In the plaza, shadows and bursts of light coalesced, marking the arrival of the Hunt. Crows flapped down to perch on my sire’s back, and what should have looked ridiculous instead heightened the aspect of his power. Lean hounds padded up beside him. A cloud of wasps circled over his head, while a pack of huge gray dire wolves drew muzzles back to show their teeth.

He roared again, the sound so loud the crows took flight, cawing.

A second roar answered.

My sire looked around as if startled.

A pride of tawny saber-toothed cats flowed into view, halting to mill around Rory and me. Not even the Wild Hunt dared rashly charge in against a pride of saber-toothed cats. They dipped heads, rubbed; one of the smaller females nipped at Rory, and he nipped back. The one I recognized as his mother boxed him across the head with a paw. He growled, and she batted him again. His ears twitched, then flattened.

Satisfied, she turned with the others to stare hungrily at Bee.

“Aunt! I pray you, listen to my words. The Master of the Wild Hunt seeks to harm me and mine. Bee is my cousin and will not harm you. Just as your son has been forced to serve his sire, so has she been forced to serve those you call the enemy. Please help me stand against him.”

Tentatively I extended a hand so she could sniff my palm. Her beauty dazzled me, as did the sheer force of her physical presence, with its power and majesty and, of course, those teeth.

She reared up to balance her weight on my shoulders. Her gold eyes met mine unblinkingly. She could have ripped off my face with one lazy yawn. Her breath was hot, laced with a carrion scent, and yet it did not disturb me. Predators had these cravings.

She made a sound something like a meow and something like a query.

“The Master of the Wild Hunt mated with my mother as he did with you. He had no affection for my mother. He only wanted to make a child he could command. Now he’s stolen my beloved. Please, Aunt, I can only request your help as your stepdaughter, bound to you through my love for your son Rory. Please protect my cousin Bee so the Wild Hunt does not eat her. I will take her away from the spirit world as soon as I can.”

She heaved herself down and prowled over to Bee.

Standing as rigid as a statue, her gaze fixed on me to remind me that if she was eaten it would be my fault, Bee endured being sniffed. I wasn’t sure I would have had that much courage, but she did.

Last the big cat sniffed delicately at the cacica’s head. The two queens eyed each other as might rulers who are not sure whether they are destined to become rivals or allies.

Without warning, my sire sprang.

I spun and thrust.

My blade caught him along the right shoulder, a mere scrape. Pain flamed across my own shoulder, but I knew it was coming so I hardened myself. I heard Rory’s mewl, and most importantly the cry of every creature who attended him. Because hurting him hurt them, they were momentarily unable to attack.

I flung myself into him and together we crashed sideways onto the ground. The fur of his shoulder smeared into a new form. I was lying on top of Vai, who had his arms caressingly around me. He was naked, and aroused.

Pain was nothing compared to my disgust.

I shoved off him and scrambled back, keeping my gaze averted as I got to my feet.

“Blessed Tanit!” cried Bee.

“You’re a monster. You’ll never defeat me, not in this way, not in any way!”

Bee sucked in a harsh breath. The saber-toothed cats had arrayed themselves around her. They faced outward, ears flat, mouths open to show teeth. Every cat had her hair fluffed up to make herself look bigger.

My sire rose to his knees as his body sprouted the wings of an eru. His skin brightened to a sheen like brass. His long black hair stirred as if, like his limbs, it could grasp and strangle his enemies. His wings were feathered with silver. He now wore a kilt woven out of disks. The glittering amulets made me blink from the shine.

He stared at me with eyes the same amber color as mine. But he had also a third eye, a mass of cloudy veins in the center of his forehead. What sights that bloody eye could see I did not know, and I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to find out.

“This is your true form,” I said.

“Change is my true form. But the one who gave birth to me had an eru’s form when I was disgorged. So it is the form to which I return most naturally.”

“No wonder the eru called me Cousin,” I muttered.

When he opened his wings to their full span, they exhaled an icy mist. He was magnificent. “You must be what you are, little cat. That is why I sired you. Do you not wonder why you can kill without regret, escape certain death, and prowl like a tomcat among males who attract you?”