Artificial Night, An - Seanan McGuire Page 0,113

made of ivory, amusement in his sightless face as he turned toward me. “So,” he said. “You’ve returned.”

“You cheated,” I snapped. One day I’ll learn when to hold my tongue. “You said I could free Mitch and Stacy’s kids. You didn’t tell me you had Karen.”

He leaned back. “So did you. You took children I’d not agreed to lose.”

“I never said I wouldn’t.”

“I never said I’d tell you what children I had, or that I wouldn’t take back the ones you didn’t bargain for. The children you won fairly are yours, the others are mine if I want them.” He smiled. I shuddered. There were things in that smile I never wanted to know the names for. “Of course, we could always make another bargain. I enjoyed our last one.”

“What do you want?” I asked. “You can’t keep me here. I have the Luidaeg’s blessing.”

“Oh, I know. My subjects were—enthusiastic—in bringing you. I apologize.” I somehow doubted anyone was going to be punished for their enthusiasm. “As long as you hold my sister’s candle, you may leave at any time. But.”

“But?” I echoed. There was a catch. Of course there was a catch.

“You leave without this.” He pulled a familiar crystal sphere out of his vest, holding it up to show me the struggling butterfly trapped inside. “Isn’t she lovely? She brushed past me in the night, and I took her. How long will she last, I wonder?”

Karen. Oh, root and branch, Karen. “Let her go!”

“Stay with me.”

I froze, staring at him. “What?”

He smiled again. “Put down your candle. Stay with me. You don’t have time to save her and escape, but if you’ll stay of your own free will, I’ll let her go.”

“Why?”

“Because you tricked me once; that impressed me, but I’m not leaving you free to do it again. Because your existence offends me, daughter of Amandine.” He spun the sphere, making the butterfly fan its wings in a frantic attempt to stay upright. “You stay. She goes.”

“And Katie?”

“You have no claim to her.” He shook his head. “Sacrifice yourself to save one, or lose both. The choice is yours, daughter of Amandine. You haven’t got that much time left.”

I looked down at my candle. He was right: time was slipping away, and I wasn’t sure I could make it out alone, much less with my kids. Damn it. Forgive me, Luidaeg, but you were right. I really did run away to die.

“I see,” I said, looking up.

Blind Michael smiled. “Will you make the trade?”

I shivered, taking another look at my candle. It wouldn’t burn forever; if I stalled too long I’d be trapped, and Karen would be trapped with me. If I took his bargain, at least one of us would get away.

I didn’t mean to fail anyone; I didn’t mean to leave Katie behind. At least she’d forget that she’d ever been anything but a horse in a madman’s stable, and Quentin was young—he’d have outlived her no matter what happened. Loving a mortal is never wise. You get burned every time. He was just going to have to learn that lesson a little earlier than I did.

I knew I was justifying what I was going to do. I didn’t care. There was no other way.

“If I stay,” I said, slowly, “you’ll let Karen go. No tricks, right?”

“Of course,” he said, offended. “My word is my bond. Am I not born of Faerie?”

That was the thing. He was born of Faerie, a Faerie so old only the Firstborn remembered it. Our word has always been our bond, and his blood was older than mine. His word would be more binding. “Promise me,” I said.

“If I promise, you stay. You will join my Hunt and belong to me, forever.”

One last chance. I could still say no; I could run away and come back to save them all, if I truly believed I could still get there and back by a candle’s light. The wax was melting faster all the time, running down and coating my fingers. How many miles to Babylon?

Too many.

“If you promise, I’ll stay,” I said. “You have my word.”

“That is all I need.” Blind Michael stood, giving a short, mocking bow. “By my mother’s blood and my father’s bones, I promise,” he said, in a singsong voice that echoed back and forth until it filled the world. I shivered where I stood, wanting to run. Too little and too late, by far. I’d given up my chance, and I was going to have to

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