An Artificial Night

“October.” His expression was composed to the point of being unreadable. “This is an interesting choice of locales. I was unaware of your love for the smell of rancid grease.”


“Nowhere else to park,” I snapped, pushing past him. Opening the passenger side door, I began trying to undo Karen’s seat belt. Spike was curled on her lap. It chirped at me before jumping down to the pavement, rattling its thorns at Tybalt. “What do you want?”

“Isn’t the pleasure of your company enough?”

I looked up, eyes narrowed. “Hasn’t been for a while now, has it?”

“You know, in that brief absence, I’d almost forgotten how much you frustrate me.” Tybalt sighed. “I had my reasons. I apologize if my disappearance troubled you.”

Given the amount of time I’ve spent avoiding Tybalt over the years, I couldn’t think of a good response to that. I settled for placing one hand on Karen’s shoulder and glaring.

When he worked at it, Tybalt could be the most infuriating person I’d ever met. Being a cat, he worked at it a lot. He was pureblooded Cait Sidhe, powerful enough to hold his position as the local King of Cats—not an easy thing to do, given the literal viciousness of Cait Sidhe politics. He might have been less annoying if he wasn’t every bit as good-looking as he thought he was. Black streaks in his brown hair suggested the stripes on a tabby’s coat, and his eyes were a deep, clear green, made slightly alien by feline pupils. He had a cat’s casual elegance and an athletic build, combined to irritatingly good effect with the sort of face that made women give him pretty much whatever he wanted. It wouldn’t have been so bad if he’d had the decency to freckle or at least tan, but I guess freckling is beneath the Cait Sidhe.

Tybalt and I have a complicated relationship, and it seems to get worse as often as it gets better. He was civil, even friendly, when we were tracking a murderer through Tamed Lightning . . . and he disappeared as soon as we were done. I hadn’t seen him since, despite spending several nights wandering the alleys of San Francisco searching for the Court of Cats.

I tried to tell myself that I just wanted to give him back his jacket. I’ve never been good at believing my own lies; I wanted to see him, nothing more or less than that. It was ironic, in a way, because if somebody had asked six months ago how I’d feel about Tybalt deciding to mind his own business and leave me alone, I would have answered “relieved.” When he actually did it, I was hurt. I wasn’t sure how to deal with that, so I went for the easy option. I got pissed.

He looked at my expression and sighed again. “I take it my apology isn’t accepted?”

“Was there a particular reason you decided you needed to vanish?” I finally got Karen’s seat belt undone and hoisted her out of the car, trying to balance her against my side long enough to let me lock the door. Spike barely jumped clear fast enough to avoid being stepped on.

“I had business to take care of.” Tybalt moved almost too fast for my eyes to follow, suddenly taking the bulk of Karen’s weight. “Let me help you with that.”

I eyed him but didn’t object as I finished locking the door. “What do you want?”

“Do I have to want something?”

“You haven’t spoken to me in more than two months, so yeah, you have to want something.”

“Good to see you haven’t changed,” he said, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. He eased Karen fully into his arms, holding her easily. “Where are we going?”

“There’s no ‘we’ here, Tybalt. Karen and I are going to see Lily. You can go wherever it is you go when you’re not bothering me.”

“And here I thought you’d missed me.” His smile remained, growing a bit more solid as he said, “You’re still wearing my jacket.”

“Yeah, well. It was the only thing I wasn’t worried about damaging.” I forced myself to keep looking at him, denying the urge to blush and look away. “What do you want, Tybalt?”

He looked at me, smile fading. “I need your help.”