No Kitten Around

by RJ Blain

  I sighed. “I should be upset, but you’re right. Worrying is something I’m good at.”

  “I’m sure that habit will be beaten out of you. Bring casual clothes. What you wear will be ruined. Bloodstains are a bitch to get out.”

  “Remember how I said worrying is something I’m good at? I’m worrying now.”

  Hamhock chuckled. “It’ll put hair on your chest. Don’t worry, Reed. You should survive.”

  With ‘should’ being the keyword, I’d need to prepare my will. Then again, an angel had meddled in my affairs, and after I’d driven her off, a devil had taken her place. I should’ve prepared my will the instant Luna and her angelic brethren had popped into my life. I considered running away, but I doubted I’d be able to run far enough to keep a devil from finding me. “That’s something. Anything else I should know?”

  “Bring a carrier for your pet. It’s safer for her, and your instructor would feel guilty if she ate someone’s pet.”

  “She eats cats?” I blurted.

  “She’s an elf. She eats whatever she wants. I’ve learned it’s best to simply let the elves do what they want. You’re less likely to end up on the menu that way. In good news, clients are excluded from her list of edibles. I wouldn’t worry too much. It’s been a few years since someone pissed her off that much. As far as elves go, she has a good control over her temper. Think about it this way. If you can stand up to an elf, no angel or devil prone to visiting Earth will have a chance against you.”

  “Elves can beat angels and devils in a sword fight?”

  Hamhock laughed. “Angels and devils just wish they could match an elf. I’ll see you tomorrow with your practice sword and your friend’s naginata. Do try to keep your head attached to your shoulders. I’d like to see what you’re made of.”

  She hung up, and I dreaded what tomorrow would bring.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Kennedy pounced the instant I got home, and I wasn’t sure if boredom had done her in or if she’d actually missed me while I’d been at work. I decided it didn’t matter, although both Kitten and Puppy were not pleased with the delay of their hard-earned supper.

  Our therapy animals would have to accept there were some forms of therapy they couldn’t participate in.

  Being pounced the moment I walked through the door did a good job of making my common sense dribble out of my ears. Some claimed love and lust were fickle beasts, but a quiet truth lurked beneath the surface.

  Love, hate, and everything between were complicated, and I couldn’t place my feelings for Kennedy or their evolution into a box, pack it away, and forget about it. Heartache added to the complications, but I couldn’t deny the one thing capable of patching everything that’d gone wrong in my life.

  Despite everything, I’d never stopped loving her.

  I could guess what an angel saw in my eyes, and her actions led me to believe we both fought to pick up the shattered pieces and glue them back together again. There’d never be the clarity of an untested love for us again. That had shattered with everything else, but like a Japanese potter restoring a broken jar, we could use gold to rebuild our relationship into something new and beautiful.

  We didn’t have to return to the past.

  The long drive and stressful day did me in even more than Kennedy’s enthusiasm, which made it difficult for me to crawl out of bed to handle the basic necessities. If I wanted to survive long enough to learn how to use a sword, I needed to move closer to the city. I loathed the idea of adding more to my list, but I saw little choice.

  I couldn’t handle three hours of driving, learning a sword, and Kennedy. I’d die of exhaustion within a few weeks.

  With far more pep in her step than I could readily handle, Kennedy flitted through the house, fed my kitten in a blatant attempt to steal her affections, and watched me with a smug smile.

  “I need your talent.” I made it to the couch and sprawled. “Can you give me a boost?”

  “Sorry, Reed. It doesn’t work that way. You look absolutely ragged, though. Did something go wrong at work?”

  “I need to move somewhere closer, and it seems I have to also move a woman, a dog, and a cat when I do so.”

  “I have a week before my boss will get me back on rotation in the area. I spoke to him while you are at work. I also spoke with your therapists. For hours. Why don’t you let me worry about the housing situation? Even when I go back to work, my schedule flexes enough I can handle most of the details. You’ll have to sign paperwork, but that’ll save you a headache.”

  “You mean migraine. That’s what paperwork gives me. It gives me migraines.”

  “Yet you’re a contract negotiator for a major acquisitions firm. I’ve seen some of your work. It’s pretty impressive. Of all the files and contracts we reviewed, yours were the cleanest. They’re also the hardest to audit, as everyone is convinced you’re up to no good yet we can’t catch you at any of it.”

  I snickered and allowed myself a smug smile. “That’s because I’m never up to no good. I keep every single one of my contracts legal. I refuse to negotiate on a contract with anything illegal in it. That’s why I’m a team lead. Every contract that goes through my team goes through me first, and if I think there’s anything fishy about it, I bump it to legal. They dumped a set of twenty on my desk this morning, and it’s bad news. I’m already bumping it to legal, and I’ve barely gotten started yet. But, that leads me to a very important problem I need to talk with you about.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  Discarding everything Hamhock had suggested about not calling our upcoming torture session a date, I replied, “We have a date tomorrow.”

  “A date? We do?”

  “We’re going to beat each other with sharp objects. There might even be blood involved.”

  “We’re going to what?”

  “I’m going to learn how to use a sword. You’re going to learn how to use a Japanese battle scythe. I have decided this because a centaur almost beheaded me with a Japanese battle scythe, and I was appropriately intimidated. As such, I want you to learn how to use the Japanese battle scythe, too.”

  “A Japanese battle scythe? What the fuck is a Japanese battle scythe?”

  “Come on a date with me tomorrow and find out.”

  “Why are we going to beat on each other with swords and Japanese battle scythes?”

  “I’ve been told I’ll be useless with a gun plus it’s in my interest to learn self-defense. With a sword. I also coerced an angel out of a very expensive sword and the best trainer money can buy. I suggested you should join me. Well, I asked if a friend could join me, and my contact thought it would be feasible. Here we are. Come on a date with me. One involving us beating each other senseless.”

  Kennedy laughed so hard she cried. “I can’t refuse an invitation like that. You look so hopeful. If you need someone to hold your hand through your self-defense lessons, just say so.”

  “I need someone to hold my hand through self-defense lessons. Please.”

  “I’ll come hold your hand, and because you’re trying so hard, I’ll even let you call it a date. Do you have appropriate clothes for this?”

  “I was going to sacrifice one of the junker suits until I run out of suits I can sacrifice, honestly.”

  “Actually, I like that idea. If you learn how to fight in what you usually wear, it’ll be better for you. That’s a good plan. When is your self-defense class?”

  “Hamhock’ll call me with the time and location, but it’ll be after work. I’ve been told we’ll need to put our pets in their carriers for this.”

  “Why?”

  “Their safety,” I replied, pleased it was utterly true. Not getting eaten by an elf was a definite safety concern. “Kittens and puppies might get hurt if they get underfoot while we’re playing with swords and Japanese death scythes.”

  “That’s fair enough. All right. I’ll start doing the footwork on finding us a place closer to your work tomorrow. Do you want
a house, an apartment, or a condo?”

  “I prefer houses because I fiddle. There’s no point in denying I fiddle. I’m okay with fixing up a run-down house if you can tolerate living in it while I’m fixing it up.”

  “If you tell me what to do, I can help with the fixing.”

  “That won’t be an issue, but I’ll warn you now: I can get bossy.”

  Kennedy laughed at me. “I’d pay good money to see that, Mr. Matthews. That said, I plan on buying you extra ties tomorrow while I’m out so you can get in sufficient practice being bossy.”

  “You’re a very, very wicked woman, Kennedy.”

  “Someone has to be wicked in this relationship, and no matter how many times you try to claim you’re part incubus and succubus, I’m onto you. You’re an angel in disguise, and I refuse to entertain any argument on your part, sir.”

  I arched a brow. “Is that a challenge? I’m not sure it’s a smart idea to challenge a man who’s part incubus and succubus, Kennedy. I might be an angel by day, but after dark is a completely different story.”

  “Prove it,” she murmured, aiming her most seductive smile at me.

  I somehow forgot to eat dinner, although the somehow part of the equation involved a former ex who’d popped back into my life and resumed her place—rightful, in my opinion—as my no-longer-ex girlfriend. I’d have to ask her if she agreed with her resumption of said status, but I struggled with my old habit of assuming the worse. The drive to work the next morning seemed longer than normal, especially as Kitten, Destroyer of Worlds insisted on attacking the window every time she spotted a bird. Her excited chirping reduced me into laughing so hard I pulled over so I wouldn’t crash.

  Pulling over in the middle of nowhere caught the attention of a cop, who pulled over to add a little spice to my crazy morning. The older woman tapped my window, and wiping tears of mirth from my eyes, I rolled down the window. “Good morning, Officer,” I greeted.

  Amazingly, the expected panic attack didn’t come.

  “Is there a problem, sir?”

  I pointed at my therapy cat, who still stood at the window and chirped at a flock of birds swooping over the nearby fields. “There’s no problem, ma’am. She’s my therapy cat, and she’s been making a fuss. It was funny enough I pulled over so I wouldn’t be laughing while driving.”

  She blinked at me before staring at my cat. “Your therapy cat?”

  I needed to thank my therapists for the official documentation claiming she was a support animal. I popped open the glove box, retrieved the papers, and handed them over. “Old trauma, ma’am. She helps when I have panic attacks.”

  “I’ve heard of therapy dogs, but therapy cats are a new one. Hey, whatever works. I won’t ask how you got the authorizations for a support cat, but this looks in order. Were you aware this form allows you to get her an official support animal vest?”

  It was my turn to blink, and I gaped at the cop. “It does?”

  “Yeah. This is the higher tier form. I’ll get you the number for the vest. I’m surprised the authorizer didn’t provide one.”

  “Maybe he didn’t think she needed it?”

  “Give me a minute and I’ll get you the number.” The cop took my form and returned to her cruiser.

  I arched a brow at Kitten, Destroyer of Worlds. “You’re not just a therapy cat. You’re an official support animal. Don’t let that go to your head.”

  As expected, my cat ignored me.

  Within five minutes, the cop returned with a business card, which had a handwritten phone number on it. “Here you go, Mr. Matthews. The vest should make things easier on you when you go shopping or into public spaces. Is your condition a problem with driving?”

  “I pull over if I think there are going to be any problems, ma’am. I’ve had this for several years, and I have a good record. My cat mostly helps me at the office and home.”

  “Well, drive safe, Mr. Matthews.” The cop gave me a nod and returned to her vehicle.

  I hoped meeting with the police on the way to work wasn’t an omen of the future. If it was, what sort of omen was it?

  The birds flew away, and Kitten, Destroyer of Worlds turned to me with a sad, questioning mew.

  “There’ll be more birds on the way,” I promised, easing my car back onto the road and turning off my hazard lights. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

  A block away from work, the heavens opened and a flock of dead pigeons rained down on my car. I slammed the brakes around the same time the thumps of impact triggered the airbags. My face throbbed, and in typical cat fashion, Kitten, Destroyer of Worlds protested the sudden deceleration with howls. Since her howls proved ineffective, she attacked my air bag, pulling at the end of her buckled-in leash.

  I was grateful my replacement car was modern enough to register there wasn’t a human occupant beside me, sparing her from being smacked, too.

  Airbags to the face hurt like hell, and I wanted to stab the damned thing for punching me in the nose. To add insult to injury, I bled. I considered myself fortunate I hadn’t broken anything. Shunting my car into park, I leaned back in my seat and listened to the mayhem of car alarms, honking, and screaming on the busy street.

  At the rate I was going, my meeting with the cop would be the only pleasant part of my day. Grabbing my phone, I took a picture of the countless pigeon bodies decorating my busted windshield, the car in front of me, the sidewalk, and the road. Texting it to my boss, along with a note I’d be late due to unforeseen circumstances, would cap my rotten day and invite more questions than I wanted to answer.

  Within a minute, my phone rang.

  “Reed, what the hell is that picture you just sent me?”

  “Look out the window,” I suggested. “An entire flock of pigeons seems to have dropped out of the sky onto my car. I’m definitely going to be late.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “Bloody nose and probable whiplash. I think I’ll be all right. Kitten, Destroyer of Worlds seems okay, too. My car, however, doesn’t appear to have emerged unscathed.”

  “Take the day. I’ll bump your contracts over to legal for review on the monopoly clause; everything I’ve read so far says your gut instinct is right, so I can delay the negotiations for at least a week. I’ll also get legal to do a full trace of all the corporations to see if that whole batch is connected. It’ll have to be done by legal anyway. Can you send me a list of the companies that you’ve identified with connections?”

  Sirens wailed, and I grimaced at the thought of even more ER visit bills headed my way. “I can. I might be delayed a few minutes. Emergency responders are starting to arrive.”

  “That was fast.”

  “I bet dispatch lit up when people started calling in about a mass accident. Hell, I’m just glad I didn’t hit anyone and no one hit me. That might be a miracle.” Others hadn’t been so lucky; the car in front of me had rammed into the car in front of it. Slamming my brakes had prevented me from joining the chain.

  Paying attention while driving paid off in case of the unexpected mass die off of pigeons.

  “You’re probably right. You sure you’re all right? No panic attacks? Do you want me to send someone down the street?”

  “I’m all right. I have Kitten here, although she’s mad as hell I hit the brakes.”

  “Buckled in?”

  “She was. She seems fine. Her airbag didn’t go off. Mine did when the birds hit the hood and I hit the brakes.”

  “You sure you don’t want me to send Dani over to get your cat?”

  “I’ll keep her with me in case I need to take her to the vet. I probably will just to be safe.”

  “Good call. Seriously, give me a ring if you need anything, Reed.”

  “A tow truck would help, honestly.”

  “I’ll make the arrangements; pay me back later.”

  “You got it. Thanks.”

  My boss hung up, and I stared at my phone, wondering what I’d tell Kennedy. As the photograph a
nd text tactic had worked on my boss, I tried it with her.

  She called me even faster than my boss, which made me unreasonably happy. “Reed? What the hell happened?”

  “I’ve heard of it raining cats and dogs, but birds just rained on my parade—and my car. Pigeons. I’m mostly fine; got a damned bloody nose from the airbag, but I didn’t hit anything and no one hit me. Kitten’s fine as far as I can tell, but I’m going to take her to the vet to be sure. My boss is calling for a tow, assuming it can get to me in this mess.”

  “I was about to leave to meet with a real estate agent. Do you want me to cancel?”

  “No, it’s all right. I just wanted to let you know. The boss told me to take off, so while this is a mess, we’ll do as planned tonight, although I suspect I’ll be getting a new car. Mine’s seen better days.”

  My insurance company would laugh at me and point at their Act of God clause, so I wouldn’t even bother with making a claim. I’d just tow it, scrap the vehicle, and find something else.

  I counted my lucky stars I hadn’t bought something new, settling on a junker as a stand-in. I’d take Kennedy with me when I shopped for a new vehicle, and I’d factor her reactions into my final choice. I’d even consider something new. With my luck, if I tried to save a few bucks on a used, it’d face the same fate of its predecessors.

  While I waited, I cleaned the blood off my face. My jacket wouldn’t be the same, but its dark color hid most of the stains. By some miracle I refused to question, I hadn’t dripped on my white shirt, which would make hiding my mishap easier. Within an hour, the cops made their way to me, and it took them less than ten minutes to give me the accident forms and come to the conclusion I had no idea what had happened or why. An hour later, the tow truck reached my car, and the driver shook his head at the carnage. “Where do you want me to take it?”

  “The nearest scrap yard that’ll give me something for the metal and parts. I have a cat with me, so I’ll get a cab to meet you there.”

  “I was already warned about your cat. She’s not a problem. Load her on in and make yourself comfortable while I get this hooked up.”