An Artificial Night

All the kids came home, at least for Mitch and Stacy, but that wasn’t enough, and it never would be. Losing those children at all—I still can’t imagine what I’d have done if someone had taken Gillian away from me like that. As it was, time had taken her from me, and that’s at least a little easier to understand.

The first time I came to check on the kids after everything settled, I told Stacy everything. I thought she was going to haul off and hit me when I told her about May, but she surprised me: instead of reacting with anger, she drove me back to Shadowed Hills, walked up to my Fetch, and said hello, just as polite as you please. May saved my life more than once. That made her part of the family, no matter where she’d come from.

“Hey, guys? Ever heard of holding the door?” May came in behind me, her own presents more sensibly tucked into a plastic shopping bag. She was wearing a forest green skirt that fell almost to her ankles and a pink T-shirt that read “Ladies’ Sewing Circle and Terrorist Society.” “Not that I mind waiting in the cold or anything, but it’s manners.”

Stacy let go of me and smiled. “Sorry, May.”

“Oh, it’s no big deal. It gave me a chance to say hello to your neighbors. Who are very friendly, but have the ugliest dog in the world.” She put her bag down on the table, circling around to kiss Karen on the forehead. “Hey, sleepyhead.”

“Hi, Aunt May.”

The kids adapted fast to the idea of having two aunts—for one thing, it meant more presents, and even though she looked like me, it wasn’t hard to tell us apart. My Fetch had a style all her own: a style she’d strewn across my entire no-longer-spare bedroom. She showed up on my doorstep three days after Quentin said good-bye to Katie, looking sheepish and carrying the few belongings she’d managed to collect in a cardboard box. What was I supposed to do? She wouldn’t have existed if it weren’t for me, and so I let her move in. It was nice to have someone to pay half of the rent, even if I wasn’t sure exactly what she was doing for work. Sylvester helped her get a legal identity; as far as the state of California was concerned, I’d always had an identical twin sister.

Bet Amandine would be surprised to hear that one.

I sat down and was promptly rewarded by having Andrew crawl into my lap. “Hey.”

He pulled his thumb out of his mouth. “Hey.”

“You good?”

“M’good.” He replaced the thumb.

Andrew was doing better than Jessica; he was sleeping through the nights and had stopped drawing disturbing pictures. His parents said I’d taken care of the monsters, and that was good enough for him. He was still young enough to believe that heroes could make all the problems go away. I miss that feeling.

Tybalt’s kids seemed to be doing well. Raj had come to visit several times, much to Quentin’s annoyance; he even brought Helen with him once, treating her like she was made of glass. I wondered what his parents thought of that—interracial dating can be sort of a sore spot with some of the purebloods, and Raj was supposed to be King someday. Oh, well. Not my Court, not my problem.

The King of Cats himself hadn’t spoken to me since Blind Michael died; it had been almost a month, and there was still no word. That was fine. Things had been too confusing for me toward the end, and there are some complications I just don’t need.

Connor hadn’t called me either, and that was fine, too.

“So, Karen, you’re twelve today?” May flashed a grin. “Congrats.”

Karen nodded almost shyly. “Yeah, I am.”

“Toby!” Mitch hugged me from behind. “Glad you could make it.”

I leaned back, grinning up at him. “I wouldn’t miss it. Isn’t this a small party?”

“Just family,” Karen said. I looked at her, and she smiled. “It seemed right.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “It does.”