Storybound

by Emily Mckay

  I shudder.

  Kane, who has been watching me, nods. “Exactly.”

  “Why would his mother keep a dowt of Kellas cats if she couldn’t control them?”

  “Presumably, she could. Morgan’s alive, right?”

  “He must have lived in constant fear. Why didn’t she stop them?”

  “Tuatha aren’t exactly known for their parental instincts.” We reach the end of the hall, and he opens a door and gestures me through. “And just remember, Morgan was her favorite.”

  No wonder Ro was terrified of them. “Jesus.”

  Kane shuts the door behind us and flicks on the light. We are in a garage large enough for multiple cars. The overhead lights only illuminate the spot directly in front of us, which is empty except for a large wooden crate that’s impossible to see inside. Sections of the crate bear visible scratch marks, and in other places, the wood is splintered and frayed.

  “How long has she been in there?” I ask.

  “Since the fight.”

  “Did you get her any food or water?”

  Kane clears his throat. “Well, since we didn’t have any spare souls lying around to feed her, no.”

  Well, there goes my PETA membership.

  “Surely Kellas cats don’t actually subsist on human souls.”

  There is a faint click of a door closing behind us, and then Ro says, “Kellas cats eat a high protein diet, just like all other cats.”

  Ro walks forward. She has a small dish in each hand. One contains water, the other, some sort of flaked meat that smells like fish.

  “You don’t have to be here,” Kane says.

  “My brother thinks that if I don’t see this with my own eyes, I won’t believe it.” Ro gives a wry smile.

  “Even if we can’t use the cat,” Kane says. “We need to question her.”

  “Question her?” Ro asks.

  “Yes.” His voice is hard and emotionless. “If we play our cards right, we might be able to find out who her master is.”

  Ro is nearly shaking as she crouches down in front of the crate and sets down both bowls. “An offering to you, cat of the Kells.”

  A low growl issues from within the crate and, fast as lightning, a paw appears between the slats. Inch-long claws dig in the wood before the paw jerks back, taking a chunk with it.

  There’s another rumbling growl, then the animal presses her face to the wood, peering through the hole she’d enlarged.

  Her green eyes practically glow.

  Even knowing it’s merely the reflective quality of her eyes, she still looks creepy as shit.

  I have to force myself to walk over to the crate.

  What am I doing here?

  A creature like this one nearly killed me twelve hours ago. But it’s not like I have a lot of options. I have to make this work.

  So I crouch beside the crate and peer through the gap at the creature within. “How long have you been awake?”

  “Long enough,” she rasps with an inhuman voice, “to know that you do not know as much about Kellas cats as you think you do.”

  Her voice grates on my nerves like a cat’s tongue on delicate skin.

  I meet her gaze. “Then tell me.”

  She makes a rumbling growl full of hate. “You do not control me, child of the Dark World. You are not my master.”

  A few years ago, my mom cared for a girl about my own age. Kendal had been treated for cancer on and off since she was five. I didn’t have a lot of friends, but Kendal had none. She knew no one except her family. And she knew she wasn’t coming out of her struggle alive. That girl had anger like I’d never seen. Bitterness. Resentment. Impotent rage. That was all she had left in her.

  This cat reminds me of Kendal.

  I have always regretted not trying to befriend her.

  The truth is, this cat has every right to be angry.

  I shift to sit cross-legged in front of the crate.

  “I’m not ordering you,” I explain. “I’m asking for information.”

  “I have no debt with you,” she growls.

  “No. You don’t. But you do have a death-debt with Kane. You are honor bound to protect him.”

  “To protect him and him alone. Not his dowt-mates.”

  “True,” I agree. “But you and I share a goal. We both want to keep him alive. He will face many challenges in the next few days.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “I have the sight.” The words come easily to me, since, I kind of do. I just hope the cat doesn’t hear Kane’s snort of derision. “If you refuse to help us, he will die.” This isn’t a lie, and my breath catches on the words as I say them. “If that happens, you will never be free of your death-debt.”

  She growls again, but this time, I sense it’s not aimed at me. It’s just a general sign of her displeasure.

  I reach for the cage’s latch, but pause. “Just so you know, you can’t kill me. Or Ro. Or any of the others. If you want to repay your death-debt, we all have to work together. Got it?”

  “And then my death-debt will be paid?”

  “Yes.”

  But before I can release the latch, Kane’s fingers close around mine.

  “Let me.” His fingers are warm and strong on mine. His touch is unsettling, but the certainty in his gaze reassures me.

  We all hold our breath as the door swings open. The cat moves slowly through the opening, apparently as hesitant to trust us as we are to trust her.

  Her whiskers twitch as she sniffs the air for danger. A moment later, she steps, blinking, into the light. She’s as big as a dog, maybe fifty or sixty pounds. Her body is a little longer, her legs shorter and more powerful. Her tail curves in an angry S toward the ground. In the dark, her fur looked black, but she’s actually a brindled mix—charcoal and black, the color of shifting shadows. Her coat is sleek, except for the ruff of fur around her face, almost like the mane of a bobcat. She is as beautiful as she is terrifying.

  She continues sniffing the air. Her body tenses and her nose twitches ever so slightly in the direction of the bowls of food and water. I can practically feel her hunger and thirst. With an overt show of will, she turns her back on the offering Ro made.

  Ro speaks first. “Tell us, can you reveal who your master is?”

  For a long moment, the cat merely stares at Ro, her head tilted to the side, her expression unreadable. “I cannot reveal that information if my master has ordered me not to.”

  Well that’s not much of an answer. “Did your master order you not to reveal that information?”

  She flicks her tail in apparent displeasure. “Yes.”

  “Are you still under your master’s command?”

  Slowly her head swivels toward me. “Child of the Dark World, you claim to be a seer. And you seem to know much about the laws of honor that dictate how cats behave. Do you not know the answer for yourself?”

  “I believe honor dictates you pay your death-debt before you can return to your master. Am I right?”

  “You are correct.” She walks over to Kane and sits, sphinxlike before him, bowing her head slightly. “It is to you alone I owe this death-debt. Tell me how I may save your life so that my honor may be restored.”

  Kane looks slightly disconcerted. He stands and backs up a step. “Cupcake, this is your plan. Why don’t you explain to the cat how this is supposed to work?”

  “Okay, then. Can you communicate telepathically with a human?”

  She turns her green gaze on me. “I have never tried.”

  “You’ve never had a death-debt to a human?” Kane asks.

  “Obviously,” she sneers, with scorn worthy of Snape.

  Getting information from this cat is like pulling teeth. On the other hand, she’s not slashing the flesh from my body. So at least, there’s tha
t.

  “And what about your master. Do you communicate telepathically with him?”

  “The dowt feels the will of the master. However, we do not share the master’s thoughts. We cannot express our own will or thoughts.”

  “So it’s a one-way street. What we need is two-way communication. Can you do that with a human?”

  “I can try. If the master were to order me.” She tips her head in Kane’s direction. “Or if he was to ask it of me.”

  “Well, then, where do we—”

  Before he can finish the sentence, Kane lets out a groan and drops to his knees, clutching his head in his hands.

  Shit.

  I run to him. “Are you okay?” No. Shit. He obviously is not okay. I whirl toward the cat. “What did you do to him?”

  She stalks toward him, never taking her icy gaze from him as he writhes in pain.

  “What are you doing to him?” I run a hand across his shoulder. The muscles under my palm are taut and agonized.

  She continues toward him. I try to push her away, but she swats a paw out at me.

  I look down at my arm, which is miraculously unharmed. She swatted my arm but didn’t scratch me. If her claws had been out—if she’d meant to hurt me—she would have shredded my arm.

  Whatever she’s doing, it’s not malicious.

  So when she approaches him slowly, I let her.

  She slinks past him, rubbing her cheek and shoulder against his head. And then against his shoulder. She circles him, rubbing her cheek against him over and over.

  If she were a domestic cat, I would say she is scenting him. Marking her territory.

  He twists on the ground, and I move his head onto my lap. He whimpers, and a lock of hair falls across his brow. I brush it out of the way.

  She leaps onto his chest and sits there, kneading. A low, rumbling purr vibrates through the room. And, slowly, the pain leaves his body. His muscles stop spasming, the taut tension gripping him eases. I feel him draw sharp, shuddering breaths that leave him shaking and sweaty.

  Slowly, his body relaxes.

  Apparently satisfied, she springs from his chest and strolls away to go leap onto the top of the crate, where she sits, cleaning her paws.

  I glare at her. “What did you do to him?”

  She blinks lazily. “What do you suppose I did? I created the mental bond you requested.”

  “That’s all?”

  If cats had eyebrows that they could arch disdainfully, that’s what she would have done. “It required some…rewiring. You didn’t think creating an inter-species mental link would be easy, did you?”

  I don’t answer, because Kane opens his eyes. He looks exhausted and worn, but his gaze is clear. Sane. Not at all like someone who’s had his brain rewired.

  Relief sweeps through me, so profound I have to blink away the hot rush of tears. I swallow hard, tracing the lines of his face. Funny, the sharp angle of his jaw no longer looks strange to me. The caramel brown eyes look right. Even the dimples look perfect. Not at all frivolous, like I’d first thought.

  And I’m struck by the urge to lean down and kiss him.

  Which I cannot do. I know that. He’s not mine.

  Once he rescues the princess, he’s going to fall in love with her. In addition to being the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, she’s powerful. Kane’s perfect match.

  And yet…

  Before I can do something stupid, Ro speaks from behind me. “Are you okay?”

  I glance over my shoulder to see her looking like she’s poised to run. This must have been a nightmare for her.

  I repeat Ro’s question. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah,” he croaks. His voice sounds like he’s been gargling Drano. “How ’bout you?”

  I nearly laugh. “Me, I’m great. But I’m not the one who apparently had his nervous system ripped out and reinstalled.”

  His gaze shifts in the direction of the cat before returning to me. For the briefest moment, all kinds of things flicker through his eyes. Relief, exhaustion, fear, embarrassment. I recognize all of it. I’ve been there. It’s awful when someone sees you that vulnerable. It’s like being gutted.

  “Oh. Is that what that was?” he asks. “I thought I felt a twinge.”

  The quip falls a little flat, but I give him a pass.

  He wedges his elbow under him and pushes up to a sitting position.

  Ro takes a tentative step closer. “The connection is formed?”

  He nods.

  “And it’s…everything is okay? Nothing too scary in there?”

  Again, he gives a faint nod. “It’s—” Then he shakes his head, like he’s trying to clear his mind. “Disconcerting. But it’s not too bad.”

  “Do not fear,” the cat says. “It should not take long to learn to seal away some of your thoughts. We cats are quite adept at hiding that which must be private.”

  Wearily, Kane scrubs a hand down his face. “Well, that was fun.”

  “What do we do next?” Ro asks.

  Kane pushes himself to his feet. “Well, now that we know that Cupcake was right about the Kellas cat, we hear the rest of her plan.”

  “Wait a second, you didn’t really believe you’d be able to form a connection with the Kellas cat?”

  He shrugs. “It seemed farfetched.”

  “But you tried it anyway?”

  He gives me a clap on the arm as he walks past me to the door back into the house. “I was the only person in danger, so it seemed worth a shot.”

  Excerpt from

  Book Five of The Traveler Chronicles:

  The Traveler Undone

  It’s no secret I don’t like Sirens.

  I mean, sure. Everybody likes Sirens. It’s their thing. They are undeniably the most likeable creatures on earth.

  Saying you don’t like Sirens is like saying you don’t like Girl Scout cookies. (I had an Seelie princess once who hired me to import five hundred and seventy-nine cases of Thin Mints. So I know what I’m talking about here.)

  Still, how can you trust someone who can tell you anything you want to hear and make you believe it?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  I catch up with Kane and the cat right as they walk into the kitchen. The cat slows, then stops, every muscle in her body going tense, her tail bristling.

  Crab scrambles to his feet.

  “It’s okay,” Kane says aloud. “This is Morgan and Crab. They’re friends.”

  After several wary heartbeats, the cat takes a hesitant step forward, sniffing the air. Morgan holds out his hand. Not to shake, but for her to sniff, the way you would a dog.

  The cat blinks in disdain. Then she walks straight past Morgan to Crab. She bumps her head against his calf and weaves between his legs before sitting on her haunches by his feet.

  “Cupcake’s idea worked?” Morgan asks.

  “Well, I’m not dead.”

  “Obviously.”

  “We don’t know if this link will let him loop-jump somewhere he’s never been.”

  “Right,” Kane says, looking at the cat. “You’ll need to go somewhere unfamiliar. We’ll stay in contact until I can open a loop to where you are.”

  “You think you can do it?” Morgan asks.

  “Sure.”

  But there’s something in his voice. He sounds…wary.

  Which, of course, he is.

  He just had his brain rewired, although that’s something he’s obviously not going to mention to the others. Thank you, male ego.

  “We should talk more about the plan!” I blurt out.

  Everyone turns and looks at me.

  Five identical looks of oh-shit-what’s-she-up-to-now.

  I offer up a bright smile. “We haven’t told the cat the plan yet.”

  Kane quirks an
eyebrow, and I get the feeling he sees right through me.

  He shifts his gaze to the cat, stares at her in silence for several heartbeats before shrugging. “Okay. She knows.”

  “Just like that?” I ask.

  “Mental communication is efficient,” she says. “Though I am unsure how rescuing a meddling old fool and a bratty princess will repay my death-debt, I am willing to participate.”

  “The Curator is not—” I begin to correct the cat.

  “Meddling and bratty were my words,” Kane says.

  “Oh.” Bratty? He thinks the princess is bratty? This does not bode well for their epic romance. But that’s a plot twist I’ll have to worry about after we rescue her. For now, I have to buy Kane enough time to recover. “What about the Crimson Miasma? I haven’t told you about that.”

  Crab walks back to the table and points to the patch of blue on the map of the Kingdoms of Mithres. “There’s a bank of mist that floats off the coast here. It’s impossible to sail through.”

  “It’s not actually impossible,” I say. “But it does confuse and disorient anyone who tries.” I plop down in an empty chair. “Sit! I’ll tell you all about it.”

  Morgan meets my gaze—which I keep innocent. After a second, he smiles, like he knows exactly what I’m doing.

  He pulls out a chair of his own. “Yeah, let’s talk details.”

  “We should test my connection to the cat—” Kane argues.

  “Shh.” Morgan waves aside the protest, propping his chin in his hand and gazing back at me with rapt attention. “Cupcake is telling us her plan.”

  Frankly, I think he’s overdoing it a bit. But Kane sighs and then sits. Obviously, he’s used to Morgan’s antics.

  I start at the beginning and launch into a detailed description of the island’s location, history, topography. Anything I can think of to draw the conversation out.

  I describe the Crimson Miasma, how it confuses people with images of what they most want. Crab chimes in with additional details from his own encounters. It’s not until I describe the Everdawn that cloaks the island that Kane stops me.

  “Everdawn is a myth. It’s not real.”

  “In the book—”