Erica Stevens - Ghost Light

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 blade strapped to my forearm.

I stifled a shudder and lifted my head to face the cop.

“Sorry officer,” I said. I kept the cat perched in my arms, but lifted my gloved hands in supplication. “This is all a misunderstanding. I was just trying to find my lost cat and bring him home.”

The cop looked from me to the cat in my arms and back again. I couldn’t have conjured the cat from thin air, but the guy looked reluctant to let me go.

“And you were standing out in traffic because?” he asked.

“When I finally found my cat, he was playing in the road,” I said. The faerie’s claws squeezed my arm, making tears well up, though not drawing blood. He let out a chuckling purr. The cat bastard was enjoying this. I blinked away the tears and ground my teeth. If I lived through this day, I swore to never again pick up one of the foul creatures except to wring its neck. “A bus was coming and I didn’t think…I just stepped out into traffic. I couldn’t let my sweet Butterball die. I had to try to save him.”

A chorus of awwwwww s escaped the crowd. Someone in the rear of the crowd clapped their hands and someone else cheered.

“Butterball?” the cat sidhe asked.

That’s what you get for putting holes in my jacket. I warned you not to scratch the leather. Plus, you could stand to lose a few pounds. What do cat sidhe eat, lead weights? I tried not to picture the cat playing with a mouse twice his size. Were there huge rat fae in our city too? On second thought, I don’t want to know .

While the cat sidhe and I bantered telepathically, the crowd began to disperse. A lady in a baggy sweater and matching knit scarf called me an angel and I hoped she hadn’t noticed my glowing skin. My skin looked normal now, and I wasn’t seeing any more flashing sparks of light behind my eyelids, so hopefully my wisp glow had fully dissipated. I’d have to learn how to control my fae powers, but that meant a foray into my wisp heritage. That would have to wait.

There was still one person from the crowd who hadn’t budged. I stared at the uniformed figure and sighed. He was below average height and weight, but looks can be deceiving. I should know. I assessed the threat he posed—gun, baton, cuffs, wide stance—just as Jenna had taught me. I ran multiple possible fight scenarios through my mind, drawing some satisfaction from each. But I wasn’t here to pick a fight with the city’s finest. We were technically both on the same side and I wanted to keep things that way.