Here, Kitty Kitty (Shadowcat Nation)

by A. Star

  But the other thing was, I wanted, needed, to hunt something. I needed to do what I’d done before. It was all I had to get my mind off of Daniel and to deal with what I was in my own way. If I started thinking about his smell or the look in his green eyes, my heart started whimpering.

  I suppose it might be the same way a hunting party might go after a mountain lion that got too comfortable and started taking the easy pickings off of a ranch. I suppose that is a thrill–to hunt a predator. To stalk, give chase (if necessary) and then pounce. The triumph in the element of surprise.

  Running on the beach first thing in the morning seemed like a great idea. Just to release a bit of tension. But I soon found myself agitated. There were no trees above to cover me. I couldn’t go as fast as I wanted or else I would shift. Plus there were other people. Just normal people out for a morning run. Not like me.

  The breeze, the sea, the sand at dawn. The flow of the air over my skin. It was beautiful, so beautiful, but not for me. The exposure frustrated me and I pushed myself back and forth, back and forth across that beach. I tried to recall the snapping twigs and woodland floor beneath my feet, but it just didn’t work. Then I thought of when I’d last seen Daniel and the heat started erupting underneath my skin. I stopped suddenly.

  The ringing in my ears started. The pounding in my head. I could feel myself about to lurch forward. Complete terror invaded me as I realised what could happen to me if I was seen shifting on a beach.

  A muffled female voice tried to get through. A young teenage girl also out running placed a hand on my shoulder. It snapped me out of my pose, brought me back. As soon as her voice hit my ears and her hand was on my shoulder, I made myself stand up straight and look at her.

  She backed away with wide eyes and a hand over her mouth. I touched my own face, relieved to find nothing unusual, no ‘cat’ features or fangs. My body was hot, that was for sure, but I hadn’t turned.

  “Jesus, I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to make you mad or anything!” The poor girl. I did my best to rearrange my face so I wasn’t as angry looking.

  “It’s okay. I think I just got too hot. Sorry, honey, I’m fine. Don’t worry. You should just carry on running.”

  “Oh…okay. Are you sure you are alright? You’re…your eyes seemed to…well, never mind. I mean, I thought you were going to break something the way you went forward like that.” She was curious and relieved I wasn’t going to attack her or anything.

  “I’m fine.” I was glad she brought me out of my almost shift, but I kind of just wanted to get back to my room now, unnoticed and un-followed. What I thought I was going to find in Florida, I don’t know.

  I felt so stupid. Why did I come here? The girl nodded, asked again if I was sure and then went off on her way. When she ran the other way, the wind caught and a hint of wet, fresh, warm green leaves hit me. Was she? Could she be? She seemed friendly and weirdly familiar, but I found it best if I headed back. Okay, so no running on the beach. Damn.

  I walked back up to the hotel. It was very quiet. There was the odd senior citizen out too for their morning walk.

  Then I smelled it. A predator. A human one. A very pungent human predator. God, it was frustrating. The fact that I got so close to shifting and then just couldn’t. The girl saved me from doing it at the wrong time.

  An old man and his wife were walking home after their very early morning stroll on the beach. They held hands, content and thrilled at the same time to be together and where they were. I remembered reading somewhere that true love isn’t measured by those first passionate youthful moments, but by the very tail end of a relationship. That’s love: devotion and care until the unglamorous end.

  But the stink came from a young man. He was a hateful, violent, scrawny little thing. The pleasure he found in preying on the vulnerable made my stomach turn. I nearly lurched forward when I got near him. But because of his youthful, handsome pale face, he was allowed to roam the resorts without being questioned. He was what you would call a ‘pretty boy.’

  He hung back all the time. He was in and out of the lobby, hiding his disgust as he watched happy people arriving and departing for their vacation. He kept tabs on who was with who. Who was widowed, who was with friends.

  His deepest desire was to delight in watching the horror on the face of one of the couple while he mercilessly beat the other. He would have coffee in the restaurant and eavesdrop on conversations.

  He ate little, mainly because he was so sickened by humanity. By other human beings. He ran on the beach like a soulless robot. The only passionate side was his sadistic one, his delight in how he would torment the vulnerable and lonely. How he would make them mourn.

  At all times he kept a little book with him, a little journal. But I could see it. He wrote down his violent fantasies. I could read snippets of it when I passed, pretending to need a waiter to get me some obscure herbal tea. To any one else he looked like a shy, budding young novelist. But I could read him, I could smell him. I stalked him for a week. Catching glimpses of his horrible journal.

  He’d beaten the living daylights out of a homeless man a couple of years ago. The old hobo died from the trauma. But no one ever found out.

  For a human, he sensed being watched rather well. I liked watching him squirm from behind. I followed and followed. I couldn’t wait to pounce. I just couldn’t wait. But knowing, knowing what I was going to do to him made me happy.

  The young girl who I’d startled walked past him one morning on her way out for her run. She smiled shyly at him. He barely lifted his eyebrows at her. The young girl gushed, possibly finding him mysterious and handsome. I wondered how others couldn’t smell him.

  But being so young, she wanted a holiday romance. Poor girl. He looked back at her passing with mild interest. But he wanted to get to the old couple first. His fists clenched and unclenched when they in particular passed him.

  Then the night came. A lot of other hotel/resort patrons were going to view an evening parade. The elderly couple had just enjoyed an early dinner. They had enjoyed a glass of wine with their meal and wanted to sit on the veranda and enjoy the air in each other’s arms. I’d heard them speaking too. I’d never paid such close attention to humans before. The pale boy couldn’t wait to turn their romantic evening into a horrible tragedy.

  There was just one section where the walk was very secluded. And most others, security, revolved around the town’s parade. These two were enjoying the silence, like they were the only two people in the world. Sadly they weren’t.

  Dusk crept on and so did I. One detail the young tormentor paid attention to was the quality of hearing aids the couple had. What setting they had them on, how well they would hear him approaching. How well they would be attuned to their surroundings. They wouldn’t hear much around them–so enamoured were they, walking down a white path, the sea in the distance.

  I followed close. No security cameras were here. A silly thing really, when I thought about the local authorities planning security. The heat started up my legs. Coils and trembling. I ran towards him, his back to me, his mind lost in the most sadistic fantasies as he watched the old couple make their way back to their temporary vacation home. Thank goodness for parades.

  The ringing, the lurching happened.

  I pounced on his shoulders and sunk my teeth into his neck. I pulled. He cried out and tried to fling me off. But his fear paralyzed him and he stumbled. I clawed his face. I jumped on him and pressed his wiry body against the ground with my paws.

  Then I turned and for a moment saw the young girl with her back to another building. Shock was on her face, but not horror. She stayed put and watched. Her green eyes wide.

  “Help! Help me, please!” he pleaded to the shocked girl. I saw the notebook in his pocket. I ripped his pants, biting his hips and groin. He shrieked, holding himself, trying to stop the blood. I wished these guys tasted better. Because I was hungry. I needed to eat. I jerked his arm forward then went to one of his legs and yanked t
hat as well.

  His face bled freely from my claw marks and he spat blood between shouts. The shouts made me want to go for his throat, when I remembered the notebook.

  The girl was trying to remove her hand from her mouth when I picked up the notebook in my teeth and brought it over to her as calmly and slowly as I could. I dropped it in front of her. She picked it up. Her mouth hanging open. I had to shift back soon.

  Even if she didn’t squeal on me, someone was going to hear this. The old couple had gone happily on their merry way. Their evening unspoiled by the scraggly, bleeding horror sprawled on the ground in front of me.

  I was taken aback when he kicked me right in my hungry stomach. I’d left him with one good leg. Bastard. He was going to go for my stomach. I went for his. The soft flesh gave easily. The sickening pain of it finished him off. At least there wasn’t the high pitched squealing of the last guy, although this one involved lots more retching sounds. I left him there for someone to find. I knew the girl would hand over the notebook. My only regret was that I didn’t break all of his limbs. I really wanted more crunch and snap.

  I didn’t turn on the news. I was in a panic in my room. I was horrified that someone would have spotted me. I wasn’t entirely sure the girl didn’t see me shift. All I knew was that I wanted to cut my ‘vacation’ short and get the hell out of there. I cleaned and covered my tracks as best as I could.

  I was about to make my way to the airport the next day when the dreaded knock came at my door. Crap. I wondered...well, okay, I hoped it would be Daniel. But it wasn’t. It was the young girl. Oh dear.

  I did my best to make my excuses about needing to get back and see my family, my vacation time over, but she held up her hands and stopped me. Swiftly shutting the door, she turned to me.

  “Those were my grandparents.”

  “What?”

  “The couple you saved from the sicko. My grandparents.”

  There were tears in her eyes.

  “My parents… They were like you. One of them got hit by a car.” She stopped talking when the tears came. “The other one never got over it. I mean…they weren’t always living together.”

  “Your grandparents?” I was dumbfounded.

  “My grandfather was a shifter once. My grandmother isn’t. When he chose her, he chose to give up his shifter abilities. But I have an uncle too, who checks in from time to time. We don’t crowd each other, but right now I still need looking after somewhat, and I keep an eye on them.”

  “Are you? I mean, are you…”

  “Yes. I have shifted a couple of times. But I don’t remember it all that well. Apparently it can take years before you shift and….remember. It happens when you find your niche, I guess. Uncle Daniel has taken me out before. He’s nice. He’s not, like, normal…you know.” Suddenly she was struggling to get the words out. “I just can’t believe he had a freaking notebook.”

  I hugged her. I’ve never done anything like that before. Hugged a kid. She was so sad, so vulnerable and yet not.

  “Are your grandparents okay?”

  “Yeah…fine. I bugged them to take me with them to this holiday place. They just want to be all alone and lovey dovey, you know.” She rolled her eyes.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Diann.”

  “You know…Diann?”

  “Yes?”

  “I think I might know your uncle.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah…” I realised it was ridiculous to think that just because she had an Uncle Daniel who was a shape shifting mountain lion... Then again maybe it wasn’t.

  “Oh.” She gave a knowing nod and smiled, content with things. I figured maybe she thought I was weird. I guess I was weird.

  “I’m going back to Wisconsin now, Diann. Are you okay?”

  She looked at me with her bright eyes and smiled. “Yeah…yeah, I’m okay. I kind of…like to be alone most of the time. We all do. But I might just come up and visit you and Uncle Daniel sometime.”

  “Oh, goodness, I don’t know if he is even there now.”

  “He’s not like other, um, others you know. Like male cougars? His older brother, my dad wasn’t either. Know what I mean? The whole moving on after the deed is done thing. What’s your name, by the way?”

  “Mira.”

  “Mira…nice to meet you, Mira. And…thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  * * *

  Daniel

  I was at a hotel in Indiana, still hadn’t found a place. I figured I might move on after not too long, so why bother with all the formalities of a rental agreement. I kind of liked that place in Wisconsin, but… Well, I knew that wasn’t going to happen. God, I wanted to touch her. So, so bad. I inhaled air that was sickeningly empty of her scent…as always.

  I’d finalised my report in Wisconsin. I tracked the cougar somewhere up into Canada, where it would make sense for it to go. Not down in Florida where I knew it had gone. Where she had gone.

  My stomach fell when I thought about what could happen to her down there. Florida, according to my niece, was full of territory issues that sometimes turned violent. She still stayed in human form most of the time.

  I turned on the TV. There was a mountain lion attack in Florida, but the victim turned out to be a psychologically disturbed wannabe killer. His potential victims remained unnamed, but apparently he had written down all the ways he wanted to torment vulnerable people. His potential for cruelty and murder was the stuff of horror movies. But a mountain lion had eaten part of his abdomen. Oh, Mira. I supposed I would get a call to go down there soon. I might have to come up with an excuse why not.

  I then looked at my phone, which beeped. It was from Diann, my niece.

  “Hi Daniel. Your girlfriend saved grandma and grandpa by the way. I think you’ve got a keeper ;)” I couldn’t wait to speak to Diann about what had happened. But first, I needed to speak to someone else.

  * * *

  She opened the door. God, she was beautiful. Mira. Tawny heroic Mira. She looked tired and…hungry. I could see the remains of a steak on her plate on the counter.

  “I believe you have met my niece?”

  “Yeah.” Her face was still. I wasn’t sure if she would let me in. But I needed to try. And from her pale skin, she needed to eat. Natural, normal prey out in the forest. Feed her cougar, make it strong and not just angry. The hunting was satisfying in one way to her. But her animal needed nourishing.

  I could show her. It would give her strength for her next proper hunt. We could go somewhere together. I’d let her go first.

  I would explain this all in time. She looked up into my eyes and held me there for a moment. She was wearing only a long white v-neck t-shirt.

  “Thank you, Mira.”

  “I was only doing what comes natural to me. Well…I guess you know what I am.” This was a big step, a big admission for her.

  “Mira, please let me in? I won’t hurt you. Not in any way. I’m the same, Mira. I know you like to be alone, but I also know you don’t want to be vulnerable to…well, to anything.”

  Mira looked at the ground, then back up at me. I could smell the heat coming off her, but also the fear. Fear that I would make her feel weak and alone in a way that she had never been alone before. I knew the smell of that fear, because it was exactly the same as mine.

  A big breath escaped her before she inhaled again and said, “I want you to come in. I want you to be near me. Often. Okay, maybe not constantly, but frequently.” I’ve never found the word frequently so arousing.

  She swallowed, pressed her lips together and brought her arm up to her face to wipe her mouth with the back of her hand. This bared her palm to me. I reached out for her wrist and gently pulled her arm to me. I placed my lips on her small palm and kissed it.

  Mira gasped and I saw her knees buckle a little. I wrapped my arm around her waist. She grasped the door frame and backed into the house. She let me in, my lips still on her palm. I moved her palm
and placed it over my heart. I splayed her fingers over me.

  “Mira, we are more human than we realise. But our inner animals deserve respect and freedom to be what they naturally are. I want to help you if you’ll let me. I think you’re the rarest, most precious combination I’ve encountered and I want to have a chance at being special to you.”

  “You…you already are special to me. I don’t know what else to say… This is…this is new.”

  “I would say that maybe we’ve done enough talking for one evening.” Okay, that was bold and I realised I could have completely ruined things, but hell…I wanted her.

  My doubts were laid to rest when her little splayed hand turned to a fist and pulled me closer. Her intensified scent hit me first. Then the full force of her body. The door locked behind us as I slipped my hands up her thighs and hips.

  The cream carpet sank below us as we made our way to the stairs. Her legs were around me before I knew it as I kissed her, her back against the steps, her body curving and writhing against me.

  The growls we made could have been mistaken for mutual anger by some unknowing ears. But anyone who could have seen us as we snaked our way into the bedroom and what occurred within it would have been enlightened. We were two similar creatures, wild and insane with desire for one another. Yet our hearts melted time and time again against each other with the most tender devotion.

  I inhaled and stroked her. At one point she bit my jaw. I relished every moment. It had nothing to do with aggression or ownership. It had everything to do with the beginning of mutual, natural love.

  ~*~ The End ~*~

  About the Author: Jessica Nicholls is originally from Northern Illinois. She lived in the Northwest of England for just over ten years, where she studied and had her children. Currently, Jessica lives in the Middle East with her husband and two now school age (yay!) kids. Running, reading and watching films are her favourite hobbies. Writing the type of stories she would enjoy reading (anything dark and weird or romantic, or a combination of those) is a passion.