An Artificial Night

Julie never was that bright.

She snapped at him again, this time sinking her teeth into his wrist. That was the last straw. Tybalt’s patience visibly dissolved as he snarled and slammed her against the wall. She shrieked at him, and he slammed his foot into her stomach. I winced. The Cait Sidhe aren’t particularly fast healers. Their succession fights have been known to turn deadly. And people wonder why Tybalt makes me nervous.

Julie snarled again, but her rage was gone, replaced by resignation; she was just fighting back for show. Tybalt let go of her wrists and wrapped his left hand around her throat, claws barely breaking the surface of her skin.

“Are we done?” he asked, almost gently.

She snapped at the air, hissing, and he slammed her head against the wall with an audible crack. She whimpered, eyes going glassy.

“Now are we done?” The gentleness was gone, replaced by anger.

“Yes,” she whispered, licking her lips.

“You attacked my guest.”

“I did.” A trickle of blood was running from the corner of her mouth, and from the way she hit the wall, she’d be lucky if she didn’t have a concussion. Tybalt can play a little rough.

“She was here at my invitation and under the protection of your Prince.”

“She killed Ross!” Julie coughed, eyes blazing. “She needs to die.”

“Maybe,” said Tybalt. “This argument is old, and I’m tired of it. Trevor? Gabriel?” A pair of battered tom-cats leaped down from the wall, becoming human as they landed. They were massive, like linebackers with pointed ears and fangs; next to them, Tybalt looked almost small. “Our Juliet is tired. Take her to her lair and keep her there.”

“Yes, my liege,” rumbled Gabriel. He reached down and wrapped one hand around Julie’s upper arm. She hissed weakly. It must be nice to be seven feet tall and made of solid muscle, because he didn’t bother to hit her; he just hauled her to her feet, keeping his fingers in a vise-grip around her arm. She hung there like a rag doll. “Come on, Julie.”

Damn it. She isn’t a friend these days, but she used to be. Ignoring the pain in my knee, I straightened. “Tybalt?”

“Yes?” He turned toward me, distractedly licking a smear of blood away from the corner of his mouth. I was pretty sure it wasn’t his.

“Don’t hurt her.”

He blinked, staring at me. I’d managed to break his composure twice in one night; that might be a new record. “But she attacked you.”

“I noticed.” I rubbed my blood-sticky throat with one hand, wincing. “Just please, for me? Don’t hurt her.”

“The discipline of my subjects is my business.” There was a note of warning in his tone.

“I know. I don’t get to dictate. That’s why I’m asking.”

Raj picked himself up and moved to stand next to me, saying, “Uncle?”

“Yes, Raj?” Tybalt looked at him and smiled. “It’s good to see you.”

“Toby came in and got us,” he said, shivering. There was a scrape down the left side of his face, and blood was matted in his hair.

“I know. I asked her if she would.”

“But she did.” He looked from me to Tybalt, and said in a rush, “Please don’t hurt Julie? Toby doesn’t want you to, and I trust her.”

“I . . . see.” Tybalt looked at me, expression amused. “Are we inspiring mutiny already?”

“Not on purpose,” I said.

He studied me for a moment longer, and then said, “Trevor, Gabriel? Keep Juliet from hurting herself further. Bring her water to clean with.” He smiled faintly. “Far be it from me to challenge both my Prince and my . . . champion.”

The brute squad nodded in unison and carried her into the shadows, vanishing. There’s another Court of Cats, one that exists entirely on the other side of that movable darkness. I’ve never seen it. I don’t think anyone who’s not Cait Sidhe ever has.