Blood Moon Cat Clan

by Bevill, C. L.

Rub a cat’s paw with butter, and it will never leave home. - Folk Remedy

  “Dying,” a voice said. Sage twitched in response. She wasn’t dying. She was dead tired, and every last bit of her hurt. There was a world of difference.

  “What the hell happened here?” another voice asked. That voice sounded like someone who was in charge. He was the one who made the decisions. The cat inside Sage recognized it. Emma had a word for it, as if they were all barely a step above animals themselves. That was an Alpha speaking.

  Her eyes fluttered open.

  “Girl’s awake,” a woman’s voice announced.

  Sage looked up into her face. Her blonde hair fell over her shoulders as she gazed down at Sage. She wasn’t much older than Sage, and her blue eyes seemed compassionate.

  Another face moved over her. This was a man Sage hadn’t met before. She didn’t have to match the face with the voice who had previously spoken. It was lighter than it had been before, and as Sage realized they had lanterns, she could see the brindle pattern on his hair. He looked as if he spent a lot of time in a special salon having his hair streaked. It took Sage a moment to comprehend it wasn’t a faked effect. His gold eyes glittered down at Sage, and she recognized those, too.

  He’s another tiger. Like the one fighting the snakes. Like the one who has my ring around his tooth.

  “Sage Ingram?” the man asked, and Sage nodded her head shortly. She felt every bruised and battered muscle in her body doing it.

  “I’m the L.A. Alpha,” he said, as if that was supposed to mean something to her. It meant what Sage had already figured out. He was another were, and he was the boss. From the brief moment Sage had to assess him, he didn’t seem like Martinez, but she wasn’t always the best judge of character.

  “What about him?” Sage asked as she tried to sit up. She saw another man standing over the blood-covered tiger nearby. He was more nondescript, with brown hair and brown eyes that placidly examined the tiger. But Sage could tell all three of them were like she was. They were weres and they were here because of her. Had Emma come through? Was this something in relationship to Martinez? She didn’t know anything, and she was afraid to reveal her ignorance. She came to her side and pushed herself up, brushing her lank hair out of her eyes.

  “That’s Per,” the Alpha said. “I’m Hawthorne. The other lady is Lena. And the other one is Yale. We’re here to help you. A favor to Emma Lucia and the Colorado Cat Clan.”

  Thank you, Emma.

  “Someone said something about dying,” Sage gritted out. She realized she was naked and the others wore loose, casual clothing. No one stared at her as if she was out of place, and she forgot about it for the moment.

  “Per’s dying,” Hawthorne said. He gave her a hand and helped her up. “Something smashed him up good.”

  “Some kind of snake,” Sage said as her eyes gravitated to the tiger. The were lay there, still and covered with crimson, and no one else looked at him. “Why doesn’t he change back?”

  “Too much trauma,” Hawthorne said with a shrug. “Blood loss. He’s a born were. It happens that way sometimes. He’ll die as a tiger.”

  Sage took a faltering step, and Hawthorne caught her elbow. She brushed him off, and Yale made a noise that sounded like disbelief. She fell to her knees beside the fallen tiger. “He saved my life, more than once,” she whispered.

  “He would,” Yale said.

  Hawthorne said, “Shut up, Yale. She doesn’t know.”

  Sage reached out to touch the tiger’s maw. He was breathing, but it was shallow, and his eyes were shut. She brushed over a bit of fur that wasn’t splattered with blood. “His name is Per?”

  “It’s short for Peter,” Hawthorne said. “Good were. An Elite Warrior. One of the best.”

  “It’s my fault,” Sage said. “I distracted him by accident, and the snake got the better of him.”

  There was a huge piece of tail nearby and Yale said, “Must have been a big sonuvabitch.”

  “Sage,” Hawthorne said gently, “you didn’t do it on purpose. Per would understand. It’s the way he is.”

  In all of her life Sage never had someone who sacrificed for her. Her mother had come close; she put herself in-between Sage’s father and Sage, distracting his temper when she could. Other times she let Sage bear the brunt of his rage, and Sage had been let down. There had been teachers who recognized Sage’s intelligence and ability, who tried to encourage her academic progress. But this?

  What’s this?

  “Emma said you…we…have recuperative powers,” Sage said tentatively. “Can’t he, doesn’t he, have a chance of recovery?” She stroked his fur, running her fingers along the stripes between his eyes.

  Behind her, she heard Hawthorne shift his body. Yale made another noise, this time obviously disheartened. “It’s going to take us hours to get out of this place, Sage,” Hawthorne said softly. “We’re going to carry him, but it’s going to be rough going for him. And that’s if we don’t run into something else which wants to rumble with us.” His words indicated it was already the case.

  “Isn’t there something I can do for him?” she asked even while the three other weres were silent. She already knew the answer.

  No. There’s nothing you can do.

  Sage felt the tears tip out of the edge of her eyes. They curved over her cheeks and dropped as she bent her head forward. One hit the tiger’s nose. Another hit his eyelid, and he suddenly opened his eyes.

  *

  Per woke up, and the scent filling his entire being was incredible. It was her scent, and she was close to him. Two drips of moisture made him open his eyes to see. And there she was.

  Sage.

  Kneeling over him with her face a picture of abject misery, Sage stared down at him, trails of tears running down her face. It was the tears that had prompted him. He would have moved, but he suddenly felt the crush of broken bones rubbing against his insides. The snake creature’s last colossal lunge had messed him up.

  None of that really mattered at the moment. He looked at Sage. It was nice to look at her. He’d tried to visualize what her appearance would be, not that it mattered, but it didn’t match anything out of his imagination.

  She kneeled over him. Her hand brushed across his fur, soothing and intent. Her hair was the color of sand, spilling over her shoulders, over her chest. Long hair, a little damp with sweat but lovely all the same. Her eyes were hazel. A little bit of green and a little bit of brown. It was such an interesting color; he could have stared at it for a lifetime.

  A few minutes more is all you’ve got, slick.

  It was an angular face, but with finely cut cheekbones that bracketed a perfect mouth. Per wanted to stare at her face. She was on the slender side and blackness ringed her eyes. She’d been traumatized into utter exhaustion. Her hand trembled as it touched his fur.

  Sage was as pretty as anything he’d ever seen, and a throaty sigh swelled through his chest, reminding him of all that had been done to him. He wanted to change back to his human form and tell her not to worry. She would be all right. Hawthorne would protect her.

  “His eyes are open,” she said. Her incredible eyes fixated on him, and he couldn’t have looked away even if he had wanted to do so.

  And she’s got one of those sexy voices, too. Wow. Wonder if she likes soccer? That would have been nice.

  Hawthorne knelt on Sage’s right side. “Per, we’re going to carry you out. It’s gonna hurt. And there are other things around that want a piece of us, so I can’t promise anything.”

  Well, that doesn’t sound good. Per would have smiled grimly if he had his human face. But he didn’t, so he chuffed lightly. He remembered something. He opened his mouth and he moved his head closer to Sage’s hand.

  The light touch hesitated. He bumped her fingers with his nose. He did it again, insistently.

  “You want something?” she asked.

  The tiger nodded. He angled his head so the lantern’s light would illuminate the
ring around his tooth.

  “You brought the ring back to me?” she asked, but it wasn’t exactly a question.

  Per nodded and cut the motion short because it hurt everywhere. Take it. Take it back.

  More tears slid down her cheeks. Her index finger and thumb touched the ring and slipped it over the top of the canine. Per relaxed as she put it on the ring finger of her right hand.

  “Thank you,” she whispered. He knew she wasn’t talking about just the ring.

  Chuffing again, Per put his head down. Everything else hurt too much to do anything else. Fucked up by a giant frickin’ snake in Under. Hope Killian drinks to my heroism and to my…my what?

  “Time to pick you up, Per,” Hawthorne said. “Yale and I are going to…what’s that?”

  Hawthorne looked up. Per’s eyes flickered upward. It didn’t really matter. He was dying and he wasn’t able to protect Sage anymore. Hawthorne would see her safely out of Under. He’d make sure she made it back to Colorado. He’d probably even take care of Martinez if the were made the mistake of staying in the L.A. Alpha’s territory.

  Per blinked. It was a huge cloud of glittering, glowing bugs descending onto the weres.

  Look, Under has fireflies. They probably eat shifters for breakfast.

  Yale said nervously, “I’d rather take on giant snakes than bugs.”

  “Pussy,” Lena said.

  “Well yeah.”

  “They won’t hurt you,” Sage said. Her hand smoothed over Per’s maw again. He surely liked that touch. It made him feel good, good in a way he’d never felt before. Funny, he hadn’t realized it was something he should have missed. It was because he hadn’t had it before.

  “How do you know?” Hawthorne snapped.

  “I helped one of them out before,” Sage said simply.

  The green assemblage dropped in like a glowing mist over a craggy bay. Per saw the individuals flitting over his face and sighed. They looked like little emerald-colored girls with wings.

  Now I know I’m dying. Strangely, Per felt like laughing.

  Hawthorne, Yale, and Lena backed away from the cloud. Sage continued to stroke his fur and remained calmly at his side.

  “What are they doing?” Hawthorne asked.

  “They don’t smell like dark magick,” Lena said. “More like old earth magicks.”

  One of the little creatures flew at Sage’s face, and Per made himself relax. It didn’t seem like a threat.

  Sage focused on the hovering green creature and said positively, “It’s got a sewing needle stuck through its belt.” She sighed. “Nice to see your wing is fixed so quickly.” She looked at Per and said, “Somehow this one got injured in the rush from the snakes. They left it behind.”

  “And you saved it,” Hawthorne said incredulously, as if such a thing would have never occurred to the typical were.

  Sage took her other hand and held it palm up for the diminutive thing. It landed on the meaty part of her thumb, making humming noises that sounded like criticism.

  “We don’t have time for this,” Hawthorne said. He took a step forward, and a squadron of the creatures angrily buzzed his face. He snarled even as he stepped back.

  Per would have chuckled at the outraged expression of the Alpha. Hawthorne certainly wasn’t used to being thwarted by tiny flying green girls.

  Per watched Sage as she watched the little creature in her palm. Her other hand still stroked his fur, an unconscious movement of comfort. Sage trusted the petite insect things. He could feel them droning past his fur. His eyes flicked away to see a horde of the tiny animals circling his side, where most of the damage was located. The internal bleeding was a fierce, growing knot of pain.

  Hawthorne isn’t carrying me anywhere. Damn.

  His eyes came back to Sage. The tears were still trickling down her face, and the green creature in her palm studied her carefully. After a long moment, the one in Sage’s palm emitted a loud noise. It sounded like a call to arms.

  Per saw Sage’s eyes grow wide. He heard Hawthorne curse. There was an increased whine of noise as if a million wings had gone into flight at the same time. The emerald radiance increased exponentially.

  For a long, long instant in time, Per only felt the pain of his dying form. Then it increased a thousand fold. He felt the sharp agony of something unknown reaching into his broken body and twisting sharply. He heard a forlorn moan and didn’t immediately realize it was himself making it.

  And I thought the other part hurt, he considered and it was the last thing he remembered.

  ~ ~ ~

  Chapter Eleven

  No one likes to bell the cat. - German Proverb

  Sage heard Hawthorne cursing. There was a scuffle behind her she ignored. She didn’t know how she knew it, but the pixies were helping Per. The injured pixie with the needle for a sword had been restored to normality. Its tiny wing was whole and unhurt. It looked at Sage as if it recognized her, even in her human form. Whatever they’d done for it, they might be able to do for Per.

  The tiny creatures circled Per, cumulating their motion in a systematic pattern. The glow increased as well. Sage took the hand she had been using to stroke Per’s fur and shielded her eyes. The pixie in her palm kicked her thumb to get her attention.

  Sage brought the hand with the pixie closer to her eyes while moving the other hand to block the abrupt emerald glare. “What is it?” she whispered to the pixie.

  Oversized eyes stared into Sage’s. Sage didn’t know what the message was, but her answer would have been the same either way.

  The pixie launched itself into the air and another mass separated from the one over Per. It began to circle Sage, and she felt something very odd. It was as if something was stealing away her strength, draining it away as if she was very sleepy. She heard Hawthorne say something else sharply and Lena say, “I don’t think they’ll hurt her.”

  Sage leaned over and dimly perceived she had fallen to her side. Her eyes were too tired to keep open, and the last thing she saw was Per’s perfectly formed tiger face. What does he look like as a human? Like Hawthorne, all brindle stripes for hair and gold eyes? Too bad I won’t find out.

  *

  In the dream Sage was sitting on a high rock looking down at two masses of swirling pixies. The three weres were frozen in a tableau to one side, uncertain whether they should fight the pixies’ actions or allow them. Hawthorne’s face was crinkled in an expression of sincerest rage. He didn’t like any of it, and he was ready to fight, but the other weres held him back. Lena said hoarsely, “Per is dying, what does it matter?”

  “The girl isn’t dying,” Hawthorne snarled. “She might not find another mate, but she doesn’t have to die with him.”

  Mate? What does that mean? Emma said something about mating, but she kind of glossed over it as if wasn’t important. Kind of like getting married.

  “Oh, please,” said a voice next to her. Sage turned and saw a full-sized pixie sitting on the rock next to her. She would have been startled, but it was a dream. Furthermore, the words weren’t in English nor any other language she could have affixed a name.

  “Girl-who-is-also-a-cat has to be unconscious for Those-who-fly to speak with her,” the pixie said. One green hand waved at the events before them. Sage noticed the belt made out of a strand of thread and the huge silver sewing needle stuck through it. Sage had never seen such a large sewing needle.

  “Girl-who-is-also-a-cat has a certain…something that makes her susceptible to Those-who-fly.” The pixie looked at Sage and shrugged as if not particularly understanding itself.

  Sage tried to wrap her mind around that. Evidently, she was Girl-who-is-also-a-cat; therefore, the pixies were Those-who-fly. She looked closer at the happenings before them. She and the pixie were sitting on a rocky ledge high above the scene below, so they had an excellent view of everything. The two masses of swirling pixies swarmed over the tiger and Sage herself.

  Seriously, I’m lying down there with a group of pixi
es flying all around me. But I’m also up here watching. Of course, I’m dreaming or dying, or maybe both.

  “Okay,” she said, and she jumped a little when she heard her vastly different sing-song voice.

  It dawned on her that all the colors she could see were so dramatically different than what she normally saw. It was even much different than what the cougar could see. The cavern was awash with tremendous colors that humans never saw. The red of the snake’s blood was so vibrantly crimson it nearly pulsed with intensity. The tiger’s orange and black stripes were dazzling and luminescent. Lena’s blue eyes glowed with blue fire. The were’s eyes could have landed a jumbo jet.

  Disconcerted, Sage looked at herself and saw her skin was vivid green and her hands were clubbed. There weren’t any fingers. She turned them over to see the sticky pads on the other sides. She glanced over her shoulder and saw iridescent wings lightly fluttering. Well damn. I’m a pixie.

  “The short story,” the pixie said impatiently. “Girl-who-is-also-a-cat helped Those-who-fly. Those-who-fly will help Girl-who-is-also-a-cat.”

  “Are you…healing Per? I mean the tiger.”

  “Big-grumpy-tiger-who-is-also-a-man needs magicks for his recovery. Those-who-fly are borrowing some of Girl-who-is-also-a-cat’s energies. With a little rest both will be fine in a few days.” The pixie shook its head. “Perhaps Girl-who-is-also-a-cat should stay out of Under.”

  “Thank you,” Sage said simply because she couldn’t say anything else. “Am I a pixie now?”

  “A pixie? Those-who-fly have seen those movies. One of the onibaba, that is sort of a demon woman, has a FiOS bundle, and she lets us watch sometimes. Silly humans above make all kinds of things up. Tinker Bell is not a pixie. The author, Barrie, said Little-yellow-haired-pom-pom-flying-thing was a common fairy. Not like Those-who-fly at all.” The pixie made a tsking-judgmental noise. “Those-who-fly have only…borrowed Girl-who-is-also-a-cat’s consciousness so that she can understand what is happening.” It paused and waved her clubbed hand at the scene before them. “Time for Girl-who-is-also-a-cat to go back.”