Kevin grunted in response, not even looking up from his game. Tamsin threw Cathy a sidelong glance, eyebrows drawing down.
Hot mortification flooded through her. It was one thing for Kevin to be rude to her, and quite another for him to show such blatant disrespect to her friends.
She stepped in front of the TV screen. “Kevin! You’re being—"
“Shut up!” Kevin snarled, and all the air left Cathy’s lungs at the utter contempt in his tone. “Don’t tell me what to do, you stupid—”
Behind her, Cuan growled. It was not a sound that should have been able to come from a human throat.
Cathy whipped round. Cuan had dropped his glamour, and all pretense of humanity. His eyes had turned feral gold, burning with inner fire. Intricate blue markings glowed on his brow and ran across his cheekbones, highlighting his wolfish snarl. He dropped to a crouch, long silver blades appearing in his hands out of thin air.
On pure instinct, Cathy flung herself between the fae warrior and her son. Kevin cringed away from Cuan, face stark white.
“Cuan!” Tamsin grabbed her mate’s wrist. “What the hell?”
Cuan didn’t lower the swords. He was as tense as a drawn bow, those animal eyes fixed on Kevin. “Get behind me, Mistress Cathy. Get away from that thing now.”
Cathy didn’t move. She couldn’t speak, adrenaline closing her throat. If he moved toward Kevin, if he so much as twitched—
“Have you gone mad?” Tamsin hauled with all her strength on Cuan’s arm, without the slightest effect. “He’s just a kid!”
“Show them,” Cuan said—not to his mate, but to Kevin. “Or I will make you show them.”
“Well, fuck,” said a voice behind Cathy. “Thanks for ruining my sweet set up, you great galloping dingleberry.”
It wasn’t her son’s voice.
Tamsin gasped. Cathy risked a glance round, and her hands flew to her mouth.
Kevin wasn’t Kevin any more. His features were blurring, running together like wet paint. His cheeks collapsed into gaunt, lined hollows. His nose lengthened to a sharp point, as did his ears. In the space of mere seconds, a gray, wizened creature had replaced her son.
The thing leered at her. It was still wearing Kevin’s clothes, though they now hung from gangling, stick-thin limbs.
“What, good mother?” it said, and it was her son’s voice once more, coming out of that horrible, alien mouth. “No kiss for your own dear boy?”
Cathy couldn’t move. Tamsin’s hand dropped from Cuan’s wrist, and the fae warrior lunged forward, swords swinging—but the creature only laughed, skipping over the blades. It blew Cuan a mocking kiss, spun round, and disappeared in a puff of foul-smelling smoke.
A strangled scream escaped her numb lips. She pushed past Cuan, groping futilely through the thinning smoke. It dissipated, leaving her with empty hands.
“Where—where did he go?” she choked out, through a throat gone tight with panic. “Kevin? Kevin!”
“It’s okay, it’ll be okay.” Tamsin grabbed her, hugging her tight. She looked over her shoulder at Cuan. “That wasn’t Kevin, was it?”
Cuan had not banished his swords. He stood there, every inch a high sidhe warrior, face as grim as death.
“No,” he replied. “But I know where Mistress Cathy’s true son is.”