Artificial Night, An - Seanan McGuire Page 0,139

in mine, white-knuckled and shaking. He was terrified, and there were things that needed to be said, but I couldn’t say any of them. Saying something makes it real. There was also our human driver to be considered; he claimed not to speak English, but he still might understand enough to pose a problem if we opened our mouths around him.

So I kept my mouth shut, slid my arm around Quentin’s shoulders, and just held him. It was all I could do. It could never have been enough. It had stopped being enough when I handed Spike to Luna and got into the cab to take Quentin off to face his fate.

The driver dropped us off at the mouth of the Luidaeg’s street and left; Sylvester had already paid the fare. I just hoped he’d used real money. The purebloods can have a sort of creative interpretation of “polite” behavior when it comes to mortals, and cabbies tend to get cranky when they make a big run and wind up with pockets full of dead leaves and ashes.

We stopped on the Luidaeg’s doorstep. I looked at Quentin, gauging the strain in his eyes. “Are you going to be all right with this?” I asked.

“No,” he said. “I’m pretty sure I’m not. But I have to.”

I nodded. More and more, I was coming to appreciate the concept of “have to.” “You know she may not be quite right. Not yet.” You understand that she may be broken beyond even the Luidaeg’s capacity to fix? That we may bring her back, but never bring her home? Do you understand?

There were a lot of things I wanted to say, and I couldn’t bring myself to say a single one, because saying them would make them real, and no amount of preparing him would change what was waiting for us.

“I know. I do. I’m not giving up hope. But I know.”

“All right, Quentin. Just remember that I’m here, okay? I’m not going away again.”

He managed a smile, squeezing my hand. “I know. You’d never be that stupid twice.”

“Brat,” I said fondly and turned to knock on the door.

Inside, the Luidaeg shouted, “It’s open!” When you’re a legendary sea witch, you don’t need to worry much about robbers.

I pushed the door open and led Quentin into the dark, cluttered hall. Quentin stepped easily into the spaces between the debris, moving with the quiet, self-assured grace that comes naturally to the pureblooded Daoine Sidhe. I was easier to track; I was the one who kept tripping and slamming my toes against things in the gloom. The Luidaeg’s hall seems to change length to fit her mood, and we walked for quite a while before we saw the other end come into view. Quentin picked up the pace, his hand still locked in mine, and I let him drag me along.

The living room was as cluttered as ever, reeking of marsh and fen and decaying couch stuffing. Quentin paused for a moment, obviously not used to the smell. Then he saw Katie and froze.

She was sitting on the couch with her hands folded in her lap, gazing into the distance. Her hair had been washed and brushed over her shoulders, and her clothes were clean and new. She looked unhurt and human. The Luidaeg was next to her, one half-clawed hand resting on Katie’s knee.

“Katie?” said Quentin. Then he smiled, brightly enough that it seemed to clear the shadows out of the room. I relaxed, letting my own smile slip forward. Then I saw the look on the Luidaeg’s face, and smiling ceased to be an option. She looked troubled; almost bleak. I stopped, smile fading, and tilted my head to the side in silent question. She nodded, very slightly, and turned to watch Quentin’s approach.

Katie didn’t acknowledge Quentin’s presence, or even seem to know that he was there until he dropped to his knees in front of her and reached for her hand. When he touched her she flinched, cowering against the Luidaeg and whimpering. The Luidaeg lifted one hand to stroke Katie’s hair, whispering soothing words in a language that probably died with Atlantis. Katie shivered, returning to silence.

Quentin leaped to his feet and backed away, eyes as wide and shocked as those of a child who’s just learned that fire burns. Oh, baby. The fire always burns.

“Can you fix her?” he whispered, blinking back tears. His world was falling down around him; I knew how that felt. I’d have tried to offer him something