Page 22 of Practical Boots

Grace herself lay curled on a couch, sleeping at first glance and…something more, at another. From moment to moment she twitched as if suffering a bad dream, and drew ragged breaths as if trying to call for help. But when her agitation grew to the point that it would wake someone from a normal sleep, Grace only slept on, first crying out, then settling as if an unwelcome weight pressed on her.

The baby rattle was in Grace's hand, as if she'd been trying its magic when the stasis struck. Cat's heart clenched. She hadn't thought Grace believed her, not really, and the truth was, Grace might not have. But she'd still decided to try it when she thought she needed help.

Cat was going to put her father in theground, one of these days. Maybe not today, because she didn't know that she could undo his magic and waken Grace safely on her own, but one day, and sooner rather than later. She turned on him, spitting fury. "What were you thinking?"

"That I would not return to the Torn empty-handed after your betrayal."

"I swear togngngh.” Her anger devolved into growling noises and clenching hands, and it took several seconds to find words again. “Lift the spell, Dad, or forfeit the oaths we've taken. You don't get it both ways and Istillpromise you that if you try to interfere in this kid's life I'll spend the rest of mine getting in your way. Or the rest of yours," she spat through her teeth.

It may have been a mistake. A sneer warped her father's handsome features, as if he couldn't imagine her having the ability to end his life, or, indeed, do him any real damage at all.

On the other hand, he'd had enough imagination to decide the simulacrum was necessary, so maybe the sneer was a lie. Aelf-folk couldn't lie with their voices; nobody ever said anything about their faces. That cool arrogant aelfen note in his voice again, he said, "Show me the Artifact."

"Man, you are not Jerry Maguire, and I haven't made the damn thing yet. You don't seem to get it: I'm notgoingto make it until you're out of this woman's life. That is theonlyway you get to control me."

"You think so much of your power," her father hissed, "and so little of mine."

She didn't even feel the blow building. No sense of his will gathering, no murmur of spellwork to warn her. Just a sudden constriction that tried to push the air from her lungs, tried to crush the spirit from her soul, tried to bind her like she was a young horse in need of breaking. In all of their arguments, she had never felt anything like what he wrought now. She could almost see the glimmer of the spellwork, though, silver threads that wanted to sink into her skin and take away her ability to move and think as she saw fit. It locked her muscles, forbidding her the ability tostep, and for a blinding, clarifying instant, Cat understood.

Her father believed—correctly—that she had no magic to defend herself against this kind of attack. Her power was in the creation of Artifacts, and she required certain components, primarily the stuff of the Waste, to do that. With preparation she could no doubt mold something to protect herself from an attempt to take over her very will, but she had come to defend someone else, without really considering her personal danger.

A part of her mind took note of that, tucked it away for later—bold of it to assume there wouldbea later—while the greater part of her marveled at her own shortsightedness, yes, but also at her father's.

Cat relaxed, hoping her gaze filled with anguish as she made an effort to surrender. Smug delight glittered in her father's eyes as he felt her struggle against him falter, and his handsome, human smile had cold and cruel edges. "Gather the woman," he said. "We'll bring her back to the Torn with us."

She could walk then, but notstep. His will coursed through her, moving her feet, guiding her where he wanted her to go. Cat knelt at Grace's side, withdrew the boot blade she could now reach, and pressed the cold iron flat of it against her own belly.

Her father's magicscreamed. The strings that had settled beneath her skin shriveled and withered, racing away. Cat chased them with the knife, pushing them out of her body, prepared to cut if his power had the nerve to lodge anywhere. It didn't, and in moments she rose, panting with anger, to face the man who had spent her entire childhood trying to make her his puppet. "I'm not nearly as easy a mark as that, Dad." She advanced on him, the iron blade in her hand countering any magic he tried to throw at her. His hand dropped to his hip, looking for the sword he'd lent his simulacrum, and Cat's harsh laugh surprised them both. A couple more steps and then she lunged, not grabbing, but shoving him as shestepped.

They crossed into the Waste, and Cat, gleefully, dumped his elfin ass there on her way back into the World.

Grace, behind her, groaned. Cat spun toward her, heart in her throat, but Grace was sitting up groggily, looking tired and baffled. "They said pregnancy wrung you out, but wow, I didn't expect dropping uncons…" Her words fell into a confused frown as she saw Cat, and as some of what had happened earlier obviously came back to her. "Someone was…here?"

"My father."

"I didn't invite him in." Grace's eyebrows drew down far enough to look like she'd give herself a headache. "I don't think I invited him in? And…how did you get here…?" She glanced at the baby rattle she held, then back up at Cat, increasing uncertainty lining her face.

"You didn't use it. It would have dissolved, if you had. I was tracking him." Cat came back to Grace, crouching a few feet in front of her, the iron knife still dangling from her fingers. Grace stared at it in horror and Cat said, "Oh. Sorry," and put it away. "Are you okay?"

"I feel like that's a complicated question."

A brief smile ran across Cat's face. "Yeah, okay. Are you hurt?"

"No." Fear shot through Grace's whole body and she folded her hands over her belly. "Is the baby?"

"No. That's the last thing he wanted. Look, I'm really sorry, Grace, but whatever great guy you chose to be your baby daddy, he's not it. My dad paid somebody off to make sure you ended up carrying his child."

"Why?"

"Why you? Just bad luck for you, I think. Why a child, for him? Because he thought he could teach it to be what he wants it to be. Except I got in the way."

"You knew," Grace said after a long moment. "Back at the clinic, you knew it wasn't the man I'd chosen's baby."

"Yeah. And maybe I should have said something then. I don't know. But you sounded…" Cat closed her eyes, fighting an unexpected rise of emotion, then met Grace's eyes. "Honestly, you sounded like somebody prepared to be a great mom even if your kid wasn't what you expected, and…and I thought I could keep him away from you, so that you'd never even have to know. I'm sorry."

"Why did you think that?" Grace asked slowly. "He…I saw him appear in my driveway. Like magic. He said something, and I got so tired. Unnaturally tired." She frowned at Cat. "And you got from New York to Los Angeles in twenty minutes. What are you?"

"You'd probably call us elves. My mother was human, though."

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