Cat's Out - Book 3

Chapter 9 - rubbed the wrong way

This will not fly.

Moloch's playing me like a card in a stacked deck. His deck. There's only one of me, and he's made it clear that he can be anywhere, any time. Which means I can't sit around waiting for him to make the next move. I've got to find him. And fast.

But I have to make sure Jack is safe. After my mom and her retirement fund turn in for the night, I slip into my room, then I slip into cat-mode. It's easier every time. A fact that I find a bit disconcerting. What if shifting is like smoking or drugs? At first, it's painful and horrifying. But after a few hits, you start wanting more. 

No time to worry about that now. With a few leaps, I'm out my window and scurrying up the oak tree near Jack's window. This won't be easy, not even for a cat. Once I'm on a limb that can support my weight and give me a view of her room, my theory is proven correct. Her window is wide open.

Of course there's the small matter of the screen. 

This is not the time to be concerned with minor property damage. I bunch up, wiggle by my butt...wait, I'm really wiggling. When did that start?

And I leap.

The screen offers little resistance and my landing is nearly silent. I probably could have gone through the door, but Jack's parents have been through enough. And they might ask stupid questions, like, "Where's Jack and where are you going in the middle of the night?"

I hop onto Jack's bed and curl up to wait, licking my paws to pass the time. Seriously? I'm in way too deep.

Fortunately, I don't have to wait long. Headlights illuminate Jack's window and car doors open and close. After a few seconds, Jack's mother is drilling them with questions. Grant does an excellent job of explaining that he invited her over to his house with some of their other friends, and then lost track of the time. He apologizes profusely.

I'm impressed.

Jack-like footsteps sound on the stairs and her door swings open. When she flips on the light, a half scream slips out before she realizes it's me.

"Everything okay, Jaqueline?" Her dad calls up the stairs.

"Uh...yeah, Dad. Giant moth on my screen." Her eyes move to the mangled screen of which she speaks. "One heckuva giant moth." She shuts her door and slides onto the bed. "Are you crazy?"

I nod. Yes, indeed. I'm certifiable. I tilt my head toward the window.

"You're going into the city, aren't you?" Jack puts a hand on my paw. Her ability to understand me is quite amazing.

I nod again. 

"Darla, you can't do this alone. They'll find a way to kill you. Tonight was a trap."

I know. I should shift back to Darla and explain, but I'm tired of having my defenses at half power. If any goons burst into the house, I want nothing but cat. So I settle for head gestures and paw pointing. It's pretty sad, really. But she seems to get it.

"Are you...are you coming back?"

This is the question I'd been avoiding. If I started this war, I may have to stay in the battlefield until it was over, one way or the other. Playing Darla by day wasn't going to cut it. They knew where I lived. Where my friends lived. I had to take the fight to them and keep it there or someone I loved would get hurt.

I do the most natural thing I could think of. I rub my head against her arm.

Jack wraps her arms around my neck and pulls me in tight. "You could just stay here. Always wanted a giant cat."

And I always wanted a real friend. But it's not to be. 

"If I hear of anything," she says, "I'll text that cop."

Too bad I can't talk. I bet she'd text that hot cop. Officer Graves is a mystery to me, but I feel safer knowing he's out there. If Jack gets in trouble, she can call him. I give her another nuzzle and pull back.

"Be safe, Darla." Tears well in her eyes.

I look back from the window. At least I knew one friend. I don't think Jacques ever had that much. But now I see why. You're never really half-human. The beast within consumes you until you can't even remember being human. I'm not there yet. But I sense its approach.

I give her one last nod before I leap into the darkness.