Ghost Light

Chapter 3

I found an empty lot behind a pool hall and set the cat on the lid of a trash bin. Grass grew incongruously through broken pavement, seeming to glow green in the fog and thickening shadows. The apparent glow was a reminder that I had unfinished business regarding my fae heritage. The cat sidhe may enjoy goading me by calling me Princess, but the title was apt. My father was the king of the wisps and I was a half-breed with no knowledge of how to glamour myself. I needed to remedy that problem before I ended up enslaved or dead.

If I continued to lose control as I did earlier, risking humans witnessing my glowing skin, someone or something would come for me. I could be forced to live in the Green Lady’s realm, if they let me live at all. Faerie assassins could be watching me now, waiting for their chance to take me out. I hunched my shoulders and dragged my eyes away from the shadows.

The cat sidhe’s claws scraped the metal can lid as he shook vigorously. His fur stood on end making him look all the more scrappy. An overhead street lamp flickered on, illuminating white ribbons of wax-like flesh which laced the fur along his sinewy body. But the scars were nothing compared to the condition of his face and head.

A ragged scar above the faerie cat’s left eye bisected the brow ridge, leaving him with a perpetual look of disdain. He was, in fact, lucky to still have the remaining eye. His ears were not so fortunate. The cat’s left ear was filled with holes and tears, like the storm ravaged sail of a ship lost at sea. But the damage to the cat’s tattered left ear was outdone by a lump of scar tissue where his right ear should have been. The ear looked to have been torn savagely from his head.

I looked away. This cat sidhe had obviously seen battle and had the scars to prove it. That was something I’d be smart to remember.

“I can’t believe you made me roll around like some drug-crazed house cat,” he said.

“What?” I asked. “I didn’t make you do any of it. Though I appreciate you turning up when you did, I never asked for your help.”

Which now that I think of it was strange indeed. Most fae don’t lend their assistance without making sure they get something out of the deal, but the cat and I had entered no pact for his help. I’d know if I sealed another faerie bargain. It wasn’t the kind of event that went unnoticed. The debt I already carried was wrapped around my soul like choking vines.

My gaze returned to the scars that striped his body and I swallowed hard. I definitely didn’t want to owe this faerie a boon. I was pretty sure that fulfilling that kind of favor would get me killed.

“No, but you didn’t leave me much choice, Princess,” he said. The cat sidhe stretched forward, resting his chin on his front paws, tail waving hypnotically above his head. “Your clumsiness sealed my fate. As soon as you dropped that bag, I had one chance to snatch it back or you’d have been hauled downtown—with no glamour. I’m thinking that the stress of such a trip would have set your wisp skin to glowing.”

“But what do you care?” I asked.

“Who says that I care?” he asked. He lifted a paw to his mouth and yawned. “I do, however believe in self preservation. Letting humans know we exist would be foolhardy, especially in light of recent events.”

“Such as?” I asked.

I wasn’t sure what recent events might have stirred up human suspicion. Vamps had erased the memories of all the humans who stumbled onto the waterfront during the each uisge invasion. Hadn’t they?

“Don’t you listen to the mortals?” he asked. The cat sidhe’s tail danced an archaic pattern above his tattered ears and I forced myself to look away. Becoming ensnared by a cat sidhe was not on my to-do list. Fae blood may run through my veins, but my human genes left me vulnerable to faerie enchantments. I gripped the vial of cold iron in my pocket. Thankfully, my human half did have its perks—an immunity to iron being one of them. “Sightings of spectral beings have been reported all over the city. Graves are rumored to have been disturbed in local cemeteries. If street corner gossip is to be believed, the dead walk the streets of Harborsmouth.”

“But ghosts don’t exist,” I said, body going rigid.

“Does it matter?” he asked. “If mortals go poking their noses into shadows looking for ghosts, they may just discover who they really share this city with. That is one secret I’d rather we kept.”

“So you helped me back there to protect the secret of our kind,” I said. “To save your own hide.”

That scarred hide was beginning to wink in and out of existence as if made of shadow. Watching parts of the cat sidhe’s body appear and disappear made me dizzy, as if the ground at my feet were becoming less solid with each flickering wave of shadow. I wrenched my gaze from the faerie cat’s body and focused on his face.

“Yes, Princess,” he said. The faerie leapt gracefully from the metal bin to the pavement and began crossing the empty lot toward the main road. “And let me give a free word of advice, since I’m in a generous mood. Don’t go throwing cold iron around these streets. You’re likely to attract the wrong kind of attention.”

The cat sidhe flashed a razor sharp smile in my direction then melted into the fog. The last I saw of him, he was a shred of shadow twining around the ankles of shoppers on Market Street.

“And what kind are you?” I muttered.

The bored kind. His voice whispered in my ear. I spun around, but the faerie was nowhere in sight.

“Wait,” I said. “The iron shavings were for self defense. Didn’t you see the seven foot tall, angry lamia?”

The sound of rush hour traffic was my only reply. I’d waited too long to ask my question and now the cat was gone. But the realization nagged at me as I trudged through back lots and alleys, avoiding throngs of shoppers as I made my way back to the clurichaun’s shop.

Unlike the crowd of humans who only witnessed my side of the near-battle, the faerie cat should have seen through Melusine’s glamour. So why hadn’t he mentioned her? Ceffyl’s ex had been there, hadn’t she?

I shoved gloved hands into my pockets and ducked my head, avoiding the curious stares of dish washers and line cooks as they each sucked down one last cigarette before the busy dinner rush. The alleys of Joysen Hill were never completely empty, but at least there were no obvious threats in sight. Of course, that didn’t mean I was safe.

Melusine was out there somewhere. She was in Harborsmouth, wasn’t she? I’d seen the bitch with my own two eyes, so why was doubt creeping in like an unwelcome guest?

I bit the inside of my cheek and shook my head. No, I trusted my second sight. No one else had witnessed a seven foot tall woman with a serpent’s tail on a busy city sidewalk? So what, that was business as usual. I was used to being the only person who could see the monsters who roam our streets.

I rounded the corner onto Catch Lane behind Dead Man’s Catch and dropped into a crouch. Knives slid into my gloved hands from custom sheaths hidden beneath my coat. Clurichaun’s were good at crafting more than gloves. The sheaths had been skillfully designed with two functions in mind; protecting my skin from contact with my new weapons and easy release. The grip end of twin throwing knives, balanced silver blades with sharp iron tips, hit my palms before I could blink.

Was that…? A large form loomed, emerging from a gap in the thick fog. I adjusted my grip on the knives, spinning each knife a half turn, and pinching the tips of the blades with shaking fingers.

I breathed in slowly, filling my nostrils with the fetid smell of frying fish and stale beer, relaxed my stance, and assessed the distance to where Melusine loomed in fog thickened shadow. The decision to switch my hold on the knives from the grip to the blade depended on range. If I misjudged the distance, the knives would bounce off my target. I’d lose the element of surprise and end up with one pissed off lamia.

I squinted at Melusine who hadn’t moved since my intrusion into Catch Lane. That was weird. When the bitch stared daggers at me through the Clurichaun’s shop window, her serpent tale had lashed back and forth like a cat watching a tasty bird just out of reach. But the only thing moving now was a mouse as it scurried beneath a rusting dumpster.

Still holding my knives, wrists cramping, I peered through the shifting mist at the unmoving form. I shook my head and slid my blades back into their custom sheaths. It wasn’t Melusine leaning against the brick building, just a large coil of rope beside a stack of wooden barrels. I rubbed my eyes and straightened, cheeks blossoming heat. I’d nearly murdered a pile of rope. What the hell was wrong with me?

Time to retrieve Jinx and get off this damned hill before I got myself arrested. I didn’t think Officer Hamlin would take too kindly to a second run in with me, not in one day.