Erica Stevens - Ghost Light

Trouble with the local authorities wasn’t just foolish—it was bad for business. If I landed myself in jail, my PI license could be revoked. If I couldn’t legally work cases, Jinx would have my head.

“I’m really sorry if I worried anyone,” I said. “I’ll keep Butterball inside from now on.”

The cat sidhe stopped licking his paw long enough to skewer me with a nasty look.

“There’s just one more thing, ma’am,” the cop said. “How about you empty your pockets and show me what you were about to throw into the road.”

Crap! I had some very unorthodox items in my pockets. How would I explain the bottles of potions and bags of herbs? Heck, the cop would probably think the herbs were drugs. Even though they’d discover their benign nature once tested, I’d still be looking at cuffs and a ride in this guy’s squad car.

I may not have inherited the family allergy to iron, but being cuffed and trapped in a metal box was not how I wanted to spend my evening. And if I was hauled downtown, they’d frisk me for weapons. I may eventually talk my way out of the herbs and charms, and the stakes at my back were only pencils to anyone but the undead, but the concealed silver throwing knives strapped to each arm, not to mention the iron dagger in my boot, could cause some serious trouble.

I looked into the cop’s face and struggled to remain calm. His eyebrow twitched and his hand slid onto his gun. I tried not to stare at the handcuffs hanging from the officer’s belt as I adjusted my grip on the cat. If I started glowing again, I’d probably wind up getting shot.

Mab’s bloody freaking bones.

“You surprise me, Princess,” the cat sidhe said. “You swear like a lubber fiend.”

Shut up. I juggled the cat onto my left arm and slowly reached into my right pocket. I slid the vial of iron shavings from my coat with shaking fingers. I held it out to the officer as something fell from my pocket onto the damp pavement.

“What’s this?” the cop asked, reaching for the vial.

“Glitter, um, for the holidays,” I said.

He raised an eyebrow as he lifted the “glitter” for a closer look, but the glass vial only contained metal shavings.

“And this?” he asked.

The cop bent down, eyes narrowing as he glanced at the baggy at my feet. Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap.

“Catnip,” I said, hoping the herb wasn’t something obviously poisonous. “I was using it to get Butterball to come to me.”

With a thrust of his hind legs “Butterball” launched himself from my arms, startling the cop. The cat sidhe snatched the bag of herbs with his teeth and dropped it at our feet where he began rolling and rubbing himself on the baggy.

“See,” I said, shakily. “He really likes it.”

St. Mary’s church bells tolled the hour, a reminder that night would soon replace the foggy day. I didn’t want Jinx out here much longer. The Hill was no place for humans come nightfall. The cop tipped his head back to look skyward and grunted.

“Go on then and get your cat home,” he said. “These streets are no place to wander alone at night.”

Not one for counting gift horses, I pasted a smile on my face and turned to walk away. My best option was to get out of sight before the cop changed his mind. I scooped up the cat sidhe, tossed the packet of herbs in my pocket, and strode south toward Congress Street. Claws dug into my leather jacket and I swore under my breath. I kept the smile on my face and moved stiffly down Joysen Hill while a wheezing snicker echoed inside my skull.

Ifound 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.”