Ghost Light

“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.