It was a kitten, Jason realized, though, he’d never seen a cat with such a brilliant crimson coat or such dark eyes before.

The kitten sank its claws into Falk’s hand and wrist as it scrambled to escape the water. Falk scooped it up and cradled the shaking creature in the crook of his arm.

“You’re all right, Princess. I’ve got you. See, you’re fine.” Falk stroked the cat’s head and began drying its tiny body with the clean corner of one of Jason’s bloodstained towels.

“So, she’s the ghost girl you told me about earlier?” Jason stared at the kitten.

“One and the same.” Falk shrugged. “Give or take a few legs.”

“But she’s…alive now?”

“Princess here wasn’t really all that dead to start with. Her body was gone, but her soul was intact and her will was strong. By my count that made her two-thirds alive already. I just built her a body to inhabit.”

Disconcertingly, the kitten studied Falk as if contemplating his explanation. Then she nodded.

“But she looks like a cat to me,” Jason said. “Shouldn’t I see something else? Her true ghostly form or something?”

“Not anymore. This body is her genuine flesh now.” Falk stroked the kitten’s ears. “This isn’t some transformation of her original flesh or a glamour disguising her. She’s a kitten all the way to her bones.”

“A normal kitten?” Jason asked skeptically, because looking at her closely, he noticed that the toes of her front paws strongly resembled fuzzy fingers and he could almost make out a darker patch of fur on her foreleg that looked remarkably similar to the F tattooed on Falk’s shoulder.

“I didn’t say that,” Falk replied. He stood with the kitten and snatched up his stained trench coat, then started out of the bathroom. “You ever heard of familiars?” he asked over his shoulder.

“Like witches’ familiars?” Jason pulled the plug from the tub and then followed Falk as the water drained out.

Falk tossed his coat over the doorknob, then strode to the window, apparently unconcerned about displaying his nudity to the world. He released the kitten onto the windowsill, where she set straight to licking her ass.

“Exactly like a witch’s familiar.” Falk gave the kitten one of his brief, crooked smiles. “A spirit pulled from another realm and bound to a witch’s will by blood and flesh.”

“So Princess is your familiar?” Jason inquired. Then after Falk’s quick nod, he asked, “Does the F on her shoulder stand for Falk? Like your tattoo?”

“Hers might. Mine doesn’t…” For the first time since they’d met Jason thought Falk actually looked taken off guard. But then he shook his head. “No. It stands for Franklyn Fairgate.”

He gazed past the kitten and out the window, with an oddly distant expression. Jason guessed that was the end of the conversation, but then Falk turned back to him. “Franklyn brought me into the Irregulars, way back during the war. They were desperate for grunts and guinea pigs and I fit the bill for both. I spent four years catching bullets and testing black poison for him.”

“That sounds terrible.”

“Those were the times. People were dying by the thousands in the trenches. We had to do everything we could to end it.” Falk shrugged. “You got spare pair pajamas or something by any chance?”

Jason accepted the abrupt change of subject. Though the mention of people dying in trenches made him wonder just what war Falk was talking about.

“I have a pair of sweats that might fit you.”

Jason easily located the faded blue sweatpants from among his few other clothes. Falk, in the meantime, steamed the windowpane with his breath and then drew a small square on the glass.

“Here.” Jason handed him the pants.

“Thanks.” Falk took the clothes and pulled them on quickly. Normally the sweats looked rumpled hanging off Jason’s slim frame, but on Falk they clung to the muscles of his thighs and stretched to accommodate his groin. Falk turned his attention back to the kitten. He stroked her head with one finger.

“You go to Gunther, Princess. Tell him about the ambush at the coffee shop and that I’ve secured Jason at his residence but that I think that this is bigger than just Phipps. We might be dealing with the sidhe. Tuatha Dé Dannan.”

The kitten rammed her nose into Falk’s palm.

“Yeah, you’re pretty as anything. Now get going,” Falk told her.

The kitten butted her head lightly against the square that Falk had drawn on the windowpane. The glass swung out like the flap of a cat door. Beyond it Jason glimpsed the corner of a door. Then the cat darted through, the glass swung closed, and the view returned to the familiar expanse of surrounding buildings, power lines, and the darkening sky.

Falk briefly studied the sky, then commented, “Looks like rain again tonight.”

Jason just stared at him. He made all these truly unreal things seem so simple…so normal.

“You’re amazing…” The comment escaped Jason before he could think about it. “How do you just do something like that as if it were nothing?”

Falk simply shrugged, but Jason thought there might have been the slightest flush to his tanned face.

“I mean, you’re magic. Really magic.” Jason wished he could think of any other words to convey exactly how astounding everything Falk did seemed to be. The man walked through walls and brought animals to life from bathwater. He always seemed to have a solution for any situation.

Earlier, Jason had been too disoriented and then too terrified to truly appreciate any of it. But now it struck him just how incredible Falk was. Like some magician out of a movie, only so much more soft spoken and subdued that no one would have ever have suspected.

“You’re one to talk,” Falk replied.

“Me?” Jason shook his head. “I could never—”

“You could,” Falk cut him off. “Why else do you think those goblins wanted you? Why do you think Phipps sold you?”

“Because I can see things,” Jason supplied. “But that’s not really doing anything except opening my eyes. And most of what I see isn’t useful to me. It’s weird and creepy. It’s not like I can change anything by seeing it.”

“Maybe not yet, but everything begins with perception. No one can alter what he can’t perceive. The more perfectly you see, the more accurately you can work magic.” Falk gave a wry smile. “Most of us have to build spells based on myths, superstitions, and guesswork. Believe me, all that can go to shit fast.” Falk lifted his mutilated hand and very slowly closed his fingers into a fist, then dropped his hand back down to his side. “You’re far more rare and powerful than you realize, Jason.”

Jason contemplated his shelf of musical notations. He didn’t feel powerful and rarity just made him a freak. His true sight had screwed up most of his life and now it made him a target for attacks from monsters.

“None of that did me any good when those goblins came after us at HRD.” Jason dropped his gaze to his own pale hands. “I would have died if you hadn’t been there. And you got shot protecting me…”

“All part of the service,” Falk replied easily. Then he cast Jason a scrutinizing glance. “I suppose I could teach you a trick or two, but I don’t know if I’d be doing you a favor or just getting you in deeper.”

“I’d like to be able to protect myself.” The idea appealed immensely to Jason. “I don’t see how that could hurt.”

“You wouldn’t, would you? But I’ve seen it happen more than once.” Falk leaned back against the wall. “A guy picks up a few moves and he starts to think he can take on the world. Then, when he should be running for his life, he stands his ground and ends up butchered.” Falk scowled and turned his gaze to the stained walls surrounding them. “Sometimes a little magic is worse than none. And on top of that, learning magic isn’t like taking up the trombone. It’s dangerous. And if you’re going to take on a teacher it should be someone you know and trust. Someone who isn’t going to skip town in two weeks.”