Seanan McGuire - Midnight Blue-Light Special

For Betsy Tinney.

You are the best steampunk pixie godmother a girl could want.

Thank you, forever.

Cryptid, noun:

1. Any creature whose existence has been suggested but not proved scientifically. Term officially coined by cryptozoologist John E. Wall in 1983.

2. That thing thats getting ready to eat your head.

3. See also monster.

A small survivalist compound about an hours drive east of Portland, Oregon

Thirteen years ago

VERITY STOOD WITH HER HANDS FOLDED in front of her and her feet turned out in first position, watching her father read her report card. They were alone in his study. That was something she would normally have relished, given how hard it was to get her fathers attention all to herself. At the moment, she would rather have been just about anywhere else, including playing hide-and-seek with Antimony. (Annie was just six, and she was already beating both her older siblings at hide-and-seek on a regular basis. It was embarrassing. It would still have been better than this.)

Kevin Price stared at the report card a little too long before lowering it, meeting Veritys grave stare with one of his own. Verity. You need to understand that blending in with the rest of the students is essential. We send you to school so you can learn to fit in.

Yes, Daddy. I know.

We can never attract too much attention to ourselves. If we do, things could get very bad for us. The Covenant is still out there.

I know, Daddy. Most of the kids in third grade were afraid of the bogeyman. Verity didnt mind bogeymenthey were pretty nice, mostly, if you didnt let them talk you into doing anything you werent supposed to dobut there was one monster that she was afraid of, one you couldnt argue with or shoot. It was called Covenant, and one day it was going to come and carry them all away.

So why have you been fighting with the other students?

Verity looked down at her feet. Im bored. Theyre all so slow, and I never get to do anything fun.

I see. Kevin put the offending report card down on his desk, half covering a report on the New Mexico jackalope migration. He cleared his throat, and said, Were enrolling you in gymnastics. Youll be keeping your dance lessons, for now, but I want you to have a way to work off that extra energy. And Verity?

Yes, Daddy?

Play nicely with the other children, or you wont be taking any more ballet classes. Am I clear?

Relief flooded through her. It wasnt victoryvictory would have been more dance lessons, not stupid gymnasticsbut it was closer than shed been willing to hope for. Absolutely. I wont let you down again, I promise.

Ill hold you to that. Kevin leaned forward to hug his older daughter, mind still half on the teacher comments from her report card. If she couldnt learn to blend in, she was going to need to find a way to stand out that wouldnt get them all killed . . . and she needed to do it fast, before they all ran out of time.

The subbasement of St. Catherines Hospital, Manhattan, New York

Now

THE AIR IN THE SUBBASEMENT smelled like disinfectant and decaythe worst aspects of hospital lifeoverlaid with a fine dusting of mildew, just to make sure it was as unpleasant as possible. Only about a quarter of the lights worked, which was almost worse than none of them working at all. Our flashlights would have been more useful in total darkness. All they could do in this weird half-light was scramble the shadows, making them seem even deeper and more dangerous.

I think there are rats down here, Sarah whispered, sounding disgusted. Why did you take me someplace where there are rats? I hate rats.

It was this or the movies, and the rats seemed cheaper, I whispered back. Now be quiet. If that thing is down here with us, we dont want to let it know were coming.

Sarahs glare somehow managed to be visible despite the shadows. The irony of telling the telepath to shut the hell up didnt escape me. Unfortunately for Sarah and her need to complain endlessly about our surroundings, I needed her to stay focused. We were looking for something so different from the human norm that we werent even sure shed be able to see it. That meant not dividing her telepathy just for the sake of whining without being heard.

(Sarah is a cuckooa breed of human-looking cryptid thats biologically more like a giant wasp than any sort of primate, and telepathic to boot. Evolution is funky sometimes.)

To be fair, Sarah hadnt exactly volunteered for this little mission. Sarah rarely volunteers for any mission, little or otherwise, and was much happier staying at home, doing her math homework, and chatting with my cousin Artie on her computer. Im pretty sure that much peace and quiet is bad for you, so I drag her out whenever I can find an excuse. Besides, theres something to be said for having a telepath with you when you go hunting for things that want to eat your head.

Wait. Sarah grabbed my arm. I stopped where I was, glancing back at her. Her glare was still visible, less because of its ferocity and more because her eyes had started to glow white. It would have been unnerving as hell if I hadnt been hoping that was going to happen.

What? I whispered.

Up ahead, she said. Were here. She pointed toward one of the deeper patches of shadow with her free handa patch of shadow that Id been instinctively avoiding. I nodded my appreciation and started in that direction, Sarah following half a step behind me. The shadows seemed to darken as we approached, spreading out to swallow the thin beams of our flashlights.

I love my job, I muttered, and stepped into the dark.

Fortunately for my desire not to spend eternity wandering in a lightless hell, Sarah was right: we had reached our destination. The darkness extended for no more than three steps before we emerged into a clean, well-lit hallway with cheerful posters lining the walls. At least they seemed cheerful, anyway, as long as you didnt look at them too closely. I pride myself on having a strong stomach, and one glance at the poster on gorgon hygiene was enough to make me want to skip dinner for the next week. (Heres a hint: All those snakes have to eat, and anything that eats has to excrete. This, and other horrifying images, brought to you by Mother Nature. Proof that if she really exists, the lady has got a sick sense of humor.)

A white-haired woman dressed in cheerful pink hospital scrubs was standing by the admissions desk. She would have looked like any other attending nurse if it werent for her yellow-rimmed pigeons eyes and the wings sprouting from her shoulders, feathers as white as her hair. Her feet were bare, and her toenails were long enough to be suggestive of talons. She looked up at the sound of our footsteps, and her expression passed rapidly from polite greeting to confusion before finally settling on cautious relief.

Verity Price? she ventured, putting down her clipboard and taking a step in our direction. Her voice had a flutelike quality that blurred the edges of her accent, making it impossible to place her origins as anything more precise than somewhere in Europe.

Thats me, I agreed. This is my cousin, Sarah Zellaby.