room, I grabbed my jacket off the floor and pulled my hair into a loose ponytail that would hide the tips of my ears. Disguises are for times when subtlety is required; I wasn’t intending to deal with anyone besides my friends, and I wasn’t going to waste the magic unless it was absolutely necessary. I might need it later. I turned to head for the door.

Claws drove themselves into my calf. I stopped, looking down to see Spike clinging to my leg with both forepaws. “Spike, let go. I need to leave.” It yowled, not releasing my leg. “What do you want?” It looked toward my shoulder. I sighed. “You want to come?”

Spike took that as consent, withdrawing its claws and scrambling up my side to perch on my shoulder. I shook my head and left the apartment. No more delays.

Despite Spike’s tendency to ride pressed against the windshield, I didn’t need to worry about it being spotted; rose goblins have instinctive glamours that keep them hidden from anyone they don’t want seeing them. Control erodes natural magic. The better any race of fae gets at “using” magic, the less instinctive magic they have left. Some things come easier to certain races—like blood magic to the Daoine Sidhe—but a lot of the natural talents common to the smaller fae are almost missing among the races that can pass for human. Spike can do pretty much whatever it wants without fear of being noticed by the human world.

The drive to Mitch and Stacy’s felt like it took no time at all. Panic does that, cramming weeks into hours and hours into seconds. Devin used to call it “running on changeling time,” his way of referring to that state where time runs too fast and no matter how much you have, it’s not enough. All I could think about while I drove was how losing Gillian had nearly killed me. I couldn’t let that happen to Mitch and Stacy. I just couldn’t.

Mitch met me at the car. “Mitch,” I said, and hugged him. He clung for a moment before I pushed him to arm’s length, looking him in the eye. “Where’s Stacy?”

“Inside,” he said. His voice was shaking as much as he was. “She won’t let the kids out of her sight. She even had me move Karen downstairs so she could watch her sleep.”

“Okay. Can you answer a few questions before I go in?”

He stared long enough that I was afraid he didn’t understand me. Then he nodded, saying, “I can try.”

“Stacy said Andrew and Jessica were missing.” He nodded. I continued, “Did you see them go to bed?”

“Yes. They were there, and Cassie says Jessica was in her bed when she left.”

“Good to know.” That was when Spike leaped from the car roof to my shoulder, anchoring itself through my leather jacket with a full complement of claws. I flinched. Cats are blunt instruments compared to rose goblins.

Mitch stared. “Toby, why is there a rose goblin on your shoulder?”

“Spike wanted to come, and I didn’t have time to argue.” Spike sniffed the air and growled. I frowned. “It’s never done that before. Spike? What’s wrong?” That was all the warning it gave before it launched itself from my shoulder and raced for the house, claws churning divots out of the lawn. It looked enraged, like it was running to defend its territory against an unwelcome invader. I glanced at Mitch, snapping, “Go to Stacy,” and followed Spike.