I’d love to get my hands on the cat responsible for Miguel’s first Shift, I thought. But knowing Miguel, that cat was probably rotting in peace—or in pieces—somewhere in the middle of the jungle.
In addition to blood and fear, I identified the residual smell of my own urine in the coffee container. As a cat, the smell didn’t offend me in the least. It was a natural part of my own biology, unlike the metallic smell of the bars and the lingering odor of spilled oil.
But the only smell I was interested in at the moment came from the white paper bag in the corner. The remains of my dinner from the night before. It wouldn’t be enough, but it was better than nothing. I clamped the bottom of the bag between my teeth and shook my head, scattering trash along with the remaining chicken breast and the scraps of the first. As a cat, I wasn’t bothered by the skin, though I wasn’t particularly fond of the extra-crisp batter. In less time than it had taken me to Shift, the breast was gone, skin and all. I might have crunched through a couple of small bones, too.
After my meal, I sat on my haunches, cleaning my face and paws. I wasn’t full but was finished nonetheless.
“Want some more?” Abby asked, dangling her second chicken breast from her thumb and forefinger. I should have shaken my head. It wasn’t right to take her dinner just because she hadn’t been able to Shift. But because I had, I needed food. And she didn’t seem to want it.
I blinked at her and cocked my head to the side. Are you sure?
“Yeah, go ahead.” She tossed the chicken breast through her bars, underhand. It landed a foot and a half from my cage. I padded to the front wall of my cell and lay on my stomach, my front right paw extended between two of the bars. Almost there. Unsheathing my claws, I lunged at the breast, turning my head to the side and slamming my ear into the bars as I sank my claws into the meat. It hurt, but it worked. I pulled my meal along the floor and into the cage, then tore into it. It didn’t last any longer than the first one had.
I purred, staring straight at Abby.
“You’re welcome,” she said.
Metal springs groaned overhead, and wood creaked. Someone had just gotten out of bed. Based on the pasty color of Ryan’s skin and the dark circles under his eyes, I was willing to bet he hadn’t been to bed in a couple of days. And if he was telling the truth, Miguel and Sean were probably already on the road. That only left one possibility. Eric.
In her cell, Abby lay staring at the ceiling, oblivious to the activity on the ground level. She’d known Miguel from the sound of his footsteps earlier, but this time she hadn’t heard a thing. On two legs, our hearing was much better than a human’s, but it was nothing compared to that of a cat. As a cat, I could hear frequencies well beyond the upper range of a human, or even a dog.
I growled softly and Abby looked up. “What’s wrong?”
I pointed my muzzle at the ceiling.
“You hear something?” she asked, and I nodded. “Is someone coming?”
Rotating my ear flaps, I located the direction of the sound and listened carefully. I heard heavy footsteps, then running water. Eric was taking a shower.
With no way to tell her anything more specific, I settled for shaking my head.
“Thank goodness,” she breathed, eyeing the ceiling warily. I disagreed. We couldn’t get out without a key, and hours spent wishing for one had done us no good. We needed Eric to come unlock one of the cages. Preferably mine.
The shower ran for several minutes as I listened, occasionally rotating my ears to make sure Ryan was still watching TV. Or that the set was on, at least. I hadn’t heard him enter or leave the living room, but that was all I had to go on regarding his position in the house.
The water stopped, and Eric stepped out of the shower. If he took the time to dry off, I couldn’t tell; seconds later he was in another room, searching for clean clothes, based on the sound of wood scraping wood as he opened and closed dresser drawers.
Okay, time for action. I sat up straight and flattened my ears to my head, preparing to give a good roar. It was the only thing I could think of to lure him downstairs, and though I still hadn’t figured out how to get him to unlock my cage, I’d decided to take things one step at a time. Beginning with the roar. It had to be loud enough for Eric to hear, but not loud enough to alarm the neighbors. Volume was always a judgment call because of the possibility of being heard by humans.
But as it turned out, I didn’t have to make any noise at all. The footsteps turned toward what I assumed was the kitchen and I closed my mouth, listening. Eric paused, possibly at the fridge, then continued toward the basement door. Apparently he liked a little recreation first thing in the morning. Lucky us.
Staring at the steps, I growled to warn Abby. She glanced at me, then followed my gaze, her eyes round and her posture tense.
The door opened, and she leapt to her feet. Fast. I was glad to see she still had a little energy left, since I’d eaten half of her dinner. And since I wasn’t sure I could keep him away from her a second time.
“Good morning, girls,” Eric called from the top step. “You did know it was morning, didn’t you?” Neither of us replied, and he paused to turn off the light then jogged down the stairs.
I didn’t care. I could see in the dark far better than he could. But Abby was breathing so hard and fast I worried she’d pass out.
Eric stopped short at the foot of the steps, staring at me as a drop of water fell from the end of a still-wet strand of hair onto his collar. In less than a second, his face cycled through fear and surprise before finally settling into an amused grin. The first two expressions were closer to how he actually felt, and no display of perfect white teeth could convince me otherwise, even if his canines had been bigger than mine. Which they weren’t. Not by a long shot.He smelled fresh and clean, like Zest soap, cheap shampoo and mint-flavored toothpaste. That pissed me off. The fur on my head stood up in stiff clumps, matted by dried sweat and blood, though I hadn’t had fur when I accumulated either substance. I hadn’t brushed my teeth in roughly thirty-six hours, and I’d never needed a shower worse in my life. In a word, I felt gross. On the upside, surely gross was rape-repellent. But even if it wasn’t, claws sure as hell were.
I paced across the front of my cage, slinking around each time I met the opposite wall, pausing every now and then to growl at him. Eric’s eyes followed me. He was obviously searching for something clever to say and coming up empty. Big surprise.
“Fur suits you, Faythe,” he said finally.
Claws suit me better, I thought, eyeing four long, scabbed-over scratches running from the corner of his left eye to the peak of his chin. I licked my muzzle, pleased with my handiwork.
Eric lurched forward, as if he’d found a hidden stash of courage and wanted to use it all in one careless spending spree. But he stayed well back from my bars. Digging in his front right pocket, he came out with a small silver key, holding it up for my inspection. “As inviting as your cell looks, all littered with napkins and chicken bones, I think I’ll pay a visit to your little cousin this morning. She’s more my type.”
Cowards always like them young, small and helpless, I thought, wishing I could voice the insult. But all I could do was watch.
For every step Eric took toward her, Abby took one back, until she hit the wall. She shook her head slowly, tiny fists clenched at her sides, eyes wide with terror. She glanced at me and I growled, not at her, but at Eric. He stopped two feet from her cage, turning to look at me. “What’s wrong, kitty? You jealous? That’s too bad, since you didn’t give me a very warm welcome last time.” He touched the angry slashes on his cheek, and I could swear he knew I was smiling.
I huffed at him through my nose, inches from my front wall of bars.
“Yeah, I saw what you did to Miguel,” he said. “Pretty proud of yourself, aren’t you? I guess you’ve figured out by now that he’s given up on you. Gonna trade you in for a newer model.”
I’d hoped he would drop the name of the girl they’d gone after, or at least give me a hint, but he did neither. It did me no good to know she was younger than I was. I was the oldest unmarried tabby in the country. Knowing they would be back by morning told me more than Eric had.
“I said he could probably still wear you down, but he’s lazy at heart. He’d rather have a girl who doesn’t make too much work for him. Me, on the other hand, I like a bit of kick to my queso, if you know what I mean.”
I knew what he meant, and I knew it was a lie. If he really liked a challenge, he’d be headed toward my cage instead of Abby’s. But like I’d said, he just wasn’t Alpha material. Apparently Miguel wasn’t either.
Eric cupped the lock to Abby’s cage in his hand. I growled again, and again he glanced at me. “Sure, you can watch.”
You chickenshit son of a bitch! Of course, since I was a cat, it came out as a roar, and a damn good one at that.
“What?” Eric asked, his exasperated tone contrived. He was up to something. “Don’t watch if you don’t want to. Lie there with your paws over your ears, for all the good it does. But as long as you have claws and a tail, there’s no way you can stop me.”
What? My ears perked up—literally. Was he saying that if I Shifted back I could stop him? I cocked my head to the side. What do you mean?