The Orange Cat & other Cainsville tales by Kelley Armstrong Page B
Authors: Kelley Armstrong
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a rock, transforming as she went, her back end still in seal form, the naked human half, coming out of the water. Unlike in most such pictures, the selkie’s hair had not been modestly arranged to cover her breasts. That’s exactly what Liv looked like, arching up from the water, hair flowing back, water streaming down. Just a split-second image, but enough for a mental snapshot he’d enjoy later. And possibly convince her to recreate. Which never required much “convincing” with Liv.
Liv climbed onto the rocks, allowing Ricky to enjoy the scene from the rear view before he climbed out.
As he heaved himself onto the ledge, he heard the bells. Liv had described them as tinkling, like wind chimes. That wasn’t quite what he heard, but they were definitely bells, light and airy, and as soon as he heard them, he spotted something deep in the cavern, the glow beginning to take form.
A castle? He could say that the basic shape matched—tall and rectangular—but he fought to keep that image out of his head. What he saw was just a glowing shape in the distance. Unreasonably far in the distance, given that they were under a mountain.
“What do you see?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” said Liv, on all fours as she moved into the cavern. “Not necessarily a castle this time. Something glowing. It’s indistinct. Almost . . . shrouded? That’s the word that comes to mind.”
She was right. It was like seeing the glowing object through fog, wispy gauze throwing the light out of focus. Ricky crawled up alongside Liv. Ahead, that glow continued to waver as the bells continued to ring and—
“It’s not fae,” he said.
“What?” She looked over her shoulder at him.
“I—”
I don’t know why I said that. Which wasn’t true. Not really. It only took a moment’s reflection to realize where the words came from. If it’s weird shit, it must be Arawn.
Ricky peered at the distant glow and listened to the bells, and then he closed his eyes to focus on the image and the sound.
What am I seeing? I feel like it’s not fae. Yet it is. It is, and it isn’t. Explain.
Arawn remained silent.
Ricky grumbled under his breath and opened his eyes. As he did, he caught movement in the shadows. He turned fast to follow it.
The shadows . . .
What was wrong with the shadows?
Nothing’s wrong with them. It’s you. You’re looking at them the wrong way.
Ah, there was the Lord of the Otherworld, piping up with riddles instead of useful information.
You don't want answers. You want mysteries and adventure. You want to figure it out for yourself. Be a clever boy.
Ricky shot Arawn a mental middle finger, and he swore he heard a chuckle, like from an indulgent grandparent. Which was weird, all things considered, but Ricky had already decided he wasn’t going to fuss with considering all things, working out the exact logistics and implications and complications of his relationship to Arawn. Ricky was Arawn, and yet he was not. He acknowledged the connection, as much as he might prefer not to be connected to the arrogant son of a bitch who’d wanted Matilda so badly he had let her die rather than be with the man she chose.
That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?
Nope, not at all. Now since you can’t say something useful? Shut the fuck up.
“Ricky?”
“Sorry. Bickering with Arawn.”
She let out a choked laugh. “Is he being helpful?”
“Of course not. That’s why we’re arguing.” Ricky hunkered back on his haunches and looked around. “There’s something about the shadows.”
“The shadows?” She frowned as she studied them.
“See it?” he asked.
“No . . .”
“What do you see?”
“Just shadows. Cast by . . .” She waggled her fingers, throwing a shadow of her own on the rocky wall. “Yep, definitely cast by the freaky glowing light.”
“And they’re stationary?”
“They aren’t for you?”
No, they were not. They moved, like the fog shrouding that distant light. Shifting
Liv climbed onto the rocks, allowing Ricky to enjoy the scene from the rear view before he climbed out.
As he heaved himself onto the ledge, he heard the bells. Liv had described them as tinkling, like wind chimes. That wasn’t quite what he heard, but they were definitely bells, light and airy, and as soon as he heard them, he spotted something deep in the cavern, the glow beginning to take form.
A castle? He could say that the basic shape matched—tall and rectangular—but he fought to keep that image out of his head. What he saw was just a glowing shape in the distance. Unreasonably far in the distance, given that they were under a mountain.
“What do you see?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” said Liv, on all fours as she moved into the cavern. “Not necessarily a castle this time. Something glowing. It’s indistinct. Almost . . . shrouded? That’s the word that comes to mind.”
She was right. It was like seeing the glowing object through fog, wispy gauze throwing the light out of focus. Ricky crawled up alongside Liv. Ahead, that glow continued to waver as the bells continued to ring and—
“It’s not fae,” he said.
“What?” She looked over her shoulder at him.
“I—”
I don’t know why I said that. Which wasn’t true. Not really. It only took a moment’s reflection to realize where the words came from. If it’s weird shit, it must be Arawn.
Ricky peered at the distant glow and listened to the bells, and then he closed his eyes to focus on the image and the sound.
What am I seeing? I feel like it’s not fae. Yet it is. It is, and it isn’t. Explain.
Arawn remained silent.
Ricky grumbled under his breath and opened his eyes. As he did, he caught movement in the shadows. He turned fast to follow it.
The shadows . . .
What was wrong with the shadows?
Nothing’s wrong with them. It’s you. You’re looking at them the wrong way.
Ah, there was the Lord of the Otherworld, piping up with riddles instead of useful information.
You don't want answers. You want mysteries and adventure. You want to figure it out for yourself. Be a clever boy.
Ricky shot Arawn a mental middle finger, and he swore he heard a chuckle, like from an indulgent grandparent. Which was weird, all things considered, but Ricky had already decided he wasn’t going to fuss with considering all things, working out the exact logistics and implications and complications of his relationship to Arawn. Ricky was Arawn, and yet he was not. He acknowledged the connection, as much as he might prefer not to be connected to the arrogant son of a bitch who’d wanted Matilda so badly he had let her die rather than be with the man she chose.
That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?
Nope, not at all. Now since you can’t say something useful? Shut the fuck up.
“Ricky?”
“Sorry. Bickering with Arawn.”
She let out a choked laugh. “Is he being helpful?”
“Of course not. That’s why we’re arguing.” Ricky hunkered back on his haunches and looked around. “There’s something about the shadows.”
“The shadows?” She frowned as she studied them.
“See it?” he asked.
“No . . .”
“What do you see?”
“Just shadows. Cast by . . .” She waggled her fingers, throwing a shadow of her own on the rocky wall. “Yep, definitely cast by the freaky glowing light.”
“And they’re stationary?”
“They aren’t for you?”
No, they were not. They moved, like the fog shrouding that distant light. Shifting
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