Hellcats: Anthology

by Kate Pickford

  by Liam Pickford

  Sleek, slender and sharp as a razor blade, Felicity Tenderfoot was nobody's fool

  Here I was again, trapped in a circle with a greedy sorcerer standing in her circle on the opposite side of the room and mouthing incantations.

  There were the elemental declarations.

  There was the superfluous nod to the elementals she was calling on (sycophantic wretch that she was).

  There was the outline, the plan, the destination, sending if you will; she started muttering the form of words to bind me to the task until it was accomplished, or I was dead.

  (Did I mention that she was a sweetheart? No? Good, she was a horror show!)

  Anyhow, she’s wrapped me in protection, as far as she was able, cloaked me with invisibility, and then clutched her right arm.

  For anyone passing who may have been able to see through her net curtains, she was just a woman ironing. For those who were adept in the magical arts, she would have been revealed as a dark sorcerer standing in the middle of a couple of concentric circles with an inverted pentagram in the middle which had powerful binding, invisibility, and protection spells.

  Of course, the circles and inverted pentagram were chalked on the floorboards beneath the rug that her ironing board was set upon. The circles and runes holding me in place were completely obscured by my bed.

  But she clutched her arm, croaked her last, and fell.

  All right, all right, I’m minimizing the whole event. She clutched her arm, as the heart attack wracked her body, she gave a last death rattle that could have soured fresh butter or turned a good side of bacon rancid, then she breathed her last and fell backwards, out of the circle, before she bound the spell.

  Which meant I was protected (within the limits of that incantation) and would be invisible, but no longer bound to anything or anyone. I wasn’t waiting around to see what the elementals would do with her once they found her lying in a broken circle. That’s about as useful against demons as a sieve is for carrying water.

  Doris, the witch who had, until very recently, owned me, was in the process of sending me to spy on her sister, Amelia. I’d heard her muttering to herself that Amelia made her sick; she was so successful and popular and now she was pregnant! Doris had such a gutful of hatred for her sister that her face was contorted as she muttered the murderous spell. Yes, she was sending me to spy on Amelia, but the incantation took a sinister turn. She was planning to sabotage this pregnancy by projecting a curse through me which she expected me to deposit on her sister. I shuddered.

  I could have told her why her sister was so loved without spying on her.

  Amelia was kind, thoughtful, selfless, generous, and always looking at ways to help others around her. Doris was more than a little envious, and she had one burning ambition: to be more powerful than Amelia.

  Well, that looked unlikely now.

  Just to be clear, it wasn’t Doris who first enspelled me and called me her medium, that had happened time and time again. The first one to ensnare me in this world of supernatural shenanigans was an Egyptian Magician called Jannes. I’ll get to that stuff later, for now I had to get out of this place and find some neutral ground where I could fathom a way to break out of this circular torture.

  This was the best chance of breaking out of over thirty centuries of indentured servitude. Seriously, over three thousand years of being captive to mages, sorcerers, witches, warlocks, and shamans. Don’t get me wrong, I’d met several delightful people in the mystical realm, but there had been such a steady succession of ambitious, power-hungry magical folk who’d seen me as a way of furthering their path to power. Yes, this was the best chance I’d had to break free and I was going to make the most of it.

  I wasn’t sure what the future held, but I was willing to roll the dice and see where they landed. Adventure always had an element of risk and required the courage to drown out the voices of fear and uncertainty and embrace the promise of possibility. As I was pondering the way forward an image presented itself in my mind’s eye. It was a stone cottage with a thatched roof in a garden encircled by a drystone wall. I could almost feel the sea breeze and hear the call of the gulls. I had seen this house before, I’d dreamt about it time and time again, each time seeing a little more detail and having a growing sense of attraction. There were humans in residence. Two of them, though that image shimmered which meant…visitors from out of town? Relatives? Grandma coming to rest her bunions by the fire? No matter. The location itself was unswerving. This place held some sort of promise; it was where I had to get to.

  I exited by the cat-flap and traversed the garden, scaling the shed at the bottom and leaping gracefully to the meadow beyond.

  Then I was off, heading South West. Call it gut instinct or sixth sense if you like. Maybe there was another power at play? In any rate, I was off, and wild horses couldn’t have altered my course, so determined was I.

  I travelled a few miles out of the city and stopped at Boars Hill to get a drink from the stream that ran through the pretty little hamlet. This place was quite excellent, loads of farmland surrounding it and smallholders who kept chicken, ducks, and geese, which meant feed, which guaranteed rats.

  I was rather partial to a rat. They didn’t smell so good, but they were generally pretty good at keeping themselves fed, so you knew you were in for a good meal if you could land one. I’d had plenty of practice over the last 3,000 years. I didn’t harbor a single doubt that I would eat well tonight. I’m normally focused when I’m hunting, I get tunnel vision, there’s me and my prey, but I had a feeling of unease that I hadn’t felt for many centuries. There was a malevolence looming over my shoulder, but I couldn’t pinpoint what it was.

  Maybe I was just spooked, being as I was out in the open for the first time in forever.

  I shook it off with such ease I was satisfied I was just imagining things and honed in on my task.

  Sure enough, there were several rat nests around the barn that housed the hay and feed for the farm animals. I slunk in as the sun was lowering in the sky and perched myself atop a bale of hay. Now it was just a matter of waiting.

  The sun was just tipping over the horizon as a plump rat scuttled across the floor in front of me. I pounced and slammed my paw on his back and felt his spine snap. I leaned forward, took him by the throat, and shook him soundly. He was dead within seconds. I’d seen other cats play with their food. I didn’t. The rat had done nothing to upset me, I just needed to eat. There was no need to cause him further pain.

  I travelled for the next two days, resting in the heat of the day and travelling at night. Autumn was closing in, and the evenings and nights were cool and pleasing. My journey forward was unswerving. I was being drawn, like a bear to honey and I had a real rhythm of pushing forward then enjoying little pockets of rest.

  As I snoozed, fragments of my recurring dream drifted into my mind. The puzzle was slowly piecing itself together. I saw a second house. Semi-detached, modern with a neat garden, furnished with table and chairs. There was a wooden trellis that was festooned with the leaves and branches of a vine that brought a splash of color to the wall. Humans numbering two. Same pair as always. Interesting.

  Then there was the cottage again, no other properties in sight for miles around, this place was secluded. The gate, so solid that it looked as though it would stand for a couple more centuries as it groaned on its hinges, swung in to give access to the path that led to the door. Wood smoke was twisting from the chimney into the sky. The place just oozed peace and safety. The anticipation rose in my chest, but what was THAT, dammit!

  My reverie was shattered by a wispy tendril poking at my daydream. It was barely detectable, but the familiar pulse of magic betrayed its intrusion.

  I hadn’t been around for three thousand years without picking up a trick or two. I allowed the tendril to make its course and land in my mind. Then I drew it into my subconscious for a nanosecond. There was so much in my subconscious that it would take the sma
rtest mind an age to make head or tail of the details there, but it also put a marker, (imagine rubbing your scent on the edge of the settee or a scratching post), on this nosy neighbor.

  As it started to withdraw, I gave it the psychic equivalent of a swift uppercut. Whoever or whatever it was wouldn’t be able to sneak up on me without me knowing it again. I heard a faint mewl of frustration and anguish. So, it was a cat with a malevolent streak and a penchant for magical intrigues. When was I going to get a freaking break? Well I reasoned that this intrusive furball was going to be licking his wounds for a while, so I took advantage of the moment and headed out again.

  The further I travelled, the more I got a sense that I was heading in the right direction. In fact, that sense grew so strong; it was if a magnet was pulling at me and I was some metal thing.

  Then I saw it: The house I had been seeing in my dreams over the last couple of months; semi-detached, small but cosy-looking, garden backing out onto Dartmoor. This was the place. That vine was more vibrant in the physical realm than in my dream, a verdant cloak hanging halfway down the wall.

  I squinted at the back door from my vantage point in the long grass. Yes, there was a cat-flap there. I didn’t see another cat about, and there certainly wasn’t the scent of a cat. I was certain I’d shaken the presence I’d sensed earlier at the barn. It would take an accomplished feline of some advanced skill to recover from the smack I’d given him, so I stealthily shifted forward slowly, paw by paw, to take in the occupants of this house at closer quarters.

  I shrugged the invisibility spell off my shoulders and announced myself by stepping up to the young couple sitting in the garden. A spark ran from the twitch of my ears to the flickering of my tail: they were the human pair from my dreams.

  The young woman noticed me first: “David, look at this adorable cat, doesn’t she look friendly!”

  “Uh, yeah, Mon, I guess so.” He obviously wasn’t a cat person. As it happens, I am adorable in several ways: svelte, sleek, lithe, my coat is soft and white, mottled with black spots, and black banding around my legs and tail.

  David continued: “Quite pretty for a tabby.”

  “Oh, David you are funny! She’s not a tabby, she’s exquisite.”

  I liked this girl, she had good taste.

  As for David, he might be a bit slow, but I could see that he was considering this as he pouted and nodded. He might not be bursting with enthusiasm at my arrival, but there was a kind curiosity in his manner that I was finding quite endearing.

  “Hey, Monica, she’s taken a shine to you,” he said.

  I was just schmoozing around her legs and purring softly, as you do when you’re getting acquainted.

  Monica leaned forward and took a sandwich from the plate on the table. She pulled apart the slices and extracted a triangular piece of smoked salmon. She dangled this in front of my nose.

  I took a moment to study her with my jade-green eyes. It wasn’t really that I needed to know anything else about her now, but when a cat-lover looks into my eyes they’re going to find it hard not to take me in.

  Okay, enough of the eyes, I was ravenous, and that salmon smelled delectable, so I hooked it with my claw, swung it around to my mouth and devoured it almost instantly.

  Boy, that felt good. The rat back in Boars Wood was a substantial meal, but voles and field mice were tricky treats. Never enough to fill the stomach and so many bones to pick the meat from. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until now.

  “Oh Monica, you’re such a hopeless romantic. You do realize that this is someone’s cat, and we’re going to have to give her back.”

  I saw a few seconds of pain pass over Monica’s eyes, pain tinged with a deep sadness. It wasn’t the registration of sadness that she couldn’t keep a cat, no matter how adorable I was. There was a deeper wound here that had been touched. She would show me. In time. Meanwhile, I had some more charming to do.

  Monica got a grip of herself and turned her gaze from me to David.

  “You’re right,” she said. “I’ll call the local vet and the police station and ask if anyone has reported her missing.”

  Monica went into the house, punching her phone’s keyboard with a purpose. She moved further into the house and soon it was just her disembodied voice drifting out into the garden, in snatches of conversation;

  “Young looking, black markings…”

  I smiled quietly to myself. This was going better than I thought it might go. I’d travelled about a hundred and fifty miles to a place where I wasn’t going to be claimed, shaken my foes, and fallen into the bosom of the couple I’d seen in my dreams. They seemed keen to look after me, but also with the integrity of heart to check whether someone was looking for me.

  Monica raced into the garden, shaking her head. “That’s strange, she’s obviously domesticated and well cared for, but neither the vet nor the police have had any report of a lost cat with this description!”

  David smiled at his beautiful young wife. He spoke quietly and gently. “Why don’t we take her down to the vet’s surgery and check to see if she’s been chipped?”

  Monica looked at her husband. Sometimes he could be so practical. “You’re right, David, let’s do it now.”

  David considered the remaining food on his plate, which in fairness smelled delicious, and sighed. He took the plates in and pottered around inside for a couple of minutes before returning to Monica with a box.

  Monica had been crooning to me, telling me what a beautiful cat I was and asking me if I’d like to stay with them for a while. “Well,” I thought, “Let’s see if I’m chipped first.”

  Monica stroked my back again and gave me a little scratch between my ears. She hit my silly spot! I stretched and shuddered all over and the bell at my neck gave a delicate, but distinct tinkle.

  “David, she’s got a collar with a bell and a tag on. How could we have missed that?” Monica gingerly slid her hand over my side and under my belly. I gave her a regal purr to encourage her. She picked me up and pulled me into her lap. She turned the collar around my slender neck and read the tag out to David: “Felicity Tenderfoot, Egyptian Mau.”

  David acknowledged his wife with a nod and lifted the box towards her. Monica stood up and gently lifted me into the box, explaining what we were all doing, as if I lacked the capacity to understand from the glut of information that had already been shared. I decided not to let it rankle me (I’ve never been a fan of having the obvious explained to me).

  By the time I had gathered my thoughts, the top of the box had been folded closed and the box was strapped into the backseat of their car with the safety belt.

  I had another thought and chuckled to myself.

  I disappeared.

  In the ether, I wondered whether I should go for a full, classic Schrodinger, or whether I should wait for a couple of seconds after they opened the box before re-materializing?

  I dismissed the thought and re-appeared in the box. These were a sweet couple and my best chance in over three thousand years of getting free. I wasn’t going to blow this if I could help it. I started turning over different scenarios in my mind.

  Shapeshifting into a human and just telling them straight out? No.

  Hypnotizing them and sending them into a trance so their minds were open and malleable. No. (I had a word with myself. I’d been in the company of magicians so long I’d picked up some grubby habits.)

  Dream walking? Yes, that was it. Pleased with myself, I started planning how to insinuate myself into their dreams. I let that thought drift. I had a natural propensity for dream walking, it wouldn’t help to overthink it.

  After an indeterminate time, the car drew to a smooth halt. Time in the ether may run in a similar vein to the earthly realm, but it doesn’t feel like the passing of time in the same way.

  The box was unstrapped and lifted out of the car. I heard two sets of footsteps, the crack of the door, and then Monica speaking to someone. I wanted to hear what she was saying, but the sm
ell and atmosphere in this place were so distracting. I could sense fear and death and something that smelled so overbearing it stung my nostrils. I heard a pitiful mewl to my left and several other distressing, muted cries.

  The box was opened, and a breezy lady in a white gown was lifting me out and placing me on a treadmill.

  “11 lbs.,” she announced, “that’s a good weight.”

  She then picked up something akin to a gaudy handgun and ran it around my neck and shoulders. “No, no chip detected.”

  She moved me onto a cold, metal table and stood in front of me. She held my bottom jaw and lifted my cheeks back with her free hand. I decided to make it easy for her and get this humiliation over with as soon as possible. She looked at my teeth, top and bottom, front to back, and said, “This appears to be a young cat.”

  Then she squeezed my sides, my back, lifted and stretched my legs, and finally pointed a light into my eyes. “It’s not often we see such a healthy, well-cared-for cat that no-one is missing, but sometimes elderly people have cats for company, and when they pass away, there’s no-one looking for the cat.”

  Monica spoke up. “What do we do now? We’ve called the police. They’re not looking for a cat with this description, nor do any of the other vets in the area.”

  The vet looked me over and looked at the young couple again. “Well, there’s no owner, and no-one currently looking for her. We have your contact details and so do the police. If you’re willing to take her home and wait it out, there’s a fair chance she could become yours.”

  The conversation in the car back to David and Monica’s place was short and to the point.

  “Let’s take her in and make her at home. If someone does come forward to claim her, at least we’ll know that we’ve looked after her in the meantime. And if no-one comes forward, and she stays with us, she’ll know that she was welcome from the start and that she is loved.”

  David responded. “Darling, she’s obviously won your heart. Let’s do that and take one day at a time.”