Petting Them: An Anthology of Claw-ver Tails

by Tate James

  The world tilted left. Yes, she knew this feeling. She was going to pass out. Michaella stumbled inside, met by three curious cats. They lifted their heads as she wrestled the door shut. Tough was on the counter and jumped down, and each of them rubbed against her leg. She sighed. It was probably time for them to go home.

  Even people as awful as the Addingtons didn’t deserve to have her kidnap their pets. Surely by now whatever had happened with the three of them was resolved. She opened the door to the porch.

  “You guys can go home if you want to.” None of them moved. “Are you going to do that cat thing where you don’t go out until I turn my back?” Not surprisingly, they didn’t answer her, and she sighed. “I’m about to pass out, so we’ll figure this out later. I overdid cleaning the lawn. Just another story in the never ending tale of ‘Michaella, the not-quite-up-to-par.’ Okay, you must be hungry.” With shaking hands, she got the tuna open and put some in a dish. “You have to share tonight. Please try not to fight. I can’t do more. It was a long day. One of our long-term residents finally passed. I was there for her, but it takes a lot of energy at the end.”

  Michaella stumbled toward the couch. She wasn’t going to make it to the bedroom. Darkness took her under.

  She woke up to a scratchy tongue licking her face. The clock said three, which meant the cat hadn’t awakened her a minute too soon. It was time for work again. Panther stared down at her. Michaella wished she could speak feline, because she might have sworn that he was worried about her. He purred, and she grinned at him. “Thanks. You’re like an alarm.”

  He jumped down, joining Tough and Butch who stared at her from the floor.

  “I will miss you guys. It is sort of nice to have someone to talk to.” Drained didn’t begin to describe how she felt right then. But there was no choice. She had to make it work like she always did. Her patients were counting on her.

  “You know what? Do you guys want to come make some old people’s day? They love pets. It’s good for them, soothing.”

  Butch yowled, and Tough joined in. She didn’t think they liked the idea, but Panther, tail whipping from side to side, ambled toward her and rubbed against her leg. “You’ll do it?” she asked.

  Panther rubbed against her again, like he was in agreement with her.

  “Awesome!” She leaned down and stroked him from head to tail tip. His butt lifted in the air, and she gave him a little scratch at the base of his tail. “I’m going to take a quick shower and then we’ll go. See if you can talk your brothers into joining us!”

  Michaella ran, by which she meant, she walked quickly, upstairs. Along the way, she stripped out of her clothes, leaving them wherever they fell. One benefit of living alone was no one cared if she was naked, and no one cared if she made a mess.

  She guessed the other side of the coin was that no one cared period, but she was trying to focus on the positives. In record time, she was dressed, showered, and downstairs.

  The cats, however, were nowhere to be found. “Panther!” She made a kissing noise with her lips, but the house was silent. Michaella walked through the living room to the kitchen and found Tough, Panther, and Butch on her counter top. In front of them was a raggedly opened box of granola bars. “Did you—?” She glanced at the cabinet where she’d stored them and sure enough, it was wide open. She picked up the box. It was open, but none of the bars were. Shrugging, she pulled one out. “I should eat breakfast. Thanks guys. I’m going to pretend you got that out for me.”

  Butch meowed, like we did, dummy.

  “Be nice,” she muttered. She took a bite and through a mouthful of brown sugar and nuts asked, “Who’s coming with me?”

  Panther hissed at his brothers, and to her delight, all three jumped off the counter and strolled to the door. “All of you?”

  Panther stared at her. “Right! All of you. I don’t have a carrier, so I’m just going to pick you up and one-by-one place you in my car. Okay? No train rides for kitty-cats.” She peered out her door. “No creepy creeps outside. But just in case, let’s go fast. I don’t want Mr. Slicked-Back-Hair showing up.”

  Michaella picked Panther up. “Dang, you’re heavy.” He adjusted himself, placing his paws on her shoulders. It allowed one of her hands free so she could open the door. She had expected this to be more of a process. Like—with the cats running under the sofa or knocking vases of flowers off of side tables. It didn’t matter that she didn’t own a vase or have any fresh flowers sitting in water. It was one of those things that happened when chasing an animal.

  But they didn’t. Butch waited for his turn, and then Tough, and soon they were on their way. Michaella rolled into Prestige and surveyed the still-empty parking lot. “You guys are so great to do this. Thank you.” In that moment, as she thanked the cats she’d kidnapped (catnapped?) from her neighbors, Michaella decided she needed to get a life. This whole going to work, going home, do nothing thing was turning her into a crazy lady.

  A crazy cat lady.

  She was talking to cats and complimenting them. She’d had more conversation outside of work in the last two days, with creatures who couldn’t respond, than she had since her ex-boyfriend, Tatum, dumped her. Po-Tate-o, his post-boyfriend name, was a douche bag who was so full of himself that he told her that she talked too much when Michaella mentioned that he never asked her about her day.

  Her!

  “I’ve made some life decisions in this car, gentleman.” She grinned at them because they really seemed to be listening to her. “I am going to get a life. That means getting a boyfriend and replacing the chair that my ex stole from me. That’s what I’m going to do to start. And maybe I will sell my house to your owners and finally go somewhere where there are single people who don’t hate me. I give you three credit. You’ve been just what I needed to get this done. Thank you. Now, let’s go make some old people happy. Oh, and there are some transfigured sloths inside. You won’t see them but just in case you smell something weird. That’s what it is.”

  She picked up Panther, and the other two jumped out of the car and waited. “I swear, it’s like you guys understand everything. You must be the smartest cats there ever were.”

  Susan grinned at Michaella when she came in before making her fill out three different forms for each cat.

  She lied about the shots. She had no idea if they had them or not. But then again, she figured the Addingtons probably had a maid, or ten, to do things like take them to the vet. They were well cared for, well-groomed animals. She bet they had their shots. Yes, she was just going to go with that.

  “If you scratch someone and make them sick, I’m going to get fired. Don’t do that, please.”

  Their first stop was the nicest old woman in Prestige. She’d had her powers stripped when her mind slipped into dementia because she had a tendency to blow things up. She probably wasn’t going to last much longer, but at least she seemed happy, rocking and singing to herself all day.

  “Trixie, this is Tough, Butch, and Panther. They’re here to play with you.”

  The woman’s face lit up and she ambled over to the cats. Although Panther had been the most willing to come, it was Tough who jumped off her to go purr at Trixie first. Michaella grinned. This had been a good idea. She was glad the Addingtons’ cats were so much nicer than the Addingtons themselves.

  They visited for a few minutes and Michaella sent Trixie energy to help ease the pain in her bones from being powerless.

  “Next up, we’ll go see Mr. Paul. That’s what he likes to be called,” she told the cats. They meowed at her, winding around her legs as they walked down the hall. She stopped at the quarantined room and looked inside. “Dang. Sloths are gone.” Michaella glanced at the cats and Butch reached up his paws, digging them into her coat. “Want to see?” She bent and picked him up so he could look through the glass. “See the hat rack? They were hanging from it yesterday.”

  Butch jumped down and started down the hall. “You’re the one who wanted to look,” sh
e called after him.

  The door to a nearby room opened and Miss Lulabelle, who was a million years old if she was a day, stuck her head out. “Who the hell are you talking to?” she asked. A wave of pain and confusion hit Michaella as the old woman tried to locate the cats. She’d been a painter in her day, but had lost her sight long ago. The woman was full of anger at the way her life had turned out.

  “Just some cats,” Michaella told her.

  She snorted. “Cats. You’re talking to cats now, huh? You’re going to end up like me, Healer Lansing. Mark my words.”

  She walked to the woman. “May I take your hands?” she asked.

  Miss Lulabelle’s lip curled but she nodded. With her hands in Michaella’s, she sent the woman images of Prestige. Of the hallway. The cats. Of what Michaella had been doing when she talked to them. She shared with Miss Lulabelle every mundane memory she had from the time she arrived until the time she took her hands.

  “Huh.” The emotions coming off of her were calmer now, more peaceful. “Guess I’m not missing much.”

  “Not right now,” Michaella told her. “But I’ll come around again in case something interesting happens, and I’ll show you. How’s that?” She made a mental note to put a directive in her file to the other healers. Miss Lulabelle should be receiving mental visions from all of them if it eased her. The difference in her energy was palpable.

  “All right,” she replied. “Maybe you could bring me to the lobby? That way I can hear what’s happening?”

  Michaella glanced down the hall where her cats had gone, but she figured they’d be fine. All they had to do was sit on laps and not scratch people. Or pee on sheets. Or poop in shoes.

  She took Miss Lulabelle’s hand and wrapped it around her elbow. “It’d be my pleasure.”

  5

  Once Miss Lulabelle was settled in a comfortable chair, Michaella hurried back to find the cats. They were sitting on a couch at the end of the hall. The last rays of sunlight spilled through the window, and they slept in the beams.

  “Michaella!” Shoes squeaked on the floor as another healer ran to catch up to her.

  “Hi, Jules,” she greeted the young healer. “How’s it going?”

  “Holy shit, Michaella,” he said. “Where did you find those cats? That’s five transfigured witches in three days!”

  She blinked. “What? These are some cats I took in that belong to my neighbors.”

  “No.” He grinned. “They’re transfigured and transfigured good. I can see their auras. What’s more is this isn’t a wait-it-out thing. They could stay permanently like this. You’re going to need an Enforcer to turn them back. They’re the only ones I know with that power.” Jules grinned ear-to-ear as a feeling of dread almost took her to the ground. “Who do you think they are? Any idea?”

  She had to be the stupidest woman on the planet. Yes, she knew who they were. She’d lived next door to them and hated every second of it. Sweat broke out on her body. She had the Addingtons in her house. The Addingtons jumping on shower curtains. The Addingtons probably laughing their fucking heads off at her expense.

  Michaella shook her head. No, they weren’t laughing. They were purring. She had to sit down. She walked over to a chair and sat down in it and put her head on her hands. Butch—that was Bradley with the beautiful blue eyes—rubbed against her leg.

  This was a special kind of hell. Someone had done this to them, and they’d ended up inside her house.

  She was never going to hear the end of this. They’d have personal insight to all her most private thoughts, and hell, even her underwear drawer.

  “Michaella?” Jules sounded concerned. “You okay?”

  No, she was not. But as per usual, she would survive. She couldn’t look at the cats even though they were meowing and doing everything to get her attention. Still, she wouldn’t be a problem. She’d would pull it together.

  Tough must be Zach. The tear in his ear could be from the hoops Zach had removed so long ago. He scratched at her leg, but she ignored him. “Director King knows Enforcers right? There were some in and out of here during the whole weird Mitchell and Eleanor Sharpe debacle.”

  Jules nodded. “Oh, for sure.”

  “Great.” Not great. Now, thanks to the Addingtons, she was going to have to call an Enforcer. They were the people a witch wanted to meet least in the world and they’d be coming into her life. When this was over, she was moving. That’s all there was to it. Michaella had loved her home her whole life but this was too much. Home should never be hell.

  Panther—David—jumped on her lap and Jules laughed. “Oh, he likes you.”

  “Just the opposite.” She set David right down on the floor. “They hold me in pretty strong disdain. But that’s okay. I’m going to fix this. Come on Addingtons. Let’s go get you fixed.”

  Panther—no—David yowled, and she laughed. “Not that kind of fixed.” Under her breath she muttered, “Though I am tempted.”

  The cats followed Michaella down the hall, still winding between her legs. “I’m sorry.” Yes, the Addingtons were jerks, but it was her job as a healer to know when people needed help, and she’d completely missed this. “You came to me for help, and I failed you.”

  Panther sat, and when he did, so did his brothers. She’d made it a few footsteps down the hall when she realized they hadn’t traveled with her. Spinning around, she approached the brothers. “What?”

  They slow blinked at her, until Zach stood and walked to her. He yowled and she stared at him in confusion. “What?” she asked again. David and Bradley joined him. Now that she knew who they were, their personalities began to fall into place. Bradley’s, or Butch’s eyes, were such a piercing blue. David, as Panther, was pretty quiet but prowled a lot.

  And Zach—Tough—he was the leader. The big brother who directed them. But Michaella had no idea what they were telling her now. “I’m going to talk to the other healers. You can wait here if you want. I’ll ask about finding some place comfortable while you wait.”

  Turning her back on them, she went to the healer’s station. Jules had gotten there before her and filled everyone in. They all complimented her on her insight. “How fantastic that you knew they were transfigured. Such a common animal. Whoever did this wanted them to be lost forever.”

  Michaella was a fraud. “I didn’t—” she started, but Zach extended his claws, piercing her skin through her pants. “Ouch!”

  “Michaella, seriously. I wouldn’t be surprised if you got commended for this. It’s amazing!” another healer said.

  “I really don’t deserve that. The thing is—” David howled loudly and soon everyone was trying to comfort them.

  In the distance, Michaella caught shoes squeaking on the marble floor. When she glanced over, Director King, sweaty and out of breath, was hurrying to the station. “Are these the victims?” he asked.

  Michaella nodded. “Yes, I believe they’re—”

  He cut her off. Apparently, she didn’t get to talk tonight. That was fine. Nothing that came out of her mouth at this point would be helpful.

  “We have someone arriving who will need our most skilled healers. I’m locking down the palliative care and comfort wards and sending the rest of you home. Healer Lansing?”

  Michaella sat up straighter. Was he going to ask her to stay?

  “I want you to take them back to your home. They’ve been safe there the last few days; they’ll be fine until the Enforcers bringing our next patient can come to you.”

  Zach purred in her lap, but Michaella felt sick. “Are you sure it’s not safer here for them?”

  Director King shook his head. “Prestige will be locked down for the next day. You’ll receive notice of your shift starting times once the Enforcers have secured the arriving patient. Everyone understand?”

  She supposed that made sense, although she’d have liked to remain here to help the other patients. Oh well, it wasn’t up to her. She had enough on her plate with the Addingtons.

&
nbsp; 6

  Michaella stared at the dark house next door to hers. “I suppose your cousin and her husband have something to do with this.”

  Now that she knew who the cats were, she couldn’t bring herself to speak to them much. They already had enough ammo to launch at her after the bits she’d told them. They weren’t her friendly cats anymore, but three powerful, enchanted witches.

  A pop sounded in the room and a man stood before her. He held a large water bottle in his hand. He was strikingly handsome, dark and sort of menacing-looking. She screamed, jumping up on the couch like that would protect her while her three houseguests hissed at the intruder.

  He didn’t budge. “Michaella Lansing? I’m Lawson Abramowitz. I head up the Enforcers. I understand you have three witches here who have been transfigured into house cats.”

  She didn’t get off the couch. “Yes, sir. Ah, you can just pop in. Right. Enforcers do that.” She forced herself down on shaking legs. “Sorry. I’m not powerful. Kind of pathetic that way. I’m not used to people popping in and out.”

  “Most people, ma’am, are not. Do you know who these cats are?” He nodded toward them.

  “My neighbors. Zach, Bradley, and David Addington.”

  Lawson’s dark eyebrows shot high on his forehead. “Oh, I know them. I went to high school with them. They used to torment my wife. I was too poor to be on their radar. You remember me, boys?”

  She didn’t like where this conversation was going. “Look, they haven’t been pleasant to me either. But they’re stuck, and it’s our job to help them regardless of how we might feel about anything else. “