Diaries of an Urban Panther

by Amanda Arista

  Seemed par for the course. Seemed like something I would do to one of my characters, frankly. When the situation is as worse as it could be, twist it to make it worse. So, I couldn’t just be a panther dealing with a dark legacy. I had to be a reincarnated panther with a prophecy to protect the Veil between the worlds and the key to that was an actual fairy princess currently not taking my calls.

  “Do you know what the Veil is?” Cristina asked.

  I nodded. “It’s a wall between this realm and a purely magical realm.”

  Cristina flipped over the next card in her desk and she shivered. She quickly laid out five cards in the shape of an X between us. She sucked in a shuttered breath as her hand hovered over the Tower card.

  “What does it mean?”

  “This isn’t for you.” She snapped, as she reshuffled all the cards quickly and laid out another X with the Tower card in the center. Again.

  A chill spread throughout the room.

  Cristina wrapped her cards in their scarf and put the cards in the box and the lid on the box.

  She spoke quickly, softly. Even with the super hearing, I could barely make out what she was saying. It was a hurried confession in the darkness of her sanctuary. “He’s been trying to find a spell to open a doorway. To rip the Veil. On the darkest of the darkest night. There is a beast on the other side who has offered him power to defeat his father. You keep Jessa safe, protected, it can’t happen.”

  Jessa. Then this was more than just a little friendly feud. This was actually life or death. “What does the mirror have to do with it?”

  As soon as the words left my mouth, I knew the answer. The mirror was how the Veil ripped. Give the mirror an offering, it would give you something. Send something one way, something else come back. Break the mirror, break the spell.

  I shivered with the realization I hadn’t read that in the little book Chaz had given me, never written that into a movie. It was just a fairy tale my mother told me and it was about to come true.

  “You can have Wonder boy explain it to you,” she said with a flick of her hand towards the door.

  As the mood changed, I watched as she brushed a curl from her eye and licked her lips. “So you and Chaz do have history.”

  Cristina’s eyes snapped up to me.

  “Didn’t have to be psychic to pick up on the ex vibe.”

  “Charles and I were long ago and far away,” Cristina said as she leaned back in her chair. Her eyes went distant for a moment before she looked back at me. “He’s a very pretty, very damaged boy. Like playing with shiny broken glass.”

  “Good thing my kind prefers string.”

  She didn’t smile. She didn’t even fight a smile. This woman was stone. “You have many lives before you, Violet Jordan. They will not be easy.”

  “Hey, means I’m going to get through this one.”

  “The future is never certain. You of all people should know how quickly lives can change.”

  We both stood, knowing she was not going to give me more information.

  I showed myself out of her little back room. Chaz leapt off the couch and attacked me with questions. “What did she say?”

  “You should ask her,” the voice startled both of us.

  I turned around to see Cristina leaning in the door frame, looking tired and smaller than she had before. Her arms were locked across her chest as she looked over at Chaz.

  I really tried not to smile as I watched Chaz pale and his Adam’s apple bob slowly in his throat.

  “We need to go to Jessa’s,” I said. “As close to now as possible.”

  With small nod and a thank you, I went outside to bask in the sunlight. I leaned against his car and rested. Even the December sun helped chase away the cool chill from her back room.

  “What did Cris tell you?”

  “Oh, it’s Cris?” I asked innocently. “That’s very familiar of you.”

  We were on the highway before he spoke again. Chaz licked his lips as he changed lanes, driving faster than I would have preferred. But when you’ve got a car like this with an engine like this one and the world as we know it is at stake, why drive slowly? “We were sort of together for a while.”

  “I know, Charles.”

  His knuckles grew white on the steering wheel. “You were in there for ten minutes and you swapped life stories. What about the answers we actually came here for?”

  “Actually I guessed. About you and her,” I slunk down in his passenger seat and crossed my arms over my chest. “And I did get answers.”

  “And,” he prompted.

  “And I need to talk to Jessa.”

  Someone had wiped off the red smear I’d left last time. Chaz kept looking around the place like a little kid. His hands tucked into his jean pockets as if to ensure he wouldn’t touch anything.

  “Do you know how much she pays in rent?” he asked as we stood outside.

  “End of the world and you’re thinking real estate?”

  Chaz shrugged. “Been thinking of selling my dad’s place.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah,” he said as he leaned against the wall, facing Jessa’s door. “Too big for just me.”

  Well that was an odd piece of news. Not that his dad’s place was a palace but it was weird. First the car, and now this. “How bout we get to saving the princess and then we can play Monopoly?”

  He sighed and gestured for me to get on with why we were here.

  I looked at the cream door and sighed. Three knocks. “Jessa? It’s Violet.”

  “What do you want?” she snapped from the other side of the door.

  I closed my eyes and leaned against the elegant door. I could feel her there, her energy on the other side of the door. Why hadn’t I see it before? That’s right. Too absorbed in my own little drama. Who was the selfish one now?

  “I need to talk to you about . . . stuff.”

  “Talk to your little boyfriend there.”

  “He’s not my boyfriend, Jessa. And if you’ll let me in, I can explain.”

  “Never.”

  “Isn’t that a little dramatic, Jessa?”

  “Apparently all I am is a selfish drama queen, so I’m just being true to form.”

  I pounded on the door. “Damn it, Jessa. This isn’t a game anymore.”

  “And it was before?”

  With a thud of my forehead on the door, I turned to face Chaz. “Got anything?”

  He shrugged. “You could always throw her against a wall.”

  “Would you get off of that already?”

  My hands were in fists at my side and I had to take in a long cool breath to unclench my jaw enough to even speak. I turned back to the creamy door. “Jessa,” I said softly. “I’ve got information about the Veil.”

  There was a cool ripple of something from the other side of the door. “No one’s getting married in here.”

  “That’s it. I’m not playing anymore.”

  I took two steps back and sucked in a deep breath.

  “Violet, what are you doing?” Chaz asked.

  “Going to throw her against a wall.”

  There was a small yelp from the other side of the door as I dropped my shields and gathered a little more power. Wasn’t any time like the present to see if I really could control my power like a true Haverty should.

  “Vi?”

  But I was already moving forward, throwing my power forward and into the wooden door. Barreling towards it, the panther hit it before I did and my shoulder took barely any impact as the door splintered into a million pieces.

  I found myself in one piece in her foyer. I rolled my shoulders and put the cat back where she needed to be. Brushing off chunks of door, I looked around her place. Her living room windows were open, letting in a cool breeze.

  “Jessa?” I called out looking around.

  Chaz followed me in slowly. “Shit Violet.”

  “Built-in dark side.”

  “They are going to call the cops.”


  I took in a deep breath as I looked out her ninth-story penthouse apartment. “It’s okay. We can go. She’s not here.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I turned on him quickly, lightning quick, still a little jazzed from the adrenaline. He jumped back. “As in she’s not here anymore.”

  “Where did she go?”

  I looked into the mirror at my left. “Don’t know.”

  We walked out of her apartment building just as the cops were pulling up. Chaz’s souped up engine once again aided in our escape.

  “What do you want to do?” he asked as we sped back to my place.

  In the car, I had found a piece of her door that had jumped into a pocket of my coat. I spun it around and around. “Will you watch her tonight?”

  “You gonna be okay by yourself?”

  I was quiet. I didn’t really have the heart to lie to him right now.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  As we drove up to my house, the two police cars waiting outside made the hairs on my arm stand up straight. Two uniforms were standing outside like dark blue lawn sculptures.

  Chaz pulled up to the curb on the other side of the street and I jumped out. No fire. No flood. Locusts maybe?

  Slowly, I walked across the street. People had gathered outside the other units and were gossiping. Their whispers carried on the wind. Poor single girl in 2G.

  An officer approached me quickly as I crossed the yard. “Hold on a moment, ma’am.”

  “This is my house. What happened?”

  The man turned over his shoulder. “Get Briggs.”

  The other officer walked through my front door and disappeared into my living room. My living room. Without my permission.

  “Tell me what happened.” My fists were little balls at my side.

  Chaz put his hand on the center of my back and the adrenaline and fear pooled in my chest dissipated for a moment.

  “Everything okay?” he asked.

  The officer nodded. “We got a call from a fellow officer about a break-in.”

  “Break-in?” An immediate inventory of everything worth anything ran through my head. My computer, my laptop, my binders full of research material, my French press, my violet box.

  The man who exited my front door looked familiar as he walked across my front yard. “Miss Jordan. I’m Officer Briggs.”

  His face finally clicked when I saw the tennis shoe in his hand. “You’re the one from the hit and run.”

  The man smiled a soft sympathetic smile. “I’m afraid I have some disturbing news.”

  “Apparently my house was broken into.”

  He nodded and handed me my shoe, which I immediately began to twist mercilessly with anxiety.

  “I stopped by to return your sneaker from that day. I’d thrown it in the back of my squad car and I kept meaning to return it, but you know how life goes.” He motioned that we should follow him to the threshold. “I rang the doorbell and heard a crash in the back. When no one answered, I tried the handle and it was open.”

  “We’ve taken pictures and we think we know what happened. But we need to ask you a few questions. I have to warn you. It looks pretty bad.”

  I gulped and my knees went a little weak. I leaned back into Chaz whose solid form braced mine for a moment.

  With a deep breath, we followed Officer Briggs into my living room. I slipped a little in the tiled foyer. Chaz caught my elbow.

  When I looked down, cotton stuffing covered the floor. The pool of white wisps drew my eyes into the living room to my gutted couch. Pillows lay disemboweled all over the floor. Picture frames were smashed. A canvas painting above the couch was shredded on the wall. Books were ripped in two.

  I stepped into the middle of the storm and took in a deep breath. The oxygen-filled lungful was supposed to keep me from breaking down into a puddley mess but I was met with the pungent odor of wet dog. It stung my nose and I winced.

  “Sonovabitch,” I heard Chaz whisper behind me.

  I nodded as my jaw clenched. Those damn dogs. They were dead. The next time they came within five feet of me, they were toast and I was in for a mutt-shaped rug in front of my fireplace.

  The wisps of cotton began to stir around my feet.

  “Calm down there, kitten,” Chaz whispered.

  I hadn’t even noticed my borders were out of place, let alone flailing out in all directions. As I tried to reel it in, putting up the brick walls in my head, I swore I could still feel the energy of the dogs bouncing around the room, shaking their vicious little heads as they ripped apart my decorative pillows.

  I put my sleeve to my nose and took in a long deep calming breath only to find that my sleeve smelled like Chaz’s new car. It didn’t suck.

  “When were you home last?” Officer Briggs asked as he drew a notebook out of his front pocket.

  “This morning,” I answered as I moved slowly though the first floor.

  “What time did you leave?”

  “Noon.” The toppled over clock on my wet bar had stopped at 4:15. When we were with Cristina.

  The surface of the coffee table had been busted out; sparkly glass covered the destruction of the couch. It was like sparkling snow. I hate snow.

  “Did you lock the doors?”

  “Yes. I remember flipping the lock before we left.”

  “We?”

  I hitched my thumb over at Chaz who was standing still in the middle of the living room, watching me work my way through the wreckage.

  “And you are?”

  “Charles Garrett.”

  “And what is your relationship to Miss Jordan?”

  My eyes snapped to Chaz’s golden ones. This should be an interesting answer. He was looking straight at me when he answered. “I’m a close friend.”

  There was a little shiver down my spine that I blamed on the slimy feeling now permeating the place. The Violet warmth was gone, replaced by something cold and exotic. It drove me deeper into the wreckage of my first floor.

  I stopped before the turtle table. The few remaining survivors from the disaster with Jessa had been ground into bits of porcelain and stone and left in perfect little piles of dust. That was just cruel.

  “Does anyone else have keys to your house?”

  “Yeah, my friend Jessa, but I saw her today.”

  “Did you give anyone permission to be here? Workmen? Electrician?”

  “No.”

  I turned to walk into the kitchen when I saw something that was almost more disturbing than the blizzard that I called my living room.

  There was a crystal vase, something dug out of the back of my kitchen, filled with two dozen lavender roses. The bouquet stood as tall as I did and the scent of the fresh flowers almost overpowered the fragrance of wet fur.

  “Chaz,” I whispered.

  He was at my side in an instant.

  “Please God tell me those aren’t from him,” I whispered. The pit of my stomach began to tremble and I reached out to grasp the top of my dining room chair. The only one that hadn’t been turned into match sticks littering the floor.

  Chaz leaned in. He shook his head stealthily.

  There was another officer taking pictures of the shattered back glass door. The glass reflected the flash of his camera everywhere around us like a disco ball.

  I released the top of the chair only to find my hands covered in black powder.

  “Fingerprint powder. The tech came through here a few minutes before you arrived. We might need your prints.”

  I nodded as I wiped the black powder on my jeans, which in turn now had black streaks across the thighs.

  “And you, Mr. Garrett?”

  “They’re on file.”

  “Oh, that’s a story you can distract me with later,” I muttered as I turned towards the kitchen.

  Not that I had much food at any given moment anyway, and practically nothing after being gone for a week. But what I had was spilled across the kitchen floor. Cereal boxes had been ripped in half
. Coffee beans were thrown around like sprinkles on top of the floured floor.

  I put my face in my hands. That was a twenty dollar a pound Hawaiian blend. Those dogs were not just going to die but going to die a painful horrible death.

  Chaz put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed.

  Officer Briggs’s voice broke my moment of canine contemplation. “If you’re up to it, I’d like you to look around to see if anything was taken.”

  I ran my fingers through my hair and nodded. Chaz followed me back through the first floor. The TV was still there, the DVD player, the DVDs, even the rentals from Blockbuster that I’d forgotten to return before I left to LA.

  “Violet,” Chaz whispered.

  I followed his pointing finger to the mantle. The very empty mantle.

  “Oh god. Seriously?”

  The absence of the silver frame with the picture of my mother felt like a knife wound. I held my stomach in place as it turned over on itself.

  “Miss Jordan?” the officer walked up beside me.

  “A picture of my mother and me in a silver frame.”

  “Is it of any worth?” he asked as he scribbled notes.

  “It’s an heirloom from my mother’s side.”

  The officer nodded as he scratched down notes. “Would you like to go upstairs?”

  Chaz and I slowly walked upstairs. I was imagining the same fate for my bed as the couch had suffered. The doorframe was covered in the same black powder from down stairs so I nudged the door open with my foot.

  The bedroom hadn’t been touched. The bed was still half made. The vanity, which was usually disorganized anyway, hadn’t been re-disorganized. My small closet door was still standing half open just as I’d left it. Nothing had been touched.

  There was a smell there, though. Glad that the officers weren’t around, I sniffed at the air. It was something sharp, like exotic flowers. There wasn’t any wet dog here at all. A single stemmed purple rose rested gently on my pillow. Another shiver ran down my spine.

  The bastard had been in my bedroom.

  Chaz gasped when I dropped to my knees by the edge of the bed. I reached under the edge and scooted the violet box towards me.

  Kneeling, I opened the box and counted all the items inside. I took in a deep breath and felt a small bit better. At least they didn’t touch this. I got to my feet and clutched the box to my chest as I walked to my office. I was going to burn those sheets.