The girl must have heard them, because she did something that surprised me so much that I nearly threw myself out of the bushes to shield her: no one that brave should have to die. She tripped and fell in what was obviously a staged maneuver, “accidentally” flinging the Cait Sidhe away. It twisted in midair, landing a few feet from my hiding place.
That was my chance. Praying I wouldn’t be seen, I scooted forward and snatched the cat, yanking it back into the brambles. It writhed, sinking its teeth into my arm. I’ve lived with cats for a long time. I didn’t scream or let go, but shifted my grip to the scruff of its neck, giving it a solid shake before whispering, “Tybalt sent me.” It stopped struggling. Trusting it not to attack, I gathered it against my chest and turned back to the scene outside.
The Hunters hadn’t noticed me. I wasn’t counting on that to last once they realized the Cait Sidhe was missing, but for the moment, they were focused on the girl. Weapons drawn, they formed a circle around her. She didn’t even try to rise as the nearest Huntsman prodded her with his spear, saying something I couldn’t make out. The kitten understood, because it flattened its ears, growling almost silently. Two more Riders dismounted, picking her up and sliding her onto the back of the nearest horse. A Rider mounted behind her, turning the horse back the way they’d come. Through it all, she never made a sound.
The other Riders stayed behind, fanning out in an obvious search pattern. I held my breath, but none of them approached our hiding place. They circled farther and farther away, looking behind stones and through the sparse underbrush. I clutched the kitten to my chest, trying to come up with a way out. The forest was less than a hundred yards ahead of us. If the Riders went far enough, we’d have a chance.
In the end, we didn’t need it. The horns began to sound, and the remaining Riders turned as one, galloping out of sight. The sound of hooves faded before the horns did, but eventually even they were gone. I pulled out my candle and was reassured to see that the flame had gone back to a steady blue, flickering upward. I relaxed, assuming that meant we were as close to safe as we were likely to get.
The cat squirmed loose and ran to the edge of the briar, where it stopped and eyed me suspiciously. I didn’t try to stop it. If it wanted to run away, it could take care of itself. “Go ahead,” I said. It flattened its ears and hissed. I sighed. “Okay, whatever.”
Bracing my elbows in the dirt, I crab-walked my way back into the open and stood, holding up the candle and beginning to pick thorns out of my knees with my free hand. The cat crept out after me. I watched it out of the corner of my eye while continuing to remove the thorns from my jeans.
After sniffing warily at the ground, the cat stretched and reared up onto its hind legs. The air crackled with the smell of pepper and burning paper, and the cat was gone, replaced by a gangly teenage boy with bruises covering the left side of his face. He looked like a small fourteen, dark-skinned, with glass green eyes and hair that was the same russet red as his fur. His pupils were thin black slits, and his ears were more feline than human, tipped with fringes of black fur. Cait Sidhe pureblood. “Who are you?” he demanded.
“October Daye,” I said, tucking the thorns I’d collected into my pocket. You never know what you might need later. “Yourself?”
He narrowed his eyes, looking at me disdainfully. I recognized that look; I got it from Tybalt all the time. “My name is Raj. I am—”
“You’re the local Prince of Cats,” I said, cutting him off. “Yeah, I know.”
He wasn’t expecting that. His eyes widened, wariness returning. “How did you know?”
I sighed. I didn’t have the heart to tease him—not after seeing his companion taken. “Like I said, Tybalt sent me. He’s . . .” How could I describe my relationship with the King of Cats? I finally settled for saying, “A friend of mine.”
Raj frowned, eyes narrowing again. “That’s not possible.”
I frowned back. I was too tired to put up with adolescent royalty. “So we’re not friends as much as we’re enemies who haven’t killed each other yet. Does it matter? He sent me to save you.”
“You? Save us?” He laughed bitterly. No child should ever laugh like that. “Come back when you’re older.”
“What?” The disorientation rushed back, trying to keep me from putting the pieces together. Unfortunately, ignorance was becoming a luxury I couldn’t afford. Fighting the impulse to ignore what Raj had said, I looked down, already nearly sure of what I’d see.
Just once, it would be nice to be surprised.
Most people know the shape of their own body. They may have little illusions about it—how thin they are, how fat, how good they look in that black velvet dress—but the essential topography is ingrained. The length of a hand, the texture of skin, the slope of a breast; it’s all there, and when it changes, it usually does it slowly enough that your mental map changes with it. I’ve lived with myself for a long time now, and the years I spent as a fish just made me more aware of the shape I’m supposed to be. I lost myself once, and that made me pay a lot more attention when I got myself back.
The body I was wearing wasn’t mine—or rather, it wasn’t mine anymore and hadn’t been for a very long time. I’d been whittled down, curves smoothed away. I turned to the hand that held the candle, finally really looking at it. The fingers were too short, and the nails were too broad. Not an adult’s hands. Reaching up, I felt the outlines of my face, still round with the remains of baby fat, and pulled the band from my hair. The strands that promptly fell across my eyes were an indeterminate ashy blonde, the color my hair had been until the time I was about twelve. Putting what I could see and feel together, I’d have guessed my age at somewhere between eight and ten, probably on the higher end of the scale. It was hard to tell. Changelings age oddly; I was a child for a long time.
Raj’s eyes remained narrowed as he watched my slow self-examination. He was frightened but hiding it well; I hoped my own fear was as well concealed. I doubted it.
“Oberon’s balls,” I muttered, and flinched from the sound of my own thin, too-high voice. How did I miss that before? Easy: the Luidaeg made me. “Luidaeg, what did you do?” The answer to that was pretty easy, too. I just didn’t want to think about it.
Blind Michael was a child’s terror. The Luidaeg said that there were three ways to reach him, that one would kill me and that one was hidden . . . but the third way had to be open to children of all races and types, or he wouldn’t be able to take them. She’d done what I asked. She’d found a way to get me into Blind Michael’s lands. It just didn’t come with full disclosure. Silently, I resolved to kick her ass after I got home and she’d given me back my real body. Assuming I made it home in the first place.
Raj’s eyes widened and he looked around wildly, like he expected the Luidaeg to appear and make things worse than they already were. “Why are you calling her?” The royalty was gone; suddenly, he was just a frightened teenage boy with no way home.
“Because she’s the one who did this to me. I think she thought she was helping. ‘You can get there and back by the light of a candle.’”I kept talking, too angry to stop. “Why don’t people ever say things the way they mean them? ‘You can get there, but if you lose that candle you’re screwed, and by the way, you’re going to have to be nine. Hope that’s not a problem.’ ”
“What?”
“Hang on . . . sorry.” I sighed, forcing myself to calm down. “Let’s try this again. Tybalt really did send me. I’m here to rescue you. The Luidaeg turned me into a kid so I could get on the road, but if you’ll just trust me, I—”
He stared at me. “You’re insane! You’re working for Him!” It was clear from his tone of voice that he wasn’t talking about Tybalt.
“No, I’m not! It’s just that—”
“They took Helen, and you didn’t stop them!” His voice was getting louder. I glanced around, wondering how far sound carried on the plains. “You’re already His! You want to take me back! Well you can’t!
I won’t go!” He turned toward the forest and took off running.
“Raj, wait!” I bolted after him, and I might have caught him—panic is a great motivation—but he had an advantage I didn’t. The air shimmered around him, and I was suddenly chasing a half-grown Abyssinian. Four feet are more stable than two and faster over short distances. His lead was increasing rapidly.
And far behind us, the hunting horns began to sound.
Raj reached the edge of the wood and leaped, vanishing into the trees. I followed him without a pause. Better the forest than the Hunt. The day had started badly and kept getting worse, and now here I was, nine years old and alone in a dark forest with Huntsmen on one side and the unknown on the other, and nothing but a candle to light my way.
Some days it really doesn’t pay to get out of bed.
TEN
BRANCHES SNATCHED AT MY HAIR as the trees closed around me, blocking my view of the plains. I ducked away from them, walking deeper into the wood. It didn’t seem like the smart choice—going deeper into the dark, foreboding forest so rarely is—but if I’d wanted the smart choice, I wouldn’t have come to Blind Michael’s lands in the first place. At least my fae blood gives me pretty good night vision—between that and the glow of my candle, I was able to see well enough not to fall. The candle’s flame was burning a steady blue, which I chose to interpret as a good thing. It turned orange when the Hunt was nearby, and if I was lucky, it might keep acting as an early warning system. Frankly, I needed the help.
I continued to pick my way through the trees, trying to avoid the rocks and trailing roots that turned the already uneven ground into a maze of obstacles. Branches kept snarling in my hair, pulling me to sudden, unexpected stops, and my patience was running out. I was bruised, scratched, and frightened, and in an incredibly bad mood to boot. I was also no closer to my goal. The Hunt came from the mountains and rode back the same way. I didn’t know where the boundaries of Blind Michael’s lands were drawn, but the geography seemed to be at least semilinear. I wouldn’t find the kids by walking away from them.
The forest was far from silent. Owls hooted in the distance, and small creatures rustled through the underbrush, rattling the leaves. The faint chorus almost made me feel better—you’re not likely to find many monsters in a place where there’s still wildlife. Of course, that could just mean nothing in this forest was harmless, but I was trying not to think about that. Vampire bunnies did not appeal. It seemed to be getting darker as I walked, the glow of my candle nearly vanishing into the shadows. The sounds around me faded out as well, getting softer and softer until they were gone. I didn’t like that at all. If King Kong came bursting out of the bushes, I was going to be pissed. Swallowing hard, I continued to walk.
No giant apes appeared. Instead, the trees opened up into a clearing. I stopped, leaning forward as I tried to catch my breath. I’d forgotten how much longer distances were to a child. My legs hurt, my knees hurt, and all I wanted was the chance to curl up somewhere and sleep it off. And there was no way in hell that was going to happen.
Something snapped in the brush. I straightened, eyes flicking automatically to my candle, which was still burning a serene blue. That might mean I wasn’t in danger, but it could also mean the spell only reacted to Blind Michael’s Hunters, and I didn’t want to take that chance. Whirling, I darted across the clearing to a hollow, half-rotten tree, dropped to my knees, and squirmed inside. It was surprisingly easy to wedge myself there; I’d forgotten how small I was. Then I waited, half holding my breath, to see what would happen next.
The snap was repeated, followed by rustling that continued for several minutes. I stayed frozen in my hiding place, managing not to scream as a figure stepped out of the trees directly ahead of me. My candle was still burning blue. Swell. Either whoever it was wasn’t a danger, or I couldn’t count on the candle to act as an early warning system. Watching whoever it was approach, I didn’t have a clue which it was.
The figure was thin and hooded, its outline obscured by an ankle-length cloak. It held a lantern in one hand; the light filled the clearing with a dim white glow. It drifted to a stop, raising the lantern to head height. One hand was lifted in a beckoning gesture. A branch swung toward it, stopping as it brushed the outstretched fingers.
“Ah,” the figure said, in a voice as soft and dry as dead leaves on the wind. Despite the rustling thinness of the voice, I could tell it was female. “I see.” She lowered her hand, rubbing her fingers together. “We have a visitor.”
Oh, oak and ash. I scrambled farther into my hiding place, cupping one hand around the candle to block the light. It burned my fingers, and I still wasn’t sure she couldn’t see it.
“Come out,” she called. She turned in a slow circle, pulling back her hood. “This is my wood. Come out and let me see you.” Lantern light fell over her face as she moved, bringing her into harsh visibility.
Her skin was daffodil yellow. Tendrils of brown and gold hair snaked around her cheeks, so matted and snarled that they looked almost like thin tree roots. They writhed constantly, twisting themselves into knots and curls. Her eyes were long and narrow and the color of brass from end to end; her pupils were thin silver lines visibly contracted against the light, like a cat’s, or a serpent’s. I’d never seen anything like her.
I shivered, wishing the Luidaeg was there. She’d have known what to do. There was something painfully ironic about that desire; I wasn’t a child, but I looked like one, and I was wishing for the sea witch to come and save me.
The woman frowned, eyes narrowing as I failed to appear. “I know you can hear me; the trees felt you pass. They can’t tell me where you are, but they know you’re here. Come out before you make me angry.” Her features were generous and well-formed, with a nose that was a little sharp and a lower lip that was a bit too large. Still, she was pretty, or had been once—a heavy scar ran from just under her left eye to her chin, pulling the side of her mouth into a permanently puckered scowl. There’s only one thing that can scar a pureblood like that. Iron.
And she was a pureblood. I could taste the purity of her blood like fire on my tongue, almost hot enough to actually burn. Whatever she was, it was strong. Strong enough that she might be Firstborn. The Luidaeg is the only Firstborn I’ve ever dealt with on a regular basis, and her power is subtle, damped down until she can seem human to the casual observer. This woman’s power wasn’t hidden at all. It blazed all around her, seeming brighter than the lantern light. And something had been fast enough and strong enough to run a scar down her face. Whatever it was, I hoped it wasn’t in the forest with us.
I stayed huddled in the dubious safety of my hiding place, shivering harder. My heart seemed impossibly loud to my terrified ears, and for an illogical moment, I was afraid it would lead her to me. It was so loud. How could she miss it?
She lowered the lantern, frown deepening. “My name is Acacia, and these are my woods,” she said. “If you seek Blind Michael, go toward the mountains; if you seek me, come out now. If you seek neither of us, go home by whatever road you choose. But do not hide from me in my own places, or it will not go well for you, no matter what your quest may be.” She paused, waiting. I didn’t speak. “Very well. Never say you had no choice.”
The branches bent to allow her passage as she turned and walked out of the clearing, her cloak billowing behind her. I’ve seen Luna get similar treatment from her roses, but never on such a grand scale; this woman seemed to be in command of the entire forest.
I stayed where I was for what felt like an eternity, listening to the silence. Her footsteps had faded; she was gone. At least I hoped she was—she could be lurking in the underbrush, waiting for me to come out. Why hadn’t she seen me? The forest obviously obeyed her, and my candle wasn’t that well hidden. If she was in control of the trees, they should have led her straight to me. So why hadn’t they?
The sounds of the forest slowly returned, and I started to breathe again. Uncurling cautiously, I stuck my head out of
the hollow tree and looked around the empty clearing. If I ran, I might make it back to the plains before she found me. The threat of the Hunters had dimmed before the threat of the forest. They would just take me to Blind Michael. This woman might do anything.
Something brushed against my shoulder. I flinched, somehow managing not to scream. When I made it home—if I made it home—I was going to allow myself the luxury of a long, unhurried panic attack, but this wasn’t the time. Taking a deep breath, I asked, “Who’s there?”
For once, luck was with me. An anxious, familiar voice answered, “It’s Raj. I . . . the forest is very dark.”
“Yes. It is.” I looked to the right and saw Raj crouched beside my tree, making himself as small as he possibly could. “How did you get away from Acacia?”
“The yellow woman?” He snorted, arrogance returning as he said, “She asked the trees about invaders, but not about animals, so they didn’t tell her. Trees aren’t very smart.”
“Clever.” I meant it. When I was fourteen, I thought trees were things to climb, not things you could trick. “Why did you come back?”
“Because of her.” I looked at him blankly, and he said, “She was looking for you. I don’t think she’d have been looking for you if you worked for Him.” He paused. There was no trust in his eyes, but there was something else: the first flickers of hope. “Are you really the October my Uncle Tybalt knows?”
I sighed. “Yeah. That’s me.”
Raj frowned. “My father says Uncle Tybalt’s friend October is an adult.” He paused. “And a hussy.”
“I usually am. An adult, not a hussy.” Hussy? What the hell was Tybalt telling his Court? The King of Cats and I were going to have a long talk when I got my own body back.
“But you’re younger than I am!”
“Courtesy of the Luidaeg,” I said. Raj flinched at her name. More quietly, I said, “Your uncle asked me to get you and the others out of here, and the Luidaeg put a spell on me to make it possible.”
An Artificial Night - BK 3 Page 11
