Cat's Out - Book 2

Chapter 10 - vultures in waiting

Fortunately, my mother doesn't wake me the next morning. Unfortunately, my deep sleep is filled with images of dark clouds slipping into the bodies of dead drug addicts. And, in one especially fun dream, into my body.

When I open my eyes after noon, I discover that I not only failed to dress when I returned home, but that my sheets are soaked with sweat. My cat alter-ego may be able to run twenty miles in a night, but it still gets plenty hot under all that fur.

After a shower and a change of sheets, I slip through the hedge between my mother's house and Jack's. To my surprise, Jack answers the door. She looks awful.

"Not sleeping?" I ask as I step inside. The sulfur smell smacks me in the face.

"What was your first clue? The bags under my eyes or my charming disposition?"

"I haven't gotten wind of your disposition yet." We sit at her kitchen table, where a ham sandwich rests at her chair. "Oh, do you want me to come back?"

"Don't worry about it." She shoves the plate away. "I can't eat a thing."

My stomach growls, despite the smell lingering in the kitchen. At least, I hope it's my stomach.

"Go ahead." Jack pushes the sandwich toward me. "No sense letting it go to waste."

I haven't eaten since dinner last night, which was comprised of take-out pizza and Diet Coke. I don't know if shifters are affected by a typical American diet, but if I want to keep my feline figure, I'd better watch it.

I engulf the ham sandwich in four bites.

"So," I mumble around a mouthful of whole wheat, "still seeing the demons?"

She nods. "Three in here right now."

I try to focus in on the places she points out. In cat form I could see the black shadowy figures. But nothing now. And, based on Jack's detailed descriptions last night, she's seeing them in all their glory. I shudder. "What are they doing?"

Jack narrows her eyes at me. "You believe me?"

"Of course I do."

"Why? This could all be in my head, like the doctors said. From shock or side effects of the drug those jerks used on me."

I consider my next words carefully. I have to let Jack know these things are real, but I don't want her to know that her new neighbor is a part-time panther. "Would you believe me if I said that I could smell them?"

She sniffs the air. "I don't smell anything."

"I have a very sensitive nose."

"What do they smell like?"

"Rotten eggs."

"Ewww." She stares off at a point beyond me. "Doesn't surprise me, though. 'Cause they sure are ugly enough." She yells it to whatever she's looking at. "That's right, Lumpy. I'm talking to your ugly ass."

"Lumpy?"

"I figured they wouldn't scare me so much if I named them." She names off the other two as she points. "That there is Scar and the one sitting on the table next to you is Spike."

I push back from the table with a little shriek. "Next to me?"

"He was eyeballing your sandwich. I don't think they get much to eat where they come from."

I don't ask where they come from. I've got a pretty good idea already. "So does it work? Are you less scared?"

"No. But they're not as active as they were last night."

"Active? Like how?"

"When I first woke up, they were practically crawling on me, trying to...like trying to get through my skin."

The images of my shadowy friends from last night hits me. The way they just seemed to absorb themselves into the dead bodies. Maybe they can't get into the live ones. "And they're not doing that now?"

"No. Like they got bored. Now they just...wait."

"Wait for what?"

She shrugs. "Beats the Skittles out of me."

Like vultures, I realize. I watched a documentary once about the African plains. In one part, a Wildebeast or whatever was badly wounded and dying. It traveled for days before collapsing. The vultures stayed with it the entire time. Even walking behind it on the ground. The moment the thing went down, long before it died, they were tearing at its flesh.

I let out a little whimper. Is that what these shadow things were doing? Waiting for Jack to die? Had they been lured in by the prospect of fresh meat, and now refused to leave until they got what they came for?

"Jack...are you sure you fell better?"

"Huh? Well, yeah. Why do you ask? I look that bad?"

"No. It's just that...you never know with drugs. Did the doctors figure out what they injected you with?"

She shakes her head. "No. And I don't think I wanna know."

And I think maybe I do. "Um...I've got some things to do. Think you'll be up for some ice cream later?"

"I'll try. Still not hungry. But if I don't get out of here, I'm going to go bonkers." She glances toward the kitchen door. "I'll check with my dad. He's probably still wonked out on the couch. He was up all night."

"I bet." I wonder if my dad would stay up all night with me. "Okay, I'll call you in a few hours."

"Don't forget to call Grant." She winks through puffy eyes.

Oh, yeah. Him. Funny how my love life is no longer a priority. But I did drag him into this mess. I at least owe him the courtesy of a phone call. I don't think a text works when you almost get someone killed. "I will."

I give her a hug and slip out the door. Back in my room, I pull out a stack of old letters and revisit the chemical formulas I'd given up on months earlier.

Somewhere inside these yellowed pages, I  know there's an answer.