Puma

by Jorrie Spencer

  Pumas were solitary, but the females were meant to bear offspring and raise them. Impossible, however, to succeed in bearing offspring without a mate. The real cougars had nothing to do with her, nor she with them. Her human self, Callie, who could have mated, was not only stupidly skittish, but refused to conceive.

  That memory made her tense. Human memory sat there, beneath the surface of her thoughts, muted by her puma, and not always easy to interpret. What Puma did understand was that the pressure to be human was building, and she could no longer ignore it. The cat disliked relinquishing control to her weaker half. From a survival point of view, it was unwise. However, other forces were at work and other needs. After years of fighting it, Puma had learned to submit to her human self. Otherwise, she went crazy, lost control, found herself in strange situations, dangerous situations.

  It would not be long now. If Puma was a solitary animal, the human was not and had begun to rage within. Callie had promised Trey she wouldn’t go feral and her promise was half-broken, given that months had likely passed since she’d shifted and stalked away from the compound that had been home for four years. Trey didn’t know just how hard her two halves warred, never quite able to find a healthy balance. One shouldn’t be born to fight yourself, but somehow that was what Puma and Callie had done, and continued to do.

  Even her thoughts were turning human, in preparation for the shift. Puma did not usually analyze itself or its twin. She normally focused on more immediate needs.

  Which now consisted of two short-term goals—to steal clothes off a line and locate the sister who had moved again. Her human self would find the new address.

  Puma retreated through high grass and into the woods. It was several days, though, before she finally allowed herself to change.

  ***

  Callie woke to panic, her mind a blur, her heart beating out of her chest, or so it felt. The disorientation immobilized her for long minutes until, with great strength of will, she shoved herself up to sitting and gulped air.

  Where the fuck am I?

  Sweat broke out all over her naked body. A warm breeze passed over her. Leaves shielded her from the sun above. Okay, it was summer, she was in some kind of copse, protected, but how—?

  She sagged slightly as the realization crashed down on her. Again. She had just shifted from her cat body. Puma, something deep inside her insisted and Callie sighed, the noise a shaky release of air. The cat in her—the puma as Callie thought of it, though that wasn’t a very healthy way to refer to one’s self—had ideas of its own about how it should be referred to. Callie wondered if Puma disliked Callie quite as much as Callie disliked Puma.

  Probably.

  She wiped the sweat off her face and glanced around. Shivering, not from cold or hunger, but from the fear that always accompanied her reentry into the human world. That fear and that hunger.

  What had Puma done this time to prepare?

  It now had the sense to find her clothes to wear. Otherwise she was a tad more visible than seemed wise. Puma had learned that the hard way, after the incident—“Police find naked, confused woman”—and she’d become Jane Doe and been hospitalized, making the puma in her wild with anger at such restrictions. Callie had barely gotten out of there alive. Ever since, the cat ensured Callie had clothing so she didn’t need to explain her nudity or her temporary memory loss.

  Callie dressed. No bra or underwear, but at least the gray shorts had a drawstring and didn’t fall down. The T-shirt was overlarge, pink. Puma appeared to be drawn to pink clothes, if its past selections were any indication.

  Pretty in pink.

  She shook her head, not knowing where that phrase came from, and pressed a hand to her chest. The memories, her jumble of human memories, sometimes got lost in the shift and it took a few hours or days to disentangle them from the overly visual and largely meaningless catlike thoughts.

  It all depended on how long Callie had been out. Neither she nor Puma liked to abdicate their form and though Callie knew enough that she could sense how wrong this internal war was, she couldn’t figure out how to stop it. It was difficult to make links between the two of them. Occasionally she’d thought of confessing her private struggle to Trey, but had feared he would fire her. Well, she’d been fired and she still hadn’t had the guts to spill. He hadn’t known that once she left him the puma would resist shifting back to human without another shifter to encourage her to do so. Trey’s human presence had always lured the puma back to Callie. Trey was the only shifter Callie had ever met, and no one else called to her. Except maybe Ruth.

  Enough brooding on her split personality and her infatuation with her ex-boss. Today she remembered that Puma liked pink. Perhaps Callie’s endless monologues about the dangers of staying cat too long had reached her other self. At least this time she hadn’t been cat for years. That long stretch of cat life had happened in her early twenties and she had barely managed to stay in one piece.

  She tugged at her hair. Callie tried to hack it off before shifting and use it as a marker of time when she returned to her human self, but didn’t always succeed. Had she shorn her head before the last shift? She couldn’t remember. Patience. She’d get hold of a calendar sooner rather than later, then she’d know the date.

  For now the summer season and shoulder-length hair—she couldn’t have been cat for more than half a year—were sufficient markers of the passage of time.

  Callie wasn’t hungry. A relief that the puma had known to fill her belly before the transition. Still, Callie was tired; shifting ate energy. So she curled up in the copse and slept, hoping the human dreams would jog all those memories she needed to cope with her human world.

  She hoped, as she always hoped, to stay awhile.

  ***

  Dev Malik ran behind the bicycle, hand on that plastic seat, while Madison wobbled her way along the bike path.

  The little girl braked abruptly and Dev managed to stop without tripping over his own feet, or the bike itself.

  She turned around, accusation in her eyes. “You let go.”

  “Nope.” He tilted his head towards his hand, still attached to the seat, and she followed his gaze.

  The frown lightened, a lip got chewed.

  “Want to try again?” he offered.

  She gave one decisive nod. Dev gripped the handlebars, allowing her to get balanced, then pushed off, all the while holding that seat. He thought if he ever did remove his hand, Madison would never trust him again. She needed to trust someone in this topsy-turvy world she lived in. Inwardly, he sneered at himself. “Topsy-turvy” sounded benign, almost gently chaotic. Then again Dev’s mind, such as it was, liked to shy away from thinking about how seriously fucked they all were.

  He derailed that train of thought by giving his head a good shake, and continued running, hand attached to bike. Was it good or bad that Madison could do this for an hour straight? He wasn’t sure there was any actual improvement in her balance, but the bigger point, that Madison enjoyed the activity, was what counted.

  When his back began to complain and she began to tire, they made for home. He brought out popsicles and they sat on the porch in not-quite-companionable silence. He wasn’t particularly good at small talk to start with and small talk with a seven-year-old baffled him enough to leave him tongue-tied. Even if they’d known each other for months. He thought. His concept of time was a little problematic these days given that he couldn’t seem to track it.

  At least her small face didn’t have that pinched, worried expression it sometimes carried.

  “I like orange,” she declared.

  He had to think for a moment to realize she referred to the popsicles and not the color in general.

  “But I like grape too.”

  “Good.” He smiled, she smiled back, and then that new young woman came out their front door.

  Madison’s face brightened. She stood and waved from two feet away. “Hi, Ruth!”

  It came out more like Wooth. Incredibly cu
te, but Dev was a little alarmed that Madison even knew the woman’s name. He hadn’t remembered. Again. He hated these lacunae of memory.

  “Hello…Ruth?” he ventured.

  She stood there, jingling keys in her hand. Pretty, too much makeup, clothes just this side of skimpy, which Dev could appreciate in an abstract way. She wasn’t quite his type and she was Scott’s latest discovery. How long had she been here?

  Dev found himself rubbing his eyes.

  “You okay?” she asked.

  “Oh yeah.” He wasn’t sure if he sounded sarcastic or sincere, but it didn’t matter, they were the right words to say.

  Ruth smiled, brilliantly. It didn’t quite reach her eyes.

  Dev jabbed an elbow out to indicate his companion. “Madison likes to bicycle.”

  “Good for you.” Ruth winked at Madison who ducked her head.

  “I’m Dev.” He stuck out his hand and they shook. They should have been introduced, but it never worked that way. Or maybe, going by her puzzled expression, she knew he was Dev. “I guess you’re staying with us for a while.”

  “I have been.” She added, “Thanks for taking me in. Scott said you wouldn’t mind.”

  “I don’t mind.” Dev didn’t. He didn’t at all.

  She nodded, then fidgeted.

  Dev could take a hint. “I’ll let you go.” With that Ruth jogged down the stairs to his car and drove away.

  ***

  She crawled through the tall grass, made taller by the fact it was the human who crawled. Annoyance rippled through her. Why act like a cat when she was human? Puma flicked an invisible tail in irritation, as if whispering safer, and she continued on all fours. The night was still dry, the temperature not having dropped yet, and the light rustle of the wind calmed her.

  She might act like a cat, but the memories were returning and would serve to acclimate her to her new form, Callie, who had a sister, Ruth. A baby sister, who was lost yet again—that email Callie had read today at the local library had her seriously alarmed. It was weeks old. Puma’s fault, this delay, although one thing she knew was that the protective instinct stayed strong on both sides of the divide, cat or Callie. Ruth was hers to protect, even when or especially when her little sister was drawn to men who used their fists.

  There was a new man. Ruth had named him Scott, had given this address where she lived.

  Callie hissed. The puma wanted Ruth safe too, but the puma had little idea of time. Callie worried because her sister had never asked for help before. Any intervention had been at Callie’s initiative, such as when she’d taken leave from Trey and come to kick out the last jerk to use Ruth as a punching bag.

  Now Ruth had moved into a house she certainly could not afford. He has money, Ruth had written from her gmail account to Callie’s. It was such an odd note. He bought me a computer. I love him, but he makes me nervous. Callie, can you come?

  A beam shone, passing over her, and Callie froze before sinking to the ground while coming full awake. To her horror she realized she’d been in some kind of trance, sleep…prowling. Fuck. She hated the first day after the shift. She acted stupid.

  Yeah, Puma replied, though she had been the one not able to let go.

  Callie lay flat on her stomach, her heart pounding. So Ruth’s men problems were pathological, but what would you call Callie’s problems? Bizarre? Psycho? Certainly untreatable.

  “Hello?” A male voice, deepish, gravelly with sleep. God, had she been making cat noises? Callie loathed the way she was so out of control so much of the time. Well, that had been the bane of her existence—lack of control. It had moved her from foster home to foster home until some weary old woman who was wiser or lazier or more senile than the rest had refused to try to control Callie, letting her come and go as she wished.

  Ruth had been the granddaughter of that woman, Sheena, and Sheena had been Ruth’s guardian, as well as Callie’s.

  “Someone there?” The stranger persisted, his voice a little sharper. Callie breathed as quietly as possible, reminding herself that human hearing was inadequate.

  Unfortunately, human feet didn’t know this and they kept moving in her direction. He stopped in front of her and she desperately hoped, given the new moon, that he wouldn’t see her.

  A flashlight shone down on the back of her head.

  Chapter Two

  Callie chose to play dead, or at least act unconscious.

  “Crap,” he muttered, and in one swift motion was kneeling beside her. Deftly, he found her pulse and exhaled relief as his warm, blunt fingers pressed into her neck. Personally, Callie thought her pulse was too fast and shallow, but if he’d thought she were dead, no doubt any pulse would do.

  He turned her over and the sensation of being touched flowed through her body in a wave she couldn’t suppress. She had thought she would flinch and stiffen at this unusual contact. Instead, it was surprisingly easy to lie loose and accept his hands on her, hands that were respectful, careful. She liked his smell too. Clean, hint of perspiration on this balmy night.

  He shone the light on her face and it was all she could do not to squint. As he shifted again, she sensed…fear? Yes, his heart rate was speeding up. How odd. She didn’t think she was very frightening in this form, but something had unnerved him. Her face? She tried to remember her face in greater detail—it was unremarkable, she was sure. Perhaps the scars on her neck were disturbing to the eye? She’d forgotten about them till now, but they should have faded to white lines where they’d be noticeable in daylight, but hard to discern at night.

  “Hey.” He rocked her, not very hard. Like a nudge to rouse her. “Shit,” he exhaled, then pulled in a long, rough breath.

  She heard high-pitched electronic beeps, a number of them, and despite her stupidity and temporary amnesia, she recognized what was going on. This had happened before, someone calling in as if she was an emergency. She could not be Jane Doe again. Not in this place.

  She jackknifed to sitting and hit his wrist, knocking the phone out of his hand. He let out a whoof of surprise as he fell backwards and went silent, still. The flashlight dropped to the grass, its light muted.

  “No ambulance.” She reached over and picked up the phone, turned it off. Though the night was moonless, her eyesight, courtesy of Puma, was excellent. His brown eyes met hers. They were still dilating, getting used to the dark without the flashlight’s bright beam. His gaze was slightly unfocused as he tried to make out her features in the night.

  “What, exactly, are you doing here?” He sounded relieved and a little confused, not accusing. Callie supposed that he’d been worried something was seriously wrong with her.

  “Uh, I got lost,” she said lamely, her voice hoarse from disuse. She rubbed her throat as if that would help her along when it came to speech.

  As he pushed himself back up to crouching, the phone-wielding man’s expression became wry. “Okay if I take back my cell?” He held out a hand and she dropped it in his palm.

  “Just don’t call anyone,” she warned.

  “Ever?”

  “About me.”

  He frowned.

  “I mean…” God, she needed to sound halfway normal here or she could get in trouble. “I mean, there is no need to worry about me and call the police. I’m fine and I won’t…” Okay, attack you was not the right way to finish this sentence, so she settled on, “I mean you no harm.”

  One eyebrow went high in question, or perhaps disbelief. That was good. He didn’t perceive her to be a threat. She glanced down at herself and hoped she looked unprepossessing in an oversized pink T-shirt and ragged gray shorts.

  He pushed up to standing. Following his lead, she rolled to her feet to face him and brushed off her backside while he watched. She didn’t mind this scrutiny, which was odd, given her habitual dislike of normals. Whether he smelled good or not, she should stay on her guard. Instead, she wanted to make friends. She could practically hear her puma hissing, stupid human.

  “You still ha
ven’t answered my first question,” he pointed out. She cast her mind back, trying to remember the question. “Why are you here?”

  “Oh right. Sorry.” Time to bite the bullet, though she was going to be really disappointed if this guy was the Scott who made her sister nervous. Callie’s first impression was that of a nice guy, but Ruth didn’t get involved with nice guys and Callie’s first impressions were not always accurate. “I’m looking for Ruth Langer.”

  “Ruth?” He stiffened and his face went blank. Tension wafted off him and the return of his fear had Callie scratching her head. She’d expected him to ridicule her for crawling around in the grass, not freeze up at the mention of her sister’s name. “You’re looking for Ruth in my backyard?”

  “Your backyard? Are you Scott then?”

  “No.” To Callie’s relief, his denial was swift and…angry. Maybe he didn’t like Scott either.

  “I thought Ruth lived here.” When he didn’t answer, Callie added, “175 Woodbury Avenue, right?”

  He opened his mouth. Closed it again. Clearly disturbed, he also seemed to be struggling to remember something, and failing. “This is my house, yes.”

  You sure? Callie wanted to ask, given how confused he suddenly seemed, but she decided to stick to questions about her sister. “And is Ruth here?”

  He just gazed at her darkly.

  “Hello?” tried Callie when he didn’t answer.

  Still no response. Though she could swear he was perfectly aware of her, he didn’t move for close to minute. At a loss, Callie waited and then, for wont of something better to do in this new-to-her situation, she clapped her hands in front of his face. The sharp noise echoed in the night. The man blinked, but otherwise didn’t react, didn’t seem to focus. Callie felt distinctly uneasy.

  Okay, well, Nice But Odd Guy would just have to wait. The search for Ruth came first.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” She ducked around him, determined to get to her sister. Maybe this was the Scott who made Ruth nervous. He was certainly beginning to make Callie nervous.