“Jax!” Jenks shouted in horror, scooping his son up.
“Dad!” Jax protested, easily slipping the loose prison of his father’s fingers. “Let go!”
My eyes widened at the ball of orange fluff squeezing out from under the counter, blinking and stretching. I looked again, not believing. “It’s a cat,” I said, winning the Pulitzer prize for incredible intellect. Well, actually it was a kitten, so points off for that.
Jenks’s mouth was moving but nothing came out. He backed up with what looked like terror in his wide eyes.“It’s a cat!” I said again. Then added a frantic, “Jax! No!” when the pixy dropped down. I reached for him, drawing away when the fluffy orange kitten arched its back and spit at me.
“Her name is Rex,” Jax said proudly, his wings still as he stood on the dirty floor beside the incubator and scratched vigorously under her chin. The kitten relaxed, forgetting me and stretching its neck so Jax could get just the right spot.
I took a slow breath. As in Tyrannosaurus rex? Great. Just freaking great.
“I want to keep her,” Jax said, and the kitten sank down and began to purr, tiny sharp claws kneading in and out and eyes closed.
It’s a cat. Boy, you couldn’t slip anything past me tonight. “Jax,” I said persuasively, and the small pixy bristled.
“I’m not leaving her!” he said. “I would have frozen my first night if it wasn’t for her. She’s been keeping me warm, and if I leave, that mean old witch who owns the place will find her again and call the pound. I heard her say so!”
I glanced from the kitten to Jenks. He looked like he was hyperventilating, and I took his arm in case he was going to pass out. “Jax, you can’t keep her.”
“She’s mine!” Jax protested. “I’ve been feeding her butterfly pupa, and she’s been keeping me warm. She won’t hurt me. Look!”
Jenks almost had a coronary when his son flitted back and forth before the kitten, enticing her to take a shot at him. The kitten’s white tip of a tail twitched and her hindquarters quivered.
“Jax!” Jenks shouted, scooping him up out of danger as Rex’s paw came out.
My heart jumped into my throat, and it was all I could do to not reach for him too.
“Dad, let me go!” Jax exclaimed, and he was free, flitting over our heads, the kitten watching with a nerve-racking intensity.
Jenks visably swallowed. “The cat saved my son’s life,” he said, shaking. “We aren’t leaving it here to starve or die at the pound.”
“Jenks…” I protested, watching Rex pace under Jax’s flitting path, her head up and her steps light. “Someone will take her in. Look how sweet she is.” I clasped my hands so I wouldn’t pick her up. “Sure,” I said, my resolve weakening when Rex fell over to look cute and harmless, her little white belly in the air. “She’s all soft and sweet now, but she’s going to get bigger. And then there will be yelling. And screaming. And soft kitty fur in my garden.”
Jenks frowned. “I’m not going to keep her. I’ll find a home for her. But she saved my son’s life, and I won’t let her starve here.”
I shook my head, and while Jax cheered, his father gingerly scooped the kitten up. Rex gave a token wiggle before settling into the crook of his arm. Jenks had her both safe and secure—as if she was a child.
“Let me take her,” I said, holding out my hands.
“I’ve got her okay.” Jenks’s angular face was pale, making him look as if he was going to pass out. “Jax, it’s cold out. Get in Ms. Morgan’s purse until we get to the motel.”
“Hell no!” Jax said, shocking me as he lit on my shoulder. “I’m not going to ride in no purse. I’ll be fine with Rex. Tink’s diaphragm, Dad. Where do you think I’ve been sleeping for the last four days?”
“Tink’s diaph—” Jenks sputtered. “Watch your mouth, young man.”
This was not happening.
Jax dropped down to snuggle in the hollow of Rex’s tummy, almost disappearing in the soft kitten fur. Jenks took several breaths, his shoulders so tense you could crack eggs on them.
“We have to go,” I whispered. “We can talk about this later.”
Jenks nodded, and with the wobbling pace of a drunk made his way to the front of the exhibit, Jenks holding the kitten and me opening doors. The scent of books and carpet made the air smell dead as we crept into the gift shop. I fearfully looked for flashing red and blue lights outside, relieved at finding only a comforting darkness and a quiet cobble street.
I said nothing when Jenks awkwardly got his wallet out from his back pocket with one hand and left every last dollar of cash I had given him on the counter. He nodded respectfully to the camera behind the mirror, and we left as we had come in.
We didn’t see anyone on the way back to the parking lot, but I didn’t take one good breath until the van door slammed shut behind me. Fingers shaking, I started the engine, carefully backing up and finding my way to the strip.
“Rache,” Jenks said, eyes on the kitten in his arms as he broke his conspicuous silence. “Can we stop at that grocery store and pick up some cat food? I’ve got a coupon.”
And so it begins, I thought, mentally adding a litter pan and litter. And a can opener. And a little saucer for water. And maybe a fuzzy mouse or ten.
I glanced at Jenks out of the corner of my eye, his smooth, long fingers gentling the fur between Rex’s ears as the kitten purred loud enough to be heard over the van. Jax was cuddled between her paws, sleeping the sleep of the exhausted. A misty smile came over me and I felt myself relax. We’d get rid of her as soon as we found a good home.
Ri-i-i-i-ight.
Ten
“H e’s fine,” I said into my cell phone, stomach tight as Rex stalked Jax across the bed. The pixy was sitting dejectedly on the lamp shade, his feet swinging while his dad lectured him.
“How did you find him so quick?” Kisten asked, his voice thin and tiny from too many towers between us.
I took a breath to tell Jenks about the cat, but he bent without slowing his harangue to scoop up the orange ball of warrior-in-training and hold her close, soothing her into forgetting what she was doing. My held breath escaped and I paused to remember what I had been saying.
“He was at a butterfly exhibit.” I twisted in my seat by the curtained window, aiming the battered remote at the TV to click off the local ten o’clock news. There’d been no late-breaking story about intruders at the store, so it looked as if we’d be okay. I’d have been willing to bet that no one would even look at the camera records, despite the cash Jenks had left.
“He made friends with a kitten,” I added, leaning for the last slice of pizza. The bracelet of black gold I had found in my suitcase glittered in the light, and I smiled at his gift, not caring right now that he probably gave the bit of finery to all his lovers as a not-so-subtle show of his conquests to those in the know. Ivy had one. So did Candice, the vamp who had tried to kill me last solstice. I especially liked the little skull charm he had on it, but maybe this wasn’t such a good club after all.“A kitten?” Kisten said. “No shit!”
Jingling the metallic skull and heart together, I chuckled. “Yeah.” I took a bite of my pizza. “Fed her butterfly pupa in return for her keeping him warm,” I added around my full mouth.
“Her?” he asked, the disbelief clear in his voice.
“Her name is Rex,” I said brightly, shaking my new charm bracelet down. What else would a nine-year-old pixy name a predator a hundred times his size? Eyeing Jenks holding the somnolent kitten, my eyebrows rose. “You want a cat?”
He laughed, the miles between us vanishing. “I’m living on my boat, Rachel.”
“Cats can live on boats,” I said, glad he had moved out of Piscary’s quarters when Skimmer moved in. That he docked his two-story yacht at the restaurant’s quay was close enough. “Hey, uh, how is Ivy?” I asked softly, shifting to drape the back of my knees over the arm of the green chair.
Kisten’s sigh was worrisome. “Skimmer’s been at the church since you left.”
Tension stiffened my shoulders. He was fishing to find out if I was jealous; I could hear it. “Really,” I said lightly, but my face went cold when I studied my feelings, wondering if the faint annoyance was from jealousy or the idea that someone was in my church, eating at my table, using my ceramic spelling spoons for making brownies. I threw the half-eaten slice of pizza back into the box.
“She’s falling into old patterns,” he said, making me feel even better. “I can see it. She knows it’s happening, but she can’t stop it. Rachel, Ivy needs you here so she doesn’t forget what she wants.”
My jaw stiffened when my thoughts swung to our conversation beside his van. After living with Ivy for almost a year, I had seen the marks Piscary’s manipulations had left on her thoughts and reactions, though not knowing how they had gotten there. Hearing how bad it had been twisted my stomach. I couldn’t believe she’d ever return to it voluntarily, even if Skimmer opened the door and tried to shove her through it. Kisten was overreacting. “Ivy is not going to fall apart because I’m not there. God, Kisten. Give the woman some credit.”