It was bigger, for one thing, about the size of your average domestic dog. And its expression looked more canine than feline. It looked right at him with friendly eyes, almost smiling. And something else, judging from its mannerisms and the way it was smiling at him, it was most probably female.
“Nice to meet you,” the cat said, without moving a muscle. It lowered its voice to a whisper. “Come closer.”
“No, you’re not real. Leave me alone.”
The man in the cage opposite laughed and shouted out, “Uh-oh. You want to be careful talking to yourself. They’ll put you away. You’ll end up waking in a cage.” The whole aisle laughed aloud, even Ronnie smiled at the irony.
The cat, however, continued to stare right at him, the smile wiped from its face. “Look, you’re not going mad. Come nearer. Just trust me okay? Oh, and take no notice of the … imbeciles. All the neighbors are the same around here.”
Ronnie put a tentative foot towards the right wall, winced, rubbed his back and proceeded to walk towards the dividing sheet of glass, the cat doing the same thing from the opposite direction.
The glass was so clear, it looked like there was nothing at all between them. He reached out to place his hand atop the cat’s head and was thrown back across the cage.
The cat thought this was hilarious. “Sorry, I should have mentioned the force field.”
“Yes, you should have.”
Ronnie moved back towards the glass wall, crouched down, looked the cat right in the eye and opened his mouth to ask for some answers.
“Shhh,” the voice in his head, said. “You’re not going mad. I can assure you of that.”
“Well, if I’m not going mad, how— What the hell is going on?”
“Keep your voice down.”
Ronnie crept closer, until his nose was inches from the glass.
“Let me introduce myself. My name’s Raven.” She placed one paw in front of the other, in a kind of cat handshake.
“Nice meeting you, Raven. My name’s Ronnie.” His chains clinked as he extended his hand.
“Don’t!”
Blushing, Ronnie dropped his still-shackled arm to his side. “So, Raven, are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
“Certainly. I’m a witch cat, with special powers.”
“A witch cat? What the hell is a witch cat?”
“A cat that used to be a witch until someone put a spell on me and turned me into a cat.”
“Oh, I see. So, you have special, magic powers?”
“Got it in one. You catch on quick, Ronnie. And not only that but, I’m telepathic.”
“Telepathic?”
“Yeah. Only people with special powers can hear me.”
“Well, that’s a relief to know.”
She smiled. “Well, it’s a long story, Ronnie. There’s no time to explain now, but someday I will. Listen, you’re in grave danger.”
“Thank you, mastermind. I’d figured that much out for myself.”
“No, no you hadn’t. I’m telepathic remember. You have no idea what’s in store for you. You have to get away, right now or else…” She shook her head.
“I don’t like the sound of this. How do I escape? Can you help me?”
“Well, maybe I can, maybe I can’t. One thing’s for certain, though. You need to shift back and stay in were form. You don’t want anyone identifying you once you do get out.”
“Never thought of that. If I do get out, that is. Right now, that possibility seems a long way off. Looks like I’m doomed to end up a mad, half-human wreck, like everyone else around here.”
“Well, we’ll see.”
Footsteps clanged up the stairway at the far end, sending Raven into something of a frenzy. “You need to shift, right now.”
“What?”
“You can do it, just focus.”
Ronnie retreated into the center of his cage, lay flat on his back, closed his eyes and concentrated. It wasn’t long before a strange sensation blanketed him, the pain in his back lifted, his muscles bulged. Sweat poured down his forehead, and he mopped his brow with his now fur-covered knuckles. More tufts sprouted on his back, moving down to his legs, his voice box narrowed, a great ball of anger manifested itself in his gut, rising upwards, forcing his mouth open. He took a deep breath—
The footsteps clapped along the aisle, getting louder by the second. When they fell silent, to be replaced by heavy breathing, Ronnie swallowed his wail and focused on the man standing outside the cage door.
A large, angry-looking man looked at Ronnie contemptuously, chest puffed out, completely unfazed by Ronnie’s appearance. An air of authority surrounded him in every direction.
“Good morning. My name’s Moseley, Simon Moseley, and I’m in charge around here.”
Ronnie grunted at his loathsome face and began to get up.
“No, no, don’t get up.” He laughed a hideous laugh. “I just wanted to run today’s schedule by you. Soon, in no time at all, you’ll have some tests performed on you. Nothing much to worry about. Lots of people find the pain quite tolerable.”
Ronnie looked at Simon as if he wanted to devour him that instant, and growled.
“Whoa, boy, down…… It’s not that bad, I swear. Anyway, they’ll come in, do one or two preliminaries, and then I’ll be along to do the honors myself. I always insist on that.” He glanced at the guy in the cage opposite. “He had the same tests carried out on him yesterday. He’s turned out perfectly okay. See? Absolutely nothing to worry about.”
Ronnie glanced over Moseley’s shoulder at the man opposite, growled again, and jangled his chains as he shifted around uncomfortably in the cage, which he found even more confining in his were form.
“Oh, no need to take that attitude, no need at all.” Moseley looked over his shoulder and called out at the man opposite. “You enjoyed your tests, didn’t you?”
The man crouched down on all fours and grunted.
“Feeling perfectly chipper today, aren’t you?”
The man leaped to his feet, threw his arms in the air and howled like a wolf.
Ronnie stared at him, furious and frightened.
“Well, must be going. The chaps will be along soon.”
“RRRAWRR.”
Simon smiled and stepped back. None of this fazed him.
“Well, cheerio.”
Ronnie scowled, returned to the back of his cage, and slumped against the wall, awaiting his unknown fate.
CHAPTER NINE
Bicester Vintner’s, Bicester, England
The vintner’s was deserted. No customers, no suppliers to deal with, and no Karl. Scarlett glanced at the clock, noting that it was almost lunch time. For three whole hours, she’d stood there with nothing to do but think.
Noticing a woman looking through the shop window, Scarlett smiled, stood up and straightened her dress. She produced a well-drilled, enticing smile and in no time at all, the door opened. The woman, who carried a newspaper, stepped in, bringing with her a refreshing draught.
Talking in a typically British upperclass accent, the woman asked for some kind of expensive wine that they didn’t have. It wasn’t until she’d left the shop that Scarlett realized she’d forgotten her newspaper.
She hunched forward, opened the newspaper and rested on her elbows. As usual, there was nothing much going on, nothing to make her morning anything interesting. She felt so bored that part of her wished Karl would come bursting through the door and start ordering her about.
Karl was with them earlier, when she’d gone to inquire about Ronnie. If they’d found anything, he’d surely be back by now.
Another thought occurred to her.
Amanda might well be in danger. But how to warn her? She couldn’t very well just come out and tell her that her boyfriend was a mythical creature.
Her mind went to what Ronnie might be capable of in were form.
Out of desperation, she took out her phone and started browsing the local news for clues of where Ron
nie might be. When some strange headline caught her eye, she noted it and moved on to the next story. However, it wasn’t long before the headline registered and she swiped back in the opposite direction.
The door swung open and the bell sounded. Instinctively, Scarlett stood up straight and smiled politely at the doorway. Knowing how customers hate feeling under pressure when they first enter a shop, she was mindful of not staring too intently. That was why she didn’t notice who it was until he coughed to grab her attention.
“Tim!” She hesitated a moment, assimilating. “This is a nice surprise, what are you doing here?”
“Just thought I’d drop by to say hello to the prettiest shop assistant in Bicester.” He flashed a smile and broke eye contact.
“Well, I’m glad you did.”
Her expression fell.
“What’s up? You been busy?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Hardly. Never known it to be so quiet. The morning’s really dragged.”
“Oh, poor you.” He leaned forward, resting his fingertips against the counter, looking Scarlett in the eye.
“What about you? Good day?” She moved in closer and screwed her eyes to get a good look at him. “Oh my God, what’s happened? Looks like you haven’t slept all night.”
Tim nodded.
“What, you mean you haven’t?”
“No. I’ve been working all night long. I’m just on my way home now.”
“Well, seeing as you’re here, could you help me with something?”
“Of course, what can I do for you?”
“Well, I was bored so I started browsing a local news app.”
“Anything interesting happening?”
Scarlett furrowed her brow as a thought occurred to her. He knew a lot of people in the police and government departments. “No, not a thing. Apart from … Mauve the cow. Poor Mauve!”
Tim stood up straight and folded his arms.
“Do you know anything about this, Tim?”
“Well, a thing or two.”
“This isn’t—this isn’t why you had to shoot off the other morning, is it?”
“Shoot off? When did I do that?”
“You know, when I was looking for my shoe and you came in, mumbling something about a message and ran out.”
Tim chuckled. “Oh yes—shoegate.”
Scarlett laughed, then looked in his eyes with a softened expression. “Yes, the morning of shoegate as you so eloquently put it. Well, is this in any way connected?”
Tim’s eyes darted around the shop, like a cornered wolf. “Yes, it was connected with that, loosely. Very loosely.”
“What does loosely mean? Was it connected or not?”
Tim rubbed his eyes, then looked around the room while he gave it some thought. “Yes. Honestly, anyone would think we were in Wiltshire.”
“Wiltshire? Why Wiltshire?”
Tim rubbed his eyes again, making them puffed, as if he’d been thumped. “Well—I’m not really sure, it’s just that, I’ve heard one or two murmurings around the base that— Well, they’re only reports, but it seems that every day we get reports of animal attacks.”
Scarlett pretended to look astonished. “Every day?”
“No, not every day, they’re not that frequent, thank God. But once a month, certainly.”
Scarlett gasped. “I— I had no idea. Well, I have heard one or two rumors circulating about wolves wandering into this area from time to time. Stupid really, they’re only rumors, but I could ask around more, if you’d like.” Best to give Tim the filtered information, than to have him find a witness that leads him to Ronnie, she thought. It sounds like he’s already on to the lunar pattern.
“Oh, you’re such a good sleuth, my dear. A proper Sherlock Holmes.”
She smiled. “Thanks.”
He grasped her hand. “Just to be clear, this isn’t—what was it called? —The Hound of the Baskervilles?” Though he appreciated the information, he was eager to dissuade her from the conversation before it turned to werewolves.
She scowled at the insinuation.
“Sherlock Holmes, that was fiction, wasn’t it?”
She sighed, as if she knew exactly what was coming next. “Yes. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.”
“Well, there you are then. Wolves on the rampage—it’s in the realms of fantasy. Doesn’t happen in real life.”
Scarlett folded her arms. “Well, what was it then?”
“Most likely a large dog, pit bull or rottweiler or something.” He knew he was lying.
She sensed this wasn’t his real theory, but went along with him. “Well, yes. As I said, it was just a rumor.”
“A coincidence, nothing more, my dear.”
“Of course it is.”
“Not even Sir Arthur Conan Doyle suggested that werewolves might actually exist.” Tim mentally kicked himself. Crap, why did I say that?
She laughed. “Werewolves? Do you believe in them? I certainly don’t,” she lied. Yup, he knows.
Tim shook his head. “No, of course not. Well, I have to be making tracks.”
“Busy afternoon ahead, Flight Lieutenant Clarke?”
“Well, one or two things to do. A few leads to follow. The usual.”
She laughed at the idea of anything usual at this point.
“You look so pretty when you laugh. What about you, anything exciting?”
“Yeah, I’m going to have a whale of a time standing here for the rest of the day. I’m even starting to wish that Karl would come back, start ordering me about, throwing his weight around like he usually does.”
“Oh dear, things must be bad.” He leaned forward and examined the back of her hands.
“What are you doing?”
“Just checking there are no hairs sprouting out of your knuckles.”
Scarlett laughed.
“Phew. At least now I can go home tonight safe in the knowledge that you’re not about to go all supernatural on me.”
“It’s not a full moon tonight.” She stated in a flirtatious manner.
Tim chuckled. “Good point.” He looked over his shoulder at the door.
“Oh, well then, I’d better be off. See you soon, yes?”
“I would hope so.”
He gave her a simple kiss and then strode to the door.
“Bye,” she shouted across the deserted store.
Tim stepped outside, waved over his shoulder, and shot off along the pavement.
Scarlett delved into her jacket pocket, fingers fumbling over her phone, letting it escape from her grasp before she could place it on the counter.
“Damn,” she said out loud, bending to lift her phone from the floor. Phone on the counter, she opened her contacts and paused. She couldn’t involve Amanda in this. The names flicked upwards as her finger moved down. No, she thought, as the names flashed up on the screen. List exhausted, she put the phone down and sighed. She had just acquired the most astounding revelation, but had no one to share it with. She didn’t want to bother the crew while they searched so she would just have to be patient and wait.
+++
Jones’s Residence, Bicester, England
“Follow me.” Tarquin marched down the stairs, through the back door, and into the car park. He waited patiently for Karl to settle himself on the passenger seat before igniting the engine and reversing through the gates. Once on the road, they devised a plan of action.
Karl was the first to speak up. “Right, once we get there, it’s straight in to look for signs of life. If we don’t find anything, we scour the house.” He glanced at Tarquin. “And let’s not be too conspicuous, eh? I don’t want the world knowing or even suspecting my business. The last thing I need is people thinking I’m in league with a magician for heaven’s sake.”
Tarquin grinned. “Perish the thought.”
“And let’s not take all afternoon about it. I have more important things to do than go chasing after some middle-aged delinquent that doesn’t know how to control himsel
f.”
Tarquin nodded. “Agreed. On both fronts.”
“Let’s get on with this. I want to get back relatively early so I can check up on things at the shop, since I’ll have left Scarlett on her own most of day, and God only knows what she is up to there with that inquisitive mind of hers.”
Tarquin grinned. “Come on, I’m sure things are fine. You can trust her. I can see it in her eyes, not to mention she is now strangely a part of things.”
“She’s very young still.”
“Whatever you say. Now come on, let’s just concentrate on the matter at hand. We have a werewolf or man to track down and we can best pray for the latter.”
The car slowed and turned onto a street that was lined with houses. A woman appeared, pushing a pram along the otherwise deserted pavement.
Tarquin smiled. “Bet she doesn’t know one of her neighbors is a werewolf.”
Karl laughed.
A few more doors along, the car slowed to a crawl. “This the one?” Tarquin asked, flashing a glance at Karl.
“Yes, that’s his truck.”
Tarquin pulled up beside it in the driveway.
A chilly breeze nipped at them as they got out to investigate. Karl peered in through driver’s window of Ronnie’s truck. “No prizes for cleanliness.”
He made way for Tarquin to have a look. “Nothing to see here.”
“Look, Tarquin, if we don’t get a move on, we’re going to raise a few eyebrows. That woman we saw earlier knew we were up to something, I could just tell.”
“You sure this is the right place?” Tarquin said as they stepped onto the garden path.
“Absolutely.”
Tarquin stopped in his tracks. “Doesn’t look like there’s anyone in, does it?”
Karl shook his head. “No, it does not. But if he’s out, he must be somewhere in the locality or else why would he leave his truck?”
They stopped a few feet from the doorstep. Glancing around at the windows, they each held their breath, trying to block out the background noise.
A TV set blasted around the street, but that was coming from a neighboring house. Cars continually drove past along the road behind them. If Ronnie was home, they weren’t going to know from the outside.
Mauve (A Very British Witch Book 3) Page 8
