Rosemary and Rue

The King of Cats was sprawled atop a stack of mattresses blocking the alley’s mouth, flanked on either side by large, angry-looking calicos. About a dozen human-form Cait Sidhe lounged on the walls and ground around him, dressed in tatters and rags. Most of them didn’t look like they went on two legs very often. Cagney and Lacey melted into the throng, vanishing; they brought me, their disappearance said. That was all the help I’d get.

“You’re here,” Tybalt said, sounding more amused than surprised. The height of his “throne” put him above me, allowing him to look down on me without quite straining either of our necks. He’d changed his clothes, trading them for skintight jeans and a black silk shirt. Good. If I was lucky, they hadn’t done the laundry yet. The courtiers around him watched me with predatory eyes. You’re a predator or you’re prey, their expressions said, and we’ll kill you either way. “Why are you here? This isn’t your Court.”

“This is the Cat’s Court; I have business with their King. That means truce.”

“Business?”

“Yes, business,” I said. Offending him on his own turf might be the last thing I ever did. “The attack in the park—”

He frowned. “What about it?”

“It wasn’t random; someone paid for it, and I need to know who.”

“Do you think I know?” he asked. A ripple ran through the crowd, low and dangerous.

“No. I think he knew.”

That made him pause. He sat up a little, attention focusing on me. “He’s dead, October.”

“And I’m Amandine’s daughter. You know what she could do.” I squared my shoulders, standing a bit straighter. It helped hide my terror. “I told you when the attack happened that I needed his blood. I can follow it to answers.”

“You’d do that?” Tybalt frowned, something like respect creeping into the expression.

“I’ve done it before.” I carefully didn’t mention when. Half the Kingdom seemed to know about Evening’s curse: I didn’t need him joining their ranks.

“Is it safe?”

“Does it matter?”

“No. I suppose not.” He rose, walking toward the back of the alley. The cats parted to let him pass, closing ranks again behind him. “I’ll be back in a moment. Wait for me.” When he reached the deepest part of the shadows he spread his hands and they opened like a curtain, letting him step through and disappear.

I was still watching the shadows when something slammed into my back. The impact had me on the ground before I could react, slamming the gun in my pocket up against my thigh hard enough that I knew it was going to leave a bruise. “What the—” I yelped, as I went down.

The only answer was an incoherent snarl. I tried to lift my head and it was shoved down again, knocking my cheek against the pavement so hard that it left my ears ringing. The cats around me were yowling at the top of their lungs. Well, it was nice to know they’d noticed. I went limp, letting whoever was above me think that I’d given up, and then pushed myself into a roll, ignoring the renewed pain as the gun dug farther into my leg. I was rewarded with an earsplitting shriek, and found myself pinning Julie to the alley floor. She howled, bucking against my hands, and managed to flip me over. At least I’d gone from my stomach to my back; she was straddling me now, face bestial with fury.

“What are you doing?” I demanded, just before she grabbed my throat with both hands. Conversation didn’t seem to be high on her list of priorities: banging my head against the ground was. I screamed, scrabbling for the purchase I needed to shove her away.

I was still screaming when hands grabbed her from behind and Tybalt threw her against the nearest wall. She rebounded and bounced back to her feet, hands crooked to expose her claws. He roared at her, full-throated, and she paused in apparent chagrin before opening her mouth and roaring back. Her tone didn’t even begin to approach his in strength or primal fury. Stalking forward, he smacked her across the face, knocking her to the ground. Julie hissed, more kitten than tiger, and he roared again.