by Kallie Frost
Now, here I was. Lost, and frozen, and utterly alone.
If I couldn’t find shelter soon, I’d be dead.
If I passed out, I’d automatically shift back, and then I’d be a naked, unconscious human. And I’d still end up dead.
And then, I smelled just the faintest hint of a scent I knew very well: coffee. Freshly brewing coffee. Someone was nearby. I followed the scent until, like a beacon of hope, a light finally cut through the dark snow. I ran smack into the side of the porch. It would have hurt if I could still feel my nose. I risked jumping up and landed in deep snow, but on a higher step. I hopped up the steps and found just a slight break in the driving wind and snow. There was a door. I put my paws against it and beat with all my might, while yowling at the top of my frozen lungs. I considered shifting, but didn’t have the strength. The effort would probably kill me.
My burst of energy faded and I managed one last, feeble mew, before collapsing into the snow.
Chapter Two
Louis
I slammed the lid of my laptop shut, without bothering to log out of my bank account. It was lower than I had expected. There was usually a little surge of holiday traffic, but it hadn’t been enough this year. Profits were always down in the off-season and I planned for it, but with things getting leaner every year, a couple of bad months hurt quite a bit more than they usually did.
I stood and looked out the window. The blizzard the weatherman predicted was evidently here. I was so wrapped up in the finances, I hadn't even noticed. My window was caked with snow and I couldn't see a thing outside. But, I could feel the cold wind whistling in through the cracks in the window, and added it to my increasingly long list of things that needed to be fixed, but that I couldn't afford.
“Sorry, Mom,” I said softly. “The shop’s going under soon.”
I shivered and trudged down the stairs to the shop, debating whether or not I wanted to turn the heat up a little bit, or just settle by the fireplace for the night to help keep heating costs low. Wide awake now, largely thanks in part to my frustration about the lack of profit, I walked behind the counter and put on a fresh pot of coffee. While it brewed, I headed over to the fireplace. It was probably the nicest thing in the whole shop, these days. It was a large stone fireplace, that heated pretty much the entire room, and was always popular with customers on a cold day. At least, that had been the case while my mother was still alive.
My thoughts drifted to her, as they so often did. I piled up a couple of logs in the fireplace and crumpled newspaper, with a little more force than necessary, as I thought of her. Right here, gathered by the fireplace, she’d talk to the customers as long as the shop stayed open, and then some. She knew every local by name. When all the tourists were gone for the season, she’d open up the shop on Christmas for anyone who was alone. Everyone was always made to feel at home here. I wondered why I never did…
My coffee finished brewing right around the time my fire was large enough to sustain itself. I headed over to pour myself a nice big cup. I briefly debated adding something, but instead went to find a chair by the fire. After doing the finances, I wasn’t sure I could justify having anything but black coffee. The shop had been struggling for quite some time; I knew its days were numbered, but balancing the checkbook from last year hit me hard. I really hadn't expected the profit margin to be so slim. October saw me lose money, November and December weren’t much better. Another month or two without turning a profit and I wouldn’t be able to keep the shop going. I didn’t know what I’d do after that happened; I was so desperate to keep the coffee shop running that my personal finances had gotten tangled up in it. If – when – the shop went under, I'd be penniless. I glanced above me, looking toward the little bedroom above the café. And homeless.
A strange sound caught my attention and I set down my mug to look around. There was a distinct pounding noise, coming from somewhere. I followed the sound across the shop and paused outside the door to the storage room. Was it coming from in there? I eased open the door and looked in. Something was pounding against the door to the back alley! Now, I could hear yowling as well. It was an animal, trying to get inside! What could it be? Nobody was stupid enough to let their pets out in this. And, thanks to my mom, even now there were no stray cats in the town. Could it be a racoon? Did they make noise like that? I wondered if I wanted to open the door and risk something rabid lunging for my throat. Then, silence. Had my ear not been right by the door, I wouldn’t have heard the pitiful, follow-up mew. A cat?!
I fumbled for my key and quickly unlocked the door. An icy blast nearly knocked me back as I opened it. Damn, I was not prepared for the ferocity of the storm. Shielding my eyes with my hand, I looked down, trying to see into the driving snow, and hoping that no animal was about to attack me. There was something brown in the snowdrift on top of my step. I squinted, trying to make it out. The wind died down, just for a moment, but long enough for me to see that there was a cat. I honestly wouldn’t have been surprised if it was already dead, but it opened its eyes and blinked at me.
Fuck. I spun, looking for something to grab it with. Hoping for a towel, but not seeing any, I grabbed an apron off the shelf, and rushed back to the porch. I threw it over the cat, and gathered it up, then slammed the door against the blizzard.
It was a big cat, I thought, as I rushed back into the main room. I hoped that I hadn’t been in such a rush that I mistook a young mountain lion for a cat. Did we have mountain lions here? I hurried to the fireplace, and grabbed a wicker basket with blankets inside it, left over from after the last café cat had passed away. I never had the heart to remove the basket; I was glad now that I hadn’t, as I tucked the cat in it, and moved it as close to the fire as I dared. Then, I pulled back the apron, just for a peek. To my relief, it was indeed a cat. The poor thing’s ears and nose looked frostbitten. I hoped I hadn’t just killed the animal by taking too long to bring it inside. It kept blinking at me, and I wondered if it could even see. I put blanket around it and tucked it in.
Once I was satisfied that the cat was sufficiently bundled up, I went to go get it some food. I heated up a small dish of cream, too. I knew cream was bad for cats, and was sure my mother was rolling in her grave, but I thought the smell might be more enticing than just water, and I wanted the cat to drink. Though I had let my mother’s café’s reputation as a cat-friendly coffee house slip, tourists with fond memories still dropped off food sometimes. I let it sit until I had enough to take to a cat shelter. I hadn’t gotten a chance to go recently, so I had a whole box of cat food. I grabbed a can out of the back room, and took the opportunity to relock the outer door. I opened the can and spooned it onto a plate. The cat watched me as I brought over the food. I was afraid it would be skittish, so I moved slowly. Before I could even set the plate all the way down, the cat shot out from under the blanket and started lapping up the food. I put down the food and the cream next to it, and then slid back into my chair to watch. I was relieved to see how quickly the cat seemed to be recovering. It gobbled down the food, and then sniffed at the cream. The damn thing looked at me, almost as if it was judging me, and then began to lap it up.
“What does this mean?” I asked softly. Rather than be startled by my voice, the cat merely flipped its ears in my direction. Then, it settled back on its haunches and looked at me again, tilting its head curiously.
“Cats were my mother's favorite animal,” I told it. “I never cared much for them, no offense.” I laughed at myself for apologizing to a cat. It was still watching me with large, too intelligent eyes. I felt almost compelled keep talking to it. Funny thing was, I didn't care for cats. My mother always had several, but I couldn't remember ever saying more to one than telling it to scram.
“She’s been dead for seven years,” I said. It still hurt to say it out loud. “There was a cat at her funeral. Not at the funeral, I mean. Just outside the funeral home.” I laughed again. “I’ve never told anyone this,” I said to the cat. “But, there was a
cat in the parking lot. Just… sitting in the bushes. It was there when I got to the funeral. And when I left it was sitting on the hood of my car. I know it was just because it was a chilly day, and my car was warm from the sun, but… I told myself that maybe it was my mother sending a sign… like I said, she loved cats…”
The cat sat upright, almost like it wanted to hear my story. Though I'd never shared it before, it felt good to say it out loud. “Ever since her death,” I told the cat, “cats seem to show up whenever something big happens in my life. I know it sounds stupid, but like, this one time I had a boyfriend break up with me, and I was devastated of course… And I was driving home, and I pulled over at a gas station just to… collect myself. There's a cat there. Probably hunting around in the bushes next to the gas station. And I know was just a stray cat, but… but it always seems to happen. Something major happens and there's a cat there, almost like my mother is telling me it'll be okay or urging me to go for it or something…” I stretched and smiled at the cat, chuckling at myself. “So, I'm wondering what it means that a cat has now turned up on my doorstep in the middle of a blizzard, and I essentially saved its life. Maybe fate has something really big in store for me now.”
The cat twisted its head, regarding me with wise eyes. Almost like it was thinking about my words. It was somewhat unsettling. I thought about what I had been doing before the cat showed up.
“I guess none of that matters anyway, I'm not going to be able to keep the shop open for much longer. Is that why you’re here? Are you appearing now that things are going to fail?” I laughed weakly. “Or maybe you're a sign that somehow things are can still turn around.” With all of the strange coincidences in my life, I found it almost hard to believe that a cat would show up right after I finished doing the books and it wouldn’t signify anything.
Once again, the cat reacted as if it was listening to me. It tilted its head, watching me intently.
I got up to get another cup of coffee, when I returned the cat was still sitting right where it had been before. That worried me a bit. While I didn’t much like cats, I knew more than enough about their behavior to find it a little unusual. It acted like a friendly enough cat – maybe escaped from some tourist who dropped in for the winter – but, I was surprised that it had yet to get up and start exploring its surroundings. It was spending a little too much time sitting in the same place for my liking, and I hoped that its paws weren’t suffering from frostbite or anything. Even though it seemed tame, I didn't want to risk trying to examine it.
“Yuck,” I told it, taking a sip of the bitter coffee. “I hate coffee.” The cat snorted and shook its head, sending its ears flapping from side to side. “No offense,” I added, with a chuckle.
I stayed silent for a while, sipping my nasty coffee, and trying to figure out what I was going to do. The cat eventually settled in by the fire, not once having gotten up to check out the rest of the house. I didn't want to traumatize it by taking it upstairs with me, but I didn’t want to leave it alone either. I had a feeling I wouldn't be able to sleep easily with my latest bookkeeping still fresh in mind, so I grabbed a novel that I had been reading and settled in by the fire with the cat.
~~~****~~~
Something jolted me out of a sound sleep. I sat up, disoriented. Where was I? Oh, the chair by the fire. I must've fallen asleep watching over the cat. The animal in question was no longer by the fire, and I smiled in relief. I heard a thud from upstairs, and rolled my eyes. No doubt the cat had just knocked something off the table. Now I remembered why I didn't like the things. I groaned and stretched. I hoped it hadn’t knocked any of the accounting around. I had a whole stack of precariously balanced receipts, and would be pretty pissed if they got all messed up. I had a cramp in my neck, and my lower back hurt from falling asleep in the chair. I had a wicked throbbing going on in my collarbone, too. I stood and rotated my arm to ease it, wondering just how long I had been asleep in the chair. A quick check of my phone showed that it had been several hours, and now was nearly morning.
With one last stretch, I got ready to go find the cat, when I heard the sound of footsteps crossing the floor above me. I froze. Cats didn't make that sound. Humans did. There was someone in my shop!
I stared up at the ceiling in horror, as if I could see through it. I waited with bated breath for another sign that I wasn't alone. Sure enough, the sound echoed again. Someone was moving, rather quickly, around in my bedroom. I heard the unmistakable sound of one of my squeaky drawers opening and closing, followed by another set of human footsteps.
“Who's there?” I shouted. “I'm calling the police!” As I spoke I rushed across the shop to the stairway. A chill ran through me, as a distinctly human shadow appeared against my open bedroom door, and then pulled back out of sight. “Hey! I said who’s there?!”
There was an immediate silence. I waited, as if expecting whoever had broken into my shop to answer me. I reached for my phone and discovered I had no service, just my luck. I was pretty sure I could make an emergency call without service, not that I ever tried it before. I dialed 911 and was rewarded with a busy tone. Seriously? Who even had busy lines anymore? I looked around for a weapon and grabbed a knife from behind the counter.
I shoved my phone back in my pocket, brushing against my keys as I did. Wait a minute, how the hell could someone have even gotten in here? Never mind the fact there was a raging blizzard outside, but my doors were locked! I surely would have heard if one was forcibly opened. I hurried over to the front door to check. My mother read somewhere that it was a safety thing to have doors that could be locked from the inside with keys, and I had yet to replace her annoying locks. Sure enough, my front door was securely locked and deadbolted, and the only key was safely tucked in my pocket. There was no way someone had come in from the front. Was it the back? Did I forgot to lock the door when the cat came in? I headed over that to that door, keeping an ear out for any sounds from the story above me. Like the front door, the back door was securely bolted with a lock that could only be opened with a key, and that same key was resting safely in my pocket. I now recalled locking it when I was feeding the cat. There was no way anybody could have come in the back.
Meanwhile, not a sound from upstairs. I moved nervously to the stairway, clutching my knife. I knew I had heard human footsteps, and there was no way that shadow had been anything but human. So what the hell was I going to do? There was no way out from upstairs, except to come back down. All of the windows in the shop were louvers, too small for a person to climb out of. Not that I expected anyone to climb down from the second floor.
I debated whether or not I should give the person another chance to come down the stairs or if I should try to sneak up quietly. There weren't a lot of places to hide up there, but I really didn't want to be wandering around, poking my head around corners either. Before I could make up my mind, the cat came tearing down the stairway at full speed. I tightened my grip on the knife. Had whoever was up in my bedroom scared the cat downstairs? It raced across the room to the front door. Then, to my utter shock, jumped up and grasped the doorknob with both front paws. It started frantically biting at it and kicking the door with its back legs. Then, it dropped down, ran to the storage room door, and proceeded to do the same thing.
“Calm down, kitty, it's okay,” I said, keeping a wary eye on the staircase. “You don't want to go out there, kitty cat. It’s still snowing, you’d just freeze to death.” The cat came racing back in and then jumped on the window ledge, and began biting at the crank that opened the louvers! To my surprise, it actually managed to turn it, just a little bit, and cracked the windows open!
“I don't think you can fit out those, kitty,” I said. It was a pretty big cat. “And there's a screen on the other side,” I muttered. I couldn’t believe it knew how to open the windows! That certainly explained where it came from though; it must have escaped from someone’s house or hotel room.
The cat sat down by the front door, fixed me with a firm sta
re, then threw back its head, and yowled. I actually jumped back as the ear-splitting wail filled the room.
“I'm sorry, cat! You can't go outside! I hate these stupid things,” I muttered, as it let out another yowl. “I didn’t save you, just to let you go running back outside to freeze to death. And,” I added, kicking myself for letting the cat distract me. “there’s someone upstairs!” I clutched my knife tighter.
The cat stood, and then darted from side to side, as if uncertain what to do. Then, it sat back down, looked at me again, and let out another yowl. Well, this one was more of a plaintiff, sad meow, than a yowl.
And then a voice echoed inside my head.
‘I'm sorry, please try not to panic.’
Chapter Three
Cambry
I watched the human looking frantically around for the source of the voice. I considered clarifying that it was me who had spoken, but he'd see that soon enough.
I closed my eyes, and concentrated on my human form. I had roughly two minutes left until sunrise, but it wouldn't make a difference. The freaking doors were locked with a key from the inside. Who had doors like that?! I could manage to unlock most doors in cat form, but not if I didn't have the key in the first place. I knew that I couldn't just change back at sunrise, dodge around the human, and hide upstairs all day. I had initially gone upstairs, hoping to escape out a window or off a balcony, or something. The windows up there were no good, I couldn't fit through the tiny louvers. The human was asleep downstairs, so I risked shifting, and rifling through drawers, trying to find the key for the downstairs doors. Panic overtook my need for stealth, and it wasn't long before the human obviously heard me.
