Artificial Night, An - Seanan McGuire Page 0,110
past me. “See?”
I turned. Hoshibara was there, lying under a willow tree. There was someone—a girl, barely more than a child herself, with yellow eyes and hair that fell to her waist in a riot of pink and red curls. She crept out of the trees with one hand over her mouth, staring at the Kitsune.
Hoshibara lifted her head, looking at the girl; looking at Luna. The movement was weak. There wasn’t much movement left in her. “I won’t go back,” she whispered.
Luna knelt beside her. “You don’t have to.”
“I don’t feel good.”
“You’re dying.”
Hoshibara nodded, expression unsurprised. “Will it hurt?”
“It doesn’t have to.” Luna held out her hand, showing Hoshibara the thorn she held. “I can make it stop hurting right now. But you have to do something for me.”
The Kitsune looked at her distrustfully. I couldn’t blame her. “What happens then?”
“You die.”
“Is there a way for me to not die?”
Luna shook her head. “Not unless you go back to him.”
“What do I do for you?”
For the first time, Luna looked nervous. “You let me take your skin. I found . . . I know how the Selkies did it. Let me be Kitsune. Let me go free.”
“All right.” Hoshibara raised her hand and clasped it over Luna’s. She whimpered once as the thorn cut into her skin. Then she closed her eyes, movement stilling. Luna looked at her for a moment, then leaned down, pressing a kiss against her forehead.
“I wish there’d been another way,” she whispered, and slammed her hand down over Hoshibara’s, binding them together with the thorn. Then she threw back her head and screamed. There was a blast of light so bright that if I’d been watching it with anything other than dream-eyes I wouldn’t have been able to face it. When it faded, both Hoshibara and the rose-girl were gone. A dainty teenager stood in their place, slender hands covered in blood. She had chestnut hair and silver-furred tails, and looked like neither one of them. She stood unsteadily, clutching the hem of her suddenly too large dress, and staggered into the woods, vanishing.
“She got out,” Karen said behind me. “Can we?”
“Karen—” I turned. Karen and Hoshibara were gone. The landscape was dissolving in a pastel smear, and I could smell roses on the wind. I closed my eyes—
—and opened them to find myself at the edge of Acacia’s wood, hidden by a tangle of branches. The sky was black, and my candle was at least four inches shorter. Whatever Luna dosed me with knocked me out for more than a little while, and time was running out.
I stood slowly, leaning against one of the nearby trees. I was back in Blind Michael’s lands, and I knew how Luna managed her escape, and why she’d been willing to give me up to keep its secret. “The end justifies the means,” I whispered. “Oh, Luna.”
The cuts on my fingers were swollen and red and burned if I put too much pressure on them. Cute. “It’s poison Toby week, isn’t it?” I muttered, looking out over the plains. A thick mist had risen, bleaching the landscape; the lights of Blind Michael’s halls flickered dimly in the distance.
There was no time like the present and no time to waste. Shivering, I stepped out of the shelter of the trees and started walking. The steady whiteness of the land around me added an eerie quality to the trip that I could’ve done without. Boulders looked like looming monsters until I got close enough to see them clearly, while brambles and clumps of grass turned the ground into an obstacle course. I held my candle up to light the way, and it burned the mists back just enough to let me see that I was walking in a straight line. The flame was my compass and the light from Blind Michael’s halls was my lighthouse, leading me through the night.
Nothing stopped me as I walked through the mist; the land around me was silent. My candle kept burning slowly down; by the time it was another inch shorter, I was standing in front of the halls, aware of just how exposed I really was. The guards wouldn’t miss me for long. I hunched down behind a crumbling wall, eyeing the mist for signs of movement.
The Luidaeg said Blind Michael had taken Karen’s “self.” Remembering ALH, that phrase made me cold. January’s machine pulled the self out of people, left them empty and dead from the shock of separation. I