Whatever killed me wouldn’t be something we could prevent with a little trick driving. I’d finally met an enemy that was bigger than I was. Blind Michael wanted me dead: that’s why May was there, and the Riders proved it. We’d gotten away, but whatever he sent after me next would be bigger, meaner, faster, and probably a lot smarter. If I was lucky, I’d be able to get the kids out of the range of fire before it was too late. It was already too late for me.

TWENTY

CONNOR FOUGHT THE CAR TO A STOP as we pulled up in front of Mitch and Stacy’s house; the brakes hadn’t been working well since our little joyride down the hill. Funny thing, that. Frankly, I was amazed we weren’t trying to stop the car by digging our heels into the concrete, Flintstones style.

When we finally stopped moving Connor staggered out of the car, moving to rest his forehead against the nearest tree. “I’m going to die,” he moaned.

“No, you’re not,” said May, climbing into the front seat and then out the driver’s side door. “Trust me, I’d know. It’s a professional thing.”

I unfastened my seat belt, eyeing them. “Guys? Disguises?” The Luidaeg’s spell hid us from prying eyes, but I wasn’t sure it extended past the boundaries of the car.

“Oh, right.” May snapped her fingers and was instantly disguised. She still looked like me, but now she was me-as-human. I’d never seen my human self from the outside before, and somehow, it was more unnerving than looking at my real face. Illusions are personal things, and we don’t usually steal them from one another.

Connor groaned and waved a hand, not lifting his head. The air around him shimmered, dissolving the webs between his fingers and roughening the texture of his hair. “Happy now?”

“Yes,” I said, leaning over the seat to stroke Jessica’s hair away from her forehead. “Come on, puss. Time to go.”

Jessica looked at me, then out the window. “That’s my house.”

“Yes, it is.” Andrew had dozed off, curled up with Spike in what would have been a sickeningly cute pose if Spike had been less, well, spiky. “Come on, Andy, wake up,” I said, shaking him. Spike opened neon yellow eyes and chirped. “Yeah, I know, I’m bothering you. Now get up.”

“Andy doesn’t like to wake up,” Jessica said.

“I’m noticing that. Can you make him move?”

“Okay.” She reached over and yanked Andrew into a sitting position, bracing her knee in the small of his back. He made a mumbling noise and tried to lie back down. “No, Andy. Get up.” He protested again, but stopped trying to fight her. Fascinating. People are strange. Jessica was useless for most of the ordeal but as soon as she had to deal with her little brother she was nothing but efficient. I’d have to remember that, just in case another crazed wanna-be god ever kidnapped us.

Raj leaned against the back of the seat, watching Jessica manhandle her baby brother out of the car. “Will you take us home next?” he asked.

“Yeah, we will,” I said.

“My parents will be pleased.”

“I’m sure they will.” I raked my hands through my hair, and paused, realizing that my own disguise wasn’t in place. I was pretty sure nobody had seen us yet; the fact that Mitch and Stacy hadn’t come charging out of the house told me that much. So now I had a new, simpler problem: how was I supposed to make sure they didn’t see me at all?

Stacy could probably have dealt with my sudden second childhood, as long as I brought her kids home—she can be pragmatic about the strangest things—but I didn’t think she’d be able to cope with May. Like Connor, she knows that I don’t have any sisters; unlike Connor, she couldn’t necessarily handle the news of my impending death.

And then there was Karen. I’d seen her ghost. I still didn’t know how she had . . . how she . . . no. No more trauma, not yet. I’m a child of Faerie. When all else fails, we lie. Maybe it’s not an honorable philosophy, but I’ve always been willing to bend honor in favor of common sense, and common sense told me that introducing Stacy to my Fetch when her life had already been turned upside down wouldn’t be a good idea.

“I’m staying in the car,” I announced. I looked out the open driver’s-side door, asking May, “You understand why, don’t you?”

“I think so,” she said, and frowned. “I shouldn’t do this.”

“I know.”

“It’s not fair. Don’t you think Stacy would want to know?”

“That I’m going to die? How is that going to help, May? She can’t change it.” I shook my head. “You have my memories. That means you love her, too.”

“I do, and you have a point, but . . .” She sighed. “I’m almost sure this is breaking the rules. I shouldn’t be helping you.”

“Why not?”

“I’m your Fetch.”

I shrugged. “So what?”

She nodded, slowly. “All right, but only because I care about Stacy. This is the last time. No more help after this.”

“I understand.”

May snapped her fingers again. Her clothes shimmered and were replaced by jeans, a button-up cotton shirt, and the battered leather jacket I got from Tybalt—typical “me” attire. Shaking the coat into place, she called, “Andy, Jessie, come on. It’s time to go.”

Jessica had managed to get Andrew out of the car, and the two were standing on the sidewalk; Andrew’s thumb was back in his mouth. Jessica turned toward May’s voice and paused, looking between the two of us. “Aunt Birdie?” she asked, cautiously.

Andrew wasn’t as easily confused. He walked over to the open door, leaned in, and grabbed the bottom of my sweater, thumb still in his mouth.

I looked at him, then over to his sister. I couldn’t lie to them, mostly because I knew there was no way in hell they’d buy it. “I don’t want to worry your mother any more than I have to,” I said. “So we’re just going to let May be me for a little bit, okay?”

May smiled at the kids, waggling the fingers of one hand in an almost shy wave.

Jessica eyed her and turned back to me, saying, “She’s not you.”

“I know that, and you know that, but we can pretend, right?”

“Well . . .” she began.