An Artificial Night
Page 17
I needed coffee, and I needed it now.
SIX
I ARRIVED HOME HALF AN HOUR and a McDonald’s drive-through later, with most of an extra-large coffee doing its best to settle my stomach. It was failing. The failure became more profound as I approached the apartment and got my first look at the front porch. Quentin was sitting there with his arms wrapped around his legs and his chin resting on his knees, looking for all the world like an enormous kicked puppy.
At least he’d had the sense to put on a human disguise, blunting the points of his ears and making his features a little more believably attractive. Daoine Sidhe are gorgeous, but it’s not a human beauty. With the disguise, he could have been a teen idol; without it, he would have started riots. He was wearing blue jeans and a black T-shirt that proclaimed YOU’RE JUST JEALOUS BECAUSE THE VOICES TALK TO ME. It didn’t look like his corn silk-blond hair had been combed in days, and one of his sneakers was untied.
The only time I’d ever seen him look that untidy was right after he’d been shot. Something was wrong.
He scrambled to his feet when he saw me, almost stumbling over his shoelaces. “Toby,” he said, voice cracking. “I—”
Loose lips sink ships and panicked kids say things they shouldn’t. I live in a decent area, but I have neighbors and neighbors hear things. “Wait until we’re inside. You want to get the door?” I tossed him the house keys, getting a better grip on both my bundle of clothes and my skirt in the process. “I do not like walking in this thing.”
“So why are you wearing it?” He caught the keys, frowning quizzically.
“It’s a long story.” I snapped my fingers, muttering a quick snatch of “Mary Had a Little Lamb.” The wards around the doorframe flared red and released. “Just open the door.”
Lucky for me, that boy has been schooled in obedience since the day he was born. He shrugged and turned, unlocking the door. His courtly manners even carried over into holding it open for me before he followed me inside, where he collapsed onto the couch and dropped his head into his hands. I had to admire that—like most teenagers, regardless of breed, he had an almost instinctive grasp of the theatrical.
“Tie your shoes,” I said, dropping my bundle of clothes on the bookshelf before locking the door and turning to head for the kitchen. I needed to make a pot of coffee. He’d talk when he was ready, and most of my cheap fast food coffee was long-since gone.
I was filling the filter when he said, tentatively, “Toby?”
Jackpot. “Yeah?” I turned. He was standing in the kitchen doorway. “You going to tell me why you were camping on my porch?”
“Katie’s gone.”
I put the filter down. “You want to try that again?”
“Katie’s gone. She disappeared this morning.”
The name was familiar, it just took a moment to figure out who he meant. Oh, no. “Your human girlfriend.” He nodded. There was a sudden sinking feeling in my stomach. Please let him be here to tell me they broke up . . . “When you say gone, what do you mean exactly?”
“I don’t know. Away.” He looked down at the floor, continuing in a monotone, “She didn’t come to school this morning.”
It’s getting harder for the purebloods to pretend that the mortal world doesn’t matter, so they’ve started sending their kids to school—human school. Call it the hot new way to play faerie bride. I’m not sure what I think of the idea of a bunch of pureblood kids getting the human childhood I never had, but my opinion won’t reverse the trend. Quentin was in his second year at the human high school near Paso Nogal, and he was doing surprisingly well, all things considered.
I leaned against the counter. “She could be sick. Humans get sick.”
“I know that,” Quentin said defensively. “I went to her house at lunch to check on her.”
“And she wasn’t there?”
“No. Her mom said Katie was gone when she got up. She didn’t take her shoes or her bag or anything.” He swallowed hard before continuing, “I asked if I could look around her room to see if she left a note or something. You know. Investigating, like at ALH.”
“That was clever of you.” The sinking feeling in my stomach was getting worse. “What did you find?”
“No note,” Quentin said. “But . . .” He paused. “Don’t laugh, okay?”
“I won’t laugh,” I said quietly. Somehow, laughter was the last thing on my mind.
“The air in her room tasted funny. Like . . . well, like blood.”
“And candle wax,” I muttered.
“What?”
“Nothing. Did you touch the windows?”
He frowned. “Of course not. Why would I touch the windows?”
I held up my hands. Lily did a good job, but I could still feel the burning if I thought about it too hard. “I don’t know. But if you had, you’d probably be in a world of pain.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Finish your story, then I’ll tell you mine.” He eyed me, and I added, “Promise.”
“All right.” He sighed. “Her mom came in and said I needed to leave. She was pretty worried.” He bit his lip. “So am I.”
“Understandably.” I picked up the filter and slotted it into place, then turned on the coffee maker. I needed more caffeine before I tried to deal with any more of this.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on now?”
“I probably should,” I said, and sighed. “Come on.” I pushed past him into the living room, not waiting to see if he was following; it’s not that big of an apartment. I sat on the end of the couch, tugging the hem of my skirt until it was even.
Quentin followed, sitting on the other end of the couch. Spike leaped into his lap, and he started scratching the rose goblin behind the ears. “Why would the windows hurt me?”
“Because Katie’s not the only one that’s gone,” I said. “Stacy Brown called this morning because her two youngest children were missing. When I searched their rooms, I found the same scents you found in Katie’s. I’ve also spoken to Tybalt, and he says five children disappeared from his Court last night.”
“Same smell?”
“Same smell,” I said. “I touched a window when I was following the scent trail. It burned my hands.”
SIX
I ARRIVED HOME HALF AN HOUR and a McDonald’s drive-through later, with most of an extra-large coffee doing its best to settle my stomach. It was failing. The failure became more profound as I approached the apartment and got my first look at the front porch. Quentin was sitting there with his arms wrapped around his legs and his chin resting on his knees, looking for all the world like an enormous kicked puppy.
At least he’d had the sense to put on a human disguise, blunting the points of his ears and making his features a little more believably attractive. Daoine Sidhe are gorgeous, but it’s not a human beauty. With the disguise, he could have been a teen idol; without it, he would have started riots. He was wearing blue jeans and a black T-shirt that proclaimed YOU’RE JUST JEALOUS BECAUSE THE VOICES TALK TO ME. It didn’t look like his corn silk-blond hair had been combed in days, and one of his sneakers was untied.
The only time I’d ever seen him look that untidy was right after he’d been shot. Something was wrong.
He scrambled to his feet when he saw me, almost stumbling over his shoelaces. “Toby,” he said, voice cracking. “I—”
Loose lips sink ships and panicked kids say things they shouldn’t. I live in a decent area, but I have neighbors and neighbors hear things. “Wait until we’re inside. You want to get the door?” I tossed him the house keys, getting a better grip on both my bundle of clothes and my skirt in the process. “I do not like walking in this thing.”
“So why are you wearing it?” He caught the keys, frowning quizzically.
“It’s a long story.” I snapped my fingers, muttering a quick snatch of “Mary Had a Little Lamb.” The wards around the doorframe flared red and released. “Just open the door.”
Lucky for me, that boy has been schooled in obedience since the day he was born. He shrugged and turned, unlocking the door. His courtly manners even carried over into holding it open for me before he followed me inside, where he collapsed onto the couch and dropped his head into his hands. I had to admire that—like most teenagers, regardless of breed, he had an almost instinctive grasp of the theatrical.
“Tie your shoes,” I said, dropping my bundle of clothes on the bookshelf before locking the door and turning to head for the kitchen. I needed to make a pot of coffee. He’d talk when he was ready, and most of my cheap fast food coffee was long-since gone.
I was filling the filter when he said, tentatively, “Toby?”
Jackpot. “Yeah?” I turned. He was standing in the kitchen doorway. “You going to tell me why you were camping on my porch?”
“Katie’s gone.”
I put the filter down. “You want to try that again?”
“Katie’s gone. She disappeared this morning.”
The name was familiar, it just took a moment to figure out who he meant. Oh, no. “Your human girlfriend.” He nodded. There was a sudden sinking feeling in my stomach. Please let him be here to tell me they broke up . . . “When you say gone, what do you mean exactly?”
“I don’t know. Away.” He looked down at the floor, continuing in a monotone, “She didn’t come to school this morning.”
It’s getting harder for the purebloods to pretend that the mortal world doesn’t matter, so they’ve started sending their kids to school—human school. Call it the hot new way to play faerie bride. I’m not sure what I think of the idea of a bunch of pureblood kids getting the human childhood I never had, but my opinion won’t reverse the trend. Quentin was in his second year at the human high school near Paso Nogal, and he was doing surprisingly well, all things considered.
I leaned against the counter. “She could be sick. Humans get sick.”
“I know that,” Quentin said defensively. “I went to her house at lunch to check on her.”
“And she wasn’t there?”
“No. Her mom said Katie was gone when she got up. She didn’t take her shoes or her bag or anything.” He swallowed hard before continuing, “I asked if I could look around her room to see if she left a note or something. You know. Investigating, like at ALH.”
“That was clever of you.” The sinking feeling in my stomach was getting worse. “What did you find?”
“No note,” Quentin said. “But . . .” He paused. “Don’t laugh, okay?”
“I won’t laugh,” I said quietly. Somehow, laughter was the last thing on my mind.
“The air in her room tasted funny. Like . . . well, like blood.”
“And candle wax,” I muttered.
“What?”
“Nothing. Did you touch the windows?”
He frowned. “Of course not. Why would I touch the windows?”
I held up my hands. Lily did a good job, but I could still feel the burning if I thought about it too hard. “I don’t know. But if you had, you’d probably be in a world of pain.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Finish your story, then I’ll tell you mine.” He eyed me, and I added, “Promise.”
“All right.” He sighed. “Her mom came in and said I needed to leave. She was pretty worried.” He bit his lip. “So am I.”
“Understandably.” I picked up the filter and slotted it into place, then turned on the coffee maker. I needed more caffeine before I tried to deal with any more of this.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on now?”
“I probably should,” I said, and sighed. “Come on.” I pushed past him into the living room, not waiting to see if he was following; it’s not that big of an apartment. I sat on the end of the couch, tugging the hem of my skirt until it was even.
Quentin followed, sitting on the other end of the couch. Spike leaped into his lap, and he started scratching the rose goblin behind the ears. “Why would the windows hurt me?”
“Because Katie’s not the only one that’s gone,” I said. “Stacy Brown called this morning because her two youngest children were missing. When I searched their rooms, I found the same scents you found in Katie’s. I’ve also spoken to Tybalt, and he says five children disappeared from his Court last night.”
“Same smell?”
“Same smell,” I said. “I touched a window when I was following the scent trail. It burned my hands.”
