The Cat Master

by Bonnie Pemberton

  Soot crouched to the ground, torn between running for cover and begging for mercy. “That’s not true. They’re my friends,” he mumbled, feeling doubly betrayed and vulnerable.

  The big tom leaned closer, his eyeless socket oozing a thick, wet rivulet down his face. “Really?” He nodded toward the mesquite, where the animals now stretched in companionable silence, their bellies bulging and content. “Then why aren’t you reveling in the grand celebration?”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “You’re lying.”

  Soot sagged, ashamed by the truth.

  “You risked your life for those ingrates, and now that they have what they want, you’re forgotten.” Jett moved to another rock with serpentine stealth. “To them you’re just a pathetic cripple from the alley; sometimes useful, but not really wanted. They’ll never appreciate you”—he paused— “like I do.”

  Soot shrank back, frightened and confused. “But you hate me.”

  “Hate you?” Jett blinked, his broad face earnest and hurt. “How could I hate you? You’re family to me.”

  It was true. Soot couldn’t remember a time when Jett hadn’t been in his life. He wondered how he could have forgotten that and felt a wrench of guilt followed by waves of apprehension. What was Jett trying to tell him? A familiar fear tightened his chest. Was it something he’d suspected since kittenhood, but was too afraid to ask?

  “Come back home.” Jett’s voice was low and intense. “Come back to the alley, the place where you were born, where you’re understood . . . where your mother died.”

  “My mother?” Soot remembered Ahn-ya’s sweet face, and his throat ached with longing for her soft fur and gentle ways.

  Ahn-ya. The thought was suddenly disturbing. Ahn-ya and Jett . . . always together.

  You’re family to me.

  “We had many conversations about her pride in you,” Jett continued. “She knew you were exceptional, just as I do.” He watched Soot, his eye boring into him. “Do you know why I’m telling you this?”

  Soot tried to swallow the shameful words waiting to be said, but it was no use. “Yes.” He squared his shoulders, preparing for the worse. “It’s because . . . you’re my father, aren’t you?”

  The big cat seemed startled, then recovered his composure, his one eye slit and cunning. “Why, yes, Soot, that’s exactly right,” he finally said, words carefully chosen. “I’m . . . your . . . father. I was going to tell you . . . later, but you’ve guessed the truth, and I think Ahn-ya would want it this way.”

  Bile rose in Soot’s throat. So it was finally out in the open. The thing he had secretly feared the most. He was Jett’s son. Tears of humiliation filled his eyes. He thought of his friends by the creek and sighed with a new understanding. They’d probably known all along. Maybe they’d even felt sorry for him, but they’d never really trusted him. Soot smiled bitterly. Who would? He stared at the big cat with resignation. “Why are you telling me this now?”

  Jett stood, his jagged shadow crawling dark and oppressive over the black cat’s face. “Because there’s a change coming, Soot. Changes that will make them regret their arrogance and disrespect . . . something that will bring us greatness and Ahn-ya honor.” He leaned forward, his eye shining with emotion. “And you can be a part of it . . . my second in command, my most cherished confidant and advisor.” He paused for emphasis. “Myson.”

  Soot winced and tried to hide it with a shrug. “What change?”

  He wouldn’t let her down.

  T H I R T Y - O N E

  Buddy stood beneath a pecan tree sniffing the air. Mother had been generous. A mélange of scents, wild and musky, swirled through the orchard, and he lowered his head with satisfaction. Everyone was accounted for, from the pungent smell of the possum to the dusty tang of the bird.

  Shan Dara lay beside him, her sides heaving from the stress of the highway and the midmorning heat. Already thin, her flanks seemed alarmingly sunken, and he realized she hadn’t really eaten for two days. “I’m sorry I’ve had to push you so hard.” He licked the top of her creamy head. “I know you’re tired.”

  “No, it’s all right.” She looked up and yawned. “But I’m so sleepy. Couldn’t we take a break? It doesn’t feel like I’ve slept at all in the last few days.” The lids of her periwinkle eyes drooped with exhaustion. “Not a long rest, just a little one.”

  Buddy considered the request. It was important to find Pris, but he also realized he couldn’t push Shan Dara much farther. The mingled aroma of the animals was faint, which meant they had been here much earlier, but it was still strong enough to follow without much trouble. Carefully, he assessed the area. Sunlight flashed between heavy foliage,

  Swiveling his head, Jett looked directly into the black cat’s eyes. “I’m afraid I could only entrust that information to someone of whose loyalty I was certain. The kind of loyalty I had from your mother, for instance.” His ears moved forward. “Have I your loyalty, Soot? Will you take up your mother’s cause . . . and mine?”

  Soot heard Zekki and Pris laughing with the possum in the distance. They had probably eaten everything, hadn’t even looked for him or wondered where he was or if he was hungry. The scent of blood still hung in the air, and his stomach growled and churned. “But how can I help?”

  “Well, let’s see.” Jett’s massive body stiffened, and only the tip of his thick tail twitched. “Perhaps you have some information that might be useful . . . about Buddy, for instance?” He leaned forward, his voice harsh and strained. “He’s the enemy of the alley, you know, dangerous and not to be trusted!”

  “Buddy,” Soot repeated, rising to his feet and moving slowly toward the rocks.

  The sounds of his companions faded in the distance, and his mind was consumed with the great, glowing eye beckoning from the shadows.

  He remembered Ahn-ya. and swaying branches cast writhing patterns across the grass. Soon the grove would be washed in the mauve of evening, and it was imperative that they be at The Gathering by nightfall. That didn’t give them much time.

  The Siamese rustled beside him, and he looked with wonderment at her graceful body, stretched like alabaster in the shade. Her eyes were closed, and she had drifted into a deep sleep, her perfectly formed paws and tail twitching in fretful dreams.

  Buddy leaned down, gently nudging her with his head. “Shan Dara?”

  She stirred and looked up.

  “I’m going to scout around a little and get a better idea of how to get to the creek. I want you to rest, but not in the open like this.” A sprawling clump of lantana, golden blossoms just beginning to fade, caught his eye. “Why don’t you crawl under there and get some more sleep? I’ll be back soon.”

  With a groggy nod, she struggled to her feet. “Don’t be gone long, though,” she said, sliding under the prickly leaves. “You won’t, will you?”

  “No, just a quick look around is all. I don’t expect any trouble, but if something should happen, anything at all, scream as loudly as you can, and I’ll be right back. Okay?”

  A blue eye peered anxiously between the saffron petals. “Okay, but be careful.”

  “I will.” He turned to leave.

  “Buddy?”

  Her voice rang with emotion, and he stopped, vaguely alarmed.

  “I need—I mean, I want to talk to you about something before you go.” Pushing through the lantana, her face was serious. “Do you remember telling me that Indoors and Ferals weren’t allowed to be together? That it was The Law?”

  He nodded slowly.

  She licked her chops with uncertainty. “What if a cat is born an Indoor, and then finds she doesn’t want to be one anymore? What if . . .” she stared at the ground. “I mean, what if she wants to be a Feral, live in the Outs and be with . . . you know” she peeked at him shyly, “other Ferals?”

  The question hung between them, fragile as a bubble, heavy as stone.

  His mind spun. There was so much she didn’t know, so much he couldn’t tell he
r, and at the same time his heart thudded with a joy that was almost painful. Her brow knotted with concentration. She watched him attentively, delicate whiskers fanning forward and trembling.

  He started to speak, then stopped. Clearing his throat, he prayed for the right words and tried again. “Shan Dara, your people are probably looking for you right now. You’ve seen how things are in the Outs. Food and water are scarce, summers are hot, and they’re nothing compared to winters. Right now this could be considered an adventure, but later, once you’ve been here for a while, you might wish you’d never seen me. Danger is everywhere, and I can’t guarantee you’ll be safe or—”

  “I don’t want guarantees,” she interrupted quietly. “I just want you.”

  Squirrels quarreled in the treetops, their boisterous activity showering the cats with leaves and pecans. Oblivious of the war above them, the two cats stared at one another, barely breathing, their bodies tense.

  “Please understand that once you take the vow, there’s no turning back.” He swallowed and shifted. “Are you sure?”

  “Buddy,” she said gently. “I understand the difference between adventure and commitment. I’m more than sure.”

  t h e c a t m a s t e r

  He blinked, not knowing whether to yowl with happiness or continue to discourage her.

  “Believe me,” she said, as though reading his mind. “I know what I’m doing. I just don’t know how to do it.”

  “Well.” He took a deep breath. “The Law says you must renounce the Indoors and all that it was and is and claim the Outs as your home forever.”

  “Is that what you did?”

  The question caught him off guard, and he frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “You said you thought if you could be an Indoor, all your worries would go away. So”—she cocked her head— “when you lived with The Boy, did you renounce the Outs?”

  “Of course not!” he said vehemently. “I would never do that! I’m proud to be a Feral and would give my life to protect and serve my species.”

  “Then, don’t you see?” Her face shone with tenderness. “You didn’t abandon your own kind. Whatever your fears, whatever your doubts, you always intended to come back. This proves it.”

  The truth of her words engulfed him, and for the first time since the rescue, his life again had meaning. He blinked as though suddenly seeing light after years lived in darkness. The world was changed. Trees still towered, shadows played in sunlight, and the earth beneath his paws was cool and dry. But his future, no longer dim with uncertainty, shone before him, an oasis of clarity in periwinkle blue.

  “Are you all right?” the Siamese asked.

  Purrs of wonderment filled the air, and Buddy laughed with an ease he hadn’t felt in years. “Yes, I’m all right! I’m more all right than I’ve ever been in my life!” He grew serious, watching her face intently. “I love you, Shan Dara, and if you still want to be with me, it would be an honor to walk with you always.”

  “And I love you.” Coyly, she ducked her head. “And, of course, I still want to come with you.” Taking a long, deep breath, she stood. “I’m ready, and I understand the words I’m to say, but”—her face scrunched with confusion—“now, I don’t know who to say them to.”

  A familiar breeze ruffled their fur.

  “The Wind,” Buddy said. “She’s our Mother, Guardian of The Feral and protector of all animals. She hears and knows everything we do.”

  With a nod of understanding, Shan Dara stepped into the clearing, her exquisite head tilted upward, her fine coat aglow in the filtered sun. “I, Shan Dara, leave the Indoor life that was mine.” Her voice was clear and steady. “I say goodbye to the humans who loved me and go with gratitude.” Turning, she blinked at Buddy, her gaze bright with tears. “On this day, I claim the Outs as my home, to live as one among The Feral and to embrace them as family and ally all the days of my life.” She moved forward until her nose almost touched his. “Beneath the sacred Wind that guides us, I swear my intent.”

  A swirl of air, strangely cool for August, danced between them, blowing tiny yellow petals around their heads. In the distance, traffic churned and children played, but in the orchard there was only the quiet of contentment, blessed by The Wind.

  A monotonous tapping pushed its way into Zekki’s dreams. He and The Boy were running up an ebony highway, bright orange flames licking their heels. Then the landscape shifted, and The Boy was pushing him into a box, nailing it shut with a mallet that suddenly morphed into a handful of bright red geraniums. “You’ll be safe here,” The Boy panted, scarlet blooms dropping like blood through the narrowing crack. “We’ll all be safe in the box.”

  Zekki awoke with a start, his blue eyes blinking in the mellow afternoon light, while above, a woodpecker clung to the mesquite, pecking a knothole with ferocity. The darkness of the dream quickly faded into the warmth of Pris’s fragrant fur, and he snuggled closer to her sleeping form. Was it possible she was right here beside him, safe and unharmed? He sighed and stretched, enjoying the waning patch of sunlight and remembering the snake. Delicious. Soot had been right about the possum. A trickle of unease rolled through his mind, and he frowned. What about Soot? Raising his head, he looked around. The possum was curled up inside a rotting log, with only his tail showing, and the mockingbird dozed in an oak, head buried beneath her wing.

  Where was Soot?

  Leaping to his feet, Zekki sprinted toward the creek, his eyes wide with alarm. “Pris!” he called. “Have you seen Soot?”

  Pris sat up, her face puzzled. “Soot was with you.”

  Desperately, Zekki ran near the embankment. “Soot! Soot!”

  The possum opened one eye and yawned. “What’s going on?”

  “It’s Soot! Zekki can’t find Soot; have you seen him?”

  The white cat dashed back to the group, his pink nose flushed with exertion. “He was right behind me when we ran down to the water.”

  Fluttering to the ground, the mockingbird shook her head. “I thought you knew where he was . . . you don’t?” “No! I don’t remember seeing him after we found Pris!” Zekki’s voice rose with hysteria. “We’ve got to find him!”

  “Please don’t yell,” Pris begged, scurrying behind him. “Jett will hear you.”

  The possum crept from the log. “Wait a minute. I saw him.”

  They all listened, eyes desperate with hope.

  “He was standing by the water, and then he turned and headed up the cliff again. I thought he was . . .” The possum stopped, scratching his head. “I don’t know what I thought.” He brightened. “Hey, his leg isn’t healed; maybe he needed to rest or something. I’ll bet that’s it—he’s resting.” There was false cheer in his voice, and the animals looked at one another in guilty silence.

  “I’m going to find him,” Zekki said quietly.

  “But you can’t go alone.” Pris’s soft paw strained to stop him.

  “Stay together until I come back or Buddy shows up.” With a determined nod, Zekki galloped along the creek, his pads slipping on wet stones, unmindful of the lapping water sloshing toward the bank. “Soot!” his voice rang through the clearing. “Soot! Answer me! Soooot!”

  • • •

  “Shan Dara?”

  The Siamese stretched and groaned with pleasure. The orchard was shadowed and cool, and the sharp scent of lantana pierced through her sleep. Had someone been calling her name? Raising her head, she listened. A blue jay screeched in the distance, and she could hear the faraway swish of cars on the highway, but that was all. Buddy would be back soon, and it felt good to relax. She sighed, curling into a tighter ball.

  “Shan Dara!” The voice was insistent, slightly harsh.

  This was real! She rose to a crouch and peeked through the tangled stalks of foliage.

  A dark figure moved toward her, and startled, she screamed.

  T H I R T Y - T W O

  Buddy hurried across the golf course, its closely cropped grass like velvet ag
ainst his pads. The possum’s smell was so strong, he hardly needed to rely on anything else, but he could also detect Zekki and Soot’s scents as well.

  The lawn gave way to sand, then continued past paths and fountains, finally ending behind an imposing brick clubhouse. Buddy stopped, his eyes riveted on three dumpsters. Like hungry giants, they hunkered beneath a stand of junipers, their gaping mouths huge and open. Buddy fought for air, sickened by the wave of memories that seemed to engulf him.

  It was another summer day, much like this one, and he and his brother had wandered too far from the alley. At first they played on the golf course as always, roughhousing in the sand, hunting by the pond, and kicking and biting in mock battle. But suddenly the play turned rough, and Buddy found himself fighting for real, fighting for his life. “Hey!” he shouted, breaking loose from the larger cat’s viselike grip and catapulting onto the rim of the dumpster. Its heavy lid was propped up with a pole, and Buddy balanced on the hot metal, sure that his adversary wouldn’t follow. He was wrong. Jett leaped behind him, threatening to knock him into the dumpster’s gaping hole. “What’s the matter with you?” Buddy panted, teetering on the burning ridge, but the gray tabby advanced closer, his teeth exposed, his ears flat and close to his head.

  “You have everyone fooled.” Jett’s voice was pinched with hate. “They don’t know how you’ve tried to destroy me . . . how you’ve stolen everything that was mine.”

  “Huh?” Blinking with confusion, Buddy raised one paw in a futile warning.

  The gray tom crept forward, his eyes slit with fury. “Buddy’s so perfect,” he mimicked. “Buddy’s so smart.”

  “Wait . . .” Buddy said, inching away. “What are you doing?”

  Jett gave a humorless grin. “I’m taking my life back, brother.” With a howl, he leaped upward, powerful jaws opened wide.

  Buddy rose to meet the attack, nails extended. He meant only to defend himself, maybe scratch an ear or nose and then escape, but instead, his claw snagged Jett’s eye, sinking deeply into its liquid orb before he pulled it out, bloody and wet.