Erica Stevens - Ghost Light

“But ghosts don’t exist,” I said, body going rigid.

“Does it matter?” he asked. “If mortals go poking their noses into shadows looking for ghosts, they may just discover who they really share this city with. That is one secret I’d rather we kept.”

“So you helped me back there to protect the secret of our kind,” I said. “To save your own hide.”

That scarred hide was beginning to wink in and out of existence as if made of shadow. Watching parts of the cat sidhe’s body appear and disappear made me dizzy, as if the ground at my feet were becoming less solid with each flickering wave of shadow. I wrenched my gaze from the faerie cat’s body and focused on his face.

“Yes, Princess,” he said. The faerie leapt gracefully from the metal bin to the pavement and began crossing the empty lot toward the main road. “And let me give a free word of advice, since I’m in a generous mood. Don’t go throwing cold iron around these streets. You’re likely to attract the wrong kind of attention.”

The cat sidhe flashed a razor sharp smile in my direction then melted into the fog. The last I saw of him, he was a shred of shadow twining around the ankles of shoppers on Market Street.

“And what kind are you?” I muttered.

The bored kind. His voice whispered in my ear. I spun around, but the faerie was nowhere in sight.

“Wait,” I said. “The iron shavings were for self defense. Didn’t you see the seven foot tall, angry lamia?”

The sound of rush hour traffic was my only reply. I’d waited too long to ask my question and now the cat was gone. But the realization nagged at me as I trudged through back lots and alleys, avoiding throngs of shoppers as I made my way back to the clurichaun’s shop.

Unlike the crowd of humans who only witnessed my side of the near-battle, the faerie cat should have seen through Melusine’s glamour. So why hadn’t he mentioned her? Ceffyl’s ex had been there, hadn’t she?

I shoved gloved hands into my pockets and ducked my head, avoiding the curious stares of dish washers and line cooks as they each sucked down one last cigarette before the busy dinner rush. The alleys of Joysen Hill were never completely empty, but at least there were no obvious threats in sight. Of course, that didn’t mean I was safe.

Melusine was out there somewhere. She was in Harborsmouth, wasn’t she? I’d seen the bitch with my own two eyes, so why was doubt creeping in like an unwelcome guest?

I bit the inside of my cheek and shook my head. No, I trusted my second sight. No one else had witnessed a seven foot tall woman with a serpent’s tail on a busy city sidewalk? So what, that was business as usual. I was used to being the only person who could see the monsters who roam our streets.

I rounded the corner onto Catch Lane behind Dead Man’s Catch and dropped into a crouch. Knives slid into my gloved hands from custom sheaths hidden beneath my coat. Clurichaun’s were good at crafting more than gloves. The sheaths had been skillfully designed with two functions in mind; protecting my skin from contact with my new weapons and easy release. The grip end of twin throwing knives, balanced silver blades with sharp iron tips, hit my palms before I could blink.

Was that…? A large form loomed, emerging from a gap in the thick fog. I adjusted my grip on the knives, spinning each knife a half turn, and pinching the tips of the blades with shaking fingers.

I breathed in slowly, filling my nostrils with the fetid smell of frying fish and stale beer, relaxed my stance, and assessed the distance to where Melusine loomed in fog thickened shadow. The decision to switch my hold on the knives from the grip to the blade depended on range. If I misjudged the distance, the knives would bounce off my target. I’d lose the element of surprise and end up with one pissed off lamia.

I squinted at Melusine who hadn’t moved since my intrusion into Catch Lane. That was weird. When the bitch stared daggers at me through the Clurichaun’s shop window, her serpent tale had lashed back and forth like a cat watching a tasty bird just out of reach. But the only thing moving now was a mouse as it scurried beneath a rusting dumpster.

Still holding my knives, wrists cramping, I peered through the shifting mist at the unmoving form. I shook my head and slid my blades back into their custom sheaths. It wasn’t Melusine leaning against the brick building, just a large coil of rope beside a stack of wooden barrels. I rubbed my eyes and straightened, cheeks blossoming heat. I’d nearly murdered a pile of rope. What the hell was wrong with me?

Time to retrieve Jinx and get off this damned hill before I got myself arrested. I didn’t think Officer Hamlin would take too kindly to a second run in with me, not in one day.

Irubbed my arms as I walked up Joysen Hill, comforted by the blades that hid beneath my leather jacket. Jenna had been trying to convince me to start weapons training since we met last summer, but I didn’t take her up on the offer until the holidays. I had worked a job that could have gone south, fast. Even with Jenna’s expert assistance, the faeries we were hunting had managed to ambush us. I was lucky to be alive and had the nightmares to prove it.

I still woke to the smell of burning flesh, the awful memory of that night seared into my subconscious. The memories left me feeling weak and vulnerable. Facing a horde of bloodthirsty redcaps will do that to a girl.

So I had treated Jinx and myself to a month of battle training with Jenna. Four months later, we were still attending classes. Jinx was a perfectionist and an adrenaline junkie and I was determined to gain the skills necessary to protect this city, and my friends. I don’t make friends easily and wasn’t about to let those precious few I had get hurt because I wasn’t prepared.

I knew basic self defense, ran through a routine of moves to disarm and immobilize an opponent every evening while Jinx cooked dinner, but this was no ordinary self defense class. Having a skilled Hunter as a teacher was both enlightening and embarrassing. Jenna had discovered our weaknesses before our butts hit the practice mat.

I learned that my aversion to touch was a dangerous weakness when it came to hand-to-hand combat. I may know the moves, but when it came to executing those thrusts, flips, and punches, I held back. In close quarters fighting, a second’s hesitation can get you dead. Kicks and foot sweeps were less difficult, but I was a total mess when it came to using my hands. Forget grappling or throws. If a move involved getting up close and personal, and risking a vision, I froze. No matter how hard I drilled technique, I didn’t have the chops.

Jinx, on the other hand, was willing to follow through with her moves, but she lacked strength and experience. She was also the clumsiest person on the planet. Not that that stopped her. Jinx doesn’t give up easily. She still puts up with me, after all.

Thankfully, Jenna could spy our strengths as easily as weaknesses. That’s when she finally wore me down on my argument against the use of weapons. She put my physical strength and agility and Jinx’s enthusiasm to good use.

Jinx, surprisingly, had a skill for projectile weapons. With her steady hand and tenacity, I wouldn’t put it past my partner to master them all by next Christmas, but her current favorite was the crossbow.

Too bad she wasn’t carrying one right now. I’d be less worried knowing my roommate was armed. Instead, I pushed my legs to climb the hill faster. Night was closing in.

I reached the clurichaun’s shop and balked at the closed sign hanging in the window. Behind the sign, the shop lay dark and unwelcoming. Had the faerie locked up shop before taking Jinx into his bolt-hole? If so, I’d have a hard time getting my partner back. When someone has a secret hiding place they tend to keep it, well, secret. My only chance of finding Jinx was to enter the shop where I’d last seen the clurichaun.