Diaries of an Urban Panther

by Amanda Arista

  “Eww, that’s gross.”

  A small smile curled up at the corner of Jessa’s mouth.

  She turned me around to face the mirror. “God, Sasquatch. I can barely see around you.”

  “Shut up.”

  Jessa jabbed and pinched the end of her finger and a red drop bubbled up. “Here goes.”

  She drew a circle around the edge of the mirror, having to stand on her tiptoes to get there and put her other hand at the base of my neck. My skin chilled immediately and I was surrounded by roses.

  “Think about the closest thing that you remember afterwards.”

  I did exactly as she asked me. I thought of the moment that my Aunt Glory said that they were dead.

  Jessa began to slowly draw her finger counterclockwise. An image formed in the mirror, smoky figures walked about, and I saw a woman standing before me.

  “Here,” I whispered.

  Jessa drew her hand away from the mirror as the picture cleared. It was from my perspective, through my thirteen-year-old eyes.

  My twenty-seven-year-old eyes watered as my mother came into focus. She was in her green dress. I remembered that green dress with little pink flowers on it.

  “You look just like her,” Jessa whispered in my ear.

  I clutched my hand to my chest. As confident as I was about all this, I still wasn’t sure that I wanted to hear what she had to say when I saw her again.

  Jessa nudged my elbow from behind.

  “I know.”

  Slowly, I reached out to touch the edge of the corner of the mirror.

  “But I don’t want to stay with Aunt Glory. Her house smells funny.”

  My mother smiled and brushed a curl behind my ear. “She doesn’t smell funny.”

  “No, but Waylon does.”

  “Your cousin doesn’t smell funny either. You’re being immature, Violet.”

  “Why can’t I go with you and Dad? We’ve always been the fearless threesome.”

  She took in a deep shuttering breath but forced that perfect smile. “You need to stay here with your aunt.” She kissed my forehead and put her hand on my chin. “They are your family, Violet.”

  ““No, you and Dad are my family. I just happen to be unfortunately related to Waylon.”

  My mother shook her head. “You are so headstrong, Violet. Always fighting me. Always questioning. You’re going to need to keep that.”

  I frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  She just wrapped me up in a big hug. When she let me go, she straightened my T-shirt and jacket. Her eyes were teary, but she smiled all the same, and her eyes were clearer for the water.

  Dad honked the horn as he waited out on the street. I looked around Mom to see his wide grin as he waved at me. I waved back.

  “I love you Violet. Remember that. Remember what I’ve told you. Take care of your real family. You’ll know them when you meet them.”

  “Mom, you’re being weird.”

  “Takes one to know one,” she smiled, that lovely smile that brightened the rainy day. “You can’t do everything by yourself. You’ll need help. And your help will be needed.”

  I nodded. “But I’m not helping with the housework. I hate laundry.”

  She ran her fingers through my long, frizzy hair. “What are we going to do with you, Violet?”

  “Love me unconditionally?”

  She tweaked my chin as she walked down the slick sidewalk to the car.

  I took my hand off the mirror and backed away. Jessa’s hand dropped from my neck.

  “Vi . . .”

  I held up a finger to halt any sort of human interaction. My face was wet with tears and Mr. Sumo Wrestler squatted heavily on my chest so I could barely get the words out. “She knew,” I whispered. “She knew it was going to happen.”

  “Violet. We don’t know that,” Jessa said shaking her head.

  “How could I have not realized that? She knew it was all going to happen.”

  I fell backward and hit a wall. I sunk down to the floor under the 500 pound weight on my chest. She knew. It was all clicking together. The pieces were falling brilliantly together around in my broken head.

  The stories.

  My nickname.

  “Vi, I need you to talk to me,” Jessa said as she knelt down beside me.

  “My mother told me stories,” I started. “These crazy fantasies about a princess and the cat who kept saving her life. I lived and breathed these stories my whole childhood.”

  Jessa cocked her head. “Are you trying to tell me that . . .”

  “I think she saw our death and saved me. She knew about my prophecy. That I had to live to protect the world. She would have never left me there with Aunt Glory otherwise. The two barely spoke.”

  Jessa’s jaw dropped.

  “I thought the stories were just her trying to stoke my imagination. But she was preparing me,” I dropped my head in my hands and worked my fingers into my long smooth hair. “She was preparing me for life without her.”

  I heard Jessa scurry back on the carpet and smelled roses. Borders? What borders? My shield in shambles around my broken heart.

  “Holy cow, Violet. Your mother was a psychic.” Jessa sat on the floor next to me and reached out for my hand. When I didn’t give it willingly, she took it and set it in her lap.

  My whole life, everything, the schools, the deaths, the bad ex-boyfriends, were all leading me here, to be this. Wonder what the fates had to do to get me in the alley that night?

  Jessa broke the pain-filled silence. “If your mother did what you’re saying she did, she was an incredible woman. And her daughter is an incredible woman who is going to kick some major panther ass and stop whatever that blonde-headed prick is planning.”

  My red eyes snapped to Jessa. “That was a very un-Jessa thing to say.”

  “Maybe you’re finally rubbing off on me.”

  I rested my head on the top of her head. “What do I do now?”

  “Take some time. I’m going to make a few phone calls.”

  “We don’t have time,” I sniffed as I wiped my face. “We’ve got to . . .”

  Jessa pinched my lips together. “We’ve got time. You come to terms with this. This is your heritage, Violet. As sad as it is, it’s made you what you need to be to save the world. Can’t argue with that kind of cosmic direction.”

  “Cosmic direction, my ass,” I grumbled as I sat back up and stared at the wall.

  Jessa got up and sucked on her pointer finger as she retreated to the kitchen to do god knows what. Three second later, there was a huge crash in the kitchen.

  I jumped up and ran in to see Jessa holding a silver lever in her hand and the espresso machine hissing wildly. I zipped around her and unplugged the contraption.

  “Thought a coffee might make you feel better,” she said apologetically as she handed me the steamer handle.

  “Thanks, Jessa.”

  “I’m going to order some food. What do you feel like?”

  “Sushi, actually.”

  “Check, the cat wants fish.”

  I shot her a dirty look but she just beamed back. “Do you realize how many cat jokes I’ve been thinking up in the past two weeks? I’ve got loads.”

  “Joy. Why do I get the sidekick who thinks she’s funny?”

  “Who said that I was the sidekick, sidekick?”

  I shooed her away with my hand. “Go call someone.”

  She sauntered out to the living room to get her cell phone and I stayed in the kitchen to study my perky curtain windows.

  My mother knew. I remembered the flash from The Book. My mother knew, and so did Violette Jourdaine. I’d bet my Stuart Weitzman’s that she was the psychic who wrote the book. I think I knew that before now, just didn’t want to think about it. As if the panther wasn’t enough, I had a psychic bloodline.

  Could that be why the change came so easily? Could that be why Iris thought I was too powerful too quickly? Could that be why . . . Aw, screw it. I
could think myself dizzy with the coulds and woulds and ifs.

  This is who I am now. This is Violet Jordan’s life and come hell or high water, I was surviving this.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  We were five days and counting until Cristina’s deadline of the new moon. I was in my coffee shop waiting for Jessa to call me after her meeting. A crazy panther was gunning for our blood, but she still had to lunch with some investor. I still couldn’t convince her that we should at least try to get out of the city. Go to Iris’s for a weekend; just get away from anything that Spencer could think up. But she wouldn’t have it. She wouldn’t run. Which meant I was here, waiting for her to call me from across the street to go get her.

  When Devin called that morning offering to bring me back my stuff from the few days at his house, I relished the idea of being just Violet for a few moments. I needed to see Devin to remind me that there was more to this world than my destiny and magic mirrors. Remind me there were 6 billion reasons we couldn’t let a demon run loose on the streets.

  Devin’s warm smile brightened up the coffee shop as he entered, duffle bag in hand. He strode across the shop and sat next to me on the loveseat. “I want details. Hot steamy details of what’s happening with Stalker boy.”

  I laughed. “We had a huge fight and are currently on rocky terms.”

  “You know what that means,” he smiled.

  “What?”

  “Steamy makeup sex.”

  I laughed louder and stood to get a refill on my coffee. The kid behind the counter refilled my cup and I turned back to Devin on the loveseat.

  It was like someone cued the porn music in my head. The lights softened and when my eyes met Devin’s, there was a sizzling heat in the space between us that suddenly seemed like a thousand miles.

  He licked his lips, soft luscious things, and ran his fingers through his hair.

  There was a pull in my chest and I slowly sauntered back to the seat, unable to control the swing in my hips. I sat close to him. I could feel his breath on my hand.

  My senses flooded with him, his baby powder scent, the red of his chestnut hair, the quick beating of his heart under his gray T-shirt and the slight perspiration on his brow. It tightened the space between my shoulders and warmed places a little lower down.

  My hand reached out to touch him. I ran my fingers down the sweet hollow of his throat. Something stirred beneath my breastbone and I desperately wanted to see if he tasted as good as he smelled.

  Devin shifted in the love seat and drew his arm up the back of the couch and turned towards me, displaying his broad chest. His pupils were dilated and his lips fuller. “Violet?” he breathed.

  The sharp jingle of the entry bells ripped me from my study of him. I shook my head and scurried to the other side of the couch. What the hell?

  This had to be a spell or something cooked up by the baddies. In my coffee? In the air? I grabbed my bag and darted out of there before I jumped him, right there in the front window for all to see.

  The fresh air of the afternoon didn’t help any at all. There seemed to be men all around and they all looked delicious. Runners bathed in sweat and businessmen bathed in cologne. And I just wanted to . . .

  I jumped in my car and tried to catch my breath. Iris. I needed Iris. My hands were clammy as I reached for my cell phone.

  “Hello?”

  “I’m going crazy. I’ve official gone over the edge.”

  “What?” she asked.

  “I nearly jumped Devin, stereotypical gay best friend Devin. Like, tore his clothes off and did him right there on the couch.”

  Iris just laughed on the other end of the line.

  “What’s so funny?”

  She finished her laughter. “Welcome to puberty.”

  “What?”

  “You’ve officially been a panther long enough to develop some of their more interesting characteristics.”

  My brain raced with any thought that wasn’t Devin’s lips and those creamy biceps. Cats, puberty. Crap. “Am I in heat?”

  “Yes, ma’am you are.”

  “What the hell!” I screamed in my car and hit the horn so that everyone in the plaza looked at me. “We’ve got a countdown to the apocalypse. What am I supposed to do?”

  “Go home, take a cold shower. Stay away from anything male unless . . .”

  “Iris! I can’t. Not now”

  “Well, I’m just saying that you’re like a beacon for any man right now. And you’re young. Have fun with it.”

  “Hello! End of the world prophecy!”

  “Then I’d go with the cold shower.”

  I fumbled around for my keys and started the car. “You couldn’t have told me this earlier? What the hell am I supposed to say to Devin?”

  I sat in the tub for the longest time, until my fingers were pruney and my hair was a dried pile on top of my head.

  This was not expected. Even after I researched and read about how others control their urges and about the actual nature of large cats, I could not have prepared myself for heat. How crazy was that? As if I needed another time of the month to worry about. But Iris did say that when I truly synced up with my animal, things like this would happen. I had to take the super strength with the super horny.

  There was a rustle at the front door and I listened carefully, picking up the sounds of keys and boot steps in the foyer.

  “Violet?” Chaz called up the stairs.

  Crap. This was not what I needed right now. Whose bright idea was it to give him an extra key? Oh yeah. Me and my “we need to stay together” speech. He must be back from his fact-gathering mission.

  The cat stirred again and just the thought of him, his broad chest, his strong arms made parts of me tingle that really shouldn’t have, considering our arrangement.

  I heard him walk up the stairs. With a sigh, I stood up out of the cold water and reached for my robe: this huge plush thing that you could lose yourself in and look completely unappealing. Maybe four inches of terry cloth would dampen whatever was going on.

  He tapped on the door as I tied the belt.

  “Violet?” he said softly.

  “Yeah.” I came to stand with my back to the door, feeling his heat through the wood. With no control over my boundaries, I could feel the outline of his body as he leaned forward, listening to me listen to him. He was probably wearing the same tight T-shirt that he had been wearing when he left to get more information about the prophecy. He was probably wearing those perfectly fitting jeans that made every day hell for me before all these crazy hormones started running through my veins.

  “I’m back.”

  “Wonderful.”

  He pushed on the door but I stopped it with my foot.

  “Vi, what’s going on?”

  “We’ve got a bit of a problem.”

  “Why? What happened?” he said, going straight into protector mode.

  He had put a hand on the door right next to my shoulder. If only the two inches of wood weren’t between us, his warm hands would be on my . . . “Nothing. I just think you need to go. Find Jessa.”

  He sighed hard. His hand traced its way down my back to the handle. “Whatever it is, we can face this. Talk to me, Violet,” he practically whispered.

  This didn’t sound like Chaz, or, at least recent Chaz. He had to be affected. The plushy robe and door wasn’t enough to keep him from being surrounded by my little bubble of mojo. I licked my suddenly dry lips and carefully put the words together. “I got a new side effect of the shift.”

  “Okay?”

  “I’m going through heat.”

  He was silent on the other side of the door. I could almost see the smile on his handsome face as he leaned his forehead on the door. “So you’re a little frisky right now?”

  “And if you get too close, you will be too.”

  Chaz was quiet. His heat moved away from the door but I didn’t hear him go downstairs. God, why didn’t he know what was good for him? Why wouldn’t
he just listen to me for once?

  “Did you call Iris?” he finally asked.

  “She said that if I didn’t want to maim every guy I see to go home . . .”

  “And take a cold shower. Did it work?”

  Every cell of my body wanted to rip the door off its hinges and take him right there in the hallway. “Not really,” I grumbled and I moved to the mirror to see my reflection.

  My hair had curled in long curls and my lips were fuller than usual. This was unfair. There was a ridiculously good looking man on the other side of my bathroom door and here I was holed up and looking hotter than usual.

  “Going to stay in the bathroom all night?”

  “Thinking about it.”

  Chaz put his hand on the handle, making it jingle slightly. “Can’t be that bad.”

  “I nearly ripped Devin’s shirt off.”

  He took his hand off the handle and left the door closed. “Probably would have made the kid’s year.”

  “You should just go,” I started, sitting on the edge of the sink. “Someone needs to go get Jessa.”

  The air was still, hot and stifling, and I could still feel every ounce of his energy on the other side of the door. I watched completely transfixed in fear and anticipation as the handle rotated and the door inched open.

  Why didn’t I lock the door?

  He stuck his head in and my heart leapt in my chest. He had a black eye and a busted lip already scabbed over. His golden eyes were wide and sad and his hair was in all different directions. The information gathering must have not gone well.

  “What happened?” I questioned automatically, moving for the door, my protective instincts quieting my feral ones for a moment.

  “Another day on the job,” he shrugged with the one shoulder I could see.

  He looked wonderful, despite the black eye. And he smelled wonderful too, a mixture of the wind in his hair and his natural musk. I inhaled and before I knew what I was doing, I ran my fingers down his stubbly face.

  I snatched it back when I had the urge to kiss him. “You should go.”

  But his pupils were large and his lips were so very, very moist.

  I shook my head and moved away from him to stare back into the mirror. Think about the worn robe. Think about the clouds moving across the window behind me. Think about anything that wasn’t him without his shirt.