Claws That Catch (Misfits of Magic Book 3)

by Lee Hayton

  CLAWS THAT CATCH

  (Misfits of Magic)

  LEE HAYTON

  Copyright © 2018 Lee Hayton

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

  Edited by Liz Borino

  Cover Design by Katherine Hayton

  Model Photography © Neostock

  https://www.neo-stock.com/

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  I was occupied with thoughts of where to spend the night when the men jumped me. One moment, I was thinking about changing back into cat form and curling up in some warm corner, the next my face was flat on the dirty tarmac of the road. The smell of tar, grease, and oil filled my nostrils, along with the sharp, metallic taste of fear.

  “Get her pockets,” one man hissed to the other.

  Good luck there, mate. I haven’t had anything in them for weeks. I hooked my fingers into claws, ready to attack. These men wouldn’t be happy with nothing, and that was all I had to offer. If I wanted to get out of this situation with just a bruised face and battered ego, then I needed to go to work.

  “Turn her over, man.”

  I saved him the bother, rolling onto my back at the same time I flicked my half-changed hand out, slicing through the warm flesh of the first man’s neck. The second jumped back—quick reflexes for a street person—and I had to struggle to my feet and give chase before I could launch a second attack.

  The blood dripped from my claws by the time I caught up with the second man. He’d started to run, and I used my forward momentum to slam him into the nearby concrete wall.

  Down in this part of town, the buildings were so decrepit that the force of the movement caused more harm to the wall than it did to the man. A situation I quickly remedied with another slash of my claws.

  He sank to his knees, his face scraping down the side of the crumbling wall, leaving behind a good helping of his acne-scarred skin. By that time, his friend was gurgling in the street—choking on his own blood.

  I walked back, my ears attuned to the sounds of the night like they should have been to start with. My own fault. Being out alone was dangerous for anybody. For a woman, make that double. Quadruple. A dozen times more.

  The choking man’s hand reached out to me, and I jumped back just far enough to evade him. Whatever grimy germs hadn’t already made the transition from him to me wouldn’t be given another opportunity.

  I didn’t want to watch them die. My thoughts were maudlin enough without that display to haunt them as I lay down tonight, trying to grab a few hours’ sleep. No matter that they got what they had coming to them. Death isn’t a spectator sport. Not if you have any scraps of morality left about your person.

  Still, I had to prod a claw into each man’s brain stem. I might not want to watch them die, but I also didn’t want them to join the ranks of the werecats.

  I changed into my full-cat form. Lesson learned.

  A kitty-cat might have to walk a lot further in relative terms, but at least in this state, I wouldn’t be a target for attack. For safety, I jumped up onto the rusting remnants of a fire escape and used it as a vantage point to leap onto the roof.

  A better spot for viewing the streets below for furtive activity, but I had to stay well back from the edge. Adrenaline spurred by the near-miss turned up in spades, far too late to be of any use. My shaking limbs couldn’t be trusted with balance for a while, not with gravity ready to suck me down at a moment’s notice.

  When I was far enough away from the scene for my peace of mind to return, I lay down and began the tiresome job of licking the men’s blood from my paws. The lights of mid-town twinkled below me—gaps showing in the shining array where the bulbs had blown.

  No one would be coming down here to repair them. Not with half the residents unaware there was even such a thing as rates. The slim funding that did make its way into the empire’s coffers wouldn’t be emerging as infrastructure anytime soon.

  One day, maybe not soon but eventually, the electricity link out here would break, decaying into a state of disrepair. The people who lived here would retreat into the dark ages while the affluent areas of the city would continue to blossom and grow, always stretching its greedy hands out for more.

  Once I was clean, I began the long search for a suitable place to curl up for the night. Just as I found an old industrial smoke stack that gave out some heat—the homeless gathered inside the decrepit building using the fireplace for warmth rather than industry—I heard the unmistakable cries of a kitty-cat in labor. Whatever I thought about my own situation, it sucked more to be her.

  By morning, she’ll have hungry mouths sucking at her teats, and she’ll need to go foraging to keep up her strength. Imagine that for a dilemma. I have to leave my babies alone to fetch something to eat—otherwise, we’ll all die. The courage she’d require to walk away from their pitiful cries would be stronger than she’d ever need again.

  The smokestack was made of bricks, crumbling from old age but still standing. Some of the other chimneys along this block weren’t so lucky. If this one got its ass whipped by gravity overnight, I’d be a goner come morning.

  I snuggled in closer to its warmth. That in exchange for fear of death? Seemed like a fair trade.

  As my body let go of the aches and pains it held fast to during the day, I sank into a light slumber. I don’t know why I was always on the verge of sleep. It wasn’t as though I did anything to earn it.

  A street sweeper came by. Stupid thing must be on outdated programming. Nobody around here was wealthy enough to care what the streets looked like. Let them remain filthy, that just offered more leavings to pick through in search of treasure.

  Beep. Beep. Beep.

  No wonder people attack the drones, trying to go about their daily work. If their inventors actually wanted to keep their bots intact, they should avoid saddling them with the irritating noise warnings.

  Beep. Beep. Beep.

  The cat’s cries became more violent. I stirred, an old pull from deep within my body shaking me more than I would have thought possible. In my memory, the tiny cries of another set of kittens tugged at me, as insistent as a mouth at a teat.

  Beep. Beep. Beep.

  The bot stopped, and I leaned over the edge of the building to see what was happening. A street sweeper would be taking its life into its hands to pause at any time on its journey. Even in the better areas of the city they were an object of fun, open to tagging and other more sporting forms of vandalism.

  The vehicle sat by the side of the road, its neon orange trim picking it out as a target to anybody still sober enough to care. A rock came flying out of the
darkness, hitting the corner of the neon panel, shattering the glass while the gas inside escaped in a cloud of quickly dissipating orange.

  The cat’s cries increased in volume, and I suddenly saw why.

  The bot wasn’t cleaning up the streets—leastways not of debris. It was an animal control bot, sent out to scoop up the itinerant strays of the feline and canine persuasion and ignoring all the humans kipping out on the street.

  Damn it. None of your business.

  I closed my eyes and tried to find that entry into a slumber that had been so easy to flee into not so long ago. That escape hatch had closed with a snap, however. The longer I kept my eyes shut, the more the sounds of distress pierced my ears.

  Not your concern.

  A jolt of memory galvanized me into action all of a sudden. I was halfway across the roof, headed for the fire escape before I managed a conscious thought.

  Rescue them. You need to rescue them.

  It was foolishness, but now the adrenalin was firing through my bloodstream, it was too late to argue. I hit the wrought iron of the ladder and jumped down a flight, eschewing the rungs in favor of speed.

  One landing up from the street, I changed into my human form before launching at the animal bot. I may be a scant five-foot-two compared to the supermodel heights of Asha, but I’ve got a few extra helpings of middle-aged flab cushioned around my hips and belly,

  I hit the side of the cart and toppled it over, the wheels now spinning uselessly in midair. The long arm, extending in menace toward the newly birthed litter, cracked against the tarmac and retracted before it could end up even more damaged.

  As the bot extended a foot out to self-right, I angled around the side to see what had become of the cat family. The mother was up on her feet, one kitten in her mouth, her eyes scanning the remaining three. Hoping that she wouldn’t abandon them for the touch, I gathered up the remaining kittens and shooed her further along the street. The bot would catch up with her outside, but if we could find a hidey hole in one of the crumbling buildings along this stretch of road, then she’d be safe.

  Relatively.

  “Hey, pretty lady. What you got there?” came a voice as I followed the cat into the first shelter. I recoiled away instinctively, a moment before the cloud of booze and halitosis caught me. His arm stretched out to snag my shoulder, predatory instincts kicking in since my hands were full.

  I turned toward him, snarling, letting my face half-turn into a fusion of all the worst features of felinity and humanity. The man recoiled, jerking his hand away as though I had leprosy. The mother cat had scampered out of my sight by the time I could return to the task at hand.

  Fucking men. I kicked the old drunk as I passed by, missing but making him jump back. That would have to satisfy me for the time being.

  I caught up with the mother cat in the next room. She was wriggling her butt from side to side, eyes fixed on a recessed tube built in the wall. An old conveyer belt spoke of an assembly line, but the remaining pieces had fallen into dust long ago.

  She’d never make it. Not with the kitten in her mouth.

  I pushed the three little ones in my hands into the tube, then snagged the mother cat around her middle. The beeping of the control bot told me that we’d been spotted. Hopefully, the machine would roll in here, see it couldn’t complete its mission, and roll away.

  I could still feel the imprint of the kittens on my arms. To get rid of the sensation, I wrapped them around me in a shield and turned to face the machine. Perhaps a well-aimed kick would send it on its way sooner.

  A bullet seared a line through the top of my shoulder and dug into the wall behind. Even after passing through me, the shot had enough momentum to tear a chunk out and send a mess of brick and grouting to smash at my feet.

  I turned and saw the intoxicated gent had gathered up a small army of friends. Great. Drunks with guns. Just what I needed. The pain from the wound was negligible, the inconvenience great.

  The cat inside the tunnel mewed again in distress. Poor thing. It was a hard-enough battle to bring children into this world without a mechanical being chasing after you besides.

  The animal control machine got close to the pipe, its limb extending out into the pipe. I sheltered behind its metal bulk, hitting at the extension arm so that it would retract at the same time I used it as a shield to deflect the next bullet.

  The mother cat would need help. Taking one kitten at a time wouldn’t allow enough time to drag the family deep enough to be safe. The bot would keep chasing, keep reaching its long metal pincers into the cavity until it snagged half her children away. To leave some of the kittens behind was an unthinkable option.

  As another bullet pierced the wall near me, I changed fully—downsizing into a cat. I scampered along the tunnel and picked up a kitten on the way to dump it at the mother’s exhausted feet a yard further along.

  One kitten left.

  The bot’s arm was nearing. Its pincers had opened, ready to grab the tiny mewling ball of fluff that offended the machine just because of its programmed design. For a split second, I wished that Asha was there, able to reach out with her own metal mind and rewrite its motherboard in the click of a finger.

  I shook my head. No time for regrets or make-believe now. One more ball of kitten needed to be saved.

  The bot withdrew its arm a tad, and I heard the ping of metal being hit by a projectile. Great. If the drunks continued to distract the animal control bot by using it for target practice, then I could grab the last kitten and get it to safety.

  I carefully gathered the youngster into my mouth, clamping down while being careful not to puncture the tiny creature with my teeth. It was amazing how the method came back to me so quickly. It might have been a couple of decades since I’d held a kitten in my mouth, but instincts kicked in, as though I’d never taken a break at all.

  I turned around, careful not to whack the side of the newborn kitten against the inside of the moldering tunnel. Damp ran down the walls here signaling it would soon collapse under its own weight.

  Hopefully, it would take some trigger-happy scum with it when it fell.

  A piece of masonry collapsed in front of my eyes just as I had that thought—as though I’d willed it with my mind. The cries of terror from the mother cat on the other side of the mound were terrible to hear. I pushed at the lumps blocking my way, attempting to move the pile to either side.

  Then the bot grabbed hold of my hind leg.

  I reached behind me with a front paw, trying to dislodge the machine. But that was the advantage of a single minded-bot—it had one purpose, and now it had achieved its goal, it wouldn’t be so easily dissuaded.

  In desperation, I shoved the crumbling pile of brickwork in front of me, managing to push through to the other side and form a gap just large enough to fit a kitten. Sending up a silent prayer that I didn’t hurt it, I released the creature from my mouth and forced it into the hole just as the bot dragged me, backside first, out of the tunnel. Another ping came as the homeless men shot at the machine again, but it didn’t release its hold.

  The kitten suddenly disappeared from sight, so quickly that it could only have been by the magic touch of its mother. In relief, I twisted my body around, ready to give the bot a fight.

  Then sharp metal seared a path into the side of my body. As I gasped with pain, I stretched my hand out to pull the offending dart from my thigh muscle. Before I could tug it free, my consciousness disappeared down a long black tunnel.

  The last fleeting vision was through the bot’s cage doors as it rolled out of the old building, beeping all the way.

  Chapter Two

  The light overhead seared into my brain. I held a paw up to stop it and rolled over, trying to get away. The light was everywhere, it filled up my skull to overflowing. Pain echoed through my aching head.

  I was so out of it that it took a few minutes more to realize I could just close my eyes.

  A wave of nausea rolled up my body and something
in my shoulder burned. When I managed to raise one arm up enough to block out some of the terrible light, I tried opening my eyes again.

  Still bad, but as I blinked and let my eyes water, the pain started to recede.

  I was in a cage. The steel mesh on every side was uncomfortable, both on my body and on my mind. I needed to get out of this place, whatever this place was. I shouldn’t be a prisoner. I’d just spent the past three years working off all my debt.

  A memory of carrying something soft and tiny in my mouth recurred to me. A flood of longing and protective aggression washed through my veins. I shook my head and tried to turn over again, setting my shoulder back on fire. I reached out tentatively with the other paw and felt bandages.

  The bastards had shot me!

  I sat up, the incident with the kittens, the animal control bot, and the drunken gunmen drowning me with detail. All I’d done was try to help an exhausted mother, and the stupid wretches in that crumbling old building shot me.

  What the hell was the world coming to?

  I edged closer to the side of the cage that was flooded with light, still having to slit my eyes against the intensity. I couldn’t work out whether it was because of my headache or because the overhead fluorescents were on full-beam, but the light caused another wave of nausea to roll over me. I shrank back for a minute, blinking. There wasn’t room in the cage for me to be puking everywhere.

  The wire netting on the floor of my new establishment was covered over in some shredded newspaper. Judging from the stains and the stench, it was changed once a year whether it needed to be or not.

  As I slowly became accustomed to the harsh light, I worked out that I must be in a row of cages. There was board behind the netting on each side of me, but I could hear the noises of distress from other animals. I edged closer to the front of the cage again.

  In front of me was a steep drop down to the floor. I couldn’t angle my head to see directly down below me, but I from where I could see, crisscrossed black and white tiles led to a central desk. The long wooden bench had a row of computers, while on the other side, cages were stacked on top of each other. I looked around the room to see fellow captives staring back at me. Some, like me, were injured, others were just stunned and disbelieving.