One Salt Sea: An October Daye Novel

I grimaced. “I’ll never get used to that.” The car appeared in the mist ahead of us. I quickened my steps. “Come on. We need to hurry up and get to Goldengreen if we’re also planning to hit Shadowed Hills tonight.” I glanced up. “If you’re coming?”


“We’ve been through this,” Tybalt said, somewhat sharply, and got into the car. I followed, occupying myself with buckling my belt before looking up to ask him to fasten his. Then I stopped, just looking at him.

Tybalt was sitting stock-still, staring out the windshield like a man on the way to his own execution. It was clear he didn’t want to be there, but he wasn’t willing to leave or take the Shadow Roads to Goldengreen if I wasn’t willing to go with him. He might hate the car, but he was sticking with me.

That sort of loyalty is rare. “You can ride as a cat if that would be better,” I offered. “I can listen to the radio.”

He almost jumped before twisting to stare at me. I was on the verge of taking back the suggestion as a bad idea when he nodded. “That might be . . . for the best. I don’t think I like the car.”

“Okay,” I said, trying not to show my relief. I knew how much that admission must have cost him. “Go ahead and shift down, and we’ll get going.”

Transformation is graphic and painful. Shapeshifting isn’t. The smell of pennyroyal and musk filled the car, and Tybalt was gone, replaced by a tabby tomcat with one tattered ear. He stretched, tail twitching as he dug his claws into the upholstery. Then he curled up, watching me intently.

Sometimes I envy shapeshifters. They make it look so easy. I flashed Tybalt a smile as I started the engine. “Besides, you’re quieter this way.”

If he had a response, he wasn’t willing to return to human form to deliver it. He yawned instead, displaying his teeth before closing his eyes. I smiled to myself and started the car.

No rest for the wicked.

Riding in cat form really did seem to soothe Tybalt’s nerves; he stayed curled on the seat, alternately grooming himself and feigning sleep. Traffic in the city was light, and we made good time to the San Francisco Art Museum. All the lights were off inside. I’d been expecting that. It was way past closing time, after all.

I parked the car in the deepest shadows I could find before prodding Tybalt. He rose and stretched, giving a few cursory licks to one paw. Then he looked at me expectantly. I raised an eyebrow. “What?”

He looked from my door to his, flattening an ear.

I sighed, unfastening my belt. “Yes, O master.” I got out of the car, walking around to open the passenger side door. “Just hurry it up, okay?”

Tybalt leaped out onto the blacktop, the smell of pennyroyal and musk already gathering. He reared up onto his hind legs and was suddenly a man again, variegated hair in disarray. Slicking it back with one hand, he offered a fang-baring smile before snapping his fingers and clothing himself in the glittering film of a human disguise. “You were right; that was much better.”

“Show-off,” I said. “I suppose you were too comfortable to turn back in the car?”

“Cats aren’t built to sit like humans,” he replied. “Any reasonable position would have given me a concussion.”

The image of Tybalt smacking his head against the roof of the car made me smile. “Fair enough. Come on.”

“Will we be diving off any cliffs this evening?”

I smirked. Goldengreen’s least popular entrance requires walking off the side of the cliff and hoping you’re in the right spot. Only the Selkies think this is fun. When they misjudge their entrance, they can turn into seals and enjoy the plummet to the ocean below. The rest of us . . . let’s just say that I have better taste in extreme sports.

“We’ll be using the main entrance.” I held up my keys. “Apartment, car, secret entrance into my private kingdom beneath the proverbial hollow hill.”