The Unkindest Tide (October Daye #13) - Seanan McGuire Page 0,174

for sure what had happened to me, only that I was gone.

Maybe Ginevra was right for wanting me to have someone with me when I went out into the city. Not when I took the Shadow Roads to October’s—anything that wanted to attack me there could enjoy contending with the occupants of her house—but otherwise, an escort, and some additional care, couldn’t go amiss. I was a Prince of Cats. I had responsibilities. One of those responsibilities was to not disappear without a trace.

Willis unlocked the door and Helen carried me into the cool, dim confines of the living room. The fire in the hearth roared back to life as soon as Willis followed her in, reacting to his pureblood presence as it would never react to hers. I’d never considered her in any way lesser because of her human blood, but I saw the way the skin around her eyes tensed at the reminder that the fire loved her father more than it loved her. She was outside parts of her own world, removed from them by blood and the circumstances of her birth. It had to be hard.

I meowed for Helen to put me down. She walked over to the couch, bending to set me gently on a cushion. I rubbed my cheek against her hand as a gesture of thanks, then closed my eyes and reached deep into myself, into the simmering wellspring of my magic, looking for the switch that would allow me to change forms.

It had never been this difficult before, not even when I was on the cusp of leaving kittenhood. Kittens often lack control over their transformations, instinctively choosing the form that was best suited for the situation. With control comes the risk of getting stuck. I’d been feline for almost a week when I was nine, unable to convince my magic that I’d be better off having thumbs and attending my lessons. Father had been furious. Mother had been amused, and washed me so thoroughly that I kept expecting to find myself entirely without fur.

I reached deeper, fighting through the pain and the lingering effects of the human painkillers until abruptly, I was naked and standing on the couch. I immediately fell over, reverting to feline form on the impact. Willis roared with laughter. Helen blushed. Cal sighed.

“I wish I’d had a camera ready,” they said. “Can you do that again?”

I looked at them imperiously. This time when I transformed, my clothing came with me, and I found myself seated, not standing. I sniffed, nose in the air. Unfortunately, that meant I missed it when Helen flung herself at me, knocking us both into the couch cushions and awakening a whole new degree of pain in my injured side.

“Helen, please,” I managed to wheeze.

“I’m going to go make some scrambled eggs and toast,” said Willis. “Raj, you’re going to eat what I put in front of you, without complaining. Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” I said.

“Good boy.” He walked out of the living room, leaving me, Helen, and Cal to our own devices.

Helen’s devices seemed to consist entirely of trying to squeeze the life out of me. I raised one hand, awkwardly patting her on the shoulder. She responded by making a muffled sound and burying her face against my chest. I glanced at Cal. They shrugged.

“She was pretty scared,” they said. “We’d never met before. I guess having a strange Cait Sidhe wake you up and tell you that your boyfriend’s been hit by a car is freaky and not so much fun. Maybe you should introduce her to more of your friends. Only we’re not friends, really, so maybe just introduce her to more people, period? That way if this happens again, she won’t be so scared.”

Helen pulled back enough to twist around and glare at Cal. If looks could kill, as the old song goes, her expression would have struck them dead on the spot. “Don’t you even say that,” she snapped. “Raj isn’t going to get hit by any more cars.”

“I could, though,” I said uncomfortably. She turned her face back toward me, eyes going wide and wounded. I swallowed the impulse to flinch, forcing myself to look levelly at her as I said, “The world doesn’t stop being dangerous because we tell it to. If it did, my Uncle Tybalt would fret less.”

“Something has to be safe,” said Helen stubbornly. “We can’t be afraid all the time.”

I hesitated. “Helen . . . we shouldn’t have to be safe to not