It helps that humans don’t believe in faeries anymore. Not even the people who say that they do. Oh, sure, they may believe in cartoon sprites and sexless fantasy creatures, but they don’t believe in the real thing. There are reasons for that, and some of them are even good ones, but there are also the reasons they believed in the first place. Dawn is one of those reasons. It pulls down our illusions, making us too easy to see and too hard to deny; after all, even the most stubborn humans will usually believe their own eyes. All it takes is one moment of carelessness on the part of the faerie world, just one, and after that . . .

After that comes the iron and the silver and the rowan wood, and the mass graves on both sides, and the burning. In the end, it always comes down to the burning, and that’s a risk I’ve never been willing to take. I may be playing at being human, but that doesn’t make me stupid.

People were starting to pass on the sidewalk outside the alley. Humans have always preferred to live their lives by daylight. I used to think it was because human beings have crappy night vision, and it wasn’t until I got older and more cynical that I realized it was because they have less to be afraid of during the day. Illusions don’t last as long in broad daylight. The monsters can’t find as many places to hide, and all Faerie’s lies get easier to catch and define. You can be human and still be safe, during the day.

Something rustled behind me, and I tensed. I wasn’t alone.

“Great.”

First I got caught outside at dawn, and now I was sharing an alley with somebody who could see me for what I really was. If this day got any better, I was going to scream.

I turned, hiking my coat up around my chin. Anyone who looked closely would be able to see that something wasn’t right, but the alley was dark and narrow, and frankly, the sort of person you meet in dark alleyways at dawn is looking for things besides pointed ears. “Hello?” I peered into the shadows.

Two green circles flashed in the dark. I yelped, jumping backward and pressing myself against the wall.

“And may I wish a very good morning to you, too, October.” The voice was amused, underscored by a chuckle like thick cream. “What happened? Did the prettiest little princess miss her carriage home?”

“Tybalt,” I said, surprise dissolving into disgust. I straightened. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

The shadows parted, flowing around the man who stepped through them into the alley. They slid together again once he was through, closing seamlessly. I’ve always wished I could do that—but then, Tybalt’s pureblooded Cait Sidhe, and he can do a lot of things I can’t. He smirked. I glared.