Both women sighed as they pulled up in front of Kitty’s house. Shona from relief; she could always count on Kitty to make her feel better. Maggie out of dread; Kitty annoyed her the same way she annoyed everyone else except Shona.
“What are you doing?” Shona asked as Maggie began to dig through the glove compartment of the car.
Maggie pulled a small green bottle out and clutched it as if her life depended on its contents. She shook it and relief flooded her face. “We’re here to get Kitty-kat, aren’t we?”
“Yes.” Shona said, puzzled, then comprehension dawned. “Oh, mother! She’s not that bad.”
Maggie fought desperately with the lid on the aspirin bottle. “Easy for you to say. She doesn’t affect you as quickly as the rest of us. Face it, kid. I’m not made of steel like you. I’ve got to prepare myself.” She popped the lid and let two pills fall into her hand. “You get Kitty-kat. I’ll be putting my armor on.” She tossed the aspirin into her mouth and swallowed hard, grimacing as she did.
Shona shook her head as she got out of her parent’s Jaguar, careful not to let the car door hit the curb. The car was brand new. Kitty was going to love this.
She headed up the front walk to the door of the huge three-story house, sighing again as she went. Shona loved the Morgan’s home. The big old house had a feeling of security about it. Not that Shona lacked the same in her own home. But the Morgan’s felt different, more lived in.
She reached the front door and suppressed a smile as she heard the first announcement of her arrival carry through the heavy wood. At least half a dozen different pitched wails, screeches and meows clamored about on the other side, each battling for position. A growing occurrence of late whenever she came over.
“Get away from there! Go on! Get away! Kit, get down here!” Shona watched through the door’s leaded glass as Preston Morgan batted and kicked at the feline wall between him and the door. She backed halfway to the porch railing, an odd surge of power coursing through her in anticipation.
The door opened, and Preston almost fell on his face as at least eight Persian cats ran straight for her. Some ran so fast they skidded into the porch railing with a loud thump. One large yellow cat, a sharp contrast to the Morgan family’s incredible array of show animals, sauntered to the doorway. He sat and began to wash his face as she greeted what the family had begun to refer to as “his tribe.” He’d all but taken over when he began to hang out around the Morgan home several months ago. He sat calmly, looked at Shona and waited.
“Not all at once, take turns,” she cooed as the multitude of fur and legs pressed in around her, each vying for position, each wanting her to touch them. The horrible racket emitted from the desperate felines was enough to drive anyone insane, but it didn’t bother Shona one bit. Another one of the many oddities about her. Freak.
“Kitty!” Preston yelled up into the stairwell next to him then stepped over the big cat sitting in the doorway. “Get, you miserable fleabags,” he muttered as he tried to detach several cats from Shona’s leg. He got a nasty scratch from one in the process. “Oh, why you…”
“Do not bother, they will be done in a minute. Princess Penny shame on you!” Shona scolded the gray that had almost taken Preston’s hand off. The cat readied herself for a jump.
“Miserable feline,” Preston mumbled as he ducked back into the doorway. “Katrina!”
“I’m coming, already. You don’t have to yell!” Kitty Morgan came bounding down the stairs, her long black hair flying behind her. Her hazel eyes widened as she quickly took in the scene on the porch. Not to mention the look on her father’s face. Shona watched as Kitty contemplated how best to appease him this time.
“Oh look, Dad, Princess Penny got up into Shona’s arms! She must have lost some weight! She was getting awfully fat, you know.”
Preston glared at his daughter as he cradled his wounded hand, the scratch still hot and burning. “I hope that cat takes a sunbath in the street,” he growled then walked into the house to dress his newest war wound. The ongoing battle between Kitty’s father and the feline masses was never-ending, and as usual, he was naught but a hapless casualty.
“Okay now, break it up.” Kitty pushed herself into the furry melee, setting cats aside as she did. “Have you petted them all yet?” She asked, trying to pry her best white Persian from Shona’s jeans.
“Yes, I think so,” she said as Princess Penny tried to clamber up under her hair.
“Let’s get them inside then we can leave. Geez, I hate it when you come over now. This is beginning to be a real pain. What do you do? Mix tuna with your Wheaties or what? I’ve never seen anyone attract cats the way you do!” Kitty gave the white a final pull, its claws ripping down Shona’s tired jeans, growling at its mistress in protest. She threw the cat into the front hall, picked up her other prize white and stepped to the door after Shona.
The huge yellow cat sitting in the doorway looked up at Kitty first in mute acknowledgement before turning his attention to Shona. “Oh, right, butter me up before the mutiny you traitor! Why didn’t you just find your way to Shona’s house first and move in there!” Kitty stepped over the cat, all the while trying to keep her grip on the white show breeder struggling in her arms. She let it go on the staircase and turned to watch the upcoming exchange.
Shona, now free of the rest of the tribe, stood in front of the doorway gazing down at what she referred to as the little Chinaman. Fat and boney at the same time he was the oddest looking cat Shona or Kitty had ever seen, not to mention the biggest. He looked up at her intently and grinned, his lower front fangs jutting out over his upper lip, huge golden eyes squinted in the most fascinating way.
“Hello, Sinclair,” Shona said with an added note of affection not allotted the others. For some strange reason she felt drawn to the incredibly odd looking and obese animal.
The cat grinned even broader, a horrendously amusing sight to behold, his face looked like a fat, yellow furred Buddha. “Hello,” he seemed to be saying. She had never known an animal one could hold an actual conversation with, or rather what seemed like one.
“Touch me.”
Shona bent to give his head a friendly pat and he grabbed at her hand begging for more. She squatted down in front of him and began to pet his back, the action making her feel almost as good as it did Sinclair. “You spoiled boy, no wonder you wait to be the last. You know you are going to get the most attention that way.” She looked past him to the other cats huddled together in the hall growling.
“I know.” Sinclair began to purr.
Shona drew her hand back abruptly, eyes wide. “Oh my.”
“What’s wrong?” Kitty asked.
Shona looked up from Sinclair who sat with an even odder grin on his face, a knowing grin. “N… nothing. We had better go.” She stood quickly, eyeing the cat, a slight flicker of fear in her eyes. She walked backward into the porch railing and nearly fell over it when her mother’s car gave a loud, impatient honk of its horn.
“Gaawsh, Shona! What is wrong with you? Too much caffeine or what?” Kitty looked from Sinclair to a now-terrified Shona.
“Sinclair?” Shona thought to herself in frightened bewilderment.
The cat sauntered up to her and put his forepaws on her knees, his big golden eyes seeking her own frightened green ones. The other cats looked about to leap through the front door as one.
“We had better leave,” Shona choked out as she slid along the rail to the porch steps. She turned abruptly and stumbled down the front walk to the car.
Confused, Kitty ran into the house to grab her purse then back out the door after Shona. She stopped and turned to face Sinclair who had planted himself on the porch rail. Kitty marched back up the walk, plucked him off the rail and placed him inside the front hall with the rest of her animals. “I’d sure like to know what you did to her, cat!” She slammed the door, shutting him inside the house. Sinclair rose up and, paws against the door’s glass, watched as Kitty ran down the walk a
nd let go a gleeful squeal at the sight of the car. She climbed into the back seat, too excited to notice the dozen or so neighborhood cats running after them as the women sped off for the day.
Proud maisie is in the wood, walking so early;
Sweet Robin sits on the bush, singing so rarely.
“Tell me, thou bonny bird, when shall I marry ye?”
“When six braw gentlemen kirkward carry ye.”
“The grey-headed sexton that delves the grave duly.
The glow-worm o’er grave and stone shall light thee steady;
The owl from the steeple sing, ‘welcome, proud lady.’”
Sir Walter Scott
CHAPTER FIVE
Rain beat heavily upon Maggie’s car as it slowly traveled up the hill leading home. The summer storm had come out of nowhere to drench everything and everyone.
Shona sat in the passenger seat, gripping the mall shopping bag in her hands as if it would keep her afloat should the water-laden streets threaten to consume the car. She had been soaked running from the mall’s rear entrance to the far end of the parking lot, having made the mistake of offering to get the car while her mother waited impatiently for Kitty to make a purchase. Now she was paying for her desire to escape the multitudes of Saturday mall goers. She was wet, cold and miserable. The after effects of thinking she actually heard a cat speak to her didn’t help.
Freak!
And, of course, the emptiness decided it was a good time to make itself known again. To top it off, a horrible need for something had started to gnaw away at her, making her icy hands tremble. Lord, she needed that something. She felt as if she were starving, but not for food. “Oh God, what is happening to me?” she thought as Maggie pulled into the driveway.
“Here we are, ladies. Let’s go see what trouble Mr. Whittard has gotten himself into today.” She got out of the car and made a mad dash to open the trunk before getting too soaked. Shona and Kitty listened as Maggie retrieved her shopping bags then ran for the front door.
“Need to talk to me?” Kitty whispered in Shona’s ear.
Shona nodded quickly as she got out of the car, bag still clutched in her hands, her feet icy cold and numb. Kitty had to lead her stumbling to the front door. Fortunately, Kitty knew what to do; this was not the first time she had seen her best friend like this.
“We’ll be upstairs,” Kitty chirped to Maggie whose back was to the girls as they hurried past. Just as well. By now Shona was being supported by Kitty who steered her toward the stairs that led to Shona’s haven.
“Bedroom?” Kitty asked as they climbed. She got no response. “Oh my gaawsh, Shona!” she began, her voice laced with panic. “Bathroom then? You look about to puke!”
Shona fell against the nearest doorframe at the top of the stairs, knowing she had probably bruised her left shoulder and not caring; she was too much in need. If only she knew what it was she needed! “Up there,” she whispered, pointing shakily to another set of stairs that led to the music room.
Kitty had become more than a little concerned. “Maybe I ought to get your mom?”
“No.”
“Shona, I really think you should do something!”
“I am doing something!” Shona stumbled to the top of the second set of stairs. She headed for a sitting area with a large sofa and love seat arranged in front of a wall of audio equipment. The Whittard’s were rumored to have one of the most elaborate stereo systems in the city. It was no rumor. The entire attic ballroom of the Victorian Grand Lady in which they lived had been converted into an incredible music room.
Kitty plopped down on the sofa next to Shona, thoroughly worried. “What can I do?”
Shona’s teeth began to chatter uncontrollably and she didn’t want Kitty to know how bad off she really was. She glanced to a remote control sitting on a glass-topped coffee table, clenched her teeth tightly together and pushed out her words. “I… I do not kn… know.” She picked up the stereo system’s remote and switched part of it on. The music instantly surrounded her like a blanket, its warmth immediately sinking into her bones as if it were fusing itself to become a part of her somehow. Shona groaned in response.
Kitty stared blankly at her for a moment. “What on earth is that music?” she asked, marveling at how quickly color flooded back into Shona’s face.
“Camelot.” Shona took a deep breath as the music began to fill and satisfy her.
The music! The music took care of the horrible hunger, almost as if it could feed her in some way. Just how much stranger was this day going to get?
“Oh I know that musical!” Kitty chirped, eyeing her.
Shona began to breathe oddly, deep, then shallow, as the warmth of the music continued to creep into her hands and feet. “Yes,” she whispered, her voice sounding like the music itself.
“Talk to me now?” Kitty coaxed in her own sing-song voice.
“N… not now. Let me… listen.” Shona managed as a sudden realization hit her. Music. It also made the pain go away. She had always known music affected her strangely of late, but not like it was doing now. Filling, warming … feeding.
She moaned suddenly as the music bridged to another song, all but lifting her off the sofa as the wonderful warmth filled the emptiness inside her. In the back of her mind she knew the words to the song; words that for some reason held a special meaning for her, but she had yet to figure out why.
“Gaawsh, Shona, are you okay?” Kitty’s voice was in between giggles and panic.
The melody repeated and the words thrust themselves forward into Shona’s consciousness, their meaning burning into her, making her heart lurch with renewed need. But for what she had no idea.
Follow me…
Shona fought the unnamed thing trying to possess her. It took hold of her slowly at first, then gripped her with everything it had, trying to control her. She threw her head back and moaned. Kitty could only stare at her, speechless.
Julia Dawson, on the other hand, stood poised on the stairs to the music room, her ice blue eyes intense with interest as she watched the unusual scene take place before her. She had come by the house early and was glad now she did. She’d tutored Shona for ten years, ten long years, and finally what she had been waiting for all this time might at last be in reach.
Julia turned and went back downstairs to let the Whittard’s know she had made arrangements for Shona to have an entrance test and interview for the new European conservatory. She hoped as she made her descent that her little prodigy would be ready for whatever was to come. But what did it matter?
She smiled wickedly to herself. After all, no matter which way things went. Julia knew she couldn’t lose.
* * *
At the same time, in Genis Lee…
Dallan went through his memories one at a time in a vain attempt at finding a suitable answer to the question: What was the most serious lie he had ever told?
He raised his head from his thinking pose just long enough to look at John, giving the Lord Councilor a piercing glare. “My brother, Alasdair. I told him I would protect him and our Mother. That I would take care o’ them when I returned from France. Alasdair’s face told me I had lied to him. I had let them both down. My brother, my mother… I should ha’ been able to fight Kwaku off. I canna understand what happened to me, how he was able to hold me back like that. He hasna been able to do that to me here. Nay, not like that day.”
His jaw tightened causing the telltale twitch to begin. He stared at John, knowing this outburst was a direct result of the last few days. Days for whatever reason he'd been spared John's questions and instead was allowed to spend time with wee Padric and Master Lany’s son Vyn.
“'Tis the look on Alasdair’s face that I canna live with. All I can do for him is avenge his death. And my mother’s, knowing what most likely happened after Kwaku took me. The storm may ha’ got them even if the Campbells didna manage it.” His look turned hard again. “I’ll avenge both their deaths somehow.”
Dallan s
tood and began to pace as his anger at his helplessness started to erupt. He suddenly spun on John with a look so intense the Lord Councilor flinched. “But I canna do anything for them whilst I’m held here!’ The fierceness in his voice made the words pound into John’s mind like a nail into wood.
The Scot was the most intense man John had ever met. “It was not your fault, Dallan.” He told him softly.
“I know.” His eyes suddenly narrowed. “It was Kwaku’s.”
Dallan’s face softened a fraction as he stopped his pacing and glanced from the hearth, which still had a fire burning from early that morning, to a small window at his left near the half-open door. How much longer could he survive this way? Wasn't any chance of escape worth the risk of disappointment?
“I want to go home, John.” Dallan stared straight ahead as he softly spoke. “When can I go home?” His angry eyes met John’s compassionate ones.
Direct hit. The Lord Councilor smiled gently.
“Let’s see what we can do, Dallan,” John began, his eyes now holding a reflection of Dallan’s pain. “To get you… home.” He leaned forward again. “My job is to ask you questions and determine from your answers whether or not you are ready.”
“Ready for what?” Dallan softly demanded, his tone growing a wee bit suspicious.
“The Elders need to know if you’re ready to listen,” John told him quietly, the compassion in his voice still evident.
Dallan’s face was wary.
Emptiness, loneliness, longing for family and home, things he thought gone from his being—and good riddance, too—surged up in him with renewed vigor. This was the second time this John had broken through his defensive wall. What was wrong with him? How could this man get past what no one else had since Kwaku brought him here?
Time Masters Book One; The Call (An Urban Fantasy, Time Travel Romance) Page 7
