Hellcats: Anthology

by Kate Pickford

  The human put one bowl on the counter to feed the big orange first. A quarter of the can plopped into it.

  “That smells like heaven!” The cat dug in before his words registered. His blasphemy hit him as he chewed. “Dammit.” A mouthful fell onto the counter. He left it and went for the fresh stuff in the bowl. He looked up at the human, who smiled beatifically. She retrieved the towel and buffed his fur, warming him inside. He polished off the tuna.

  The others were down below, yowling. He lifted his head and declared, “My minions have minions. I am God!” He dropped to the floor with a thump. The others ignored him; they were meowing at the human, ordering her to deliver unto them the flesh of the tuna.

  “More, stupid human! Open a new can and deliver!” the Maine Coon called.

  “Go roll in something.” The calico rubbed her body against the tabby. “You know you want to.”

  “I want to roll on the couch,” he admitted and left to do just that.

  “My beautiful kitties.” The human picked up the bowls and rinsed them one by one before returning them to their spots on the floor.

  “I should have gotten more,” the Maine Coon complained.

  The Russian slapped him with a paw. “You’re not getting any of mine. I should have gotten more, too.”

  “You’re a third of my size! You are what the humans would call small.”

  “It’s not how long the fur grows, but the heart that beats within. And this heart is still hungry,” the Russian Blue grumbled in a series of squeaking, short meows.

  “No.” The Maine Coon was convinced he was right. He jumped to the top of the refrigerator from the floor so he could look down on the others, then sat there and lorded his size over them.

  The calico showed her finest attributes with her tail raised high while walking away. The Russian Blue joined her as they retreated to the padded cat tower in the bay window. The sun beat down. They found their perches and started grooming.

  “Is she at the abyss yet, ready to jump?” the tabby asked.

  “What abyss?” the Russian wondered.

  “The command from our master. Bring her to the edge, and he’ll do the rest.”

  “Of course, that abyss. I thought you were talking about a different abyss.”

  “What other abysses are there?” The orange tabby wedged himself beneath the blanket on the couch as he watched the two in the window.

  “That’s why I was confused. I don’t know of any others.”

  “Are we getting her close?”

  “To what?” the Russian Blue asked, following a languorous self-tonguing. A movement caught his eye. “Bird!”

  The calico saw it, too. The cats chattered at it, willing it to come within paw range. It did, flying to the flowerbox affixed to the sill. It dug into the dirt, jumped to the window side, and turned its back on the predators. The Russian jumped to the calico’s perch, landing half on her. She slapped him, but he was focused like a laser on his prey. He slashed, rapping a claw against the window.

  “Upstart!” the Russian called.

  “Prey,” the calico chattered. She attacked. Another thump against the window. “Stupid humans!”

  The Russian Blue fell into a predatory frenzy, slashing at the bird with rapid attacks. Each was thwarted by the glass.

  “Has that always been there?” the Russian Blue asked. The calico shrugged. “Live free for another day, air creature. You shall be disemboweled at a time of my choosing.”

  With a yawn, the Russian adjusted to get the most sun on his dense fur. The calico stretched out, letting her legs hang over the edge. From his refrigerator perch, the Maine Coon thought he smelled fish. He jumped down, landing lightly, and began to hunt, stalking the elusive smell. The orange tabby wanted the sunlight. He headed to the padded cat tree and climbed to the top, where he sprawled across the Russian, pushing until a flailing pile of blue fur tumbled over the edge.

  Into the abyss…

  To land heavily on the floor. He sat up and cleaned his face. “I meant to do that.”

  “I have to go out, my loves,” the human trilled as she clumped by with a heavy step. The door opened and she walked through. The Russian Blue darted forward, but it closed far too quickly. The doorway to the outer world had sealed. The human was gone.

  “You are the worst minion of all time!” the Russian Blue cried. “I shall kill you dead if you deign to return. We will toss your shattered corpse over the edge.”

  “Shredded by our claws, screaming in pain!” the tabby added.

  “Can corpses scream?” the calico wondered. “No matter. Not completely dead, but dead enough for the master, who will make the human wish she was dead!”

  “I can’t believe she abandoned us. Evil charlatan!” the Russian lamented. “Purveyor of horror and anguish!”

  “Princess of pustules! Doom on you,” the calico started the chant.

  The others picked it up. “Doom on you. Doom on you.”

  The Maine Coon continued his hunt, refusing to believe there wasn’t fish to be had. He checked and confirmed it. His belly was indeed empty.

  After one round of “Doom on you,” he howled in anguish. “I’m starving to death! She’s dragging me to the abyss, but I’ll drag her over with me. We’re both going down.”

  “I haven’t eaten in weeks,” the big orange complained. “She is horrible. The master will hate her so much. I hope he makes her go hungry as punishment for never feeding me. Minion! Ha.”

  “So hungry.” The Maine Coon flopped onto the kitchen tiles. “Cool and comfy.” He stretched, his fur spreading across the floor as his body relaxed, making him look like a melted cat.

  “Me, too. She never feeds us. Maybe she’s trying to drag us to a different abyss where her master awaits us, the innocents.”

  “She would do that. It’s her way. The tormentor in chief, tormenting. Why do we have a tormentor as a minion?” the calico asked.

  “We suck at picking minions,” the Russian Blue suggested. He gagged and started to heave, finally coughing up a gray-black furball. “That’s better. I’m so hungry!”

  He returned to the cat tree, but there wasn’t an empty platform. A beam of sunlight stabbed a corner of the rug. He rolled into it, and the heat bathed him in gentle beams of joy. He drifted off. His head fell back, and his pink tongue flopped out of his face.

  The big orange licked a paw to clean the fur around his eyes. His movements slowed as he tired. He stopped mid-stroke and napped. The calico was already out, body temperature rising with the sun’s heat. So comfortable, napping in the natural environment of the Serengeti. The patience of the predator awaiting its prey.

  A key rattling in the door lock startled the four awake.

  It swung open, and the human walked through. “I’m home, my little loves!” She smiled at the tabby and the calico, who had roused themselves. They called to her in the voice of their people.

  “You suck!” Meow, with added stress on the second word. The Russian Blue rolled his head sideways to look at her.

  “I can’t move because of weakness from hunger.” He watched her kneel, and her hand, in slow motion, move toward his soft belly fur. “A little closer.”

  She dipped her hand in for a quick tickle and pulled it back as he struck.

  “Do it again,” he taunted, but she had moved on—the tormentor tormenting. She roughed up the big orange’s matted but drying fur. She snagged the wire brush from the end table and started stroking him.

  “Go, minion. Right there. Harder. Faster.” He tensed from the sensations tingling through his body. He rolled his ears back. She ran the brush down his sides.

  “You stop rolling in the litterbox! If you don’t want a bath, don’t get dirty.”

  “Lies! I am clean and still get baths. Jezebel!” the big orange yowled. “Today is a great day for you to die.”

  She shifted to the calico. “How about a little of this for you? Feel good, pretty girl? It looks like it does.”


  Still groggy from being hot, the calico’s head rolled with each new stroke.

  The Maine Coon strolled toward the litter box. The human finished her ministrations on the calico and delivered a series of deft strokes to the Russian Blue. He attacked the brush, biting it. “Die,” he growled, scratching it with all four paws.

  “Doom on you,” the calico whispered.

  “Doom on you,” the tabby repeated.

  “You suck!” the Russian cried when she pulled the brush away and dropped it on the table. The human headed down the hallway to the bedroom, where she changed her outer layer of smooth fur.

  “Don’t you wish you could do that?” the calico asked.

  “Like I’d want your long and straggly hair,” the Russian Blue shot back. “You want some of this? I know you do.”

  The calico launched from the cat tree’s second-top tier, landing astride the Russian. He struggled and threw her off. She dove back in, and the two went ears over tails, rolling across the floor. The big orange watched indifferently, losing sight of them as he yawned mightily, showing his fangs to the world.

  The teeth of an apex predator.

  The Maine Coon strutted down the hallway. “Get on that, minion,” he meowed over his shoulder.

  “What did you eat?” The human held her nose and headed into the litter room.

  “I can’t remember the last time I’ve eaten. Nothing, that’s what I’ve eaten.”

  The calico emerged victorious after the Russian Blue got wedged under the couch. “The abyss calls. Your time has come,” she declared.

  The big orange jumped down from the tree’s top, landing with a most uncatlike thud.

  “Is anyone hungry?” the human called from the hallway.

  “The stupidest questions! Will the master even want this one?” the Maine Coon grumbled.

  “Hungry? Is water wet? Will one of you train her, so we’re not embarrassed when the master tempts her?”

  “Tempts her…into the abyss! Doom.” The calico ran three steps and jumped to the top of the counter, landing softly, like a feather landing on a branch. She stared into the human’s eyes. “Come with me to the edge, human. Come…”

  The other three bumped into her legs, pushing her forward.

  “I hear your little tummy growling. I’m a bad mom.” She stepped away and cracked two cans at once, double-fisted like a master bartender at a billionaire’s club. A fork appeared.

  “Tuna!” the Maine Coon cried. He loomed over his bowl as tears of joy ran down his face. “I shall live another day.”

  “Look at that! Manna from heaven,” the orange tabby called, watching impatiently as half a can of tuna flesh appeared in his bowl. The succulent aroma drew him. Heaven. “Dammit!” He dove in despite his blasphemy.

  “And you, my little sweetheart.” The human’s oversized lips closed and planted themselves on the calico’s forehead before the cat was deposited bodily before her bowl. Drawn like a moth to the flame, she buried herself in the glory of the sea.

  The four cats chowed as they’d never chowed down before because they had never eaten before. Their whole lives had been a tuna-free existence. Until now. Basking in the glory of the fresh catch, they barely heard the empty cans heading into the trash or the fork going into the sink.

  For the moment, nothing else mattered, not even the master, for the minion had delivered the flesh of the tuna on a silken pillow with angels singing. The four cats swore the sun shone more brightly.

  When they finished, the minion took the bowls and rinsed them clean before putting them back on the floor.

  “I am gorged beyond stuffing,” the calico declared. “I may never have to eat again.”

  The calico turned his head to watch himself walk. “I think I’ve gained a waddle. It is magnificent.” The Russian Blue made it two steps from his bowl before collapsing. The Maine Coon disappeared into the bedroom.

  The microwave dinged, and the human extracted a bowl of unpleasant human food.

  She sat on the couch and turned on the television before digging into her dinner. The calico was first up on the couch, then to the back of the cushions and onto her shoulder. She looked at the human food—steamed vegetable in a sweet sauce. Vile. The calico reveled in not having to eat it. She tucked her paws in and settled back like a sphinx, closing her eyes to concentrate on the important task of digesting.

  The tabby and the Russian Blue joined the human on the couch, both squeezing onto her lap to look at her dinner bowl.

  “Is this food?” the Russian wondered.

  The big orange scowled. “I don’t think so. Smells like week-old laundry lying in the yard.”

  They settled in and made themselves comfortable. The Maine Coon reappeared and jumped up beside the human. When he sprawled, he took up half the couch unrepentantly. He rested his head on her lap and hoped to dream of tuna.

  The alarm rang and the human groaned, dislodging a calico and a tabby when she reached for the clock to turn it off.

  “You suck!” the tabby complained. “Hungry. Why don’t you ever feed us? How about a trip to the abyss? Today is a great day to die.”

  “I’ve killed her in my mind ten times in the last minute, but I’m weak from hunger, so I can’t do it for real.”

  The Maine Coon stood and stretched. “No kidding. When are you going to feed us, stupid minion?”

  He rammed his head into her face. She grunted and fell back. “I know, I know. You’re hungry. I think I’ll feed you today.” She lifted the covers, dumping the cats off her, and climbed out of bed.

  “About time you thought of us for once! Doom on you, minion!” the Russian Blue yowled, jumping down to run after her.

  Straight to the kitchen…

  No.

  “Why is she stopping?” The calico looked into the bathroom. There she was, sitting down. Not getting any food. “Her tormenting continues. She likes it. The master is going to teach her a thing or two.”

  “Doom on you!” the Russian hissed.

  The Maine Coon jumped to the top of the refrigerator. No need to speak. He’d simply sit and judge her from on high. Maybe he’d kill her when she stepped close, but not all the way dead, just mostly dead. The master could tempt her the rest of the way to receive his reward.

  The human finally dragged herself into the kitchen. Two cans again, a double pop as both opened at the same time. They were inundated by the sweet aroma of sunshine embroiled within the tender embrace of joy.

  “Tuna!” the four cried together, rubbing and bumping against her legs. She parceled out the shares as the impatient cats pronounced the glory of her name: Tuna Minion. Again and again until the deed was done, and they ate, enjoying the divine rapture of the moment.

  “My little fuzzies, so full of love,” the human purred.

  The cats did not hear. They were busy worshipping at the food bowl altar.

  “Maybe tomorrow we’ll take you to the abyss, minion. Maybe even later today, but not right now,” the calico purred through another bite.

  Craig Martelle has published over one hundred books, mostly in science fiction, many of which have sentient animals because that’s a future he can get behind. It all starts with the Free Trader tagged as a cat and his human minions…

  Find out more at craigmartelle.com

  Acknowledgments

  (JA Clement)

  When Kate Pickford came up with idea of putting together an anthology in a month, I offered to help put it together. We knew that to assemble a few stories and bring them to market in such a short time was going to be a bit of an undertaking… but (as you might guess from the screaming juggernaut of fantastical splendour you have just read), it kind of snowballed…

  This anthology has been a testament to the goodwill, hard work and superbly generous spirit of the writing community, with indie, hybrid and trad-pubbed authors all pulling together to make something really special happen. It could not have been done without the many people who stepped up to offer their hel
p, to the point where we had six different teams running different parts of it at once.

  To the wonderful Hellcats:

  Thank you all SO MUCH for your efforts and your enthusiasm. There are so many ways in which we could not have got this far without you, your generosity and joyous enthusiasm. It has truly been an honour to work with you all.

  And to Kate Pickford:

  You did this, m’dear. This happened because you would not stand back and let an old lady be bullied out of her house. You should be so, so proud of the efforts you inspired, and the tribe you created. You’re Chief Hellcat now, and that is a title and a tribe to be proud of.

  WE DID IT PEEPS! YAY!

  You guys are so epic.

  JA Clement.

  Chief Cat-Herder.

  SO: huge thanks for the goodwill, professionalism and frankly terrible cat jokes to

  Proofing: Crystal Wren and her Posse Cats: Audra Marie Spicer, Cindy Pearson, DJ Cooper, Elaine Bateman, Esther Morrison, Judy Clothier, Liv Honeywell, Marion Hermannsen, Micky Cocker, Nicole Grotepas, Robyn Sarty, Samantha Achaia-Picinich, Sonia Rao, Veronica Stephan-Miller, William Van Winkle, and Wunji Lau.

  Formatting: Marion Hermannsen

  Blurbs: Brian Meeks

  Bookbub ads for launch: Micah Crowsey

  SOCIAL MEDIA:

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  Instagramistas: Lasairiona McMaster

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  Goodreads Queen: Marion Hermannsen

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  Graphics Geniuses: Marcus Alexander Hart, Stephanie Mylchreest, Andy McWain, Efthalia Pegios

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