Artificial Night, An - Seanan McGuire Page 0,3
loyalties are to Faerie; that makes us useful tools in a world that includes things like iron and the Internet. Not that I’ve been able to figure out the e-mail account Countess April O’Leary set up for me, despite several telephone “tech support” sessions punctuated by April’s muffled laughter. Missing fourteen years of technological advancement has left me a little behind the times.
Fortunately, most of Faerie moves slowly enough to make something as small as being turned into a fish for a decade and a half look positively inconsequential. Certain skills never become outdated, and that includes disposing of infestations of small, inconvenient monsters.
Danny started carrying boxed Barghests to his taxi while I tracked down Dame Altair to sound the all-clear and collect my fee. He was shoving the last box into the passenger seat when I emerged from the knowe, money safely tucked into my pocket.
I eyed the cab. It was completely filled with boxes, making it look like he’d decided to start moonlighting as a professional mover. “I hope you weren’t planning on picking up any fares tonight.”
“Nope.” He grinned, dusting his hands together. “I’m gonna take the babies home and see about setting ’em up a kennel. She say anything about wanting the boxes back?”
“They’re all yours.” Dame Altair’s knowe was tucked into an elegant Victorian house in a neighborhood nice enough that our cars stuck out like sore thumbs. “I’m gonna get going before I miss the party entirely. Call me if you need any help with the Barghests, okay?”
“Got it. And you think about what I said. Getting out more couldn’t hurt.”
“With who? Mitch and Stacy have kids, Kerry’s always busy, Julie hates me, and you have a cab to drive.”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. How about you call that King of Cats guy I used to see you with? Take him out, get him drunk, and see if you can make him sing karaoke.”
“No.” My tone didn’t leave any room for argument.
Danny blinked, looking startled. “Just think about it, all right? Open roads, Toby.”
“Good night, Danny.”
He was just trying to help, and I shouldn’t be cranky about it. I told myself that half a dozen times as I got into my car and pulled out of Dame Altair’s neighborhood, going more than a bit above the speed limit as I tried to make it to Andy’s party on time. I glanced at the clock. Fifteen minutes to midnight. I could just make it, if I managed to avoid getting pulled over.
Human kids live their lives in sunlight. Staying up late is usually a treat reserved for special occasions. Fae kids live by a different clock. Almost all fae are nocturnal creatures, from Daoine Sidhe like my mother all the way down to the hearth-spirits and pixies. We don’t like the sun; the sun returns the favor. Of Mitch and Stacy’s five kids, only the oldest, Cassandra, was keeping anything like a human schedule. She was a freshman at UC Berkeley, and unfortunately, most of the required courses for a physics degree were held during the day.
The fae disdain for daylight made shopping for Andy’s birthday present an adventure in and of itself. I’d finally managed to make it to a toy store downtown just before closing, where the clerk assured me that no four-year-old boy could ever have enough plastic dinosaurs. Since I’d been out of bed for less than half an hour, I was groggy enough that I would have agreed to buy the kid a box of plastic forks if it meant I could get out of there and go for coffee. The dinosaurs were in the back, in a bag covered with gamboling cartoon clowns. I hate clowns.
I was lucky: it was late enough that the roads between San Francisco and Colma were basically clear, and I pulled up in front of Mitch and Stacy’s house with almost five minutes to spare. From the sidewalk, the house looked dark, silent, and totally deserted. Living in Faerie has taught me a lot about how deceptive appearances can be.
The edges of the lawn glittered as I walked toward the house, betraying the presence of an illusion spell. I stepped across the boundaries, and the house was suddenly blazing with lights, the air sharp with the smells of sugar and finger paint. Braziers were mounted on stakes all around the lot, with pixies fanning the tiny flames that kept the spell alive. Shouts and peals of happy laughter filled the air. The party, it