Seanan McGuire - Ashes of Honor

“Ah.” Comprehension washed away Officer Thornton’s suspicion as he placed Tybalt into a context he could understand. “We appreciate your coming to escort her home. The streets are no place for a lady alone that late at night.”

“I’m probably safer in her company than I am out of it,” said Tybalt as he reclaimed his hand. He pushed the kitchen door a bit farther open, in invitation. “Would you like a cup of coffee? I just started a fresh pot, and the living room is, well…” He wrinkled his nose before saying, conspiratorially, “It’s a bit of a mess. We weren’t expecting company.”

The offer seemed to answer some question Officer Thornton hadn’t been voicing. His frown deepened for a moment before smoothing into neutrality. “Well, I won’t take up any more of your time. You two have a nice evening. And Ms. Daye, while I respect that your profession makes your involvement with Ms. Ames an understandable thing, I have to ask that you not interfere with the police. We’re going to bring this girl home.”

“I wouldn’t dream of interfering,” I said, with as much sincerity as I could muster. “Thank you for dropping by, Officer.”

“It’s my pleasure, Ms. Daye,” said Officer Thornton. Then he turned, letting himself out. The front door closed behind him with a click, and for a moment, everything was silence.

That silence held for several seconds, until I heard the distant sound of a car door slamming shut. I opened my mouth, and Tybalt motioned for me to be quiet. I stopped, blinking at him. A few more seconds slipped by, and he dropped his hand.

“I was waiting for the sound of his actually driving away,” he said, half-apologetically. “There was always the chance he would have slammed the car door before attempting to return to the porch and listen to our conversation.”

“I get that,” I said wearily. “I have two questions before I decide what happens next.”

“Ask away.” Tybalt tilted his head to the side, regarding me calmly with his bizarrely human eyes. The Tybalt I know has eyes the color of malachite, with all the deep, banded shades of green the comparison implies. This Tybalt’s eyes were simply green. I would have found them attractive on a human man. On him, they were just wrong .

“Is there really coffee?”

“I assure you, October, while I might tease about many things, I value my life too much to hang my jests on coffee when you are involved.”

“You know, a simple ‘yes’ would have sufficed.”

Even the human disguise couldn’t dull his feline grin. “Yes. There’s coffee.”

“Okay. And the second question…Rand?”

Tybalt’s grin dulled, but didn’t die. “It was my name, once. It seemed less likely to inspire human curiosity than ‘Tybalt.’”

“This is San Francisco. I wouldn’t be so sure.” I stepped past him, through the open kitchen door. The kitchen itself smelled like fresh coffee and, more faintly, the mingled scents of pennyroyal and musk. The remains of the spell Tybalt had used to cloak himself. “I didn’t expect the save. You have good timing.”

“I was listening from the moment you left.” He stepped through the door behind me, releasing his human disguise at the same time. The smell of pennyroyal and musk intensified, and my shoulders unknotted a little. Seeing Tybalt as a human was just bizarre. “Had things gone badly…”

“Then they would have gotten really bad, because you can’t knock over a police officer and snatch me away to the Court of Cats. Not with Bridget involved.” I walked over to the coffee maker, grabbing a Thermos from the counter on the way. I was going to need more coffee than I could reasonably stand here and drink. “One way or another, the mortal authorities are going to stay on this one.”

Tybalt sighed. “You say the most charming things.”

“I’m a realist.”

“Of all the labels I would think to hang on you, that has never come anywhere near the top of my list.” Tybalt picked up a plastic bag from the kitchen table, holding it up for me to see. Ham sandwiches. “I have food.”

My stomach rumbled, reminding me of the calories I hadn’t consumed before the police showed up. “Gimme,” I said. Tybalt raised an eyebrow. “Please,” I amended.

He handed me the bag.

I was midway through the first sandwich, barely tasting the ham, cheese, and odd mixture of condiments—who uses steak sauce and strawberry jam on a sandwich?—in my haste to get something into my stomach before Tybalt spoke again.

“If you can focus, would you release your illusions?” he asked. “I’d rather avoid the masks when possible.”

I swallowed the bite I’d been chewing and waved my hand through the air, snapping the thin web of magic that held my human disguise in place. It wisped away into the smell of cut grass and copper, leaving us both exposed as we really were, bloodstains and all. I kept eating, too anxious for food to stop and ask him why he’d wanted me to do that.

Besides, if he felt anything like I’d felt when I saw him in a human mask, I already knew why he’d wanted me to do that. I still wasn’t sure what I thought about this new development—half of me wanted to jump up and down and punch the air, while the other half counseled caution, reminding me of dead loves and the dangers of the world I lived in. There would be time to think about that later. I hoped.

The second sandwich was gone before my stomach stopped growling. I straightened, and realized that the spinning had finally stopped: my body was done ordering me to keep still. “Are you ready to move?” I asked.

“I am.” Tybalt looked at me gravely. “October, before…”

“I kissed you,” I said, cutting him off. “I figured it was my turn, you know? And I know there’s a conversation that we need to have, but we need to have it at a time that isn’t now. After Chelsea’s back. After Samson isn’t trying to kill you—and me—anymore. Okay?”

Tybalt stepped toward me and planted a kiss on my forehead. “I’ve waited long enough to have you realize I was waiting. I can wait a short time more.”

“Good.” I stepped back, filling my Thermos with coffee before capping it firmly and offering him my hand. “Can we get back to Tamed Lightning?”

“You only ever needed to ask,” he said, and he took my hand in his and pulled me into the shadows. There was time for me to take a deep breath before the darkness closed around us, but barely; he’d had time to recover, too, and the Shadow Roads were responding quickly to his call.

Tybalt swung me up into his arms as soon as we were in the shadows. I didn’t resist. There are times to insist on carrying your own weight and times to let yourself be carried. Running the Shadow Roads from San Francisco to Fremont was definitely the latter. I closed my eyes, letting my lashes ice together rather than trying to fight it, and relaxed into his embrace.

Tybalt ran like he’d never been injured, never been tired, never been anything but what he was: a King of Cats at the height of his powers, running down the length of his domain.

We emerged into the brightly lit cafeteria at ALH Computing, where Raj, Quentin, Li Qin, and Elliot were seated around one of the white plastic tables. All four of them looked up at the sound of Tybalt’s footsteps and watched as he put me down carefully.

It was Elliot who spoke first: “Why is it that every time you come to visit, I come to work and find the cafeteria positively swimming with blood?”

“I just want to help. I mean, I figure they’re not working you hard enough.” I paused to wipe the ice from my eyelashes and eyebrows before asking, as innocently as I could manage, “Don’t you appreciate the challenge?”