by River Ramsey
Stray
River Ramsey
Prologue
Copyright © 2020 by River Ramsey
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
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Glossary of Terms
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
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Glossary of Terms
Stray takes place in a world where shifters prowl, so here are some of the terms you’ll want to know.
Pride: A smaller group of cat shifters comprised of multiple families, similar to a village.
Colony: A regional gathering of feline prides ruled by an Empress.
Queen: An adult female cat shifter.
Tom: An unmated adult male cat shifter.
Sire: A mated adult male cat shifter.
Empress: The queen selected by the moon to rule the colony alongside her King(s).
King: The mate(s) of the Empress, who assists her in her rule.
Kit: A cat shifter ranging in age from infancy to adolescence.
Prologue
“It’s this one, right over here,” the animal control officer announced, pulling an overfilled ring of keys off his belt loop.
The woman next to him stopped in front of the gated kennel, studying the pitiful creature behind the wire cage of the door. Emily Hill was a Matriarch, the premiere among her pride, and that fine breeding showed in every feature, from the elegant slope of her aquiline nose to the grace with which she carried herself on towering heels sharp enough to double as murder weapons. Her mere presence suggested royalty, and while the human man next to her might not have understood the intricacies of the power her natural role within the pride afforded her, he recognized it instinctively enough to give her proper space and deference.
“You’re sure she wasn’t like this when your men found her?” Emily demanded without looking away from the trembling girl on the concrete floor in front of her. She was a slip of a thing, no more than four or five years old, though even under the rough blanket draped over her tiny huddled frame, Emily could tell she was so malnourished she might easily have appeared younger than she really was.
In any case, she was just a kitten. A feral kitten, her jet black locks matted around a heart-shaped face and eyes so wide and petrified that only a sliver of emerald was visible within them.
The officer gave an indignant snort. Larkin was his last name, if Emily remembered correctly. His position was one of the few in the county her late husband hadn’t had the authority to hand select, and she had only run into him at a few dreadful town functions that passed for parties. Hospitality was not a gift with which humans had been endowed.
“I brought her in myself, lady, and let me tell ya, she was a mewling little scrap of fur when I tossed her in here,” Larkin assured her, his hairy arms folded over a stained gray button-down with the county crest embroidered on the breast pocket. “Too early in the day to be that drunk.”
Emily wrinkled her nose as he stepped closer and made a note to ask the mayor who’d taken the job in her husband’s stead if the county was really so strapped for cash it could no longer pay its workers enough to afford soap.
Larkin cleared his throat when he realized his attempt at humor had gone unappreciated. “She was like that when I got back from lunch. Doesn’t say a word, neither. Tried to pull her out of there and she damn well bit me,” he grumbled, looking pointedly at his bandaged thumb.
Emily blew a puff of air through her nostrils, the closest thing to a laugh she’d spare around the likes of him. She studied the girl more closely, trying to formulate a plan.
“You were right to call me,” she finally announced. “I’ll take care of it from here.”
“Sure,” he said, fumbling with the keys. Before he opened the cage door, he glanced over at Emily without meeting her eyes. “Like your late husband asked, I always go through you guys first. Rest his soul.”
It took her a moment to figure out what he was getting at. She sighed, reaching into her pocketbook to pull out a bill of a high enough denomination to make his eyes widen with greed. She withheld it as he reached out, giving him a faint yet menacing smile. “Your discretion is appreciated.”
“Of course,” he coughed before shuffling off down the row of kennels, a cacophony of barks and howls following in his wake.
Emily opened the door and the girl scrambled back into the corner, shivering like a leaf ready to pop off the branch. The Matriarch gave pause, mentally calculating how long she had to spare before the women’s committee brunch she had been planning all week.
“You really are a feral one, aren’t you.”
The girl’s eyes flashed an uncommonly bright shade of green for an unremarkable little housecat.
“So you do understand me.”
The girl quickly looked away, hunched with her skinny arms wrapped around her knees.
“What’s your name?” Emily asked with as much patience as she could muster. She’d already spent most of it on her three children at home.
Those green eyes stared back at her, full of emptiness. Emily couldn’t help but wonder when the last time she’d had a meal was--or a bath, for that matter.
“Well, then. We’ll call you Ella,” she announced with all the indifferent certainty of deciding what they’d be having for dinner that night. In fact, she would later spend a considerably greater length of time waffling between bernaise and hollandaise sauce for the swordfish the maid had picked up at the market.
Ella was the name she might have given a second daughter, if the doctors hadn’t declared that any further attempts at childbearing would be fatal. Hers was still a larger litter than most queens could boast.
“Come along,” she said, holding out a hand adorned with glimmering diamonds. The girl’s eyes grew even wider, darting after the little shimmers of light the jewels cast on the concrete walls.
Emily was not a woman accustomed to being kept waiting, whether by important men or feral kittens, and her tone left no room for hesitation. Ella stuck out a fragile hand and followed her into a world that was far more civilized, if just as tortuous as the back alley streets she had roamed for as long as she could remember.
Chapter 1
Ella
Present Day
The great stone structure of Felidae Academy stood out like a crown jewel on the rolling hills that characterized the small town of Vanders in Upstate New York. It was unnecessary to pass the Academy on the route from the market square to the Hill family estate, but Ella found the view well worth the extra quarter mile. It was a Wednesday afternoon, bleeding into the evening hours, and Mrs. Hill would be much too busy with preparations for her dinner party to notice the extended absence.
The Academy rivaled the majesty of any Ivy League university, but it was truly more like a cross between a finishing academy and a boarding school. While Ella would have coveted the chance to extend her
studies beyond her recent high school graduation, the appeal of the ancient institution before her lay more in one of its esteemed occupants than in its world-renowned professors or the intricate brickwork.
With a heavy sigh, she shifted the burden of the reusable grocery bag on her right shoulder and quickened her pace home. It was already September, and the nights were coming sooner and lasting longer.
The Hill family home was only slightly smaller than the Academy itself, and every bit as stately. The looming stone structure had been standing longer than Vanders had existed as an independent township, but there was something undeniably modern about the stylish sports cars lining the circular driveway wrapped around the estate. Ella stopped in front of the marble fountain and fished a coin out of her pocket to toss it in. It had become something of a ritual, and Mrs. Hill certainly wouldn’t miss the odd penny here and there.
Not that any of her wishes had come true thus far.
To be fair, it was unreasonable to expect that much of a humble fountain, as magical as it had seemed the first time she’d walked past those gates thirteen years earlier. No amount of magic could ever compensate for the fact that she was a stray, and Axel Hill was practically guaranteed a spot as the next King of the colony.
It was, after all, a wishing well and not a miracle fountain.
With some effort, Ella managed to enter the security code with two heavy laden bags straining the fortitude of her tightly constricted fingers. Her sneakers squeaked against the freshly waxed entryway and the groceries very nearly became the latest casualty of her clumsiness.
As Mrs. Hill put it so eloquently, if she hadn’t been born with the blessing of feline grace, she would most certainly have perished by her own bumbling by now.
Carefully slipping out of her shoes and stashing them behind the antique vase used as a repository for wet umbrellas, lest she be scolded by the staff for ruining their hard work, she padded slowly into the kitchen.
“There you are,” Beatrice huffed, leaving a steaming pot on the stove to take one of the bags from Ella’s arms. She quickly rummaged through it and snatched the next one up onto the kitchen island when its contents proved unsatisfactory. At last, she pulled a dark brown bottle of vanilla from the bag with a small cry of victory. “Took you long enough. And I thought I told you to get the good stuff.”
“That was all they had,” Ella protested, already starting to put away the rest of the groceries.
Beatrice sighed in defeat, twisting the safety cap off the small bottle. She was a stout, pleasant-looking young woman with golden blonde hair and chocolate brown eyes. Ella had always admired her ability to speak her mind, even if she sometimes found herself on the receiving end of it. “I guess what Mrs. Hill doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”
“You mean like you and Tyler?” Ella asked wryly, pulling her black waist-length tresses back into a loose ponytail.
Beatrice shot her a lethal glare, but she was too occupied with her souffle to do anything about it. Ella had stumbled upon the cook and the new chauffeur having an intimate encounter in the pantry several months earlier, and while she never would have told a living soul, she couldn’t pass up the temptation to tease her about it now and again. It was certainly less than Beatrice would have done in her situation.
“Don’t start with me,” the other woman huffed. “Wash your hands and get the table set. We’re shorthanded tonight, so it’s going to take all hands on deck to impress the Watersons.”
“The Watersons?” Ella echoed, nearly dropping the stack of delicate china in her hands. If the Watersons were coming to dinner, that meant Marissa would be in attendance. The lynx shifter was only a year older than Ella, but she acted as if she’d hung the moon and made it shine ever since they were little. The way the young toms in the colony fawned over her long red hair and pretty blue eyes, it seemed they agreed. “Why are they coming?”
“You know the Unveiling is only a few weeks away,” Beatrice said pointedly, her back to Ella once more as she turned her attention to seasoning the Beef Wellington. “Once finals begin, Axel and Marissa will hardly have any time at home, so I’m sure the Watersons want to make sure everyone is on the same page.”
“Right,” Ella murmured. If Axel was all but assured to be the next King of the colony, Marissa was just as clearly destined to be its Empress. These things were left to fate, according to the Fellowship’s doctrine, but even fate never seemed to dare question such prestigious lineages as the Hills and Watersons. Axel had been an auspicious candidate from birth, and the only tom who could come close to rivaling him was Bishop, the current King’s son. Whomever fate chose as the next Empress, she was guaranteed to choose him as her mate.
Just as the moon and sun exchanged places in the sky, so too did the roles of power within the colony. In three weeks’ time, it would be twenty years to the day the last Empress had been marked by the moon. Time for the cycle to begin anew.
If there was one silver lining to the Watersons’ arrival, it was that Axel would certainly be in attendance at dinner that evening. Even though he lived only miles from home, he had taken the first opportunity to move into the dorms the very moment he turned eighteen.
Ella was nearly finished setting the table when she heard the front door open and close. Her heart skipped a beat and she hastily placed the remainder of the wine glasses on the table before rushing to the door. Mrs. Hill had been at home when she’d left to go to the market, but it was much too early for Axel to arrive.
When she peeked out of the dining room archway and saw Mrs. Hill scowling at the scuffed up sneaker she was holding by a string, she gulped.
“I’m sorry about that,” she said, shuffling across the floor as quickly as she dared in her socks. “The floors were slippery, and I--”
“What on earth are you wearing?” Emily interrupted, turning an even more scornful eye on the jeans and loose plaid shirt Ella was wearing.
Ella followed her gaze, instinctively bringing a hand to her chest to make sure none of the buttons had popped open. As far as she could tell, she was decent enough. “I just got home from the market.”
“Well, go upstairs and put on something decent,” Emily said brusquely, setting her red designer clutch on the table next to the door before checking her appearance in the mirror above it. She smoothed down a few blonde hairs that had fallen out of place. All three of her children had inherited those flaxen locks, and the late Mr. Hill’s had only been a shade or two darker.
Yet another way in which Ella stood out like a sore thumb from the family she had lived alongside for so many years. Alongside, but never quite a part of it.
“I’m going to be at dinner?” Ella asked, unable to mask her confusion. She usually took her meals with Beatrice and the other servants well after the family had already eaten, and she couldn’t imagine why the presence of the Watersons tonight would change that.
“There will be another guest joining us this evening,” Emily answered, turning back to face her. She was a good several inches taller than the young queen, and the way her fitted dress showed off her lithe build made Ella feel bloated in comparison. She’d filled out considerably from the starvation of her early youth, but she was still slight of frame and more generously endowed than most feline shifters her age. The way the human boys back in high school had started gawking at her around Sophomore year allayed her fears that she was entirely lacking in appeal, but she still felt woefully inadequate next to the modelesque beauty of the other queens in the pride. Marissa was like a funhouse mirror, exemplifying everything she wasn’t and so dearly longed to be.
“Who?” Ella asked. She’d already exceeded the allotted amount of words Emily usually tolerated without becoming notably irritated, but if she had to contend with Marissa and a stranger, she wanted to know what she was up against.
“High Priestess Tessa will be gracing us with her presence,” Emily answered.
Ella didn’t miss the note of bitterness in her voice. Whatever bad bloo
d there was between the pride’s Matriarch and the regional head of the Fellowship, the years never had thinned it.
“I didn’t think she was going to be in town until the Unveiling,” Ella remarked.
“Neither did I,” was Emily’s only response before she strutted down the hall. Ella could hear her barking orders at Beatrice and felt a mixture of guilt and relief that she had narrowly escaped being berated herself.
If she was being asked to attend dinner, that could only mean Emily was hoping to give the appearance of a happy, united family, including the stray who usually lived on the outskirts of their shared existence.
Ella’s room was upstairs on the opposite end of the hall from the others. It was smaller than most of the rooms in the house, but it was comfortable and quiet with a view of the garden out back, which she considered the old manor’s hidden treasure. She walked over to the closet and scanned the sparse rack within. Other than her old school uniforms, there weren’t many options to choose from. She finally decided on the fitted navy blue dress she’d worn for graduation. Beatrice was the only one in attendance, so she doubted anyone would notice.
Emily had opinions about wearing the same dress twice.
If the Matriarch wanted her to dress up, she’d probably have a fit if she didn’t go all the way and put on makeup. Ella dabbed a bit of foundation on a clean makeup sponge and put on a couple of layers of mascara, as well as a nude lipstick she didn’t fully remember how she’d acquired. As she stared back at her reflection, her newly painted lips curved into a frown.