The King's Captive (Gate of Myth and Power, #1)

by K.M. Shea

No wet shoes. I’d decided that when I started my walk to work. Wet shoes are gross, but—more importantly—I don’t want to risk any of the books. Not that I had a habit of dropping the books I was supposed to be stocking and selling on my feet, but I was enough of a book lover that the idea of besmirching the bookshop I worked at was horrifying.

My type of person! :)

The trace was weak, but that didn’t mean the fae were far away. It meant whoever was using magic was weak. Which was good news! Weak fae were much easier to escape. However, I was currently in the middle of a park—which was the worst spot to face a fae since they did best when surrounded by nature. Maybe I can avoid them—or at least avoid being seen. If I excelled at anything, it was going unnoticed, which was a great self-defense skill for a lone supernatural like me, even if it was a total confidence killer.

:(

Despite the increasing pitter patter of my heart, I kept my posture relaxed, and I swung my donut bag. I didn’t keep my cool because I was kick butt or anything—quite the opposite. I had to stay calm, because I’d be much more noteworthy to the fae if they realized I was afraid. I needed to swindle them into thinking I was a human who didn’t know better. The three fae—and any supernatural in their right mind—would never harm a human. That was the one thing that united the supernatural community—our collective need to make the humans think all supernaturals were relatively harmless on average and dangerously beautiful at most. Humans outnumbered us supernaturals, by a lot. Combine that with the death rattles magic had been giving for the past few decades, and we would never survive if humans attacked us. Thankfully, humans were very taken by supernaturals—which I’m sure wasn’t at all influenced by vampires’ easy charisma, or the magic-induced beauty of the fae.

oO

I risked glancing back over my shoulder, briefly meeting the naiad’s sharp and intelligent eyes. “There!” He pointed to me and hurried ahead, abandoning his friends. Now, real fear was starting to simmer in my belly. I darted down the alleyway, shimmying up and over the locked iron gate without even wrinkling my collared shirt. (Fleeing for your life is an excellent motivator for a lifetime of general physical fitness.)

:(

Faster than I could breathe—faster than I could blink—I was no longer a human holding a donut bag. Instead, I was a black housecat. My fur was medium length, my eyes an average yellow, my build unremarkable from any typical household pet. My fur used to be thick and shiny, but it had become a little thinner over the past few years due to the stress that came with living in Magiford as a lone supernatural.

;(

The brownie was almost to the first restaurant table, and I’d have to start thinking about running if help didn’t arrive shortly. The cat door built into the bottom of The Flying Curry’s side door twitched open, and a brown and gray tiger striped cat stuck its head out. It growled at the brownie, stepping into the alley as the hair on its back puffed up. When it caught sight of me it meandered in my direction, audibly purring. When the tiger striped cat jumped on my table to join me, it snuggled in and started licking my ear. It was a weird sensation—something scratchy and wet scraping my ear—but I’d been thoroughly groomed by a lot of cats in my days of running and hiding. I’d also been swiped by animal services more times than I cared to admit, but that hadn’t happened since I’d moved to Magiford. So far.

oO

Yes, because I’m a scaredy cat, not because I’m forever being chased. Definitely not. The trio didn’t react when I jumped off the table, Rajiv following me. “Such a shame.” The naiad sighed, his scale pattern glowing in the dim string of lights. “We could have killed a few minutes playing with her.”

jackasses ><

But I wasn’t any of those. Humans—magic or not—weren’t supposed to be capable of shifting—that would put me in shifter territory. Except I’d been put through dozens of blood tests that had all testified to my human DNA, and my ability to instantly shift from human to cat was an impossibility for shifters. They typically took a minimum of forty seconds to shift, and they turned any clothes they were wearing into tatters in the process. Meanwhile, when I shifted back to my human body I’d still be wearing my clothes and holding my donut bag. No one from the Curia Cloisters had heard of a human supernatural who could shift into a housecat, which meant there was no one I could register with—not a wizard House, a shifter Pack, nothing. I’d been living as a lone supernatural my entire life—a very dangerous position to be in these days, as it made me an easy target to bully.

><

I paused when I heard the coo of a pigeon and the loud sound of flapping wings, then peered up at the sky, narrowly avoiding getting pelted in the face with a french fry. Sitting on the Book Nookery sign was one of my few “friends” in Magiford, a trash griffin. Trash griffins were pint-sized griffins with the head, chest, and front feet of a pigeon, and the body, back legs, and tail of a raccoon. They typically could only be found in their home in the fae realm, but I’d been running into this particular trash griffin—he had a distinctive green and purple feather pattern on his shining dome of a head—since I’d moved into Magiford and had come to think of him as a friend. I called him French Fry, because he somehow always seemed to be carrying a couple of old fries, and he was about as smart as the paper bags they came in. Despite his stupidity, he was the only creature alive who could recognize me in my cat and human form, so take that as you will.

;)

By the time I tugged my clothes straight, French Fry had popped out of the marigolds and taken to the air. He did one drunken lap over my head, then followed me when I hurried around to the back employee entrance that opened into the kitchen. “See ya, French Fry. I’ll throw you a snack during my lunch break if you stick around,” I called before I disappeared inside. French Fry cooed, then slammed into one of the kitchen windows and skidded down it, leaving a few tiny purple and green feathers on the glass.

Oo

“Ker and Aristide?” “Are waiting at the bottom of the mountain, with your people,” Charon said. “At the last report, I was told Aristide had harassed several guards into producing a lawn chair and an umbrella for him.” “How very on brand for him,” I said.

It's been a while, that's the 'Elder' that acts demented to not be involved in the power struggles?

but their presence has alarmed your citizens greatly.” Everything alarmed my citizens greatly. They were elves, in a world where elves had been killed out after losing a war. They survived only because they were able to hide in the shadow of my magic. I was fairly certain anxiety settled upon them at birth. “Is there anything else that is alarming my citizens?” I asked. “Within your realm? No,” Charon said. “Within Magiford? Yes.

oO

I turned to Charon in my surprise and near disappointment with those in my realm. “What could my people possibly fear from fae?” The Seelie and Unseelie fae were both local fae Courts—the smallest in the area. There were Seelie and Unseelie Courts in every major city of America—they were like common goldfish, and roughly as frightening as a goldfish as well, though their monarchs were frequently pompous tyrants who ruled through fear.

oO

The ground was blackened—as if it had been burnt—and not a blade of greenery survived the all-consuming miasma. It sucked the magic out of the living. The only reason I was fine was that I could replenish magic faster than the miasma could eat it, even with the magic-binding shackles fastened around my wrists. It’s still a nuisance, though. I stepped on a stone, which crumbled like a husk of a chalk, and vaguely noticed the pain that started to burn my lungs from the poisonous air.

oO

Reluctantly I stepped through the wall, re-entering my realm, where the elves I ruled over so feared me that they were reluctant to follow me to exterminate creatures they had personally requested I kill. All hail the last king of the elves. It’s such fun.

unfair, poor dude

“Thank you. Here—I brought you this!” Mr. Gleevers set a paper carton of chocolate milk on my desk—just like the ones kids got with school lunches—getting a laugh out of me. The night patrons of Book Nookery knew I had a thing for milk—which was kind of funny considering I could turn into a cat, and cats, despite the popular belief, are lactose intolerant and drinking milk can make them sick. I’d been obsessed with drinking milk as a kid. My adopted family were all model/basketball star tall. I was average height, but I felt short and squat next to them. When I was in elementary school I was convinced milk with its calcium would be my magic key to growing taller. It hadn’t worked, but I still loved the drink—be it cow milk, coconut milk, oat milk, or cashew milk.

heh

one between the elves and every other supernatural race in existence, and that they’d been eradicated after losing. It was a dark chapter of our history, but it had been necessary. Real elves weren’t the silk-wearing, poetry-writing scholars we’d led humans to believe. Elves were cruel, ruthless beings who had ruled over our society with an iron fist and vast magical powers that couldn’t be matched by any supernatural, except maybe the dragon shifters. The elves had done everything they could to subjugate other supernaturals, keeping werewolves as pets and fae as servants. Supernaturals had allowed it for centuries because elves created magic by existing—it was theorized that their extinction is what was leading to magic slowly dying out in modern generations.

I guess this explains the cowardly remnants I guess. Bully's never react well to being pushed back.

Although I worked the night shift of the twenty-four-hour bookstore, it was popular given the nocturnal nature of several of the more populous supernatural races. I filled any free hours by helping Ms. Booker with her accounting and payroll since I’d gotten a college degree in finance. (Another bid to make myself more favorable to the Curia Cloisters since supernaturals weren’t historically interested in subjects like accounting.)

oO

My blood thickened in my veins when I saw the shadow lurking at the edge of the green space. It kept pace with us for several streets, hanging approximately a block back. It’s not getting closer, so it’s definitely me it was after, not supernaturals in general. But why? While some supernaturals considered picking on me cathartic, there wasn’t really a point to messing with me besides sheer malice or making a show of power. I couldn’t do anything for anybody, and no supernaturals cared about what happened to me.

oO

“If I ever fall so low that a Seelie fae king is in a position to help me, it is a sorry day,” the being said. Seelie and Unseelie fae were among the weakest Courts because they weren’t landed—they had no connection to the fae realm. They were small and very localized, typically sticking to one city. But for a supernatural to talk so dismissively about a fae king—Seelie or otherwise? This guy was in a league I aspired to never encounter in my whole life. If I stuck around, it was definitely going to use one of my proverbial nine cat lives. Apparently, these fae have a death wish. Good for them, but I don’t. I wriggled, loosening the naiad’s grasp on me with the goal of freeing myself.

oO

A little factoid about being carried: it’s terrifying. Being carried is like being loosely secured to a track-less roller coaster that has broken seatbelts that could unbuckle at any moment.

oO

I pressed against his chest, digging my claws into the neckline of his shirt, and propped my back paws on his side as I hung on in what could be interpreted by a doting human as a cat hug, but was really just me doing my best to hold on for my life. The supernatural paused on his cement porch. He had one hand on my rump and the other on my upper back, which he briefly removed to pet the top of my head. “You’re safe now,” he informed me.

aww

Who is this guy that he has a gate in his house? “Your Majesty.” Your Majesty? He’s a KING?! A shape emerged from the shadows. Tall and lean, he had a similar feel to the guy carrying me, but the impression of power was much weaker. He had the same tapered ears, and his hair was blond—but a shade so pale it was closer to platinum. My supernatural kept walking but flicked his hazel eyes in the shadow guy’s direction. “What is it, Charon?” “Are you sure you don’t wish for me to pursue the…unwanted visitors?” The new guy, Charon, fell into step behind my supernatural, his head bowed in homage. He’s a king with bloodthirsty minions. This is getting better and better. He must be some kind of high ranking fae. “It’s unnecessary,” my supernatural said. He adjusted his hold on me, better supporting my back. I twisted so I could peer back at the gate, trying to fix its appearance and location in my mind and ignore the nausea-inducing sensation of being carried and looking backwards at the same time.

oO

I hid at the foot of the bed, crawling between two pillows that had been carelessly thrown there, and peeked out from my cave. “I hope she doesn’t become a tripping hazard for Aristide.” Ker shifted her weight back and forth, then glanced at the vampire. Aristide shook his head. “It won’t be an issue. At the rate her heart pounds, I’ll be able to pinpoint her location in any room with ease. She is an anxious creature.” Anxious doesn’t even begin to describe how I’m feeling! This was, by far, the worst-case scenario I could have ever wandered into.

:)

“If the cat is allowed to run freely, they’ll need to be made aware—to make certain there aren’t any accidents,” Charon delicately said, which made me feel peachy about the friendliness of Noctus’s “people”. “Charon’s got the right idea,” Aristide said. “Most elves don’t associate cats with good things—even all these years later. It’s better to warn them.” Why would they have a thing against cats? Noctus’s gaze flicked back to me. He studied my pillow fort for a moment, then strode across the room, approaching the bed. “There will be consequences to anyone who harms her.” He climbed the stairs to his bed and held out his fingers for me to sniff. “Violent consequences.” Great, so I only have to worry about you killing me before I can get out of here. That’s wonderful.

oO

But when I saw the outside, my heart stopped. I’d known some weird magic was at work—there was no way a house this huge fit in the little Cape Cod home I’d seen on the street. That hadn’t prepared me, however, for the city outside the bedroom windows. It seemed Noctus’s home was built into the side of a small mountain. An entire city occupied the lower half of the mountain. The city was built in semi-circle tiers, with smaller levels at the top and larger levels at the bottom.

more than a few then ...

Noctus petted me, then leaned forward and grabbed the elegant coffee table positioned a few feet away from the chaise lounge. He tipped the coffee table on its side, revealing two rows of daggers and an ax Velcro-ed to its underside. Does he have random weapon storage spots everywhere? Maybe I’ll have to start exploring under his furniture. Not that weapons would do me any good. I was a runner. Pat made sure both Joy and I were familiar with a handgun and basic self-defense moves because of his work background, and Joy kept me stocked with pepper spray, but my greatest assets were the physical abilities that came with shifting from human to cat, not fighting.

oO

Finished—or at least I assumed so, unless he had knives hidden in places I didn’t want to see—Noctus sat back down and stared at me. As if I had something to contribute. Sorry, I didn’t know this was the “little free library” of weapons. He petted me, but a troubling furrow burrowed between his eyebrows. He picked up one of my paws—daring to touch my toe beans—and pressed, making one of my claws pop out. “You are relatively helpless,” he said. Obviously, you’ve never had a housecat claw at your eyes. I was a runner, but I did know how to inflict damage if needed for my escapes. “I should get a protective spell for you.” No, that’s not necessary, but thank you for being a conscientious pet owner.

:)

Yeah, yeah, get me my shots, sure, but can’t you put me back on the ground? Since I’d been picked up by animal services way more often than my parents ever knew—Joy, Pat, and I had pooled our allowances for an “adopt Chloe back slush fund” that they’d had to use numerous times in my childhood—I already knew that cat shots didn’t affect me. Thank you, magic! Noctus met my gaze. “He mentioned I should consider getting you microchipped and fixed.” He WHAT? I almost puffed up again, and I barely managed to hold back from hissing. The next time Charon came to the room, I was going to do my best to trip him. Or maybe throw up on an expensive carpet and push some priceless art off some tables. Microchipped and fixed? No! No way! I was so horrified I could only gape at Noctus in total, absolute horror. Microchipped and fixed! Noctus tried to scratch my chin again, but I was as stiff as a board. Microchipped. And. Fixed. “There are magical methods of keeping tabs on you, so I don’t feel at this time it will be necessary.” Noctus turned away from the window and walked across his room, though he glanced down at me when a mewl of relief escaped from me. New plan—no—same plan, but it’s even more important! I need to suck up to Noctus, no matter how scary he is, for my survival and to save my dignity!

oO

“I’m not working.” Noctus frowned at my bowls again on his way over to the giant fireplace. “I’m merely going to slay the rock monster that keeps bouncing into the mountain barrier.” He removed a sword—an enormous one that was surely way too big to be of any use in actual battle—from a decorative placard, then glanced at the oddly colored fire in the fireplace, which immediately snuffed out. “For you, Your Majesty, that is working,” Charon said. “For everyone else it would be lunacy.” “You’re always so charming, Charon.” “It is Aristide’s role to be the charming one among your comrades,” Charon said. “And I see I will need to bring out one of the replicas of your coffee table from the furniture storage?” “The ax is dull.” “Of course, Your Majesty.” “Make sure you place it on the marks in the carpet, so it is in the exact same position and Aristide doesn’t run into it.”

oO

Yes, I should protect my new pet, but what I had planned went beyond what was necessary. Using it would be impulsive, foolish, and brash. If any of my friends knew, they’d discreetly question my sanity. And yet… Magic hummed around me, pleased with the idea. Even the shackle that held back a major portion of my power couldn’t hide the musical chord magic produced at the thought. All supernaturals wielded magic differently. Humans—magic’s absolute favorites—didn’t need anything. Wizards could pull wild magic from the air and filter it through their blood into a usable, elemental form. Fae used magical tools and artifacts to bend wild magic to their will. Elves were somewhat similar in that we worked best if using an artifact or tool, but it wasn’t fully necessary. The check to our power, however, was emotions. Our mood and emotion drastically affected our ability to wield magic.

so weird, we're the favorites? That's new, maybe ease vs. mega power or something.

That the wild magic—which I couldn’t see but could hear—was so pleased at the idea of what I was considering was puzzling. Magic hadn’t had an opinion about my actions since the elven war.

oO

I know better than to be brash and emotional. It is why I was so much more powerful than my own family, who were already at an impossible strength. Being in control is what has gotten me this far. Breaking that control for a small cat is stupid, no matter how pleased wild magic is about it. But I was tired. Tired of the endless control, the endless strength, the endless power. Power was not the gift humans and supernaturals alike were convinced it was. Power was a curse. One I’d keep on bearing.

:(

And there was something about this cat. In holding her…I couldn’t identify the feeling, except that it was peaceful. As a Mors elf, peace wasn’t something I often experienced. Couldn’t I—for once—allow myself this instance of impulsiveness? There’s no reason to do it, though. She’s a cat. Aristide, Charon, and Ker have been with me through darkness and back. Why bend this rule for a cat? I could use magic as an excuse, of course. But in reality, I was considering this only because a cat—even one as intelligent as this one—was the sole safe possibility for me. She didn’t know I was a king. She couldn’t comprehend my power, or ever understand the dark and terrible things I’d done. She was a cat. She purred when I petted her, and she slept in my bathroom sink. My mind made up, I strode toward the door. I’d need to go far away to perform the spell, or Charon would realize what I was doing. It’s safe enough, and magic approves. Peace is special and sacred. It should be acceptable that I protect her to give myself even this momentary illusion. I knew the reality: peace was something I could never have.

oO

I was absolutely starving, and I was nearly to the point where I’d let the elves look at my rear again if it meant I could get a donut or a sandwich—anything edible, besides the cat food they kept trying to feed me. They haven’t even offered me milk! Have they never seen a human movie with a cat in it? I also badly needed to sleep. I’d dozed occasionally, but I hadn’t deeply slept since Noctus had forcefully adopted me—it was too risky. I could survive on less sleep than the average human, but this was pushing my limits. Still aware that Noctus might have some weird spells on his bedroom, I made a show of licking one of my front paws and rubbing my furry face before I glanced outside the window again.

oO

I crouched down as the voices got closer, and my heart beat faster. The door cracked open, and Aristide’s voice slipped through the space. “Your little pet is right by the door—I can hear her frantically pumping heart.” Well. There went my element of surprise. “Are you sure she’s not sick? I’ve never met a creature who spends the majority of their time in a near-constant state of terror.”

still nice of the vampire to notice :)

Steak? Who feeds a cat steak? How much money does he have? I know the elves were the top of the supernatural food chain, but he’s in hiding! He shouldn’t have this kind of cash. “Hunger strike, perhaps?” Aristide suggested. “Cats are temperamental creatures.” That’s pretty hypocritical coming from a vampire. “You could try giving her milk,” Ker suggested. “That’s a human-created myth,” Aristide said. “Cats are lactose intolerant for the most part. It’d make her sick.” I stared at the vampire, half impressed and half desperate. You! You’re why I haven’t gotten any milk!

:D

“She’s a cat,” Aristide said. “Cat food is the definition of the right food.” Noctus set me down on his plush bed. “Not for my pet.” I purred some more and twitched my tail left and right, staying where I was when I really wanted to bolt away from the rich, scary-powerful elf king. There was an intensity to Noctus that burned when I was close to him. It felt…wild, and not at all safe. Given that I had spent most of my adult life scrabbling to survive, hanging out with that kind of vibe was not my idea of a pleasant time. But Plan Suck Up is still the best option, so off I go!

oO

This went on for about five minutes, until I’d filled my tiny cat stomach. As I ate the last piece of chicken, I peered up at Noctus and was struck by the utter ridiculousness of the situation. Noctus—a deadly and dangerous elf king—was hand feeding his pet cat freshly cooked chicken. Bro, you should have gotten a pet ages ago if you were going to be this dedicated. I’d feel bad for you, if you weren’t a figurative nightmare from supernaturals’ past. Full, I turned my nose away when Noctus offered me one last piece. He ate the chicken himself, and a thoughtful expression flickered in his eyes. I purred my thanks to the elf king—I even rubbed against his hand when he scratched my chest.

:)

I didn’t know a lick of Elvish, so for all I knew he’d just renamed me “sweet bottomless stomach”, but he seemed happy, and I didn’t really care what he called me as long as I survived, so I purred my agreement. Whatever you want, elf king. But I’d like it very much if you’d please put me down, preferably near that weird gate of yours, thank you.

:)

Noctus pet me, then returned his attention to the computer screen, opening what appeared to be his email. I almost fell off the desk when he also opened an Excel document—who knew kings actually had to do work? But I didn’t care about his work—the less I knew, the better. So I made the jump to the shorter, approximately thigh high shelf of books and papers that was positioned against the wall of windows, fitting neatly below them.

oO

“I think it’s a good thing you now have a cat,” Ker said. “Magic knows you’ve probably never had anything as wholesome as a pet.” “Animals can be weak points that are easily exploited and serve no use,” Noctus said. Ker openly shivered. “Yes, that sounds exactly like something your tyrant father would have said. Pets are awesome. There’s nothing else in the world that is quite like the love of a pet.” Noctus turned in his chair to look back at me. “Maybe,” he said. “But she is slow to be won over.” I uneasily curled the end of my tail. I’ve been warming up to you way faster than any normal cat would. What are your expectations? If you wanted me to come running to you every time I see you, you should have gotten a dog. It was very well to be sarcastic in my own mind, but the truth was if Noctus wasn’t satisfied, I was going to have to dial it up, no matter how I felt about it. “She’s a cat,” Aristide said. “Give her time.”

:(

Villa? He thinks this place is on par with a mere villa? What does he think Buckingham Palace is—a summer cottage? I’d never thought that the most dangerous situation I’d ever face in my entire life would inspire so much scoffing, but it would appear my malfunctioning danger meter had inspired a twisted sense of humor in me.

:)

I yawned, because I knew the gesture would keep me from puffing up in surprise. The Paragon was the top fae representative—not for the region, but for all of America. He’d been hanging out in Magiford for a few years, and no one really knew why—until now, that is. I feel both better and worse. If the Paragon knows Noctus is kicking up his heels in the area, there’s a small chance I’m safer than I thought. But why hasn’t the Paragon told the supernatural world that he exists?

oh right -- THAT's the demented dude

Charon stood still—not moving a single muscle, though he watched me, which I wasn’t a fan of. I played with my mouse some more, chasing it across some papers in the hope that if I got annoying, they’d boot me off the desk. Instead Noctus smoothed down the hair on the top of my head before flipping a page. The wrinkles on Charon’s forehead cleared, and at that moment I realized that—to him—I was a form of stress relief for his king. That means he’s going to be the most dangerous one, because he’ll get invested in me. I batted my mouse off the desk, but Charon caught it—lurching so suddenly into motion he set off my cat reactions, and I arched my back and puffed up the fur on my spine. Charon placed the mouse back on the desk, then attempted to give me a kibble treat. Yep. He’s dangerous alright.

oO

“Whether it’s affecting anyone else is not my issue.” Noctus sat down, still holding me against his chest. “It is apparent my people are ignorant enough that they can’t tell inferior goods from well-made ones. Teaching them that kind of discernment would take more planning and work than simply getting rid of the source of bad artifacts.” What a thoughtful, benevolent monarch. Despite his harsh words, he’s going to fix the problem for his people—and maybe help other supernaturals in the process. The idea was so weird that it made me wriggle out of Noctus’s grasp and jump onto the desk. “Understood,” Charon said. “I’ll organize a party and look into the matter.” I stretched, then leaped off the desk. “No,” Noctus said. I’d been padding my way back to my fancy bed, but at this proclamation I couldn’t help but look back at Noctus. He was rubbing one of his magic-blocking cuffs, his eyes thoughtfully narrowed. “I’ll investigate the matter myself.” Charon stared at him. From the way the muscles on his face seemed to slacken by two degrees, I got the feeling he was surprised.

oO

I stayed off the streets and sidewalks as much as possible. I thought it was safer that way, but I was in the middle of someone’s tiny garden when fear slammed into me—the same icy, all consuming kind I’d felt that had forced me to throw myself at the Seelie fae. I turned, able to peer over my back thanks to my cat flexibility. Horrifyingly, there was something there: a darkened shadow lurking at the corner of the next-door house. It was thick and too substantial to be a mere shadow, and with it this close I could feel its magic with my whiskers, but my fear was too overwhelming to identify it. I was wrong, I realized. Between the elf king who hand feeds me chicken and has a quite possibly offensive nickname for me and this thing, the elf king is a lot safer. Even if he is the king of death. I ran, streaking under bushes and fences—anything that would make me a difficult target as I sprinted downtown.

oO

I started to tuck my neck into my shoulders, shrinking a little under his scrutiny. At least I have a track record of surviving him. And as terrifying as Noctus is, he doesn’t feel like…panic. He’s too controlled for that. When it came down to it, I’d rather face off with Noctus, who I could potentially survive even if he was a living legend, rather than whatever was chasing me. Judging by the crossbow the guy had carried, I was pretty sure he intended to kill me. And I had no idea why. Is he with one of the fae Courts? But why would he care about me, then? I’m not a fae. Conversely, as long as I played the role of pet, Noctus wasn’t going to do anything to me. It’s still terrifying, but at least staying with Noctus means a longer life expectancy. For now.

oO

“Shall we head for home, then?” Aristide asked. His stance was very casual considering he was a vampire standing in the warm glow of dawn. Just how old and powerful is he? He’s not even carrying an umbrella or anything to shade himself from the rising sun. Noctus paused when we reached the vampire and the werewolf. “No.” “Don’t you want to drop her off?” “Charon is waiting for us at the café.” “You can’t just walk around carrying a cat. It’s been a while since I’ve seen society, but I know that much, at least, is true.” “The café is pet friendly.” Noctus ambled off, leaving Ker and Aristide behind. Aristide sighed. “Fine, be that weirdo. I knew your long life was eventually going to make you crack. Ker, find Queen’s Court Café.” Ker gave a happy “Awoo!” noise before she followed Noctus, her nails clicking on the sidewalk.

what a trio. ;)

All animals are required to be secured with collars and leashes.” He pointed to me. “She has a collar,” Noctus said. “But no leash,” the teenager pointed out. “Animals must be leashed for safety reasons—and that is not a dog. That is a werewolf! Is that even legal?” The barista leaned over the counter to gape at Ker. “How dare you judge my service animal?” Aristide scoffed. “She is prized for her guidance abilities.” Are they seriously trying to pretend that Ker isn’t a werewolf? Why? The barista wasn’t buying the act any more than I was. He screwed his freckled face up as he peered from Aristide to Ker. “Do you not know it’s a werewolf? Because, dude, it totally is.” “Landon, don’t pester the customers.” A smiling woman emerged from the back area, fixing the ties of her black apron. Landon pointed at me. “I’m not pestering, I’m enforcing rules. The cat doesn’t have a leash. Also, do we allow transformed werewolves in the store?” The woman glanced at Ker. “Well, the guide canine has a harness, which follows store policies. Would you like some chicken jerky?”

oO