What God and Cats Know

by Sheryl Nantus

  I huffed when we slid to another stop, the back doors opening to let off another gaggle of chittering kids. There was something reassuring about the streetcar’s rocking motion and it helped tune down my overwhelmed senses. It wasn’t too often that I was at a murder scene and never that of a fellow Felis.

  We rolled into Parkdale with a dip beneath a train trestle. In the darkened stairwell a man rocked back and forth, clutching his arms. Probably a heroin addict. It was a popular spot to hide in the shadows, shoot up then go visiting the gods. My favourite reporter was nowhere in sight when I reached up to tap the cord to ring the bell signalling my stop.

  The 24/7 convenience store had a neon sign announcing FRE H COF E and DO UTS, both of which I sure didn’t need. Not to mention the trio of teenagers hanging out in front of the store smoking cigarettes someone else must have bought for them while glaring at me through long greasy locks screaming for a shampoo and a buzz cut. I glared back and they shuffled closer to the neon sign.

  The walk down the street to the house was quiet and longer than it needed to be, with my thoughts racing all over the place. It wouldn’t be difficult to get hold of the Board and ask for information on all the members who were tall enough to meet my requirements, but it was going to be a bitch to quietly try to find out who killed Janey. Not to mention getting into more challenges than I could imagine. You can’t just suggest that someone’s involved in the killing of another Felis and not be prepared to back that up with either hard evidence or your fists.

  Unfortunately, part of life in the Pride included challenges. I was pretty sure that was how Jess had received that nasty scar, probably some young kit figuring he’d move up in the ranks by taking on the Old Lady. No one actually died in the challenges, but there were some injuries that could last a lifetime. I wouldn’t be able to withstand a single challenge. Yes, equality rules.

  I walked up the small sidewalk to the house, noting that the rose bushes were blooming, yet again. Unlike some of my brethren I had little to no skills when it came to gardening, but somehow these red beauties had kept on going.

  The lock was firm under my fingers, sliding back with a resounding thud. It refastened with a swift twist of my wrist, securing the front door again.

  “Nice place. Although those roses could use a little pruning...”

  I spun around, whipping the stun gun out of my pocket. It was one of those cheap jobbies that had to actually touch the person to affect them but it was small and portable and just slightly illegal.

  “Whoa!” Bran lifted his hands from where he had been standing just inside the doorway. An impish grin spread across his face. “Plenty of space here. I’m not crowding you at all.”

  “How the hell did you get in here?” I glanced back at the deadbolt. “You broke into my house?”

  He let his hands drop down to his sides. “No, not technically. See, I didn’t actually ‘break’ anything.” His hands shot back up as I took a step forward, the two metal terminals flashing and sparking. “By the way, that white cat of yours? Not much of an attack cat. Let me in and showed me where you kept her treats. She’s pretty easy to bribe, that one.” As if on cue Jazz appeared, winding her away around his legs with a loud, gravelly purr.

  “Traitor.” I growled to the cat. “We’ll talk later.” I returned my attention to the grinning reporter. “How did you get here ahead of me?” I kept my finger on the trigger.

  “Taxi, woman. I took a taxi. Cost a few bucks, but well worth it to get the extra few minutes to pick that lock.” He waved a single finger toward the door. “I mean it’s good but not that good.”

  “How did you know where I lived?” I didn’t drop my arm a fraction, keeping the weapon firmly aimed at his chest. He knew it wasn’t going to kill him but it’d be a heck of an ending to the night.

  “Duh, you’re in the phone book.” Without prompting Bran dropped his hands, tucking them into his pockets. “Now if you’re finished with the temper tantrum, I thought we’d get some rest before striking out on your next part of the investigation.”

  “What?” The stun gun didn’t move. “What are you talking about?”

  Bran let out an exasperated sigh. “Look, I’m no rookie to this. You agree to let me in on the story, you dump me, you ‘forget’ to tell me what’s going on.” Shucking his jacket, he hung it on the ancient hat rack behind him in the corner, ignoring the weapon. “You don’t trust me, I don’t trust you but there’s a story here and I’m not going away until I get the scoop on this woman’s killer.” He rubbed his hands together and beamed his best smile at me. “So, how about I make us up some decaf to go to bed with and we’ll continue this in the morning?” One edge of his mouth turned up in a sly smile.

  A deep throbbing started behind my left eye. “We are not ‘going to bed.’ I am going to go upstairs to my bedroom and you are welcome to suffer down here.” Turning off the stun gun, I put it back inside my jacket. “I don’t have decaf, anyway. You’re welcome to some of the herbal teas, for what that’s worth.”

  “Excellent.” Striding off through the sitting area, he threw open my office door, continuing to the small kitchen in the back. “Peppermint would be great right about now, I think, unless you have some ginger spice, which is excellent for digestion...”

  I pulled off my jacket, closing my eyes and trying to will the headache away. “Yes, yes it would be.” Hanging it on the hook next to his duster, I leant on the wall with one hand, wondering if I could hide a body as well as I did the rabbit’s foot. With a nasty glare at Jazz, I made my way upstairs before Bran started asking about whether I had organic honey or not.

  The smell of peppermint drifted up the stairs while I changed out of my work attire into a baggy sweatshirt and sweat pants, dark grey and filled with more holes than a piece of Swiss cheese, but not to the point of showing enough skin to be working the corner with the other girls. Putting the small bag on my desk, I booted up the computer and reached for the phone. Thankfully the files Jess had given me were up here, safe and sound, and away from a prying reporter’s eyes.

  “Yeah?” Jess answered on the first ring.

  “I have something for you. For the Board.” I drew a deep breath. “Janey was killed by one of the Felis. One of the Family. I have a hair sample here that’s definitely not hers.”

  Jess’s gruff voice rolled through the air. “And the cops don’t know?”

  “Even if they found the hair it’s likely it’d be identified as feline and they’d drop it as a lead. No one’s looking for cat people. Well, no one who’s sane.” I picked up the bag and stared at the slender thread. “I also know it’s a male, a tall male. His scent was strong.” Pursing my lips, I continued. “And it wasn’t Dennis. I didn’t recognise the scent.”

  “Ah.” There was no surprise in the voice, no disappointment. “And Mike?”

  “Mike says that she wasn’t having an affair.” I left out the part where he almost Changed in public and challenged me. “From what I can gather she was too busy to have one. She was a good wife who got lured into the alleyway by one of the Family for some reason and was killed.”

  “Good work.” The hairs on the back of my neck stood at the compliment. She didn’t do compliments too often. “Keep us updated, please.”

  “Is there any way you can get me a list of the men that are close to six feet tall?” I lifted my hand, forgetting for a second we weren’t hooked up to a videophone.

  The chuckle made my headache worse. “Sorry, that’s something we don’t really document. You know we keep info but we can’t just hand that out to someone like you.”

  “Even when it’ll help cut down on the list of suspects?” I continued without giving her a chance to respond. “You’re not making this easy.”

  “Never said it was going to be.” Her voice drizzled out across the line like slow honey. “Besides, that’s not going to give you much of a lead. Heck, the guy could have been wearing lifts.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Thanks for
the help. I’ll be in touch when I have more.”

  Hanging up the phone, I put both hands to my temples, rubbing them as hard as I could. The headache was threatening to break into a major migraine and while I had meds to take the edge off, I wasn’t about to dull my senses even for a few hours. I couldn’t risk it, not if I was going to have to go up against one of my own. Or one of them, depending on how you viewed it.

  The aroma of peppermint grew stronger, the richness helping alleviate the pain just a bit. Dropping my hands to my desk, I took deep breaths, closing my eyes and focusing on the pleasant odour.

  The pressure returned to my temples, a light circular rubbing, almost tickling. Except my hands were still on the desk and I wasn’t blessed with extra digits.

  My eyes shot open to focus on the steaming hot mug of peppermint tea sitting in front of my and the man standing behind me, his hands on me.

  “Bad headache, eh? I can believe it.” Bran leaned forward, peering at the display on my office phone. “So, who you been calling?”

  I resisted the temptation to fling him over my shoulder and smash the desk with his lifeless body. Besides, his touch was just so good on my skin right now. “That is my client and none of your business. That whole confidentiality thing? You know?”

  “Oh, sure—throw that up in my face.” The pressure ebbed, shifting down to my neck and shoulders where he pressed down, rotating his fingers around on the fabric. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

  I drew in a deep breath, tasting the peppermint on my tongue. Mixed in there was the heady scent of Bran, leaning in and whispering the words in my ear. This was not good. More so because I had subconsciously ignored him coming up the stairs, marking him as friend instead of foe.

  “Thanks for the tea.” I stumbled over the words, pushing the pain back into the dark recesses of my mind. “However, I think it’d be best for us both if you went downstairs and took up residence on my couch. Sorry there’s no television down there. There’s a radio if you’re desperate for information.” A shiver ran up my spine, tickling the nerves. It’d been a long time since I’d had some nice touching.

  “No problem. I’ve got one of those newfangled contraption cellphones that gets everything. The internet, MP3 player, the whole shebang.” He stopped kneading my shoulders, now just resting his hands on the grey shirt. “You know, we’d work better together if you didn’t see me as the enemy.”

  If he only knew how much he had already worked his way into my system.

  “Until the end of this case you are, by definition, the enemy.” I exhaled the words. “And while I know the reason you’re coming along for the ride is in hopes of snagging a sweet story, I do hope you’ll take the family’s wishes into consideration when writing it. Janey Winters was a good woman with a husband and two children who don’t need to have her image besmirched anymore than it already has been.”

  “Point noted and taken.” The heat left my shoulders, sending another shiver across my skin. “I’ll see you in the morning, then.” The stairs creaked with his departure. “Just don’t try to sneak out on me. I don’t really sleep, I catnap these days.”

  I couldn’t help smiling. Wrapping my hands around the mug, I took a deep breath, inhaling the peppermint. My eyes flashed for a second to the Winters file, safe on my desk and away from Bran’s prying eyes. Last thing I needed was some outsider trying to make sense of a Pride file.

  “This case is going to kill me,” I murmured to the empty room. Picking up the mug, I shuffled to the double bed, tossing back the thick, light-blue comforter and dumping the two pillow shams onto the floor. The mug went onto the nightstand as I pulled the sheet back. Reaching for the remote, I turned on the television, setting the volume low and finding a local news channel.

  While I sipped the tea I pondered my next move. There was no way I could investigate every man who met the height requirement. Still, I could petition the Board to have a Grand Meeting. That would bring everyone together, but it was only called for extreme measures. Heck, the last time they had held one had been to deal with...me.

  I frowned, pushing the memories out of reach. Turning the light off, I snuggled down under the thin sheet and tried not to think too hard.

  The alleys were dark, dank and smelt like fresh urine. I ran down one, paused at an intersection then turned on my heel to charge down the other, feeling the hot breath of a Hunter on the back of my neck. He growled once, letting me know he wasn’t in a rush to finish the hunt. A claw reached out, ripping the shirt from one arm while I dove into another alley, searching for a way out. The moon was full in the sky over us and filled the brick walls with misty shadows and misshapen shapes.

  He smelt like garbage, old jeans, sweaty underwear and mouldy cheese dipped in turpentine, which drifted past me in waves. I coughed and wanted to stop to throw up, the nausea building in my throat. If I did, then he would be on me and that wouldn’t be a good thing.

  Skidding around yet another corner, I lost my balance and slammed into the wall, hard. My foot went numb as I struggled to my feet and tried to limp away. The roar grew closer, the scent stronger in my lungs as he approached. All I could do was flatten myself against the wall and hope my first strike would disable him, maybe even kill him.

  He leapt out of the shadows at me, smashing me into the wall. My shoulder popped out of its socket, leaving my arm numb as I fell to the ground. The Hunter was on me before I could catch my breath, straddling me with little effort. I stared up into the feline face, trying to recognise it even while I strained to force myself to Change.

  The mouth opened, the canines dripping with hot saliva. His tongue flicked out once to wet his lips then retreated as he pinned me effortlessly to the ground. Arching his back, he screamed at the sky above us then dove down, aiming for my exposed neck.

  I had nothing. Not even a whisper of extra strength, my weak human body nothing more than a shadow of what it could be. I still had my senses.

  Lunging forward, I smashed my forehead into the feline face. His nose, more delicate than a human’s, could be a liability in close fighting.

  The tactic worked. Releasing my arms, he brought up both hands to cradle the injured and hopefully broken nose, roaring his disapproval and pain.

  Then I woke up.

  He was still there.

  Chapter 8

  Bucking my hips upward I rolled to one side, falling onto the floor as the attacker pulled his hands away from his face, still feline, still Family.

  Still trying to kill me.

  I crouched into an attack posture, a mixture of what I had been taught as a kit and that which I had learnt in a few self-defence courses. The television’s dim light illuminated my assailant as he knelt on the bed, scrambling to his feet to continue the attack. Jazz was somewhere in the room, hissing her defiance at this invasion but smart enough not to get in the way of this superior hunter. My shoulder ached but wasn’t dislocated. Obviously my dream state had magnified the situation.

  I didn’t recognise him, but that wasn’t surprising. Still, he had a white streak running down one side of his nose, which was just enough to give him an eerie look in the dim light. Fully in his Change, he was definitely the one who had murdered Janey. His scent was the same as on the photograph.

  Jumping off the bed, he came at me, both paws in the air with claws extended. This wasn’t going to be some play fight at the Farm. This was a killing blow. He roared as he descended on me.

  I grabbed the arm closest to me, the right, and yanked it past me, wincing as his left hand gouged my sweatshirt to ribbons on the way past. He slammed into the wall face-first, collapsing on the hardwood floor but only for a minute.

  “What’s going on?” Bran yelled from downstairs. Great. As if things weren’t complicated enough. I stepped forward, shooting my fist out toward his throat with all my strength. The Felis moved to one side at the last minute, spinning around to face me. The blood still gushed from his nose down his black shirt and jeans. He was pla
ying quite the cat ninja tonight.

  “I’m calling 911!” The panicked voice matched the heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. Spitting out a mouthful of blood, my attacker reached out and grabbed me, pushing me toward the steps even as his claws dug into my skin through the material.

  I began to topple, my bare feet unable to keep hold of the slick varnish. Suddenly my own claws appeared, enough to embed themselves into his forearms and pull him down with me. I glared at him, a smug smile on my face.

  “Let’s do this,” I said as we spun toward the stairs together. “Let’s do this right now!” His shocked eyes met mine. He hadn’t anticipated that I’d fight back, with claws.

  This made two of us.

  We rolled down the stairs like a pair of stunt dummies, bouncing every which way. I hit my head at least five times, if not more, landing on a pretty soft cushion that was both comforting and lumpy even if it was cursing and swearing.

  My vision cleared long enough to see the front door open, letting in the cool night air as a shadow raced through into the darkness. Beneath me, Bran let out a cough.

  “My God...are you okay?” He looked up the stairs and back down again to where we lay in a tangled heap on the landing. “Am I okay?”

  Disengaging myself from his arms and legs, most of which were tangled with parts of my body that would constitute sexual assault, I grabbed the doorframe and looked out onto the street.

  “What the hell was that?” Bran got to his feet, wheezing as he bent over. Tucking my hands under my arms, I pushed the door shut, leaning on it. Gasping for air, I waited, hoping my claws were retracting as quickly as they had escaped my knuckles. The throbbing told me that they were, but not easily.

  People forget cats aren’t exactly like the comic interpretations, especially when it comes to claws and how they actually function. Instead of having our nails shoot out like some sort of wacky manicurist’s nightmare, we have a more painful experience, ending with an inch, maybe two if we’re lucky, of claw to attack with. We train to retract them just a bit, to release our prey. I hadn’t been good at that, ever, so I had stayed attached to my attacker longer than I should have and suffered for it. We’re not talking like some comic book hero with eight-inch nails that shoot out and back with crazy sound effects, but it’s enough to dig in and cause a heck of a lot of pain in the right areas.