Page 8 of Night and Silence

“Were any of them hurt?” asked Nolan anxiously.

“We nearly were,” I said, guiding Danny into the open pen and helping him ease the trash can to the ground. Which was when we hit a snag. We didn’t have a way to get the arkan sonney out, not without dumping them and hoping for the best. “Quentin, bring the not-piglets over here.”

“There are babies?” Nolan actually clapped his hands as Quentin handed me the carrier. The prince looked as overjoyed as a kid being told they’d be getting a puppy for Christmas.

I groaned. “Look, Danny, I found you a new best friend. Introduce him to your Barghests. I’m sure they’ll get along swimmingly.”

“There’s no reason to make fun of my babies just because you don’t like them,” Danny said reproachfully.

“Your babies are venomous, poisonous, and aggressive.”

“But they love their daddy.”

I let the matter drop, turning to face Arden and Nolan as I asked, “Any idea how we’re supposed to release these things?”

“Come out of the pen and close the door,” she said.

Dutifully, we did as we were told. There are times when it’s good to argue with a queen. I do it all the time. At the moment, I just wanted to get this over with, so I could go home and crawl into my own bed before the sun came up.

As soon as the door was latched, Arden and Nolan exchanged a look, nodded, and sketched two virtually identical portals in the air with matching sweeps of their left hands. Hers smelled of redwood bark and blackberry flowers; his smelled of crushed blackberries and sap. They stepped through, still in unison, and appeared inside the pen.

Lowri grimaced. “I wish she’d stop putting herself in harm’s way like this,” she muttered. “She’s the queen. She doesn’t have to.”

“I think she wants to,” I said, watching as Arden knelt to open the carrier door, while Nolan gingerly tipped the trash can onto its side. He removed the lid, and the three adult arkan sonney spilled out, wings flared, eyes blazing, looking around for danger. They calmed when they saw the piglets, luring them out with soft grunting noises before surrounding them in a protective ring. Arden grabbed the empty carrier, Nolan grabbed the empty trash can, and they both stepped back through their portals, which closed behind them, leaving the arkan sonney in their new enclosure.

The winged pigs snuffled at each other and the ground, the boar flaring his wings and snarling like it would keep us from coming back in. Then the whole group moved to the corner and began grooming one another, seeming to calm down.

“That felt sort of anticlimactic,” said Quentin.

“Word of advice, kid: take it,” I replied. “Any monster hunt that ends with the monsters safely contained and us not gored is a good one.”

“They’re not monsters at all,” said Arden. “They’re adorable. And very lucky. They’ll bring good fortune to the knowe. Are you sure you won’t stay?”

“We’re sure,” I said, before Quentin or Danny could contradict me. Arden looked disappointed but didn’t try to argue. I was grateful for that. I can be a smartass when I want to be, but there’s disagreeing with a queen, and then there’s fighting with one. I try to avoid the latter unless it really, really has to be done. “Can you tell Cassandra I said hello, and I’ll try to grab lunch with her the next time I’m in Berkeley?”

“I can,” said Arden. “You’ll come back soon?”

“I will,” I promised. “Quentin, Danny, come on.”

We waved and made our escape, heading for the stairs while Lowri and the Windermeres were clustering around the pen, making cooing noises at the arkan sonney inside.

“Keep walking, don’t look back,” I said softly. “We might get away.”

“Why can’t we stay and look at the piggies?” asked Danny. “They’re cute.”

“They’re cute, but I want to go to bed,” I said.

“I’m supposed to call Dean before dawn,” said Quentin. “The reception here is terrible.”

“Aw,” said Danny. Then, with a pointed look at me, he added, “At least some people remember how to talk to their boyfriends.”

I didn’t respond. I could argue as much as I wanted without convincing him that I wasn’t the one who didn’t want to talk. To be fair, in the past, all too often I had been the reason communication wasn’t happening. Now . . . I would have gladly talked forever, if only Tybalt would let me. I was tired. We’d been running around for hours. It was time to stop.

Danny seemed to realize my silence meant he’d pushed things a bit too far. He didn’t say anything else as we made our way out of the knowe, and I was grateful. The pixies rejoined us for the walk across Muir Woods, wings chiming as they flew. I slouched, letting the lights guide me. Some people need to worry about pixies tricking them into bogs and streams, but the pixies who know me like me, for a lot of reasons, and they wouldn’t do that sort of thing. I hoped.

Maybe I needed to pay more attention to where I was going.

Danny dropped the don’t-look-here as we approached the cab. I climbed into the passenger seat and Quentin got into the back, leaning his head against the window and closing his eyes. I looked at Danny. Danny looked at me.