Fur-miliar Felines Page 11

  “Detective,” Aunt Astrid said, “would you be so kind as to walk my niece home? Could you take just a minute to make sure she gets home safely?”

  Blake looked down at me without expression then back up at my aunt. With about as much enthusiasm as a man in for a root canal, Blake accepted my aunt’s request.

  “It’s just to be on the safe side.” She looked at me sternly.

  “It’s okay, Blake.” I slid off the stool and shook my head while grabbing a few more slices of lunch meat, bread, and cheese to take with me on the long journey across the street to my home. “I can manage by myself.”

  “No. Your aunt is right,” Blake said. “The last week before Christmas always ramps up in violent assaults and robberies. Too many office parties with too many open bars and too much excitement. This is also the time that DUIs and deaths due to drunk driving go off the charts. The death tolls don’t even include the suicide rate that…”

  “Thanks for those fascinating facts,” I blurted out. “Nothing like crime stats to put you in the Christmas mood.” I grabbed my coat and patted my thigh for Treacle to join us. Before leaving, I kissed Aunt Astrid and Bea on the cheek, clapped Jake on the back, and looked up at Blake.

  “I don’t need a babysitter,” I mumbled.

  Blake didn’t say a word but nodded and said good night to my family as he followed behind me.

  Once outside, the cold wrapped me up in its grip, and I was shivering underneath my open coat. My legs quickly hustled down the porch steps to the sidewalk. Blake was tall, and two of my steps equaled one of his.

  “So have you gotten your Christmas shopping done?” I asked in order to break the uncomfortable silence that had settled over us.

  “Most of it. I don’t have that many people to buy for.”

  “Well, that’s a Christmas miracle in itself,” I said encouragingly. I wasn’t sure why, but I didn’t want him to feel bad. No matter how lousy he made me feel. How crazy was that? “Some people just go so crazy buying gadgets and junk that will be broken or forgotten in a matter of days. I like homemade gifts. No matter how bad they turn out, you can see the love that was put into them, you know?”

  “I don’t remember the last time I received a homemade gift,” Blake mused, and I could have sworn I saw a smile on his face. Or at least the slight curling of the right corner of his mouth. That was darn near hysterics where Blake Samberg was concerned.

  “I’m surprised you can remember the last time you didn’t get coal. How long ago was that?” I joked.

  This was the season of good will toward men. If I couldn’t be decent at this time of year, I really wasn’t fit to exist the other eleven months. Plus, the smile that spread across Blake’s lips was worth it. I had to laugh out loud.

  “I’ll have you know that I never got coal.”

  “Never?” I shook my head. “See, lying is what gets you coal. Santa is listening.”

  Once on my porch, I quickly pulled out my keys and unlocked the front door, flipping on the light in the foyer and letting Treacle race inside.

  “You’ll be all right?” Blake asked.

  “Yeah.” I nodded and made sure I didn’t look at Blake’s handsome face for too long. “Thanks for the armed escort. I’ll take it from here.”

  “Will you and Tom be attending the Christmas party?” he asked before I stepped inside.

  “Yeah. It’s a pretty big deal. He’s wearing his dress uniform, and I’ve got to figure out something for myself. You’re going, too, right?”

  Blake nodded as he looked behind him.

  “Do you have a date?” The words came out softly, as I intended. There was no need to be snooty or rude. I wanted to know for selfish reasons, and the guilt that I wanted to know was enough for me to mind my tongue.

  “There’s someone I have in mind. I haven’t asked her yet.”

  “Well, you better, pal. It’s getting late. A girl has to have a couple days’ notice in order to get all primped and preened in time for the big event.” I smirked, as I assumed it would be Darla Castellan he’d be taking. I’d feel like an English bulldog next to a French poodle no matter what I wore.

  “Thanks for the advice.”

  “My pleasure.” I stepped across the threshold and turned around. “Be careful going home.”

  “Have a nice evening, Cath.”

  I smiled before shutting the door. As I leaned against it, I let out my breath and looked down at Treacle.

  “That took a long time,” he purred.

  “Yeah. I’m trying to be nice. Is that wrong?”

  “Not at all. I find you irresistible.” He gave me a forceful head-butt and a snug leg rub before looking up at me and whipping his tail.

  “Right back at you, kitty.” I bent down and picked him up in my arms. “So what do you think of this Diabolus Formarum Catus business?”

  “I’m not sure what to think.”

  “Well, I think I have a plan. Why don’t you and I discuss it before we present it to the rest of the coven? You can help me iron out all the details.”

  “Yes, let’s discuss over a saucer of milk and maybe some tuna fish.”

  “Oh yes, and I still have some of Aunt Astrid’s snacks in my pockets. Come on. Let’s get to work.”

  Feliz Navidad

  “Absolutely not!” Bea yelled as she opened the blinds at the café the next day. “It is too dangerous, and I’m saying no.”

  “Bea, it’s the only way to get to the bottom of this,” I replied. “Besides, we have the element of surprise. He doesn’t know my gift. We could use that to our advantage.”

  “It would require you be alone with that monster. If he is the monster. Whether he is or not, he’s in some cahoots with something dark, and I’m not letting you go off by yourself into what could be a trap.”

  “Aunt Astrid.” I turned my back to Bea and looked at her. “I’m the one he’s trying to get to go out with him. It’s only logical that I accept, alone, and see what I can find out.”

  “I can’t see an upside to you going off alone,” Aunt Astrid said. “But what do you think of having him come here first?”

  “You don’t think it will seem suspicious?” I asked.

  “That’s a good idea, Mom.” Bea stepped forward and put her hands on my hips to scoot me to the side while she slipped behind the counter. “Have him come here, and I’ll shake his hand politely and get a read on him.”

  “That’s a good call, Bea.” Aunt Astrid winked at her daughter. “No. I don’t think it would look suspicious at all. It would just look like a young woman having her family meet the guy taking her on their first date.”

  “What will you do once he’s here?” I scoffed. “You know he isn’t going to offer up any information with all three of us here. In fact, having all of us in one place might work to his benefit. With one fell swoop, he could have us all pushing up daisies before we could say Feliz Navidad.”

  “Nope.” Aunt Astrid shook her head. “All we need to do is cloak the café in a mirage spell. He’ll see the café the way we want him to. As soon as he steps through the door, he’ll see what we want him to see. Bea can do her reading, and I’ll bind him until we find out if he’s really the shape-shifter we suspect he is or if he’s just a man. If he’s just a man, I’m sure he’ll never want to see you again after this whole ordeal, so no need to discuss with Tom.”

  “Right?” I covered my face with my hands and ran them through my hair. “How am I ever going to explain to Tom what I’m doing? He’ll never go for it. He might be the most understanding boyfriend since Jake embraced his wife’s empathic abilities. But I don’t think that extends to making dates with other guys who are suspected killer shape-shifters.”

  “He knows what a sting is, right?” Bea asked.

  “Of course. But how do you think Jake would feel if you were putting yourself out there to attract a killer?” I pursed my lips. “See why I need to do this alone? I’ll take a protection spell. That will be enough.” />
  “How are you going to get in touch with him?” Aunt Astrid asked.

  I hadn’t thought of that. But an idea quickly came to me that was almost as dangerous as the date itself.

  “He works at Bibich High School,” I mumbled.

  “You can’t just walk onto school property,” Bea said. “They’ll have you tossed in the clink for sure.”

  “Right. But I could follow him when he leaves. I’ve done stakeouts before.”

  “You sat in a car with Blake for an hour or so. That’s doesn’t really make you an expert in the surveillance arena,” Bea teased.

  “Right,” I agreed. “Not like you when you sat outside the Whole Foods for ten hours, waiting for the new quinoa shipment to drop.”

  “No.” Aunt Astrid startled us out of our ribbing. “School’s out for the Christmas break. Anyway, it’s much too dangerous. Look, we aren’t in a huge hurry. When we close the café, we can find the right spell for the right option that will get us the same result. That is, getting him to show up here.”

  I shrugged but wasn’t ready to wait until tonight to maybe find a safe route to lure Clyde to the café for an aura reading and possible binding spell.

  This thing was a child killer. If we waited and another child went missing, how would I ever forgive myself? Teenagers are an absolute terror. I know that. But they deserve the right to grow up and look back at their teenage years and cringe at their stupidity and ignorance just like the rest of us.

  When the morning crowd had finally wound down, I decided I needed to get a little fresh air and see if I could find a Christmas gift for Tom.

  “Still no luck with that?” Bea asked.

  “Nope.” I shook my head. “I’m starting to get desperate.”

  “Well, I still say you can’t go wrong with getting him some music,” Bea said.

  “You might be right,” I mumbled. “But I’m going to give it one last try. I’ll be back in about an hour.”

  Once I was behind the wheel of my car, I directed it in the direction of Mr. Wayne’s house and hit the gas. Something in my gut said that maybe I’d find Clyde around this area.

  When I pulled up outside the house, parking in almost the same spot I had just a few days earlier with Aunt Astrid and Bea, I saw the yellow police tape flapping lazily in the breeze. It was draped across the porch and along part of the driveway, but what had been across the door was either not taped down securely enough or had been pulled away by someone wanting to get in—or out—of the house.

  I cut the engine and just waited.

  There was no car in the driveway. Mr. Wayne’s car had probably been towed to the station to be scoured for evidence. The curtains were drawn. I cracked my car window and took a deep breath of cold air to wake myself up.

  “What are you doing, Cath?” I muttered, looking behind me in the rearview mirror. “You aren’t going to find anything or see anything. Clyde isn’t dumb enough to come and hang around the house of a murderer.”

  That was when I noticed something. I often saw things out of the corners of my eyes. Aunt Astrid said it was the spirits of the Greenstone family cats long gone keeping an eye on me. Bea said it was my mother keeping an eye on me. I often thought it was just a trick of the light or an overactive imagination. But what I was looking at was none of these things.

  Without blinking, I sat in the driver’s seat and stared at the landscape in front of me. Of course I thought perhaps I had the pleasure of witnessing a mole burrowing under the ground causing the grass to “breathe” up and down, but the area appearing to “breathe” expanded until it was the size of a Volkswagen. Too big for a mole, for sure.

  I blinked, even squeezed my eyes shut and opened them again, expecting to see that it was my own untrustworthy peepers that were watering and causing the illusion of movement.

  But the more I watched, the more I knew it was neither of these things. Every couple of seconds, a shimmering line would flash. Sometimes it looked like a hunched back. Sometimes it looked like a haunch. Sometimes it looked like a row of ribs. There are creatures in the sea, way down deep, that are translucent and for all intents and purposes invisible until a diver or a camera is right up on them. Then their outline can be clearly seen. This was the same thing.

  I watched as it moved down the street and up the grass to Mr. Wayne’s empty house. The grass surrendered to four invisible feet that pressed it into the ground before it disappeared completely from my view.

  “You don’t want to go, Cath,” I muttered. “You don’t because an invisible enemy has all the advantage.”

  I nodded but thought, Just a peek. A peek through the window wouldn’t harm anything. I’ve got the element of surprise on my side. Take that, superpower of invisibility.

  Before I could talk myself out of it, I was out of the car and traipsing up the grass, following alongside the footprints only I could see at this point since the grass was slowly and stiffly arching back to its original position.

  By the time I reached the front porch, my breath sounded as though I had been swimming laps without coming up for air until I was nearly drowned. That was when I noticed the noises around me had also stopped.

  Creature

  “Just a quick peek. Just casually stroll around the side of the house and peek inside like you’re looking for someone you know.”

  I stretched my neck, and with my arms swinging as if I were going to war, I marched around the opposite side of the house as though I owned the place.

  The first window was into the bedroom, but the blinds were drawn tightly. No use trying to get a glimpse in there. I continued, looking behind me once, twice before I came to the bathroom.

  This could be a misdemeanor, I thought while turning my head left then right to make sure the coast was clear. I looked inside. It was empty. “Thank goodness.”

  As I made my way to the back of the house, my nerves had calmed. It was almost as though in those last few steps I forgot exactly what I was looking for.

  “It’s an invisible thing, Cath. Don’t forget,” I whispered. The next window led to the kitchen. It was then that I wondered if the mirage-causing thing was even on the first level of the house. It might have preferred the privacy of the basement, the windows of which I was standing directly in front of. I froze.

  Just as I was about to run, I heard a clatter from the kitchen area. I quickly stepped to the right and pressed my back firmly against the brick of the building while holding my breath.

  Just then, the woman from the house next door came outside onto her porch. She stepped into what looked like a closet, but as I squinted and studied the tall cabinet, I realized it was a portable sauna. Next to that was a bubbling cauldron of a hot tub. I wondered how many times she had come down with pneumonia, stepping outside in the middle of December in her bathing suit.

  Getting back to the task at hand, I carefully and quietly inched my way to the kitchen window. There were plain white blinds pulled down but slanted open just enough for me to peek inside.

  At first it was dark. But as my eyes adjusted and I held my breath, I heard something grunting. My heart froze. I needed to block out the glare from the sun against the window to focus on what I thought I was seeing inside.

  The creature slowly began to appear. It writhed and squirmed like a maggot that had fallen on hot pavement, with a sickly yellowish-pink color rippling across its mass. It reminded me of a cat trying to expel a hairball as it jerked and hacked, rolling its appendages, growling and hissing as its metamorphosis continued.

  I tried to focus, but the blinds obstructed my view as if they were railroad ties. Stretching up on my tiptoes gave me a better glimpse, but due to the fact that I am not an expert in surveillance, I didn’t observe the lifted screen window that was barely on the track. When I pushed myself up on my tiptoes, the window frame was taxed. Down came the screen window with a crash on the back of my neck.

  Now, screen windows are not heavy. Decapitation was not a possibility. However, di
sembowelment by a slowly materializing catlike monster was within the realm of possibility. At least, in my mind I assumed it was.

  My hair had fallen over my face, my jacket had gotten hung up, and before I pulled my head and the screen out of the window, the beast had slinked up to the glass on the other side. Obviously, the blinds caused it some problems seeing as well, because one bony claw slipped through the slats and tore the entire fixture from its attachments in the frame.

  I reeled backward, my right leg tripping over my left, to land on my backside. All the air in my lungs was knocked out in an unladylike grunt. I kicked and scurried backward on my hands and feet as the thing in the kitchen grew and grew until its massive head and shoulders took up the entire window.

  At first its eyes were downcast, and I thought that maybe I was in luck and the sun affected its vision. But it snapped its head up at me, hissing as it scratched at the glass with its skeletal claws. Its eyes were yellow pinpricks in a sea of black.

  As the hairless cat scratched at the windowsill, I scrambled to my feet. But the thing wasn’t scratching at the glass. It was fumbling with the safety latches. I heard them both snap as they were released, and the window flew up, nearly cracking the frame. I did the only thing I could do. I screamed.

  “I know who you are! I know who you are! You’ll suffer! You and the other members of your family will suffer for decades upon decades!”

  I screamed again as it started to crawl out the window toward me, but thank heaven for the weird lady next door who was just trying to enjoy her sauna in December. She threw the little cedar door open with enough force to rattle the whole closet and looked in my direction.

  Yours truly stared back at the window and watched with disgust as the enormous cat retreated back inside the dark house. Wasting no time, I got to my feet and took off running toward the front yard and my car.