Page 100 of Sleep No More

Simon was there, staring straight ahead as if he’d been drugged, not blinking. That was who we were looking for, who we’d come to save.

And seated beside him, on a white horse of his own, was Quentin.

Fuck.

TWENTY-SIX

“WHAT DO WE DO, Luidaeg?” I asked, half-frantic. “Can we save them both?”

“We’re gonna have to,” she said. “But you have to hold on to the one you pull down.”

Meaning I could help Simon or I could help Quentin, but I couldn’t save them both. I hesitated. Damn me forever, but I hesitated. One way or the other, I was letting someone down.

Then Tybalt touched my shoulder, and said, softly, “The boy will have his lover, and the Luidaeg. Your father needs both of you.”

I glanced to the Luidaeg, eyes wide. She was watching Quentin as the horses got closer, and the talons on her hands were finally receding, although the blisters still hadn’t healed.

“Go,” she hissed, and we ran, August and I keeping pace with each other, me pulling the pink jewels out of my pocket and shaking two out into my hand, then passing two more to her. Whatever gave us the strength to get through this would be worth it.

We swallowed the jewels as we ran, tasting candied roses and fire-charred marshmallows, and I felt a jolt of pure magic run through my veins. It was like a week’s sleep and six square meals, all at the same time. I started to think we might actually be able to do this.

Together, we made a straight line for Simon, me grabbing the reins while she pulled him from the horse to the ground. Vaguely, I remembered how this had gone when Blind Michael had tried to Ride with me, and I hurried to help her lift him to his feet, then pulled them both toward the blazing circle. August realized what I was doing and joined in, and together we were able to pull him through the wall of light.

He screamed, and she nearly let go in surprise, only clamping her hands back down at the last second. “No matter what happens now, we can’t let go!” I shouted.

She nodded, eyes wide and terrified.

Behind us at the horses, I could see Dean and the Luidaeg repeating our stunt with Quentin, hauling him to the ground and then dragging him to the circle. He woke up from his trance when they were only halfway there, beginning to fight against them. They didn’t let go, and then he was screaming as he fell through the light.

I looked down at Simon. His eyes were open, and he was blinking up at us, seeming utterly perplexed.

“Hello, my dears,” he said. “Can you tell me where we are?”

“Deep breath,” I said. “This is gonna hurt.”

“Who comes for them?” demanded Titania.

“Dean Lorden, Count of Goldengreen, beloved companion!” yelled Dean.

“Antigone of Albany, mentor and friend!” added the Luidaeg.

I looked up. “Sir October Christine Daye, Knight of Lost Words, daughter and friend!”

August swallowed. “August Torquill, daughter.”

“Both these men are precious to me, and I stand for them,” yelled Tybalt.

“That’s my uncle!” called Raysel.

Garm said nothing, but he didn’t break the circle, and under the circumstances, that was enough.

“Very well, then: suffer,” said Titania, sounding almost bored.

“We cast our compass ’round,” said the Luidaeg, grimly. “We knew what we were doing.”

The world twisted around us, and I had a moment to realize that the Luidaeg was right: Titania wasn’t using classic transformation. Then we were standing in the kitchen of the tower, me and August side by side, her already grown, me no more than twelve, hands joined as we watched Simon empty the contents of his herb shelf into a bag.

“You were never enough to hold me here,” he said. “A babbling little brat and a mortal bastard? Why would I stay?”