Elizabeth Stewart - Stray Thoughts (Ellora's Cave)

by Nicole

  “A…cat?” Sheridan could barely get the word out.

  “That’s what he said. A big, black cat. Ran right out in front of him.”

  The room suddenly listed to port and her head got light. She put out a hand to catch herself, and for a moment she had the distinct feeling she was going to faint.

  “Sher, are you all right?” There was sincere concern in Diana’s voice and face.

  Nodding, she got hold of herself and took a deep breath. “Yes. Thanks. I just felt a little dizzy, that’s all. Probably the cold medicine.”

  “Are you sure? You look awful. Maybe you ought to sit down. Even go home.”

  “No,” Sheridan assured her, smiling thinly. “I’m fine. I just need a cup of coffee, that’s all.”

  Patting her hand, Diana smiled that idiot smile of hers. “Well, take it easy. Rich is taking over Jarvis’ projects until we can get a temporary replacement in. He’s going to contact everyone and see about extensions. Things should actually quiet down for a few days.”

  Back at her desk, Sheridan stared at the blank screen, her mind racing. A cat. A big, black cat.

  It wasn’t possible. It had to be a coincidence.

  Another coincidence.

  Since Nick had come into her life, it seemed that coincidences had become the norm. It also seemed that whatever she asked for, including a near-fatal accident for the Prince, she got. The thought sent another cold shiver through her.

  Her mother’s voice echoed from her childhood: “Be careful what you wish for. You just might get it.”

  *

  Sheridan had never paid any attention to the little place, tucked between a small shoe repair shop and a second-hand record store, between a delicatessen and the office, about three blocks away. Now, standing in front of the ornately painted front window, she was torn between going in and simply walking on.

  BELL, BOOK AND CANDLE

  Everything Occult

  Perhaps this was another coincidence. She’d walked down this street, past these stores dozens of times and never noticed this one. Why had she “stumbled” onto it now, seemingly by accident?

  Timidly, she moved to the door and went in.

  If someone had asked her a few days earlier, Sheridan would have said that a store dealing in “the occult” would have been tiny and cave-like, tended by a decrepit, shriveled hunchback. “Bell, Book and Candle,” on the other hand, was large and brightly lit, crammed with bookshelves and posters and candles and crystals in all shapes and colors. And the only person she saw working was a twenty-something, nerdy looking young man in thick black glasses who was apparently trying, with limited success, to grow a mustache. At the sound of the door opening, he looked up and smiled.

  “Hi,” he greeted her warmly, “what can I do for you?”

  Suddenly, her mind went blank. The young man, identified by his pocket name badge as “Ed,” continued to look at her expectantly.

  “I…I’m a writer,” she stammered finally. “I’m doing a story. Kind of…fantasy, I guess. I’ve never done anything like this before and I…I need some information. For research.”

  “Sure,” he chirped. “Whatcha need?”

  “Are there…creatures that can change from…animals…to…people?”

  If the question surprised him, he didn’t show it. “What category?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “What category of creature are you interested in?” The look on his face told her that she obviously didn’t know even the simplest thing about the subject.

  “I’m…I’m sorry. I didn’t know there were categories. As I said, I’ve never done this before.” She tried to smile. “I’m afraid I’m a rank amateur in this area.”

  The kid relaxed a little and that annoying smile widened. “Oh that’s all right. We get all kinds in here.” He frowned. “I assume you’re talking about “earth” beings and not aliens. Aliens are a whole ‘nother subject.”

  Right.

  “Yes, I guess so.”

  “Well then, in that case, there are three major kinds of beings that change from humans to animals and back. The first is shape shifters. They’re really neat. They can change into any kind of shape they want, whenever they want. You know, like ‘Ricky the Slasher’ in the ‘Mall Crawler’ movies. Especially ‘Mall Crawler Three - Red Christmas’.” He looked at her like she should know what he was talking about.

  Not getting anything but a blank look, he forged on. “As far as animals are concerned, wolves are the usual choice, but, like I said, they can do whatever they want. Then there are ‘familiars,’ companions to witches. That’s where you get your traditional Halloween black cat. Sometimes they change into people, but usually they stick strictly to the animal shape. Finally, there are witches themselves. They usually change into animals when they’re hiding or when they want something.”

  “Want something?”

  “Oh yeah,” he grinned. “Witches are very powerful but sometimes they like to do things on the sly. I mean, who’s gonna pay any attention to a dog or a cat or a bird? Also makes a hell of an escape route.”

  That lightheaded feeling engulfed her again, and it was all she could do to remain upright. But there were things she had to find out.

  “What about warlocks?”

  “You mean male witches?” he replied.

  “Isn’t that what a warlock is?” Sheridan was becoming more and more confused.

  “That’s what most people think,” he continued seriously, “but it’s not true. Actually, the word ‘warlock’ means ‘oath breaker.’ It comes from the witch hunts…the Burning Times as they’re known. It meant anyone who was a traitor to the Craft. A male witch is just that…a male witch.”

  “Oh. Well then…can…can witches…grant wishes?”

  “Piece a cake.”

  “Even read minds?”

  “Oh sure.”

  “Can,” she could feel her throat closing up, “can…witches make…make love with…humans?

  The kid lit up like a pinball machine gone “tilt.”

  “Are you kidding? Ever read about Zeus and Lido?” He laughed and turned slightly. “If you’re interested, we have this book called ‘A Super Natural High: The Witch’s Kama Sutra.’ Got pictures and everything. It’s right over…”

  Chapter Seven

  The hunt.

  There was nothing like it, he thought as he moved silently, deliberately, through the shadows, every muscle taut, every sense keen and alert. It pumped adrenaline into an otherwise dreary life, tapping into something primeval and urgent. Something very much like life and death.

  Prey.

  He knew the best places to seek it out, even in this broad, sprawling city. Even in the light of day when the grazers were out, heedlessly going about their placid, herd lives, believing that their very numbers gave them safety.

  But a cunning hunter knew all the tricks. Could follow a promising trail, sometimes for days, watching, waiting to find the weak, the straggler, the unwary. Pick his own moment to strike, leaping out and going for the jugular. Watching the prey struggle, hearing it bleat pathetically, the terror in its dull little eyes as the reality sinks in, sharp and inevitable as fangs.

  A tremor of excitement rippled through his lean body, the familiar excitement beginning to bubble up like magma waiting to erupt, driving him on like something ravenous inside. Something that couldn’t, wouldn’t be denied even if he’d wanted to. And he most certainly didn’t want to.

  Sometimes it seemed to him that stalking and the game of strategy was more thrilling, more satisfying than the taking itself. In a little while, the urge would be filled, the need sated.

  All around him, the little apartment buildings and houses converted to flats, rose up. A working class place, neat and tidy but past its prime. Narrow, residential streets, deserted by jobs and cold in the mid-morning quiet. Alleys and fire escapes giving secret, hidden access to carelessly unlatched windows and unlocked doors. Prime hunting ground that had alr
eady yielded prey and that was still fat with ripe bounty.

  As he prowled his hunting grounds, the need in his belly grew, heightening the urgency with every step, spreading the fire to his blood. He knew what to look for. The seemingly harmless, insignificant signs that others, less crafty, might overlook. The telltale signs of laziness, carelessness or stupidity that would bring him what he sought.

  Patience. He must have a little more patience. Be careful. Watchful. In his jungle, it was only a momentary lapse, a heartbeat and the predator became the prey.

  A little while longer…

  *

  Sheridan had a vague recollection of darting…running…out of the shop, desperate to be away from the grinning young man and his shape shifters and witches and Halloween cats. She didn’t even remember how she got back to the office or what happened that afternoon.

  It seemed that in a wink of time, she was trudging slowly up her front stairs, three plastic grocery bags hanging heavily from her arms. Because of the Prince’s accident, all projects had been suspended until a replacement engineer could be brought in. Rick Yung, the Senior Engineer under Duncan, had enough difficulty managing his own projects; being in charge of the division was out of the question. So things had ground almost to a halt and she’d left the office on time for a change.

  In the apartment, she set the bags down and went to the window. Dusk was just settling, the first lights in the surrounding buildings coming on. Nick wasn’t waiting for her. Scanning the fire escape and the alley and not seeing him, she stepped away and went into the bedroom.

  Part of her was actually relieved. With everything that had happened, she wasn’t at all sure she wanted to spend any more time with this mysterious stranger she’d opened both her home and heart to. But part of her, perhaps only because he’d become such a part of her life, was definitely saddened that he wasn’t in his usual place to greet her.

  Six o’clock came and went. Then seven and still no Nick. Sheridan could feel the bitter cold through the closed glass of the windowpane as she peered into the darkness. He should have been home by now, she thought, growing more anxious with every passing minute.

  Going into that occult shop had been a mistake. This whole business about humans changing into animals and back was just so much hooey. Having abandoned fairy tales, religion and science fiction long ago, it was ridiculous for her to have even listened to such idiotic notions. Ed had simply been parroting back a lot of superstitious nonsense.

  Why was she worried? She was an intelligent, educated, reasonably sophisticated woman. Nick was a stray cat. Hell, in the strictest sense of the word, he didn’t even really belong to her. When spring came and the weather was warmer, he might decide to resume his street life fulltime. Right now, as she stood there fretting, he might be enjoying some other good-hearted soul’s generosity. A lonely, childless couple with a huge, warm fire and goose liver pate.

  Just before eight o’clock, she heard a familiar scratching at the window. Jumping off the sofa like a jack-in-the-box, Sheridan almost broke an ankle in her haste.

  “Well it’s about damn time,” she growled at him. “Where the hell have you been?”

  Instead of jumping in as soon as the window was open, he seemed to hesitate a moment on the sill, glancing first at her and then uncertainly down to the floor, about two feet away. Gingerly, he finally made the leap, landing crookedly on his front paws and immediately picking up his right rear leg.

  Sheridan’s heart clutched as she bent down and scooped him into her arms. On the sofa, she eased him into her lap and quickly began to check him out. Carefully, as gently as she could, she ran her fingers along his body, feeling it tremble under her hand. As soon as she touched his right rear leg, he pulled it away and made a move to get away.

  “Okay, Nick,” she soothed, holding onto him a bit tighter. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. But you have to let me see what’s wrong.” He looked up at her, pain, fear and his natural wildness in their dark depths.

  “You have to trust me, Nick,” she whispered softly into his face. At the same time, she released her grip on him, only stroking his head with her fingers.

  For another moment she felt the tension, the anxiety in his body. As she watched, she suddenly saw his eyes clear, his body relax. He’d decided to trust her.

  “I’ll try not to hurt you, Sweetheart.”

  Blinking, she stopped, her hand poised over his leg, amazed that the term of endearment had slipped out so effortlessly. Or how comfortably. Instinctively, she knew in that moment that they’d passed an important milestone and was inexplicably glad. Looking into his eyes, she had the feeling Nick was too.

  At first, she didn’t see anything wrong. No blood, skin scraped bare of fur, no obvious wounds. But as soon as she touched his leg again, he flinched. She didn’t feel or see any swelling but he was definitely in pain.

  “Well,” she pronounced when she’d finished her cursory exam, “my diagnosis is that you’ve done something to your leg. Tomorrow, you go to the vet. In the meantime, you make yourself comfortable on the sofa and I’ll get you some dinner. Considering your delicate condition, I think we can bend the rule about not eating in the living room this once.

  “I’m glad you’re home,” she told him sincerely, smiling and scratching his ears. “I missed you. And don’t get a swelled head, but I was worried about you.”

  In a few minutes, she presented Nick with his portion of the sea bass she’d bought for dinner and some water. As he was finishing up, she brought a small bowl of vanilla ice cream and set it down for him. In apparent thanks, he stretched and rubbed his head against her palm.

  “You’re welcome.”

  *

  “Ms. Phillips. I’m Dr. Montgomery.” He glanced down at the manila folder in his hand. “And this, I would guess, is Nick.” With a broad smile, he held out the long, slender fingers of his right hand to the cat’s nose, moving with confidence but not so as to scare him.

  Nick, unhappy about being there at all, sniffed the unfamiliar hand suspiciously.

  “You’re a big boy,” he commented to Nick.

  Looking at Sheridan with clear, kindly brown eyes, he asked, “What seems to be the matter today?”

  “I’m not really sure,” she admitted. “When he went out yesterday morning, he seemed fine but when he came home last night, he was favoring his right leg. Couldn’t put any weight on it and when I touched it, he practically hit the ceiling in pain. I didn’t see anything and it didn’t seem to affect his appetite last night or this morning. And he was in good enough shape to give me quite an argument when I went to put him in the carrier this morning to bring him here. I borrowed it from a neighbor and I think he smelled Mrs. McCauley’s cat, Emma, on it.”

  The doctor laughed heartily. “Well, let’s see what we can see.” Gently, he reached out and began stroking Nick head, seemingly in the most casual manner, but actually feeling along his skull and jaws, down his chest and front legs, moving carefully back toward his right leg. When he reached it, he’d moved one hand to Nick’s body, pinning it to the exam table and gingerly putting the other hand on his hip. Immediately, Nick tried to struggle free and get off the table.

  “Okay, boy,” the doctor told him quietly, “I know this isn’t the fun part. I’ll try to get this over with as quickly and painlessly as possible.” His fingers ran expertly over Nick’s leg from claws to body.

  “You did fine,” he chuckled, releasing Nick and glancing at her. “You, too.” She felt a little silly as she reached out to comfort her cat.

  “I’ll want an x-ray just to rule out a hairline fracture,” he said professionally, “but it looks to me like a fairly severe soft tissue injury just above the knee. A sprain or a deep muscle bruise, maybe. Nothing serious but I’m sure it’s painful and he’ll have to stay off it until it heals.”

  “A sprain?” she repeated, dumbfounded. “But how?”

  “I take it Nick here isn’t a housecat?”

&n
bsp; “Not really,” she agreed. “He’s a stray who sort of ‘adopted’ me a few weeks ago. Pretty much comes and goes as he pleases.”

  “Well, it’s pretty hard to keep a tomcat at home. This could be anything. Misjudged a leap, had a fall and landed wrong. Happens sometimes, even to cats. Might have gotten his leg caught somewhere and hurt it getting loose. Heck, he could even have been sideswiped by a bike or a car.”

  The doctor scribbled something in the chart. “If you’ll wait a minute, my nurse will be in to get that x-ray. Soon as it’s developed, I’ll look at it and be back with the results.”

  *

  “Bummer. He gonna be all right?”

  “Oh yeah. Vet gave me some painkillers for him. Not enough to put him out completely, but he’s definitely floating. Doesn’t even bitch about staying inside. But after practically ripping your hand open that night, I wouldn’t think you’d care,” Sheridan chuckled.

  Brian grinned. “Ah, it wasn’t that bad. Male cats are real territorial. Probably didn’t like another man being around his woman.”

  Inexplicably, she felt a blush rising. To hide it, she turned back to laundry basket and resumed sorting her dirty clothes into the machines. “So, what are you up to these days?” She was suddenly anxious to change the subject.

  The young man shrugged the shoulders of his tattered white tee shirt. “Not much. My dad says I should go to college. I got a cousin who’s a computer tech. Me? I hate that kinda crap.”

  “Well, you’re young yet. You have lots of time to decide what you want to do with your life.”

  Bending down, Brian picked a pair of her panties off the laundry room floor. “You dropped these.” He held them out to her, the small piece of satin between his index and middle fingers.

  “Thanks,” she answered quickly, grabbing them and dropping them in the washing machine. “And thanks for helping me haul this stuff down here.”