A Local Habitation

Transformations in the real world never happen the way we expect. The light around Alex blurred as his hair melted from gold to black, the tan bleaching out of his skin, the focus shifting until Tybalt was holding a gasping Terrie off the ground. The change seemed to have disoriented him, because she was able to squirm out of his grip and wobble in place. Women have smaller lungs than men do; sunset had to feel like the worst asthma attack ever.

The change was the piece I needed to answer the question of Alex and Terrie Olsen’s heritage, spelling it out in neon letters that made everything else fall into place. Gordan’s comments about it getting cold out on that hillside. The speed of our mutual attraction. The way he could make me forget about doing my job, just by smiling. A glamour that kept hitting me, even after I knew it was happening, a bloodline I couldn’t identify, and the way I’d hated Terrie, just as quickly as I’d fallen for him. And the birds . . . oh, root and branch.

“And no birds sing,” I said, horrified. Keats didn’t know much about Faerie, but he knew enough to get some things right. Gean-Cannah—the Love Talkers. I’d never met a changeling Gean-Cannah before, only heard rumors, so I hadn’t been able to recognize their blood. True Gean-Cannah were shapeshifters, entirely protean creatures who changed their faces and genders with a thought. Only their changeling children were tied to the movements of the sun, split forever into different people. I should have known when I saw their eyes. I should have known. But I didn’t.

Gean-Cannah were common once. They preyed heavily on the mortals. Too heavily. There’s never been any shame in hunting humans. The shame is in getting caught. It’s all right to be a monster, but it’s not all right to be sloppy. The Gean-Cannah took what they wanted, and they were noticed. Oh, were they ever. They were heavy victims of the war with the humans, and the Love Talkers have never bred fast; they can’t stand the company of their own kind, and most fae are too canny for them. They’re rare these days. I’ve only seen a single pureblood, and he was on the other side of a royal Court. Not exactly close enough to learn the attributes of the blood.

The Gean-Cannah will become your perfect lover, and it’ll be your last. They pull the life out of you, leaving you drained of everything but the need to keep loving them, to keep feeding them every ounce of strength you have . . . until it’s over.

Most affairs with the Gean-Cannah end in suicide.

Tybalt was getting over his surprise, looking even angrier now. I stepped forward, taking hold of his arm while I glared at Terrie. “The night shift.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, lowering her inhaler. “I would have told him not to, but he didn’t leave me a note until it was too late.”

“So you couldn’t have killed them all.”

She shook her head. “I wasn’t awake.”

“This . . . thing . . . touched you?” asked Tybalt, tone gone dangerously quiet.

“Her day-self did.” I looked at Terrie. “Do you have any control?”

“I . . .” Terrie paused, sighing. “You want to know if Alex forced your attraction to him.”

“Yes.”

She looked away. “Yes.”

For a long moment, I just stood there. Then, turning to Tybalt, I said, “Do whatever you want. I’m done.” Terrie’s head whipped around, eyes gone wide. I ignored her, attention swinging toward Elliot. “You let him.”

“Toby, I—”

“Do you know what happens when you lie down with the Gean-Cannah? Do you?” None of them said a word. Not even Tybalt, although the growl was beginning again, low in his throat. “You get tired and your thoughts get fuzzy and you stop thinking about anything but when you’ll see your lover again. You lie down on the cold hillside, and you die. And you were just going to let me stumble into his arms, without a warning?”

“Toby, it wasn’t like that—” Terrie began. I glared at her, and she stopped.

“I don’t care what it was like, and I don’t care what your reasons were,” I said. “This is too much. I’m taking my people, and we’re getting out of here.” I turned and stalked out of the cafeteria, letting the door swing shut behind me.