Cuan cut him off with a savage snarl. Tamsin glanced back at him, and froze in shock. His faemarks were alight—not with the swirling gleam that she saw in their bed, but with fierce, crackling energy.
Cuan’s swords appeared in his hands. Cathy gasped, and flung herself between the blades and her son.
“Cuan!” Tamsin yelled, grabbing at his wrist. “What the hell?”
Cuan’s jaw tightened. “Show them. Or I will make you show them.”
For a second, Tamsin thought that he was talking to her—but his blazing eyes were still fixed on Kevin. The boy cringed for a heartbeat longer…and then straightened, letting out a peeved sigh.
“Well, fuck,” the kid said, in a voice that was not at all a child’s. “Thanks for ruining my sweet set-up, you great galloping dingleberry.”
The boy’s features blurred. Kevin’s rounded cheeks collapsed into gaunt, lined hollows. His nose lengthened, sharpening, as did his ears. In an instant, a gray, wizened creature stood there, still in Kevin’s clothes.
Cathy’s hands flew to her mouth. The gray creature leered at her, exposing sharp yellow teeth.
“What, good mother?” it said, and it was Kevin’s voice once more, coming out of that horrible alien mouth. “No kiss for your own dear boy?”
Cuan started forward again, and this time Tamsin let him go. He lunged round the shocked Cathy, striking at the creature—but it laughed, skipping over the blades. It made a rude gesture at him, spun round, and disappeared in a puff of foul-smelling smoke.
Cathy let out a small scream. She pushed past Cuan, groping at the thinning smoke. “Where—where did he go? Kevin? Kevin!”
“It’s okay, it’ll be okay.” Tamsin hurried forward to grab her friend, hugging her tight. She looked over Cathy’s shoulder. “That wasn’t really Kevin, was it?”
Cuan had not banished his swords. He stood there, every inch a high sidhe warrior, and she had never seen him look so grim.
“No,” he replied. “But I know where Mistress Cathy’s true son is.”
* * *