The Nine Lives of Felicia Miller

by Joe Augustyn

  The weather was balmy, a touch of Indian Summer, and unlike past trips through the woods, Felicia felt comfortable and unafraid this time. As if she belonged to some secret woodland society and the woods were her turf.

  But as she approached Granny’s rustic homestead the atmosphere grew strangely gloomy. Even before she set foot inside the cabin she could feel a pall, hanging in the air like a shroud.

  “What’s going on?” she asked apprehensively as Elmo answered her knock.

  Granny sat silently in her rocker, gnarled hands tense on the arm rails, staring into the fireplace. Elmo shot a telling look at the old woman and lowered his head.

  Felicia walked over and put a comforting hand on Granny’s wrist. “What is it, Granny, what’s wrong?”

  The old woman handed her an official looking letter printed on county stationery. Felicia read it quickly. “It’s just a notice that some surveyors will be coming around.”

  “To throw me from my home,” Granny replied in her quaint accent.

  “No. It doesn’t say that at all. Just because they’re coming to do some survey work doesn’t mean they intend to evict you. It might not affect your property at all.”

  “They’ve been trying for years to evict me. I’m getting too old to fight them.”

  “Don’t say that. Even if they are trying something funny, you’re not alone. I can help you get a lawyer. Mr. Villani in town is very nice. I baby-sit his kids. They love me. I’ll bet I can get him to help you for free. Pro bono.”

  The old woman smiled and patted Felicia’s hand knowingly. “To help a mean old witch like me? He might help a pretty young girl like you, but he wouldn’t be doing his business any good by siding with me. Not in this town. I know what they all think of me.”

  “Now you just sound silly. And you’re getting all worked up over nothing. There’s no reason to assume anything until you know what’s really going on.”

  “You’re a sweet girl, Felicia. But I know which way the wind blows. I know it before the trees start to rustle and the leaves flutter through the air.”

  She took Felicia’s hands and squeezed them between her own. “Ah. Your power is strong. I can feel it. Much stronger than the first night we met. That’s good. You were given your gift for a reason. Use it wisely. You know what you must do.”

  “I’ve been doing alright so far, I guess.”

  The old woman smiled. “You must go now. This old woman needs her beauty rest.”

  Something in her tone was disturbing. It sounded so final. “Granny, are you alright?”

  “I’ll be fine.” The old woman smiled, pleased that Felicia had finally addressed her like family.

  She gave Felicia’s hand a final pat, then closed her eyes and rocked quietly in her chair. The glow of the fireplace seemed to erase the age lines on her face, giving her a look of healthy serenity. The acrid imprint of power seemed to fade from her face as well, leaving only a gentle old grandmother resting by a cozy fire.

  169

  The Nine Lives of Felicia Miller

  28

  Felicia’s transformation into a bobcat was her easiest and smoothest yet. Like a practitioner of transcendental meditation, she’d learned to tune her brain to a highly receptive and responsive wavelength. Painting her face was still a necessity to effectuate the shapeshift, but it now felt secondary to her will power and focused intent.

  Although the bobcat was larger and heavier than her previous feline forms, her powerful rear legs made running a breeze, and she cantered towards the woods with grace and confidence. The wildness coursing through her body like a damp electric current was now an integral part of her psyche, and she wore her heightened senses like a glove.

  No movement escaped her peripheral vision as she ran. A mouse dove into its burrow. A grouse screeched in terror as she startled it in passing. Every tiny creature darting from cover to cover was hers if she wanted to claim it. But her heart was set on bigger game.

  Earlier that day she’d googled Sparrow’s home address and charted the quickest route to his house through the woods. It would take her directly through Devils Point, but that was no longer a concern.

  She feared nothing now. No creature living or dead. She had strength and speed and agility and four sets of razor-sharp claws, not to mention her dagger-like teeth. And as for the supernatural, she was part of it now, a member in good standing of Granny’s magic clan.

  As she maneuvered the last stretch of forest approaching the invidious Point, she heard rustling in the woods around her, and nearly collided with a terrified deer bolting away through the brush.

  Run, Bambi, run. I’m not here for you. But run and hide anyway. There are other things here that can hurt you.

  A confident smile puffed her bobcat’s jowls as she leaped over a massive log, secure in her place in the food chain.

  Being a predator’s not half bad. It certainly beats being prey.

  She hopped a thorny shrub at the edge of the woods and in three mighty bounds reached the ring of boulders in the center of the Point. Amazed at the ease with which her sinewy muscles propelled her through the air and the sprightly grace with which she steered herself over and around obstacles large and small, she indulged herself by leaping playfully from boulder to boulder, tracing a dizzy circle in the night air.

  Around and around she went, faster and faster, feeling freer and freer with every hop. She felt like she was flying, her padded feet barely touching the tops of the boulders before she was airborne again, moving faster than any carousel or merry-go-round could spin. The nocturnal smells of the forest streamed over her—the delicious flavors of pine and wild herbs—the earthy scent of leaves decaying into dark rich soil—the musky territorial markings of animals.

  A gunshot shattered her reverie, cracking through the autumn air like a bullwhip.

  A 243 Winchester bullet hit the boulder below her, smacking up dust and a small chip of stone that stung her furry thigh like a hornet.

  The shocking noise and stinging pain caused her muscles to spasm. She lost her nimble footing and tumbled into the clearing.

  Landing on her feet she stood trembling, partly with rage but mostly in terror. Luckily, she landed behind the cover of the boulders, safe from follow-up rounds.

  “Damn!”

  The shooter’s disappointed voice was followed by mocking laughter from his companions.

  “Almost don’t count, Floyd.”

  Felicia peeked around the edge of a boulder and saw a trio of hunters eagerly aiming their rifles in her direction. She sprang back to safety as their guns erupted and a volley of hot metal blasted the space where her head had just been.

  With the pungent odor of cordite in her nose and her brain flooded with adrenaline, it took some effort to regain control of her nerves and her senses. Her human reason tried to intervene with her animal instincts, and only succeeded in adding to her confusion. Get a grip or you’re dead!

  “Come on. She’s hiding behind that boulder.”

  “Smart little critter, I’ll give her that.”

  “Don’t worry, we’ve got her. Circle around there, I’ll go this way. Floyd, you stay put and keep your rifle aimed on those boulders in case she makes a run before we can flank her.”

  Felicia stood frozen. She seemed doomed no matter what she did.

  If I try to run they’ll shoot me.

  But you can’t stay here either! Move!

  Felicia heard the sliding of rifle bolts and footsteps creeping toward her on either side. In seconds they’d be stepping around the boulders and she’d be trapped in their gun sights.

  A dozen futile scenarios whirled hopelessly through her mind. Her human reason finally surrendered and let her animal instincts take control.

  Without another wasted moment she leaped into the air and landed atop the nearest boulder—and instantly launched herself again as Floyd squeezed his trigger.

  The bullet creased the air so close to her flank she could feel its passing hea
t. The other hunters spun back as they heard the shot. “There!”

  Bullets chased Felicia across the clearing. She ran a zigzag pattern, swinging her torso this way and that, never slowing down for an instant.

  Bullets punched the ground at her feet and whizzed past her head, just missing by inches.

  Her human brain re-emerged with the thought that the men behind her wouldn’t risk shooting if she got too close to Floyd, so she turned in his direction.

  Floyd whipped his rifle up at her but as she leaped toward him he stumbled back in a panic, thinking she was launching an attack. He tripped on a rock and slammed onto his back. The butt of his gun hit the ground, causing it to discharge.

  Felicia jumped over him and escaped into the woods, losing herself in the underbrush.

  Bullets continued chasing her, pinging off rocks and cracking tree branches. But the brush was too thick and she was too fast and the hunters were merely firing off rounds in frustration.

  “Goddammit!” Their curses echoed behind her.

  Felicia didn’t stop running until the sounds and the smells of the hunters were no longer with her. Then she rolled onto her side in a pile of musty leaves and lay panting. Wondering how many of her allotted nine lives she’d just used up.

  169

  The Nine Lives of Felicia Miller

  29

  The week leading to Halloween passed quickly, but not without angst for Felicia. She had not even attempted to transform again after recovering from her frightful night as a bobcat.

  Retreating from the woods, no longer feeling quite so mighty and invulnerable, she had aborted her mission to Sparrow’s house, retreated to the safety of her bedroom, and prayed all night for dawn to come. And for the first time since her initial transformation, she was afraid that when the sun finally did show its face, the transformation would fail and she’d remain in the body of a cat.

  To her great relief, that didn’t happen. When the first rays of sunlight filtered through her open window and reflected off the mirror onto her face, she began the now familiar shift back to human form. Soon she was her bipedal self, sporting a few new scratches and an ugly bruise or two but otherwise physically intact.

  Mentally and emotionally, it was a different story. Severely shaken and only somewhat comforted by her return to human form, she almost skipped school with a feigned illness. But after wrestling with her conscience and absorbing some cheerful morning sun, she felt a bit more normal and realized she’d regret it if she missed out on the big Halloween show because she blew off a drama club meeting.

  Her anxiety took a new turn during the meeting. The drama club kids were expected to submit their ideas for the show, and she wasn’t prepared. Although she’d spent hours trying to come up with a suitable idea for her performance, everything she came up with seemed clichéd and unspectacular.

  It was Mr. Baxter who relieved that stress, while simultaneously injecting a whole new strain into her life. “Felicia? How would you feel about performing a dance number?”

  Dance? Where is this coming from? Felicia loved to dance in her room when no one was there to watch her, and managed to make it through Miss Robinson’s dancersize classes without embarrassing herself, but she wasn’t sure how she felt about dancing in front of a few hundred judgmental townies. She had proven to herself that her singing voice was good enough, but wasn’t quite as sure of her dance moves.

  “Think about it, will you?” Mr. Baxter continued, “Nelson has proposed an interesting dance number he’d like to perform, but he needs a partner. It’s a duet.”

  Nelson?

  The thought of dancing with Nelson was unnerving, as might be expected. Probably clad in what? Some kind of skintight leotard? Oh my God. What if he sees me in my costume and doesn’t like what he sees? Or I do something idiotic like miss my cue and fall on my stupid face? Or worse, fall on his face?

  But something in her was excited by the possibilities. A part of her felt like a caged lion, eager to break out and go wild. To unleash the animal in her, for all the world to see.

  What are you afraid of, girl? You know you can move like a gee-dee cheetah. You’ve never been more in control of your body in your life.

  Her thoughts turned from the audience to Nelson.

  You’ll knock him dead with your feline grace. Stir up his primal juices.

  She chuckled inwardly at the thought. I doubt if his juices need stirring. He is a teenage boy after all. Even though he acts so cool and mature. He can’t hide that look in his eyes.

  She imagined them dancing. Beautifully. A matched pair moving in perfect harmony. Amazing the hometown audience with their synchronized perfection.

  Her fantasy quickly grew steamier. She thought of Nelson lifting her high and swinging her about like a rag-doll, inhaling her steamy essence as her legs brushed his shoulders and wrapped themselves around his sweet neck.

  She imagined his hands gripping her thighs as he hoisted her high. The heat of their bodies connecting under the hot stage lights. Their perspiration mingling…

  “Felicia?” It was Mr. Baxter again, breaking into her reverie.

  “Huh?”

  “You’ll think about it?”

  Felicia looked over at Nelson. Despite the brittle smile on his face, he looked strangely gloomy. Uncharacteristically insecure.

  Uh uh, can’t have that. “Yes.” Felicia replied. “Sure.”

  “You’ll think about it?”

  “I’ll do it.”

  She turned and smiled at Nelson. His face brightened, and she was reminded of the sun as it rose that morning, bringing her back to humanity.

  169

  The Nine Lives of Felicia Miller

  30

  Libby pounded softly on the bathroom stall door. “Felicia? Are you okay? You’re not getting cold feet again, are you?”

  “No, Libby, I’m okay. I just need a minute.”

  “You don’t have a minute. You’re up next. Nelson is waiting backstage. You’re making him nervous. If you make him wait any longer he might be too nervous to perform.”

  “Has the sun gone down?”

  “What?”

  “The sun. Has it gone down yet?”

  “Yeah, like twenty minutes ago. What are you, some kind of vampire all of a sudden?”

  The stall door opened and Felicia emerged.

  Libby watched impatiently as she ran to the bathroom mirror and quickly checked her make-up. “You look fine. Good enough for Broadway.”

  Felicia did look fine. Her cat make-up was very creative and surreal, less constrained by the realism of her usual transformational make-up.

  What the hell was I thinking when I agreed to wear this costume? I really dodged a bullet this time. She shuddered as she imagined herself transforming in front of the dressing room mirror. I would have turned into some kind of freaky cartoon cat. Is that even possible?

  She hurried backstage to where Nelson was waiting. He looked amazingly hot in his lion costume. Below a magnificent shaggy mane and exotic leonine face paint, a skin-hugging dancetard showed off his chiseled sixpack.

  He looks good enough to eat.

  “Felicia. Are you okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah, sorry. Just a few butterflies.” Glancing over his shoulder she saw a line of zanily costumed zombies stumbling through a whimsical dance routine onstage. They weren’t the cream of the drama club’s talent pool, and it was wise that they’d chosen a comedic performance. They finished to a round of generous applause.

  “You sure?” Nelson prodded. He seemed genuinely concerned, which Felicia found charming but slightly equivocal. Was he genuinely concerned about her personally, or worried she might screw up their act and embarrass him?

  “I’m good,” she said firmly.

  “Okay. Cool. Just relax. We’re gonna knock ‘em dead.” He gently stroked her cheek. Felicia felt something warm and refreshing stir in her psyche. There was nothing dubious about the effect his touch had on her. It was pure animal
magnetism.

  The applause died and Crystal ran backstage amid a throng of fellow zombies, all aglow in their colorful costumes and ghoul-clown greasepaint.

  “F-felicia, d-did you l-like our act?”

  “Yeah, Crys, it rocked the house,” Felicia fibbed. “You got some wicked moves, girl.”

  Crystal lit up. For a moment she felt like she belonged, and her stutter all but disappeared. “You’re so lucky,” she gushed. “You g-get to dance with Nelson. He’s s-so hot.”

  Nelson smiled bashfully and pretended he hadn’t overheard. Giddy as a bunny, Crystal hurried to the wings to stake out a spot to watch them dance.

  The houselights went black and the first notes of David Bowie’s “Cat People” played in the eerie darkness. The provocative beats continued in complete darkness for nearly half a minute, causing a swell of anticipation in the small town audience.

  Finally a dim blue spotlight came up to reveal Nelson, striding on all fours across the stage. With his lean dancer’s body, he moved as good as he looked. He sprang to his feet as the music accelerated, lashing the air with his arms.

  After a series of solo spins and leaps and kicks he froze—reacting to the sudden appearance of Felicia as a second spotlight flared on, revealing her squatting in the center of the stage. It was an artful surprise, and the audience clapped in appreciation.

  Felicia slowly raised her head and slapped a hand forward on the stage. She looked even more impressive than her partner. A sleek beautiful creature slinking across the stage with true feline grace.

  The audience sat spellbound, mesmerized by her inhuman moves. Her spine seemed to be made of rubber as she stretched and rolled and clawed the air. Nelson did his best to match her moves, but quickly realized that as good as he was, with years of dance training, her natural talent dwarfed his. Rather than succumb to jealousy, however, he altered his dance moves to showcase hers, happily assuming a supporting role.

  As the tempo of the music increased, Felicia danced with a wildness and bravado she never knew was part of her. Her mind seemed to take a holiday, letting the feline part of her soul take command.