Лорел Гамильтон - Swallowing Darkness

Sholto looked at the far wall with its burden of huge tentacles and police, as if he'd forgotten they were there. "If I let them go, they will try to be heroic, for they will never believe that we are not villains. We look too much like villains to be anything else to the humans." There was a tone in his voice, something bitter.

How did we explain what had just happened so that the police didn't think exactly that? How do you explain that the giant octopus tentacles are trying to rescue us, and that the little old lady was the danger?

"You must call off your beast, Sholto," Doyle said.

"They will either try to run out the door and call for reinforcements, or they will try to draw a second gun and kill my beast. They have already wounded him with lead bullets."

Him. He'd called the thing with tentacles bigger than my body a him. Funny, even with growing up with one of the nightflyers as my bodyguard, I still wouldn't have thought of the giant tentacled thing as a "him" or "her." It was an "it," but apparently not. Apparently, it was a "him," which implied a her out there somewhere. I'd assumed that this was the same tentacled creature that Sholto had brought to Los Angeles to fetch me, but maybe that had been the girl? Maybe I was still in shock, but I just couldn't think of what I was looking at as a girl.

"I am sorry that your beast was injured when all you were doing was trying to protect the princess." Doyle walked toward the policemen, staying one side of the tentacles. He spoke to the cops as they dangled.

"Officers, I am sorry that there was a misunderstanding. The tentacles that hold you came to rescue the princess, not to harm her. When the creature saw you with guns, it assumed that you were here to harm Princess Meredith, just as you would have assumed the same if strangers rushed in with pulled guns."

One of the cops looked at the other one. It was hard to tell what expression they shared, with their faces still mottled from being held too long by the tentacles, but it was almost a "do you believe this?" look.

The other cop, a little older, managed to say, "You're saying that this... thing is on your side?"

"I am," Doyle said.

I spoke from the bed. "Gentlemen, it's as if you came into my room and started shooting my dog, because he scared you."

The older cop said, his hands still tugging at the tentacle at his throat, "Lady, Princess, this ain't no dog."

"The hospital wouldn't let my real dogs in," I said.

Dr. Mason spoke from the floor, where she was still crouched behind Galen. "If we let you have your dogs, will this never come inside the building again?"

Doyle nodded at Galen, and it was enough. He helped the doctor to her feet, but her wide eyes remained on the huge tentacles still pinning the policemen, or maybe it was the nightflyers clinging to the ceiling just above them. So many interesting things to look at it, it was hard to tell exactly where her gaze was.

"I will keep my people outside the princess' window," Sholto said, "until we are certain the danger is past."

"So, this, these, have been outside the window all this time?" the doctor asked in a voice that was a little shaky.

"Yes," Sholto said.

"What would attack me with these as my guards?" I asked, and let the question include as many or as few of the fey in my room as the doctor wished to include.

The older cop said, "No one told us that you'd have... " He seemed to search for a word, and not find one.

His partner said, "Nonhumanoid." The young officer frowned at the word, as if it sounded wrong even to him, but he didn't try to pick a different word. It wasn't a bad word, and it was strangely appropriate.

"We are not required to inform the human police of all our precautions regarding the safety of Princess Meredith," Doyle said.

"If we are on the door, we should have a list of things that are on your side," the older cop said. It was a good point. It proved that he was recovering from being attacked by giant, bodiless tentacles and flying nightmares. Tough cop, or maybe just cop. You don't last on the job if you aren't tough. The older officer looked like he was past the ten-year mark. He was tough. His partner was young, and he kept giving nervous glances to the nightflyers on the ceiling. But he seemed to take heart or courage from the blasé attitude of his older partner. I'd seen it before when I'd worked on cases with the police at Gray's Detective Agency. The older steadied the younger, if it was a good pair-up.

The younger cop asked, "Can we have our guns back?"

The older cop gave him a look that said clearly that you don't ask for your weapon back. They were probably each carrying at least one hidden gun, or the older cop would be. Regulations can say what they want, but I don't know many police officers who don't double up. Your life too often depends on being armed.

"If you promise not to shoot any of our people, yes," Doyle said.

"Is the woman all right?" the older cop asked, motioning with his head at Gran, still held by Sholto, his extra bits, and his arms, but I was pretty certain that neither officer was looking at Sholto's human-looking arms. I'd have bet nearly anything that if asked to describe him later, they would have seen only the tentacles. Cops are trained to observe, but some things are just too eye-catching even for people with a badge.

Rhys came to us, smiling. "She'll be fine. Just a bit of magic." He did that "hail-fellow-well-met" smile, and I noticed that he was wasting glamour to hide his ruined eye. He wanted to look harmless in that moment. Scars make some people think you must have done something to earn them.

"What does that mean?" the older cop asked. He wasn't going to let it go. He stood with his partner, surrounded by what he would think were nightmares. They'd taken their guns. And you would have to be a fool to not see the physical potential in Doyle and the rest of the men in the room, let alone the extra bits that Sholto was showing. The policeman was no fool, but he also saw Gran as a little old lady, and he wasn't leaving until he knew that she was all right. I was beginning to see how he'd survived in the job for more than a decade, and maybe why he'd never gotten out of uniform. If I were him, I'd have left the room and called for backup. But then, I was a woman, which makes you more cautious around violence.

"Grandmother," I said, and it may have been one of the few times I'd used her full title. She was just Gran. But tonight I wanted the police to know that we were family.

She looked at me, and there was pain in her eyes. "Oh, Merry, child, do nae call me by a title."

"The fact that you don't approve of my choice in men doesn't give you the right to use your magic to trash my hospital room, Gran."

"It was the spell. You know that."

"Do I?" I let my voice hold coldness, because I wasn't sure. "The spell was designed to simply magnify what you truly feel, Gran. You truly do hate Sholto, and Doyle, and they are the fathers of my children. That will not change."

"Are you saying the ol'... woman made the stuff float and hit everyone?" the older cop asked. He sounded doubtful.

Gran pulled at Sholto's grip. "I am meself again, Lord of Shadows. Ya can let me go."

"Swear. Swear by the Darkness that Eats all Things that you will not try and hurt me, or anyone in this room."

"I'll swear ta no hurt anyone in this room, at this moment, but I will nae promise beyond that, because ya are the murderer of my mother."

"Murderer," the older cop said.

"He killed her mother, my great-grandmother, about five hundred years ago, or am I off by a century or two?" I asked.

"You're off by about two hundred years," Rhys said. He was in front of the policemen, smiling, pleasant, but he didn't have a magic that could go with the smile. Someone else in the room did though. "Why don't you talk to the nice policemen, Galen?" Rhys said.