chapter 2

"That's one of the Aes Sidhe," I answer.

He is reaching for the gun in the holster on the belt that dips under his big belly. I like this cop already. He's got good instincts. Or at least enough strength of mind to see through the glamour my enemy's vehicle is pumping out. "I'm afraid I need your assistance, officer."

"What? With what?"

"Something very nasty is about to jump us," I answer, lifting my hand as the fachen appears.

"Tha... that, what, th-th-th..." The cop has completely lost his ability to form a coherent sentence, but the gun at least is steady in his hand.

I don't blame him. I nearly cried the first time I saw a fachen, and I was raised among the Aes Sidhe. They're so horrible they can give humans heart attacks. I feel a flash of worry for the overweight cop. I glance at him, but he's staring at the fachen: at its wide mouth, withered arm, plume of dark feathers and at the way it glides toward us without touching the earth at all.

"I'll deal with it," I say, patting his plump arm. "You take out the others."

"The others?!" says the cop in a strangled voice, but then he sees them, the shaggy web-footed noseless fuath creeping towards us.

I open my raised hand and let my power flare. It strikes the fachen like a lightning bolt. It hisses and falters. I can hear the cop squeezing off rounds, but my attention and will is all on beating back the fachen. I hope he can keep the fuath at bay.

The fachen roars out an answering spell, but I dodge and hit the creature with a blast of my power full on. It disappears, along with its nasty carriage. I look around. There are six fuath down, thanks to steel bullets. That's enough to have swarmed me and taken me down. I owe this cop my life.

He is slumped heavily against the side of the Acura, holding his shoulder and moaning.

The fachen's spell must have hit him.

His empty gun lies on the pavement where he dropped it. I quickly step beside him. His skin is pale and clammy, and he's sweating. Not good.

"Hey, it's okay," I croon, stroking his cheek. "You're going to be okay." He groans, but lets me open his shirt and peel it off his flabby chest to examine his wound.

There's very little blood, just a greenish puncture near his armpit. Very not good. I'm drained, but I've got enough for a healing. I have to.