Ghost Light

between me and her dripping fangs.  I ran to the edge of the sidewalk and dug a glass vial filled with iron shavings from one of my many pockets.

It was time to see how the bitch liked our local weather.  My lip lifted in a sneer.  I was going to bring a rain of iron down on Melusine’s head.  I raised my arm, ready to throw the vial as soon as I caught a break between vehicles.

I edged down to the pavement, but a city bus honked twice, horn blaring dangerously close to my ear.  I jumped back a step, narrowly avoiding a future as a road pancake.  My boot heels hit the concrete sidewalk, but I never took my eyes off Melusine as she waited for her chance to strike.  With a rush of heated air and diesel exhaust, the bus drove past just inches from my face.  Gripping the vial tightly in my gloved fist, I blinked against the swirl of debris.

I stepped forward as soon as the bus passed, but Melusine was gone.

A car swerved around me, but the driver’s curses were lost beneath the roaring in my ears.  My heart tried to pound its way out of my chest and into my throat.

Where the hell was Melusine?

I spun in a circle, but there was no sign of the lamia.  My arm shook with the strain of holding the vial aloft while I scrambled for my target.  It shouldn’t be hard to spot a sea serpent on a busy city street, but Melusine had completely disappeared into the growing fog.

Tendrils of mist snaked around my feet and choked the mouths of nearby alleyways.  Could the lamia have called up the fog to cover her escape?  It seemed like more than an unhappy coincidence.

But why would she have run?  If Melusine had returned with some grudge against me for dating her husband, why not have her revenge?  I’d been alone and lightly armed mere yards away from her crushing grasp.  I took a deep breath and sighed.  All I had were more questions.

I lowered my arm and shoved the vial of iron shavings back into my pocket.  None of this made any sense.  I stepped up onto the sidewalk and turned to face the clurichaun’s shop.  It was then that I noticed the wall of people whispering and pointing.  I looked over my shoulder, half expecting Melusine to materialize out of the mist, but traffic continued to flow past.  A cold ball of ice settled in my stomach as I turned to face the crowd.  They weren’t gawking at something in the street.

They were all staring at me.

I winced and hunched my shoulders, ready to walk away into the fog and wait until the crowd dispersed.  I could double back for Jinx after I made my escape.  I took a step to my right, avoiding a lamp post, but the sidewalk was blocked by a wall of curious shoppers.

Unfortunately, the afternoon shoppers weren’t alone.  A man in uniform scowled at me from beneath his navy blue hat.  Great, I had attracted the attention of the Harborsmouth police.  Could this day get any worse?

Stupid question, of course it could.  My chest tightened and I took a shaky breath.  More than a dozen sets of eyes stared at me, making my skin burn hot.  I wanted nothing more than to run and hide from their disapproving looks.  Would I make it across the road in one piece if I dove into the traffic rushing at my back?

A slight shake of the cop’s head answered that question.  My desire for escape must have been written all over my face.  His hand shifted to his hip where a baton and handgun hung from his belt.  Running away was definitely not an option.

“Stay where you are, ma’am,” the cop said, squaring his shoulders.  “I have more than one witness who claims you just stepped out into moving traffic, potentially endangering motorists and yourself.  Some of them say you raised your hand as if to throw something into the road.  One witness says you did throw something.  Can you explain your behavior, miss?”

The cop, Officer Hamlin according to his uniform, was all sweet as pie, but his hand lingered over the butt of his gun.  From his opposite hip hung a shiny pair of handcuffs, taunting me with the threat of their cold embrace.  I had to come up with a reasonable explanation for stepping in front of a bus that didn’t include attempted suicide, public vandalism, or chasing down a vengeful sea serpent, and find a way to convince the cop that I wasn’t dangerous, destructive, or crazy.  If I didn’t think of something quick, I’d be riding in the back of a squad car with those shiny bracelets around my wrists.

I was sure the handcuffs would slam me with a vision whammy.  It would be hard to convince a judge that I was both sane and not a threat to society while in the clutches of a vision.

I tried to swallow, but my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth.  I willed saliva and words back to my mouth, but all that came out was a squeak as something brushed against my leg.

I looked down into the all too intelligent eyes of a cat sidhe.  The faerie looked like a scrappy street cat, but the eyes, and the way parts of his body seemed made of smoke and shadow, gave its fae nature away.  Not that anyone else could see the difference.

“Glamour yourself!” the cat hissed.

The words seemed to come from the cat sidhe, but its mouth didn’t move.  Since the surrounding crowd didn’t gasp at the spectacle of a talking cat, I figured the creature must be a telepath.  Just what I needed—a bossy faerie cat in my head.

Go away.  Can’t you see I’m in the middle of something here?  I thought the words at the cat.  Hopefully the telepathy worked both ways.

My pulse sped up as the animal pressed his furred body against my boot.  With only a thin layer of leather between the cat sidhe and my flesh, the faerie was starting to look like another potential problem.  The cop cleared his throat, obviously waiting for the crazy lady to answer his question.  I’d have to worry about the cat later.

“You’re glowing,” the cat sidhe said.  “Which, Princess, I shouldn’t have to remind you is against fae law.  Exposing our existence to humans is punishable by death.  Turn off the light show before these folks realize it’s not a trick of the light and fog.”

I can’t.  And don’t call me Princess.

I was glowing in front of a human audience?  Great.  Just perfect.  My wisp father, king of the wisps, hadn’t bothered to teach me anything useful, like how to cast a life saving glamour, before ditching me and my mom and hitting my mind with a memory spell to forget he ever existed.  My chest tightened and sparks of light filled my vision.

Something scratched my boot and I looked down to see the faerie cat roll his eyes.

“Calm down, Princess, and follow my lead,” he said.  “First, act pleased to see me and give me a cuddle.”

Give you a cuddle?  I bet you say that to all the girls. 

“That’s better,” he said.  “Your glow is dampening.  Take deep breaths, smile, and act happy to see me.  I’m your lost cat—THE ONE YOU’VE BEEN DIVING INTO TRAFFIC FOR.”

Oh, that makes sense.  And it did, kind of.  I pasted on a smile that made my cheeks hurt and clapped my gloved hands together in faux glee.

“Kitty!” I said.

“If you really want to sell it, and get the police off your back, you’re going to have to pick me up,” he said.

I snuck a glance at the crowd and the faerie was right.  Frowns were replaced by raised eyebrows and tentative smiles, but no one was going to believe this was my lost cat if I just stood here grinning like a pooka.  If your pet just had a brush with death in a major roadway, would you leave it sitting within inches of moving traffic?  No, most people would clutch their precious pet to their chest and make sure that it was safe.

Of course, this wasn’t my pet, he wasn’t even a real cat, and most pet owners don’t risk being assaulted with a vision when holding their furry babies.  The urge to run was overwhelming, but I forced my grin wide and lifted the cat sidhe into my arms.

If you scratch the leather, I’ll turn you into a pair of slippers.  The coat was new, one of the perks of a booming business, but it was an empty threat.  I’d never skin a cat, not even a cat sidhe, but I hoped to keep the faerie’s claws from puncturing my sleeve.  The creature’s claws could slice through leather as easily as warm butter, leaving nothing between my skin and an immortal faerie—and a nasty vision.

“You can try,” he said, flashing a lazy crocodile smile.  He flexed one paw and the tips of its claws pressed against my arm.  Each needle-sharp claw slid into leather, but, so far, didn’t touch flesh.  The claws had struck the