by Louise Clark
God, that smells good.
Roy contemplated the glowing tip of the joint. “It does, doesn’t it?”
I wish I could join you, but I can’t.
The voice was clear and seemed to reverberate inside his head. Roy glanced around the room, but the cat was the only other occupant. He looked at the joint and said, “Oh, man,” and started to butt it out. The cat tapped the back of his hand with its paw, claws in.
Don’t do that on my account.
Roy looked at the joint again. “Are you going to stop talking to me if I put it out?”
No.
“Far out.” Roy smoked in silence for a minute, while the cat breathed in his fumes. “So why are we having this conversation? You’ve been living here for over two weeks and we haven’t spoken before. Why start now?”
I’ve been trying to get through to you for days. I have to go. I wanted to say good-bye and thank you.
Roy considered that. “Why do you have to go? Don’t you like living here?”
The cat likes it just fine. He wants to stay. I can’t.
That was interesting. “So there are two of you living in the cat’s body?”
You might say we’re roomies for now. Until I’ve completed my mission.
“And you talk to each other?”
We share thoughts, just as I am sharing my thoughts with you. Restless, the cat leapt onto the floor, then prowled to the top of the stairs that led from the living room down to the front door. His movements were lithe, controlled, decisive. Big and powerful, he was clearly a male in his prime, a male with a mission.
Roy believed in possibilities. He’d built his life visioning what couldn’t be and making it happen. He liked to keep an open mind, but this was really pushing his limits. A cat on a mission, who was communicating with him telepathically. Yeah, sure. He contemplated the smoke rising lazily from the glowing tip of the joint. Maybe it was time to quit.
The gray and black tabby shot him a look that could only be described as disapproving. I thought you would understand.
A happy idea brightened Roy’s mood. Maybe this conversation was his writer’s imagination going out of control. His characters tended to take over the creative process once he knew them well. Maybe one had decided to give him a poke and let him know how he could sort out the problems in his current project. They were such a dull bunch, though. He would never have pegged one of them for being a talking cat. For that matter, even thinking up the idea of a talking cat. If he added a talking cat, how would he work it into the plot? Maybe…
The vision of a narrow alley, closed at one end, plugged at the other by a beat-up car that had once been someone’s luxury ride, rose in his mind. He was there in the alley, huddled in the shadow of a dumpster that stank of rotting food. Someone was with him, someone he trusted. While his nose twitched with distaste, his eyes focused on the small, sealed plastic bag the other person was holding. The bag was filled with pills that were a rainbow of colors. Need, intense, powerful, demanding, slammed into him. He wanted that bag. Now.
His hand shook as he reached into his pocket for the ready cash he always kept on him. He should quit—and he would, when he was ready. For now he’d enjoy the rush that would take away the guilt over the mess he’d made of his life.
He had the bills in his hand when he sensed movement nearby. He lifted his head to look, but before he could see who was behind him something hit him, connecting with his skull with a vicious crunch. Agonizing pain shot through his head. He staggered forward, disoriented.
He heard a voice say, “I’ve got him. You grab his other arm.”
Hands took hold of him, keeping him upright, forcing him to stagger forward. Each step was agony. The inside of his head felt as if a maniac wielding an ice pick was slamming it repeatedly. He concentrated on keeping his head still to minimize the jarring, but it was an impossible task. His vision wavered, dancing in a sickening way that distorted everything. He glanced at one of the people helping him. All he could see was hair the same blond color as his own above a pale, narrow face that was nothing more than a blur.
As he stumbled forward, he was pretty sure they were leading him out of the alley. Relief coursed through him. They were taking him out onto the main drag where they could signal for help. That was great. Still, it would have been better if they’d let him slump onto the ground where he could lie until rescued. Maybe he should suggest that.
“Here we are. Okay, ready now. Do it!”
The hands released him. As he swayed unsteadily, relieved he didn’t have to plow forward anymore, his blurred vision showed him a car trunk gaping open before him. Confused, he looked around. He only had a moment to realize that rescue was not in his future, before he was hit from behind with another blow that sent him sprawling.
Darkness closed around him.
Gradually, the vision merged with reality. Shaken, Roy squished the joint into the ashtray. The cat came over and rubbed against his leg, purring loudly. Roy sighed as he reached down to scratch the cat behind its ears. “That was what happened to you? How did it end? Did you die?”
Yes. I’ll spare you the details. They aren’t pretty.
“How did you come to be living in the cat?” he asked.
I went home, to tell my family where I was, but I couldn’t reach them. Only the cat seemed to accept me. He invited me in.
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THE CAT CAME BACK
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Also by Louise Clark
The Nine Lives Cozy Mystery Series
The Cat Came Back
The Cat’s Paw
Cat Got Your Tongue
Let Sleeping Cats Lie
Cat Among The Fishes
* * *
Forward in Time Series
Make Time For Love
Discover Time for Love
About the Author
The author of the 9 Lives Cozy Mystery Series, Louise Clark has been the adopted mom of a number of cats with big personalities. The feline who inspired Stormy, the cat in the 9 Lives books, dominated her household for twenty loving years. During that time he created a family pecking order that left Louise on top and her youngest child on the bottom (just below the guinea pig), regularly tried to eat all his sister’s food (he was a very large cat), and learned the joys of travel through a cross continent road trip.
The 9 Lives Cozy Mystery Series—The Cat Came Back, The Cat’s Paw, and Cat Got Your Tongue—as well as the single title mystery, A Recipe For Trouble, are all set in her home town of Vancouver, British Columbia. For more information please sign up for her newsletter HERE.
WWW.LOUISECLARKAUTHOR.COM