Cupid Cats

by Katie MacAlister

  Her voice held a note of taunting that had my hand itching to slap her.

  “This way,” Greg said, evidently reassured by her statement. He waved the gun toward the center of the camp. “You first, Jacintha. And just in case your boy-friend gets any ideas, I won’t hesitate to shoot you.”

  Albert’s daughter and Greg—what an unholy alliance.

  That’s what she must have meant about needing a consort, and why she wanted so badly to marry me, Avery mused as we stumbled out of the tent to the center of the compound. The others had disappeared, leaving us four alone next to a large fire. She was planning on usurping Baum and taking over his position as lord of the forest.

  And she wanted you at her side?

  He gave me a mental smile. I told you I am quite popular with the ladies.

  Were quite popular. Were is the key word there, isn’t that right?

  I don’t know—it’s rather enjoyable seeing you jealous.

  Retribution for such sentiments aside, what are we going to do?

  Stop them, he said simply.

  Before I could ask how, Danielle emerged from the tent. “Right, that’s done. Now let’s take care of these troublemakers before the others come back from meeting Dieter. Once they return, we’ll tell them we have a couple extra for the shipment.”

  “Sorry, Jacintha,” Greg said with mock sorrow. “I would say it’s too bad the way things ended, but I always knew the day would come when you’d stumble across our business.”

  “The business of murdering people?” I asked.

  He blinked for a moment.

  “Didn’t Danielle tell you that’s what happens to the people who are changed into animals and sent to Scotland?”

  He frowned and turned to look at her. “I thought you said they were sent to zoos?”

  “Does it matter what happens to them?” she snapped, taking up a stand next to the fire. “They bring us money; that’s all that should concern you. Now be quiet and let me concentrate.”

  Get ready to grab your sister and get the hell out of here, Avery warned me.

  What? What do you—

  Before I could finish that thought, Avery’s body shimmered, shortened, and changed into a sleek black cat.

  Danielle stood at the fire, her eyes closed, her hands held out blindly as she started a chant that sounded similar to the one Albert was mumbling.

  “What the—” Greg stepped backward as Avery leaped across the fire toward him, knocking him backward onto his ass.

  Run!

  No! I’m not going to leave . . . leaf . . . love . . . The world around me swam in a dizzying swirl, my head spinning, leaving me with the feeling I was going to pass out, or vomit.

  I heard Cora calling my name, but it seemed to come from a very long way away. My entire body felt hot, as if I had a great fever; then suddenly my vision cleared.

  The leaves rustled in the trees around us, a wind whipping across the compound and bringing with it the sound and scent of a half dozen animals nearby.

  “Oh my God!” Cora yelled, staring at me with huge, disbelieving eyes.

  Greg screamed as Avery bit down on his hand, forcing the man to drop the gun.

  “Jas! What . . . Jas!”

  “Excellent,” Danielle said, opening her eyes to smile at me. That was when I realized I wasn’t looking at her properly. I was several feet lower, as if I’d fallen onto my hands and knees. . . . I looked down and saw two furry feet, and in an instant knew what had happened.

  Holy Mary and every single little saint that ever was and ever will be! I’m an animal! A whatchamacallit—one of those weres!

  No, you’re not. You’re my Beloved. You’re immortal now.

  But you said we hadn’t done the Joining thing! How can I be immortal?

  We did the last step two hours ago when you took my darkness into yourself, giving me light in return.

  I what?

  You love me, Jas. You gave me your heart, and that was the final step for us. You’re mine now. Forever.

  But . . . but . . . I’m . . . this!

  Yes, well, I hesitate to guess what this is going to mean for our children, he answered as he head-butted Greg. It will be hard enough explaining that their father is a jaguar, but when we tell them their mother is a lion . . . I just don’t know how they’re going to take it.

  Don’t kill him! I said, twisting around to look at myself. Even with the strangeness of the situation, I could not help but admire my lovely tawny coat, and the power coiled inside me. I felt as if I could run for miles and miles without even breathing hard. I wanted to hunt, to pounce on things, to corner prey. They were strange, alien feelings and, at the same time, as familiar as the beat of my heart.

  Why shouldn’t I kill him?

  He didn’t know Danielle was murdering people by sending them to be hunted. Just disable him somehow.

  He grumbled to himself but head-butted Greg again, harder this time, knocking the man out.

  We turned to face Danielle, who was looking at me with satisfaction. When she caught sight of Avery coming around the large fire, she stared at him with obvious astonishment. “You . . . you’re . . .”

  He shifted back to human form, quickly slipping on his jeans, but not before Cora and Danielle both got an eyeful.

  “Moravian is, I think, the word you’re searching for. And when you try to turn a Moravian into a were, we become therions. Didn’t know that, did you?”

  Her eyes narrowed on him. “It doesn’t matter. Not really. We’ll just have one less animal to ship.”

  For peace-loving animal rights people, they sure do carry a lot of guns, I complained, padding my way over to Avery. I rubbed my face on his leg before turning my attention back to Danielle, wondering if I leaped on her, whether I could knock from her hand the gun she was pointing at Avery.

  Don’t even try. There’s no need.

  Huh?

  Can’t you hear them? Others are coming.

  More Leshies?

  No. Open yourself to the night.

  I did so, instantly becoming aware of the animals on the edge of the compound. Cougars. Bears.

  Yes. That must have been what Albert was doing—summoning the beasts. Looks like Danielle underestimated her father.

  Danielle heard the animals a second after they crossed into the compound. She whirled around, shifting into the form of a white wolf, her lips pulled back in a snarl.

  Go, Avery ordered as he ran for Albert’s tent. “Cora, follow your sister.”

  “She’s a lion!” Cora yelled after him.

  “Just follow her.”

  But . . .

  Just get out of here. Albert has summoned the animals to do what has to be done, and I’d really rather you weren’t here to see it.

  I took one look at the scene in front of us—Danielle poised to leap on a cautious cougar as it approached her—and turned in the opposite direction.

  Where are you? I asked as I ran down the dirt path leading to the compound.

  Right behind you. I had to get Baum. Danielle will try to turn the animals on him in order to cement her place as lord of the Leshies, and I don’t know if he has the power to combat that.

  Smart, sexy, and honorable—I guess I’m going to have to keep you.

  I know I’m keeping you—if for no other reason than black and gold look good together.

  You’re assuming I can get out of this shape. We don’t know that. We don’t know that . . . Ooh, bunny!

  Stop chasing prey and get yourself and your sister out of there. And don’t try to shift until I get there.

  Why not? I asked, curious and more than a little worried.

  A scream rose high in the night, half animal, half human. It was wordless, but it carried impotent fury that made my hackles stand on end.

  You don’t have any clothes.

  Ten minutes later, I sat on the backseat of my car and looked at Albert Baum. He looked back at me, his bonds once again removed.

  �
��You’re sure?” Cora asked Avery for the third time as we bounced down the track, heading for a paved road and civilization.

  “Yes. She’s my Beloved. She’s immortal. She’ll be a therion just like me.”

  “Guess you really will be a cat whisperer now.” Cora had a little quirk to her smile as she turned to talk to me.

  I tried to growl at her, but it came out a purr.

  “Aww, isn’t that sweet? Big kitty is purring at me,” my obnoxious sister said, patting my head.

  I thought about biting her hand for a good minute, but, in the end, decided that I’d wait to get my revenge.

  “This is the strangest vacation I’ve ever had,” Cora said to me three days later, as we stood with her at the cruise line’s dock. “Vampires, werekitties, and a lion for a sister . . . Man. I just don’t know how I’m going to top that next year.”

  I smiled and hugged her. “We’ll have to worry about that then.”

  “Yeah, right.” She gave me a wary smile, then turned to the man at my side, giving him a long, considering look. “You’d better take care of her.”

  “I will,” he answered gravely, bowing over her hand in a courtly, old-fashioned way that made my heart beat faster.

  “And if she gets turned into anything else—”

  “She won’t.”

  She bit her lip for a moment. “I get to come see you guys in Scotland.”

  “Our home will be yours,” Avery said with that same polished courtliness.

  You know she’s going to hold you to that, I warned him.

  He laughed. I know. But I mean what I say—your family will be welcome at any time. I know it’s going to be difficult for you to adjust to living in another country.

  Hey, I thought we agreed to split time between yours and mine?

  I believe that’s still under debate. . . .

  “Let me know if I’m needed to testify,” Cora said, interrupting his thoughts.

  “I don’t think Greg is going to stand trial for anything, let alone the murder of Danielle. For one thing, she was mauled, not shot, and for another, he’s absolutely bonkers. Marge from my office went to see him at the hospital, and they wouldn’t even let her into the ward. He thinks he’s a wolf.”

  She stared at me with startled eyes. “That crazy lady didn’t, you know—” She waggled her fingers in the air. “Magic him, too, did she?”

  “No, just me. He’s just gone nuts, which, given what happened, is pretty much justice. With Danielle receiving the justice of the forest, Albert regaining his health after months of abuse at her hands, and the Leshies in jail for illegal animal smuggling, it’s better for everyone concerned.”

  “I guess so.” She gave me a questioning look, then hugged me again, whispering, “If you ever need me, just yell, and I’ll be there with a stake and my hose.”

  I laughed, kissed her on the cheek, and waved good-bye as she was swallowed up by the crowds heading for the cruise liner.

  I turned to Avery, wrapping my arms around his waist, kissing his chin, and marveling to myself that such a handsome man was mine.

  “All yours, Jacintha. How long will it take you to finish things here? I’m anxious to take you home. You’ll like the castle. It’s big, and old, and drafty, and filled with Paen’s and Finn’s kids racing up and down the halls.”

  “Sounds like heaven,” I said, letting the love in his eyes warm me to my toes.

  “But best of all, there are two hundred acres of land around it.”

  I cocked my head in question.

  “Perfect for running,” he explained.

  “Oh. Well, I’ve never been one for jogging,” I started to say, when I realized what was behind the mischievous grin. I had a vision of us running over hill and dale, his sleek black form contrasting with my tawny elegance as we bounded after rabbits. “Dibs on the first bunny!”

  “My bloodthirsty little panther girl,” he said with a laugh, turning and escorting me toward the parking lot.

  “For the love of the saints, Avery! Don’t you ever listen? Lion girl, not panther! I swear you have panthers on the brain.”

  “Panthers are cool.”

  “There is no such thing as a panther! It’s all just a misnomer. Now, listen, we’ll go over it again. . . . The jaguar is a member of the Panthera genus. Panthera is a Greek word meaning leopard, so as you see, there really is no panther at all. The lion is also in the same genus, but we’re Panthera leo, whereas you are Panthera onca. . . .”

  Cat Scratch Fever

  by Connie Brockway

  Chapter 1

  She was an old cat—a very old cat—but she still purred.

  She purred now as the dark-haired little girl with a seemingly innate understanding of how tender old bodies could be scratched her gently under the chin. Taking the purr as an invitation to have a seat, the child plopped down cross-legged in the Cupid Cats Shelter’s Meet and Greet room, where the woman at the front desk had directed them. With the arthritic grace of an aged ballerina, the tiny ginger cat minced her way over and climbed into the little girl’s lap, turned once, and then nestled into a tidy ball. Closing her eyes, she purred even louder.

  And with that, five-year-old Chloe Curran fell madly in love. She turned her wide blue eyes up into the lean face of the tall man standing over her.

  “It’s Pixie, Daddy,” she whispered excitedly. “It’s Mommy’s Pixie!”

  “It does look like Steph’s cat, Jim,” Melissa said. Melissa was the eldest of the Curran siblings, a dominatrix of the hearth who, after Steph had died, assigned herself the role of head surrogate mother, not only to Chloe but to Jim himself.

  She was here under duress, having strongly advised Jim against adopting a cat from an unknown shelter with irregular operating hours. She hovered in the doorway leading from the reception room, clearly trying to gauge how he took this reference to his deceased wife.

  He took it fine. Stephanie had died almost six years ago. You’d think by now his family would have stopped tiptoeing around the mention of her. He and Steph had shared something wonderful and unique, but he wasn’t that sensitive or, well, the word pitiful came to mind. “All ginger-colored cats look pretty much alike, don’t they?” he asked.

  “No,” said Melissa.

  He accepted her words as given. What did he know? There hadn’t been a cat in his life since Pixie had run away on the day Chloe had been born—the day his wife had died. In the rush to get Stephanie to the hospital, Pixie had slipped out the front door. There hadn’t been time to hunt for her. Steph had been in labor and, besides, Jim hadn’t expected to be gone for a week. By the time he and Chloe had returned to their brownstone—but not Steph, never again Steph—the cat had disappeared.

  “It’s Pixie,” Chloe avowed with a five-year-old’s certainty.

  “I don’t think so, Chloe,” he said, gently ruffling his daughter’s dark curls. “Pixie was already an old cat when you were born, and cats just don’t live that long.”

  “It’s Pixie. I know it is. She looks just like the kitty in Mommy’s picture,” she said, citing the picture of Steph that graced the top of Chloe’s dresser. In it, Steph was putting what Jim had always laughingly called the Death Grip-o-Love on the cat.

  Jim hunkered down beside his daughter and petted the cat’s delicate little wedge-shaped head. She moved into his touch, her eyes opening into milky jade green slits before closing again. She had cataracts; she was a very old cat. “Look, kiddo, even if Pixie was still alive, this couldn’t be her. We lost her in New York just after you were born and we moved to Chicago—too far for an old cat to walk.”

  “Someone coulda drove her.”

  It was times like this that Chloe most reminded him of Steph. Just as there’d been no arguing with Steph once her mind was made up, once Chloe seized on an idea, she’d no sooner let it go than a dog would give up a juicy bone.

  “Can we take her home, Daddy?”

  “Jim . . .” Melissa laid a cautionary hand on his ar
m.

  He felt a tinge of irritation. He wasn’t an idiot. Chloe had been bugging him for a kitten since she could talk; he wasn’t about to make her dreams come true by getting her a cat that looked like it might not make it through the summer, let alone the rest of her childhood.

  He’d originally planned to give Chloe a kitten on her birthday next month. A month ago they’d moved here from out of the old neighborhood where his sisters and their families still lived and where they’d been within shouting distance of her aunts and uncles and cousins. The move had been hard on Chloe. She missed the attention, she missed the constant flow of family in and out, and she missed being the youngest cousin amidst a dozen teenagers.

  She’d been after him for weeks now to “just look at the kitties” at the shelter they’d discovered around the corner from their new home—the only bright light in this move as far as Chloe was concerned. He’d managed to resist until this morning, when Melissa had “dropped in to see if everything was going all right,” a habit she shared with his three other sisters. He’d planned to spend the hot afternoon teaching Chloe to ride her two-wheeler, but as soon as Melissa appeared, he had put the idea on hold, perhaps selfishly not wanting to the share the experience. So he’d opted for plan B, hoping to curtail her visit.

  Melissa was not overly fond of cats.

  After all these years he should have known better. And so here the three of them were, Melissa giving him the evil eye.

  “The lady at the front desk said they’ve got some really cute kittens, Chloe, and you haven’t even seen them yet,” Jim said enticingly. What little girl wouldn’t prefer a kitten to a scrawny old cat?

  “I don’t want to look at the kitties,” Chloe said. “I want Pixie.”

  Apparently his. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea, Chlo-Schmo,” he said, preparing for battle. Chloe was generous, funny, and lively, and she also had the willpower of a master yogi and the determination to go along with it. And a temper. It was the temper he was most concerned about. “We might have to think about it some.”

  As the realization that she might not be walking out of the shelter with Pixie dawned on Chloe, storm clouds gathered in her eyes. “I don’t want to think about it!” she said on a rising note. The little cat’s eyes popped open, startled, and Chloe lowered her voice. “I. Want. Pixie.”