The Nine Lives of Felicia Miller

by Joe Augustyn

  “Thanks, Sheriff.”

  “I hope you’ll consider what I said.”

  “I will. I promise,” Felicia smiled… then driven by an instinct she didn’t quite understand, she leaned across the seat and gave him a daughterly kiss on the cheek.

  Owen sat in silence, trying to swallow the lump in his throat as he watched her hop out and skip sweetly to her house.

  Why couldn’t my kid be like her?

  359

  The Nine Lives of Felicia Miller

  70

  Felicia tried to focus on her homework but found it impossible. She had suffered through a cold and clumsy dinner conversation, with her mother picking at her as if she were a scab, while her father valiantly tried to deflect his wife’s barbs and pull the family back together.

  Felicia knew her mom well enough to know that she was simply venting her own frustrations. But she resented the fact that her mother wasn’t self-aware enough to know how mean and petty it was to take those feelings out on her.

  Yes, I screwed up. So punish me. That’s your parental prerogative. But don’t torture me psychologically while pretending to be concerned.

  As if that wasn’t enough to worry about, she had the kids at school and the gossip hounds all through the county. Word of her strange exploits had already made the rounds. Sidelong glances and hooded whispers greeted her wherever she went. The haters were having a field day.

  Closing her schoolbooks she slid off the bed and began to pace her room. She felt like a cat in a cage.

  She looked through the open window, saw the sky turning red and gray as the sun slinked low. The crisp green smells of springtime beckoned her.

  A low growl rolled from her larynx. She wanted out. To run wild through the forest. To leap over obstacles like an acrobat and hide in the dark like a demon. To sneak up on someone. Feel her claws dig into flesh. Her teeth crunch bone. The taste of human blood.

  Stop it. You know you can’t. Not tonight. Not for a while. It’s way too dangerous. The hunters are still out there, hoping to become heroes.

  It’s just too soon.

  Too risky.

  But as the sun dipped further she surrendered to her animal lust. Hurrying to her mirror she dumped her bag of theatrical make-up onto the vanity. Grabbing a jar of black greasepaint she dipped her fingers in and began slathering her face.

  No time to get fancy. Tonight it’s just basic black.

  As the sun set she found herself staring at the face of a panther.

  In two bounds she was out the window and shooting down the tree, ricocheting from branch to branch like a giant eightball.

  ***

  The night was moonless. A perfect night for a panther to prowl unseen.

  Felicia darted from shadow to shadow, moving from house to house. Tiny rodents skittered away in panic. Dogs barked from the safety of their homes and yards, spreading the alarm that a serious menace was afoot.

  When she finally reached the woods, she relaxed and adopted a leisurely pace. She was virtually invisible in the dark night woods. She could see and hear any hunters or possible threats long before they might notice her.

  As her furry hide brushed through foliage and her padded feet trod over cool clean earth, she enjoyed a feeling of hominess, of belonging to nature, unfettered and full of life. Of being a queen. Queen of a boundless green empire.

  But she had business to tend to.

  359

  The Nine Lives of Felicia Miller

  71

  An hour later she was perched on a branch outside Wally’s bedroom, staring at him through the window.

  He lay sprawled across his bed. He might have been dead or asleep, with one knee crooked up and his eyes drooped half open in a dull stare. Felicia realized he was drugged out on meds. Still reeling from the last attack. His macho bravado had been pulverized. Rather than going out roaming with whatever was left of his crew, he was hiding away in a self-imposed prison.

  It’s a good start… but I’m not through with him.

  Felicia stood on the tree branch and crept carefully toward his window. The branch dipped and swayed under her weight, but she kept her balance and soon had two paws on Wally’s windowsill, her nose pressed against the glass.

  Lifting a paw she tapped her claws gently on the window. After two or three taps, Wally finally raised his head to look.

  Felicia pulled back and squinted her eyes closed. Fading into the blackness of the night.

  Wally moved slowly towards the window, walking a bit unsteadily, hunched low to conceal his approach. Something inside told him to be wary, that there was danger outside. But the meds he’d popped earlier gave him the courage to proceed. To sate his curiosity.

  In a stupor he peered through the window. All he could see was murky darkness outside, obscured by the glaring reflection of his bedside lamp in the dirty windowpane.

  Suddenly Felicia opened her eyes and sprang at the window with a fiercesome growl, baring her gleaming white fangs.

  Wally shrieked like a frightened child and stumbled backwards. His feet got tangled in a pile of dirty clothes on the floor. He flailed his arms but fell hard. His head cracked down on the wooden bedrail, momentarily stunning him.

  His father heard the commotion and came running in to check on him.

  “What the hell? Wally? Are you alright?”

  “There’s a panther outside!” Wally slurred, his mind foggy from the meds and the blow to his head. “Out there in the tree!”

  Owen ran to the window and looked out. He threw the window open for a better look. The tree was empty.

  “I saw it! It tried to get in!” Wally was close to hysterical. “It came for me!”

  “There ain’t nothing out there, boy,” his father said. “You were dreaming. Calm down.”

  “It wasn’t a dream! I saw it!”

  “It’s those damned pills. You’ve been getting worse every day.”

  “It wasn’t the pills.”

  “Goddamn it. Enough of this shit.” Owen grabbed the plastic pill containers from the nightstand.

  “Don’t… I need them.”

  “Dammit, boy. It’s time for you to straighten up and fly right. You’re just looking for any excuse to use these damn drugs. Your whole life has been one big excuse.”

  “No. It’s out there. It’s after me.” He slumped across the floor, fighting back tears as his father walked straight to the bathroom and flushed the pills.

  359

  The Nine Lives of Felicia Miller

  72

  Felicia lay silently, hidden under a shrub at the edge of a wooded lot. She had crossed the forest again and was facing Nelson’s house. The Audi was gone. There was no guarantee he’d return any time soon, but she had nothing to do but wait. Morning was a long way off.

  An hour later she awoke from a catnap. A pounding hiphop beat was growing near, mingled with the hum of the Audi’s well-tuned engine. The car crossed in front of her and swung smoothly into the driveway. Eagerly she raised up her haunches, tail flicking, poised to attack.

  The Audi door opened with a metallic squeak. Nelson stepped out. As he shut the car door Felicia sprang forward. In a second she was in striking distance, but instead of taking him down from behind, she leapt onto the Audi roof and pounced down on the car’s hood, facing him.

  Nelson froze. Felicia watched in delight as the blood drained from his face, leaving him an ashen mannequin.

  For a long moment they eyed each other in silence… then Nelson took half a step backward, as slowly and quietly as he could. His frightened eyes stayed locked on the panther’s, trying to present a brave face.

  Felicia remained perfectly still, as if she hadn’t noticed his subtle retreat.

  Nelson took another tentative step. A twig snapped under his heel. Again he froze. His heart beat loudly. It felt like a fist hammering inside his ribcage.

  Felicia didn’t budge. Enjoying the smell of fear pouring from his every pore. After a moment’s pause h
e took another step backward. His toe barely touched down before Felicia leaped forward with a robust snarl.

  Nelson turned to run. Panic numbed his brain. He tried to scream for help but his voice caught in his throat like the broken croak of a stepped on frog.

  Felicia dropped to the ground behind him. Her paw swatted at his fleeing foot. Nailing the back of his heel with her power-packed claws. He stumbled and flopped onto his face.

  “No. Please…” he begged in a frightened falsetto. Blood trickled from his nose, which hit the ground when he fell.

  Felicia walked regally towards him as he attempted to crawl away. She slammed a paw down on the back of his ankle, spreading her claws over it without drawing blood. Digging them in just deep enough to let him know he was caught.

  Nelson struggled to pull himself forward but she held him firmly in place. Then with her other paw she snagged the back of his belt and jerked his pants halfway down his butt.

  Nelson gave up trying to escape. Play dead. He went limp, hoping to fool the predator.

  Felicia wrapped a paw under the side of his waist and flipped him onto his back. Tossing him like a ragdoll.

  He didn’t react or move a muscle. He couldn’t. All he could do was stare at the panther, his eyes wide with terror. He didn’t dare blink. His heart was pounding so hard he thought it would explode.

  Felicia grabbed the front of his belt with both paws and yanked his pants even lower, exposing his naked groin.

  Nelson was scared speechless, choking on his own tongue. It felt like a balloon swelling in his mouth.

  Felicia clapped a paw over his genitals. He felt the tips of her claws dig lightly into his flesh, closing over his manhood. With one jerk she could neuter him.

  Nelson braced himself, barely able to breathe. He was helpless. No chance of escaping. Too late to fight. He started sobbing silently, and lost control of his bladder.

  Felicia bared her teeth and growled. Enjoying the sight of him suffering. Nelson gazed into her eyes through the blur of his tears. There was something he recognized in them. A familiar light. Her human spirit shining through.

  “Felicia,” he whispered. Knowing it was crazy but somehow right.

  The panther stared coldly for a moment, then released her grip and ran off into the night.

  Nelson lay sobbing in a steaming puddle of urine.

  359

  The Nine Lives of Felicia Miller

  73

  “Ms. Madisson is here to see you, Mr. Mayor.”

  “Send her in.” Sanders hated when his secretary called him Mr. Mayor. It was her way of expressing disapproval, letting him know she knew a little something more about his business than she cared to know.

  The office door flew open and Mandee breezed in like an ill wind. Her heels clicked spitefully on the polished oak floorboards. “So you finally have a few minutes to spare for me. How blessed I am.”

  “I’m sorry. My schedule’s been a killer.”

  “Really? And here I thought you were just too scared to see me.”

  “Shut the door, please… if you must be so loud.”

  Mandee slammed the door and moved across the room like a shark. Dressed in her sharpest power suit with her hair twisted high and tight, she knew she’d be most intimidating face to face.

  “I am thoroughly disappointed in you, Mr. Pemberton.” She thrust a letter in his face, shaking it an inch from his nose. Sanders almost laughed when she called him Mr. Pemberton. When she was happy she called him Sandy. When they did business in public it was always ‘Mr. Mayor.’ ‘Mr. Pemberton’ was cold and disrespectful. Calculated to punish him emotionally and put him on the defensive. A typical Mandee tactic.

  “How dare you have me served with this… this…”

  “Cease and desist order,” he finished her sentence, more calmly than she had expected.

  “How the fuck did you let this go through? It’s signed by your good friend Judge Clarens. Would it have killed you to have him drag his feet on it until I got things back on track? I’m sure he discussed it with you before he went ahead and signed it.”

  “Yes, he did.”

  Mandee was stunned. Sanders felt like laughing in her face. He’d never seen her so flustered, and it gave him a joyful rush.

  “You bastard. After all I’ve given you. The campaign contributions. Fund-raising dinners. Every inch of my body. And now… you won’t lift a finger to stop those who want to ruin me?”

  “Nobody’s looking to ruin you, Mandee.”

  “No. Just my business. And you know full well I am my business.”

  “I think you’ve become a little too wrapped up in your business. It’s been warping your perspective for some time now. Christ, I can’t believe I almost let you run a helpless old woman out of her house. The home she’s lived in for more than half a century. Since before you or I were even born.”

  “That helpless old woman is a danger to herself and an obstacle to the development and progress of this community. You’d be doing her and your constituents a favor by invoking eminent domain and forcing her into a nursing home.”

  “That’s not going to happen,” a woman’s voice chimed in.

  Mandee’s blood froze as she recognized the voice and turned to see Mrs. Pemberton entering from a back office.

  The old woman moved slowly but with a regal air, draped in a pristine Pashmina shawl and aided by an ivory topped walking stick.

  Mandee turned white as the old woman walked straight towards her. “Mrs. Pemberton.”

  “Don’t look so surprised, young lady. You’ve lived here long enough to know that nothing of import passes through this office without my imprimatur. Judge Clarens was kind enough to consult me on this matter. And my son explained the situation in detail when I confronted him about it. Much more detail than I perhaps would have liked to hear.”

  “I’m not sure what Sanders might have told you, Mrs. Pemberton, but I’d like you to know that I have the town’s best interest at heart. As well as your son’s.”

  “Please don’t insult my intelligence, Miss Madisson. I’m not some empty-headed bimbo easily swayed by your gilded promises and seductive wiles. Do you think you’re the first greedy, over-reaching, conniving opportunist I’ve had to deal with since I inherited the reins of my family?”

  Mandee was silent, feeling steamrolled by the town’s major powerbroker.

  “My people founded this town,” the old woman continued. “And we’re grateful for the ongoing support of our loyal citizens. We don’t care to abuse them, and won’t tolerate those who would. Especially not in the unholy name of Mammon.”

  Mandee cheeks flushed red and hot. She opened her mouth to respond but the old woman cut her off.

  “This town has been topsy-turvy since you started your so-called development campaign. Sending surveyors and contractors into those woods. Harassing our most legendary citizen. You may not be superstitious. You may not believe in witches. But most of the people in this town are… and they do. And now they’re all on edge thanks to the tempest you have stirred up. I don’t think it would take much to have them run you out of town on a rail. With or without tar and feathers.”

  Mandee dropped all pretense of civility. Okay, lady, you want to play? I’ll play… my way.

  “You old bitch! How dare you speak to me like that? Did your precious son Sanders tell you about the sweet little affair we’ve been having behind his wife’s back? A hot torrid filthy little affair. How do you think your townspeople would respond to that news? Who would they run out of town then?”

  “Are you trying to blackmail me? You think you can blackmail me with such petty gossip?”

  “No. I can blackmail you with the truth. Just ask your son. I can describe every freckle on his puny uncircumcised cock.”

  “How dare you speak to me like that!”

  “How dare I? Oh I dare. Your son doesn’t stand a chance to get re-elected if I blow the whistle on his indiscretion. In fact, I might just do that
… and run against him for mayor myself the next time around.”

  “Really?”

  “Why not? I like my odds. After all, we both had an affair, but I’m not the one with a wife and three brats at home. I’m not the hypocrite who gives heartfelt speeches and guest sermons in the local churches espousing family values. The voters in this town are superstitious, yes. Because they’re a bunch of religious hicks.”

  “I think we’ve heard enough from you.”

  “Oh you do, do you?”

  “Yes, my dear, I do.” The old woman smiled tightly and nodded to her son. Sanders held up a digital recorder.

  Mandee eyed it dolefully. Stunned by her own stupidity.

  “I think we have enough to charge you with blackmail,” Mrs. Pemberton said. “As well as conspiracy to commit fraud and deprive a poor old woman of her right to live securely in her humble home.”

  “That might actually be a Federal case,” said Sanders smugly. “Civil rights violation and all that. The Feds take that stuff very seriously, in case you didn’t know. I’ll have to ask Judge Clarens about that this weekend when we play golf. The best way to proceed… if we have to.”

  Mandee sputtered in anger, stepped up to Sanders, shot him a hateful look, and spat in his face. Then she turned and walked out of the office. Slamming the door again.

  Sanders lowered his head. Grateful for his mother’s help, but ashamed to face her. His mother walked over and gently lifted his chin. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about. Your grandfather had his moments of weakness. As did your father. We are after all only human.”

  Pulling a lace hankie from her sleeve she wiped her boy’s face clean. “There. Wiped away and forgotten.”