Ghost Light

Ceff stepped to his left and…disappeared.  My heart sped up and I reached for my knives, but before they hit my palms, Ceff had reappeared.  He waved his arm into an invisible entrance, the limb seeming to vanish.

Ah, there was a gap in the overlapping stone leaving the illusion of a solid wall with an entrance large enough for us to walk through single file.  I couldn’t see more than a foot inside, but I nodded.  Cat sidhe are creatures of shadow and mystery.  It made sense that the entrance to the club’s representation of their world would be dark and hidden.

Ceff ducked back inside, Jinx at his heels.  The cat sidhe had passed through this entrance.  Hopefully, Sir Torn would be on the other side.  I took one last look at the club and turned to follow my friends through the nearly invisible door.

I just hoped the exit wasn’t as difficult to find.

Chapter 20

We slipped through the hidden doorway, leaving the ice behind.  The cold of the frozen area of the club was replaced by warm, humid air as I stepped into the dark.  Claws tapped on pavement and I tensed as shapes began to take form.

Fae blood gave both Ceff and me excellent night vision.  Jinx wasn’t so lucky.  I heard her voice whisper shakily.

“Ivy?” she asked.  “Remember when we agreed not to have strangers over to the loft?  Well, I think this is a good time to tell you about this guy I let sleep over a few nights ago.  I know you’re always worried about visions, so you may not want to use your toothbrush.”

My leather gloves creaked as I curled my hands into tight fists.  Was this some kind of evil twist on deathbed confessions?  If it was, I didn’t want to hear it.  I didn’t have time for an argument, but when this was all over, Jinx and I were going to have a serious talk.

My skin started to glow, pushing back the shadows.

“Your friend is clever,” Ceff said.

Jinx turned to me and shrugged.

“Not all of us have superhuman see-in-the-dark powers,” she said.  “I had to improvise.”

I shook my head.  Jinx was something all right.

I looked around the room, though room may not have been the correct word.  We stood in an alley with what looked like night sky overhead, smog blocking out the stars.  The narrow space was filled with crates, barrels, and boxes that hundreds of cats of every shape and size lounged atop, leaving no surface clear of watchful eyes.

In the far corner a familiar cat sidhe with scar-lined fur sat on a large, overturned wood spool.  The spool was the industrial type used for transporting wire.  Someone had flipped it on its side like a makeshift, ghetto-style table.  The cat sidhe perched atop the spool and lazily licked his paw, unbothered by our sudden appearance.

I stepped toward the scarred cat sidhe, but several cats jumped down and hissed, blocking my path.  The cat sidhe stopped licking his paw and sighed.  He stood and arched his back, letting out a low keening cry.  The fur along his back began to ripple, replaced by skin, shadow, and black leather.

Darkness enveloped the cat and when the shadows dissipated, a handsome man sat with one leg dangling over the edge of the table.  One arm leaned on a leather-clad knee and a half smile quirked his lips.  We had found Sir Torn, lord of the cat sidhe.

Like many fae, the cat sidhe lord was easy on the eyes, but he lacked the perfection which so many high bloods prized.  In his human guise, Torn was as damaged as he was beautiful.

Torn retained the multitude of scars I’d first noticed when he was in cat form.  The faerie’s face was dominated by a large, ragged scar that ran through his left brow, eyelid, and across the bridge of his nose.  Additional scars crisscrossed both arms, but these were nothing compared to the damage sustained by his ears.  Even in human form, the cat sidhe’s left ear was filled with holes and his right ear was nothing more than a lump of scar tissue.

Instead of hiding these battle scars, Torn had embraced his imperfections.  He’d adorned the many holes in his ears with bone and feather piercings, perhaps trophies from his kills.  Fur, bone, and feathers also decorated the leather vest, pants, and boots that he wore.  The look suited him in a wild, roguish, Beyond Thunderdome kind of way.

Torn flicked his remaining ear in a move that was completely inhuman, a signal for the cats to stand down.  With a swish of tails the cats spun away and returned to the shadows.  Torn gestured to the makeshift table and smiled.

“Come, sit with me,” he said.

The faerie lord continued to perch atop the table.  I stood my ground, not wanting to place myself below Torn by sitting on one of the low crates.  When we didn’t move, he shifted his attention to our weakest link.

Torn turned yellow eyes to Jinx and winked.  Her lips parted and she took a step forward.  Torn ran a hand down the length of his body to pat the wood beside him.  He was like a cat playing with a mouse.