widening.
“Juliet?” I asked.
The woman turned toward the sound of her name and smiled, revealing oversized canines behind cherry-red lips. Narrow stripes ran up the sides of her face, vanishing into the gold-and-brown streaks of her hair. “Hey, Tobes,” she said, sliding down from the fence with hip-shot ease, half smirking at me. “Surprised much?”
“Julie,” I said, almost in a whisper. Somehow, we closed the distance between us; somehow, I was hugging her, laughing so hard I was almost crying—or was that crying so hard that I was almost laughing? Julie had her arms around me, and was doing much the same, with the added rumbling undertone of her purr. The man she’d been talking to stood back, out of the way, watching our reunion with a small, puzzled smile.
Finally, I pushed Julie out to arm’s length, staring at her. “What are you
“The usual.” Julie shrugged, rolling her eyes to indicate that the usual was nothing of any real importance. “Uncle Tybalt’s in another snit, so I’m here, playing handmaid until it’s safe to go home.”
“What’d you do?”
She grinned again. “I bit him.”
“Good for you.” I squeezed her upper arms, returning her grin with one of my own. Julie’s a Cait Sidhe changeling, the result of a dalliance between one of Tybalt’s courtiers and a mortal woman. Unfortunately for everyone involved, Julie flunked the Changeling’s Choice in the most dramatic way possible. There was an accident—I never got the details—and her mortal mother was killed, while Juliet, at the age of six, tapped into her racial talent for shapeshifting. The police who came for the cleanup found a body, but no little girl. Julie was already in the hands of her father’s family.
It took them years to lure her back to human form. From what I’ve heard, Tybalt tried everything, until finally, one day, she just changed. That’s been their relationship ever since; as her de facto uncle, he tries to make her follow the laws of the Court of Cats, and she pretty much ignores them, right up to the point where she gets tossed out on her tail. Again. She was a bitter, resentful, maladjusted kid who grew into an equally maladjusted teenager; it was only natural that we’d become friends the day we met. She had a lot of anger in her, and she knew how to express it. As someone who’d always been better at repression than expression, I envied that.
Julie also has the lovely distinction of being the reason Tybalt dislikes me so much. We had quite a few hostile encounters during my time in the Summerlands, most of which ended with him reminding me that he’d be happy to gut me if it weren’t for my mother. When we grew up, Julie followed me out of her uncle’s Court and all the way to Home—the first Cait Sidhe to pull that kind of stunt. Lucky me, he decided to blame me instead of her, because I was the “smart one.” That’s me. Making enemies with my brain for as long as I can remember.
“Wanna meet my sweetie?” Julie asked, grabbing the brown-haired man by the arm and pulling him over to be admired. “Ross, this is October Daye. Tobes, this is Ross Hampton.”
“Charmed,” he said, extending his hand. I took it, shaking firmly as I studied him. He was quarter-blooded at best, and his heritage was subtle; there was something in the shadows of his eyes that should have given me a clue, but I was too tired to quite put my finger on it. “Julie talks about you a lot.”
“Now I’m worried,” I said, taking my hand back and glancing toward Lily.
“His mother was a servitor of these lands,” Lily said. She leaned up onto her toes, ruffling Ross’ hair. He took it with good grace, even stooping to make it easier. “In her absence, we act as his home and hearth. He needs aid to see through our more basic illusions, but that isn’t enough to rob him of his place.”
Thin blood is a social stigma in Faerie. It isn’t enough to ban you completely. Some of Faerie’s greatest scholars and magical theoreticians were thin-blooded: it gave them the ability to see us for what we were, but at a distance, and that made them stronger than most people could understand. It said something about Lily that she was willing to take in Ross and Marcia the way she had.
“Fair enough,” I said, sliding my hands into my pockets. Looking back to Julie, I said, “I guess you know what’s up?”
“Lil says you’re having problems with idiots with guns, so Ross and me are here to get you through the big bad park and down to your waiting chariot, which happens to be a San Francisco city taxicab,” she said, hugging Ross’ arm to her chest in a proprietary manner. “It’ll be a cakewalk.”
“Right,” I said and glanced at Lily, who shook her head. This was my choice. She knew that Julie was Cait Sidhe enough to never take threats of physical violence seriously: she thought of herself as the biggest threat on the block, even though her blood was as thin as mine. As for Ross . . . he might mean well, but he was quarter- blooded, which meant his magic would be weak, if it existed at all. She was giving me a quarter-blood who probably couldn’t do anything but scream and hide and a Cait Sidhe changeling who thought she could scare just about anything away by shouting and showing her claws. Why?
Because she thought it would convince me not to go. Shaking my head, I started for the gate. If anything attacked us, we could just panic at it until it went away. “Come on. Let’s get this traveling freak show on the road.”
Lily followed as far as she could. As we passed from her land back into the park proper, she stopped, saying, “October?”
Juliet and Ross were a few feet ahead of me, Julie still holding his arm. I looked back to Lily, silhouetted by the garden gates, and said, “Yeah?”
“Be careful.”
“Aren’t I always?” I asked. Then I turned, not waiting for an answer, and followed my escort out the gate.
It was almost totally dark outside the Tea Gardens, the shadows broken only by randomly spaced streetlights and the sparkle of passing pixies. Figures both fae and human moved through those shadows, taking whatever trails the night held for them. None of Golden Gate Park’s nighttime inhabitants need much in the way of light; all it would do was show them the things they’d rather leave hidden.
Julie led the way once we were clear of Lily’s domain. Her Cait Sidhe heritage gave her night vision that put mine to shame, and even mine was probably worlds better than Ross’. Faerie ointment lets humans see through illusions, but it can’t change the human eye. He was stuck with what his blood could give him. I did my best to keep pace. The throbbing in my shoulder was constant, but not enough to be more than a mild distraction. Lily did her work well.
“It’s a nice night, for December,” I said, squinting into the foggy dark. “I can almost pretend to see my hand in front of my face.”
“I guess,” Julie said. “It’s not raining. That’s something.”
“I like the rain.”
Julie threw me a dirty look, eyes glowing a pale, annoyed green. I smirked at her. Most cats don’t like water, and despite her pretensions of tigerhood, Julie was no different. Yes, tigers have stripes; so do tabbies. If you want to know the difference, try tossing one of each into your swimming pool. Then I would recommend running.
“I don’t,” she said, sullenly.
“I do,” Ross said. Some of the tension slipped out of Julie’s shoulders and she smiled, giving me a “what can you do?” shrug. I grinned back. Cliff taught me a lot about the sort of attitude changes you sometimes have to pull midstream if you want to keep peace in a relationship. I was starting to think this Ross guy was something more than a casual fling.
The Cait Sidhe don’t fall in love often; mostly, they get involved in short, torrid affairs that don’t mean anything to either side, and they never fall in love with changelings if they can help it. It’s easier that way. Falling in love with someone that’s going to get old and die while you live forever isn’t a survival trait, and so they’ve learned to keep their distance . . . but all that means is that when they finally fall, they fall hard. Julie’s only half Cait Sidhe, but I’d never seen her look at anyone the way she was looking at Ross. I studied him with a bit more interest, trying to puzzle out where his fae blood had come from.
He must have been used to those sorts of looks, because he smiled, and said, “My mother’s father was one of the Roane.”
“Oh, I see,” I said. The Roane are gentler cousins to the Selkies. They aren’t as inclined to vengeance, and their magic is innate—they’re shapeshifters, like the Cait Sidhe, not skinshifters like the Selkies. They’re also practically extinct.
Julie flashed another grin my way. “He’s my guy.”
