by Steve Vernon
He softly knocked on the door.
Just go in.
Paul gritted his teeth. No.
She’s still there.
I know that.
Then go in and get her.
He walked into the room, ready to hear a scream, ready to duck when she threw something at him.
She did neither. Annie sat up in her bed with pillows surrounding her and stared at him wide eyed.
Phillipa sent me.
I know.
He paused. No screaming. No panic. She sounded sensible. She knew? Did that mean... He didn’t have time to question. We have to hurry.
She grabbed her cane and got out of bed fully clothed, as if she’d been prepared. As if she’d been waiting for him. He couldn’t think about that now either. He had to get her out. He swept her up in his arms when they reached the top of the stairs. He needed to be fast and as much as she tried, she was slowing them down.
They made it down the stairs. He paused when bright car lights lit up the dark room as a car drove up. He felt Annie stiffen.
She bit her lip. Where’s your car?
It’s a block over. She won’t see it.
Good.
Maybe you should come back another time.
No we’re leaving now.
It was only when he made it to the back door that he realized they hadn’t spoken in words. It had seemed so natural, he hadn’t noticed. His heart began to pound. He’d never met another one like him.
He wasn’t alone. He wasn’t crazy. He’d made the right choice to come and get her.
But they still weren’t safe. Unless…
“We don’t have to run,” he said, turning. This was Annie’s house and she wouldn’t be a prisoner or run away.
“Yes, we do,” she said. Her voice made him pause it was low and deep—not quite a purr, not quite a whisper—stirring the hairs on his arms. “She...”
He took a deep breath, gaining courage. “Can’t defeat us,” he said, liking the feel of the final word in his mouth, his heart again picking up speed. Us. He’d never been an ‘us’ before. Even his parents hadn’t been like him. He’d always been different.
“She’s strong.”
“Is she like us?” he asked walking to the front door, ready to do battle.
“No, but wait...”
It was too late. The moment he faced the second woman, the owner of the tiny shoes, he realized he should have listened to Annie. He’d become too bold, too cocky. He should have assessed the situation better.
He’d sensed the quiet dominance when he’d entered the house, now he’d met its source. She was another power. The reason Annie hadn’t been able to leave, the reason Phillipa had been so weak and had taken days to recover. The dominate energy swirled strong in the petite form. He stumbled back at first, afraid he’d drop Annie and injure her more.
The woman smiled. A feline smile. Paul half expected her to lick her lips in anticipation of a fine meal.
She’s mine, the woman said with her dark brown eyes as two cats emerged from the shadows.
Don’t run. It was a command from Phillipa, not Annie.
He froze. Not because she told him to, but because he couldn’t move. He felt paralyzed.
No he was paralyzed by her. She harnessed and manipulated his energy causing his bones to feel like lead, the weight of her power holding him hostage.
The power his parents had tried to hide him from when they’d sent him away, the power that the others thought he had, but didn’t. It was creatures like her that made the rest of them pariahs. All he could do was save, he couldn’t destroy. That was his weakness.
Paul fought to keep a scream from escaping him, his skin feeling as if it was being ripped and torn by claws, and tiny teeth gnawing at his flesh with an insatiable hunger. He fought not to surrender to the powerful dominance of a true predator.
And a predator always needed prey, it couldn’t survive without it. And he’d been prey all his life. Hidden and hunted.
But he wouldn’t hide tonight. He felt Annie’s body tremble and felt rage instead of fear and that rage broke through the paralysis, tore through the fear. He would fight because he didn’t fear dying. He would fight because he had to save Annie and Phillipa. Phillipa needed him too.
And he felt the energy in the room shift. The two cats at the woman’s side hesitated and just that moment of hesitation gave him the fuel he needed. With lightening speed he swung Annie to his back then pounced. He killed the woman with a swipe of his hand, her neck snapping like a toothpick. Hot blood rushed through his veins as he watched her body go limp.
“Come,” Annie said in an urgent whisper, her arms wrapped around his neck. “She won’t stay that way for long.”
He knew that but he still waited. He waited and just as suspected her form changed and soon she was the same shape and size as her two companions her glowing eyes glared up at him and she hissed, flashing her teeth. He wondered how many lives she’d given up to bargain her way into human form.
“Can we go now?” Annie asked.
Paul turned to her confused. “But you’re safe now. You can...” He let his words fall away when she shook her head.
“I can’t stay here not tonight, please. I just want to see Phillipa.”
He hesitated. He didn’t know why. The threat was gone, but he felt a different kind of unease. He’d never had anyone stay at his place before. He hadn’t thought his plan through...
“I can stay at a hotel,” Annie said quickly, sensing his hesitation.
“No, it’s okay,” he said, trying to convince himself that it was. That he was. But his heart continued to race with a new fear he couldn’t place.
Do I frighten you? she asked on the drive to his home. The softly falling snow hitting his windscreen, the night was dark, but he didn’t have trouble seeing.
Was that it? Was he frightened of her? He’d just proven how powerful he was, why was he still scared?
No he said.
Phillipa greeted them at the door and he watched the reunion with a detached eye. He saw Phillipa curl around Annie’s leg. Phillipa purred at Annie’s touch; Annie beamed down at her with joy. And as he watched the pair, he realized his fear had a name—loss.
He would lose Phillipa and he would miss her. He was being tossed aside, again. He’d grown attached when he shouldn’t have. He hadn’t wanted to, but he’d failed. Phillipa had made him want to belong and not be alone anymore. He turned to head to his bedroom. Phillipa would show Annie around the house.
Where are you going? Phillipa asked.
Come join us. Annie added.
He paused. Were they just being polite? He faced them. He gripped his hands into fists, wanting to be with the two so much it embarrassed him. “You two have a lot to catch up on.”
“No we don’t,” Annie said with a laugh as she took a seat on his couch.
Her laugh awoke something in him as he realized why she was amused. She and Phillipa had been in contact the whole time, just as he had been able to communicate with Phillipa from miles away, time and distance hadn’t separated them. Nothing truly separated them and they were welcoming him into the fold. No, they were telling him he was already there. They’d found each other. His heart felt buoyant.
I’ll make a fire.
Moments later they all sat in front of the fireplace, the sound of crackling flames mingling with the faint scent of burning wood filling the room.
“Is your name really Annie?”
“No,” she said with a laugh. “It’s Phillipa. She told me your name was Rocky.”
Paul glared down at the sneaky cat that pretended to be asleep. Cats just couldn’t be trusted.
“She’s getting salmon tomorrow.”
Phillipa—Annie—lifted her head and licked Paul’s hand, her rough tongue teasing his skin, by way of apology.
He sighed, feeling his heart melt for both of them.
The next day a one-eyed cat appeared on his front door, but
he didn’t hesitate letting him into the house or hearing his story. Paul knew what he needed to do and he wouldn’t run from who or what he was anymore, but the cat’s problem would have to wait until the New Year.
The End
About the Author
Dara Girard, the award-winning, bestselling author of more than thirty novels, continues to gain readers with novels such as Remember My Name, The Amber Stone and Honest Betrayal. You can visit her website at www.daragirard.com.
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Copyright Information
Pawprints in the Snow
Copyright © 2017 Sadé Odubiyi
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Pawprints in the Snow is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed herein are fictitious and are not based on any real persons living or dead.
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Published by Ilori Press Books LLC
Cover and Layout © 2017 Ilori Press Books LLC
Cover Image © 2017 Evgenii Skorniakov/123rf
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All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced in any fashion without the express written consent of the copyright holder.
Copyright © 2014 by Linda Jordan
Published by Metamorphosis Press
P.U.R.R.—Protectors United for Residential Requisition
PURR: Protectors United for Residential Requisition
* * *
Francis was born, as were all of his kind, with a fully conscious mind. He knew nearly everything he was likely to know in his entire life. It was his skinny, little kitten body that was the problem. It was uncoordinated and weak. It didn’t work with his mind yet. And it had fleas.
Francis jounced down the dark sidewalk, lit only by a street light here and there. His all black fur made him nearly invisible to humans. He smelled the coming of spring, tiny white flowers in bloom, the rains of winter lessening and the soil warming up. Squirrels ran through the trees and chattering birds fluttered on the ground, picking up twigs for their nests. Insects swarmed around the dim lights high above. Not close enough to catch.
A big dog crossed the street. Francis’ heart leapt as he jumped up on a short concrete ledge, sidled through an iron fence and hid in some thick bushes. He sat hunched up, ready to strike out or flee. The dog wandered past, sniffed the ground and looked through the fence, but moved on.
Francis relaxed a bit. Still, he stayed beneath the bush, watching his surroundings for quite a while. He was a small kitten still. Homeless and hungry. He hadn’t been adopted when his siblings had. Black cats weren’t popular his mom had told him.
He needed to move along. This place wasn’t safe. He could smell the scent of stinky dogs on the other side of the bushes. Dogs lived here.
Sliding back through the fence, he continued down the street. He needed to get to the place where food was left. Before other cats or worse, raccoons, did.
Then it was on to the other place.
He ran now, he’d lost time from hiding. He turned quickly and ran down the alley. A sour smelling human was lying among flattened cardboard boxes. Sleeping.
Francis sped past and stopped a little farther down the alley, where one of the buildings was set back farther from the alley. He stood against the warm brick wall of an adjoining building, surveying the scene.
The gray tabby tomcat sat near the door. Licking his paws nonchalantly. And waiting. The orange striped cat crouched under the car. Watching the tom. He glanced up at Francis and looked away. Francis wasn’t a threat.
A calico sat on top of a garbage bin. She was next in dominance, after the orange. The only one missing was the white cat with the ragged ear.
A light turned on, above the doorway. Then the door opened. The gray tom stood by an empty bowl. Waiting.
The human came out and bent over the bowl, scraping the food into it.
“Well, hello Mr. Pickles.”
Which was silly. The tom’s name certainly wasn’t Mr. Pickles.
The orange cat came out from under the car as another bowl was filled.
“And Mr. Sunshine is here too.”
Not Mr. Sunshine meowed with hunger before lining up at the second bowl.
The calico jumped down and ran to a third bowl.
“And it’s Ms. Patches,” said the human. “Now, where’s Snowy?”
Francis walked cautiously towards the bowls and the other cats.
The human filled another bowl and he slunk up to it, afraid of being attacked.
“Oh, and here’s the Prince of Darkness. What am I going to call you?”
Francis wolfed down as much food as he could quickly. He would be the first one kicked away from his bowl, if the human left before he finished.
“My you are a hungry little baby aren’t you? You’re just young enough for someone to take you home with them.”
The human sat down in a chair, watching them eat. Humans were the strangest creatures he’d ever seen.
The food tasted fishy and good and he was starving. He hadn’t eaten since last night and a growing kitten needed to eat more often than that. He had almost finished his bowl when the gray tom moved in his direction. Francis fled rather than be swatted with the larger cat’s claws.
“Now Mr. Pickles. That’s rude. He wasn’t finished yet.”
Francis continued on down the alley. He’d get no more food there tonight. He didn’t trust the human enough to get close. The other cats always finished first.
It was time to move on to his next stop. He raced down two more blocks, noticing the full moon rising above the brick building. The alleys were mostly empty. There were rats, too big for him to catch, at least now. When he grew up, they’d be his dinner.
The door to the abandoned building was broken, leaving a hole, just large enough for a cat. He sniffed, making sure no humans were around. Francis smelled only dust, old garbage and urine. Human urine, but from earlier in the day.
He jumped through the hole and went down to the basement. The upper floor was currently inhabited by humans. They never stayed long, but they were always replaced by other humans. Some of them had eaten cats. But they never went down into the basement. It was the perfect place.
The wooden stairs didn’t make a sound as he plopped down them. They were big stairs for him. He could smell more of his kind down there.
He could see their eyes glowing in the dark. Smell their fur, carrying the scents of pollen and dust. Feel their presence. And hear their meows of welcome.
Francis found a place to sit, between Phoebe and Anise, a tabby/tortoiseshell and a long haired black and white. He groomed himself, feeling the satisfying fullness of his belly. He would have liked to curl up and fall asleep, but this was an important meeting. He kept busy pulling little burrs out of his fur. There’d been a lot of them in those bushes. He’d try to avoid that place again.
Finally Herrington jumped up onto an old table and began speaking. Herrington was one of the elders, wise in the ways of this world and their own.
“My companions tell me that our plans are going well. We’ve covered the Earth as far as we are able. There are still a few remote or non-habitable places we haven’t gotten to. We’ve decided those aren’t important now. Those of you who live with humans have done a fine job, habituating them to our demands. Infiltrating the internet and putting it under our influence. We can still do more. We are only present on twenty-seven percent of the internet. We need to get over fifty percent before we can put the final steps of our plan into action. We need to ingratiate ourself with all governmental leade
rs. And with the money people, the people in the shadows who control the government. And with the artists who are the forerunners of where culture will move to in a few years.”
Herrington began pacing across the table.
“Now, I won’t bore you with the details. It’s time for assignments and reassignments. I want each of you to gather with a Lead to find out where to go. And then we’ll be finished. See you next time and good luck. We’re almost there!”
Francis stood on his hind legs, but still couldn’t see a Lead nearby.
Anise said, “Over there,” she pointed with her whiskers.
Francis wove through the crowd, looking. He fur stood on end and his tail fluffed out with excitement. He was going to get a home. And a job. He’d been waiting for this ever since leaving his mom.
He stood with another group in front of a tall, brown striped Maine Coon. She was a Lead. She took each cat’s name and then thought for a minute, or perhaps she was getting instructions from a higher up. Then she’d give the cat an address and a person’s name.
When it came Francis’ turn he was given a lot of information. She ended saying, “Okay, this is a tough assignment, that’s why we’re giving it to a kitten. 1839 Vine St. George Ashton is your target. He’s not a cat person. You won’t be able to use the normal procedures, but because you’re a kitten, you’ve got ultra cuteness on your side. You’ll have to be very inventive.”
Francis bounded towards the stairs and up, although he missed a couple of steps and had to make the leaps again. Someday his legs would be long enough. He jumped through the hole in the door and just barely missed hitting the two humans standing outside the door arguing, the smell of alcohol hung in the air.