Kat Among The Pigeons

by Lazette Gifford

  His body pressed against mine and mine answered despite what my mind said. I didn't want the kiss to end. He tasted of chocolate dessert and spring in the mountains, and I could feel his love of everything I loved; I tasted everything in the magic that came from two people who are kindred spirits, no matter if they were fae or not.

  And I wanted . . . but knew we shouldn't. Wanted the kiss to never end -- and I don't know which one of us finally pulled away from the other.

  David took a quick step back, his face flushed. The cold damp breeze swept between us and I shivered.

  "Kat." His voice sounded husky as he took another step away. I stood there, speechless, but knowing he made the right choice, even if he didn't know why.

  "I'll see you tomorrow," I said softly.

  "Yes. Definitely."

  He turned and hurried down the path. I stayed on the porch and waited while he started the car and sat there for a moment longer. I wondered what he considered, and why he told himself we shouldn't be together tonight. I couldn't quite make myself believe I had a good reason to let him go.

  He finally pulled away. I waved and he honked, and disappeared down around the curve of the road.

  And I waited on the porch feeling very much alone.

  Chapter Ten

  I took several deep breaths after David disappeared, searching vainly for my peaceful center. I tried to ignore the memory of the parting kiss, or at least hold the emotions off from distracting me while I did the next bit of work -- which was something triggering emotions as well.

  I reached out to the yard and traced the spots of dark magic I felt there. The storm, which carried wild magic from The Edge, had imbued nearly every raindrop with a whisper of power. Unfortunately, the storm had wiped away nearly all the tracks in the yard, both real and metaphysical. I could barely even find the spot where David had passed only moments before.

  I tried to read the areas where Pawford and Abbie had died. I gained very little, except a sense of their bravery as they faced the enemy. The end, at least, had been very quick.

  I blinked back tears as I stared out into the night. The rain had picked up and the wind blew in my face. Maybe Cato had stopped to stay with his mother, or found refuge from the storm somewhere else . . . or maybe something hunted him, and he was no better able to defend himself than the others had been.

  I paced and stared into the night. I knew if I went out there, I wouldn't find him -- and he might come here and be no safer for it than the others had been. I could see movement in the trees and a hint of luminous white light.

  "Come on, you bastard!" I shouted aloud, welcoming the rage growing inside me. Magic played at my fingertips. "Come on. You and whoever helped you --"

  Saying the words aloud made me stop. Someone or something corporal had helped the ghost riders get into the house. I had sensed the presence inside. Besides, the specters didn't have the ability to kill the cats -- at least on in the way they had done it.

  I lifted my hands and felt the area out in the woods. Something solid moved there -- one, two, maybe more, but they blurred in the rain and before I could act, they'd slipped out of my range. I almost ran out after them, but something like better judgment caught hold of me and I went back to pacing the porch.

  Finally I saw the shape of a cat hurtling his way across the yard. I stopped, my breath held and my hand up, ready for any trouble.

  "You could have come back from me!" Cato shouted as he dashed up the steps and into the light. He looked wet and muddy and miserable. "I had to swim -- swim! -- across a couple streets and I nearly got sucked down into a drain. Why the hell --"

  But he had hit the spot where I had found Pawford, and even with the rain he must have caught the scent of death there.

  "Who?" he asked, blinking up at me.

  And I didn't want to answer him. I finally gave a little bow of my head. "Pawford, Abbie and two others."

  He didn't move. I saw the shock and dismay in his face. "Four? Oh hell. I came out through the magic cat door to see what was going on when the fuss started. Pawford yelled and told me to find you since I would have the best chance of scenting you out. As I ran I saw shadows. I couldn't make out much in the storm. Damn."

  "Come on in out of the rain. I'm sorry I didn't go get you, but in this storm -- so much magic -- I couldn't even find a trace of you."

  "Yeah, I suppose so." He took the last couple steps, his head bowed, and didn't even try to shake the water from his fur.

  I leaned over and picked him up, using magic at the same time to dry and clean him. We remained on the porch, both of us staring out into a night full of dangers, and Cato didn't even purr.

  "David and I buried the others in the back. The attackers got into the house, but I found nothing wrong except a few things knocked over. Shakespeare is upset though."

  "Poor guy," he said, and sounded as though he even meant the words this time.

  "There." I brushed the last of the water and mud from the tip of his tail. He gave a little contented sigh.

  "Thanks." He lifted his head to glance out at the yard, but he turned to where the strays usually came to eat. "We had our spats, the boys and I, but Pawford stood his ground when it counted. Abbie -- Abbie was okay, and the others weren't bad cats at all. I don't understand why they're all dead."

  "Neither do I unless someone meant to upset me. If so, someone is going to be in for a hell of a surprise -- because they did upset me, and someone is going to pay for what they did."

  "Good."

  "I'm glad you're safe," I said, and even held him a little tighter. He butted his head up against my chin. "Let's go in. I'll get you a can of tuna --"

  "No tuna. Not tonight. This isn't a time to celebrate."

  I nodded, understanding the feeling. "I didn't find anything wrong inside, but be careful anyway," I said as I turned and reached for the door.

  And magic hit, though not from inside the house. I felt power lash out toward me from the yard and I dropped Cato as I turned -- but something slapped me across the back. I hit the porch floor hard enough to knock the air out of me and leave my head spinning. Something curled around both of my legs, like a tentacle from a land-roving octopus. I could feel the magic burning into the cloth and my skin, and when I tried to turn, another tentacle caught my arm.

  I started to panic and grabbed hold of the door frame with the other hand. I refused to let go, even when another tendril started slapping at my fingers. The stings and slaps of pain distracted me from my magic, and every time I started a spell, I lost the power in the next breath. I needed focus!

  The tentacles tugged relentlessly at me, and I started to lose my hold. Once I did, I knew the thing would yank me right off the porch. Focus --

  And I found my focus in an unexpected way. I heard Cato yowl, and from the corner of my eye I saw him fluff up to three times his normal size and hurl himself at the enemy -- the same one that had probably already killed four cats already tonight.

  And he did it to save me.

  I found my magic. Power came first to my fingers holding the door frame. I anchored myself there, and even if I released the wood, my tendril of magic wouldn't let go. More magic surged through my left arm, burning away the tendril holding me in a burst of bright blue light. Another two came to take its place, but I brushed them aside with enough magic to scorch the wood of the porch. I heard something hiss in pain. Good. This thing felt pain, and by every God of all the worlds, I was going to make sure this monster felt a lot of pain tonight.

  I could still hear Cato yowling as he charged towards the stand of trees to the right. I also heard a muffled curse which meant someone real stood out there. I twisted around and swept my hand down over one set of tentacles holding my legs, blue fire shriveling one limb while the other retreated. I couldn't see where they went, out there in the dark yard, though. All I could hear was Cato growling and snarling. I had to help him!

  My legs had circles of burns and ached to move, but I got to my feet
-- and I heard Cato give a startled cry. Something hurled through the air --

  I reached up with magic and caught Cat before he impacted with the house and broke bones. I could hear the enemy rush away in the dark of the storm and in a flash of lighting I could barely see the shapes of things disappearing into the woods and down the road.

  "Damn --"

  "You know, I don't like flying," Cato said, still sounding shaken. His claws han hooked into my shirt and nicked the skin beneath. "I don't know what birds see in it."

  "I need to go after them, Cato --"

  "Do you really think that's a good idea?"

  "I need --" But I stopped. Leaving wasn't a good idea. I felt shaken and I didn't think my legs would hold me for long. I'd need magic to heal my own wounds -- which I started to feel now -- and more magic to ward the house. "I need to make certain trouble isn't heading for town and others. That's my job. But I can do the work from here."

  "Yeah, good. This has been a hell of a night. I want to go to bed now."

  "In a couple minutes. What did you see out there?"

  "Something was there, but hidden, you know? I could sense it, but couldn't really see. I got close -- and then I was flying."

  He gave a little shudder. I held him closer again.

  I reached out and tried to follow the trail of dark magic. Someone powerful had brought the creature, fully realized, into being, and done it in a heartbeat. The magic had disappeared as quickly. I couldn't sense anything more heading for the streets of Estes Park. I tested a couple times because I didn't trust my own powers. By now my legs trembled so much I didn't think I could walk those few steps back to the door. I put Cato down to make certain I didn't fall and hurt him.

  "Those burns are nasty," Cato said, getting a look at them from his level. "You better do something or I don't think you'll be able to walk all the way to your shower."

  I nodded, gritting my teeth to do the work. The magic tried to slip away from my grasp, making me feel weak.

  But I had fought a couple battles and won. I regretted the loss of my little friends, but I hadn't fallen yet. And I wasn't going to fall this time -- either figuratively or actually. I reached down and gently brushed a little magic over my right leg, pulling aside burnt pant material and sealing the wounds over to ease the pain and get me into the house. I did the same with the other leg. I had begun feeling the need to get inside and out of the open.

  "Go in," I said, waving Cato ahead of me.

  "Not until you do."

  "I'm going to ward behind me. Nothing is going to get into the house tonight. "

  "Good. I'm tired." He took a step past the doorframe and waited for me -- and watching my back.

  Fearless little lion.

  I turned to watch as well and made the step backwards. I wanted nothing in the yard to pop up and grab me again. I warded the door as I came through, and spread magic over the rest of the house, triggering stronger spells already in place, though I rarely used them. I closed the door and turned the lock.

  "I don't think anything is going to get in," I said. "Not, at least, without making a lot of show."

  "Then we should be safe," Cato said, but he paced around the pile of fallen books and out toward the kitchen and back, obviously as on edge as me.

  I went to my chair and tried to get a link to fae and my father. Nothing would even catch hold, and I worried there might be more trouble than I knew about. Nile Gods? Far worse than what I faced. I would have to try later, after the last of the storm dissipated and less wild magic raced through the air. Besides, my father already knew about the trouble I faced earlier, so he'd likely try to reach me as well.

  Like he had already, to tell me all hell was breaking loose. I wondered how true his words might be tonight.

  I don't think I'd ever felt as worn as I did now. I couldn't find enough energy to go take a shower, even though I desperately wanted to. I could only sit there and stare at my hands, as though I could find some answer, or at least some energy, in them.

  "Bed," Cato said, coming to stand before me. Even he limped. "Come on. You'll sleep better on a nice mattress. You go to sleep there and you're going to fall and hit your head on the floor. And I'll laugh at you, too."

  I remembered him, a few years younger, sitting on the arm of the chair and swaying back and forth while I read, and finally tumbling off. I had tried so hard not to laugh.

  He made me smile. I stood, feeling joints pop and muscles protest. A little wave of my hand put the fallen books and other things back into their places. I wanted a sense of normality to help my state of mind.

  Shakespeare rustled on his perch, and bobbed his head, when I limped over to him. His water dish was dry so I filled it and put out some bird food. He let me pet his head a few times, welcoming the contact, though he started when the wind blew against the house.

  "Poor guy," I said softly. "I wish you could talk to me. I know you saw what happened here. You might help."

  "The more than beauty of a face," Shakespeare whispered softly, as though afraid something would hear him. "The more than beauty of a face."

  I petted him a little more, and considered delving into his mind to find the answers. But I couldn't do something so terrible, not when I had buried four other small friends tonight.

  Not ever. I would never be so inconsiderate of another life.

  I've seen other fae use their magic with careless ease, and regret problems they created afterwards, though mostly they could fix even those with another wave of their hands. I wished I could hold such tonight.

  But even they can't fix a problem with an animal after they've swept through their brains. I wasn't going to risk hurting Shakespeare, no matter how maddening the inability to talk to him became.

  "Bed?" Cato asked again, and this time with a frustrated sigh and his tail twitching back and forth.

  "Yeah. Okay. I'll take a quick shower and be there in a couple --"

  I stopped talking, seeing something sitting on the table by Shakespeare. I carefully picked up the recorder, afraid my unsteady powers would ruin the device.

  Cato made a frustrated sound.

  "You can go to bed without me," I said, glancing down at him.

  "No I can't. I don't trust you. You might do something weird tonight. Come on." He gently nudged at my leg, but I was still so weak I nearly fell over. I waved him back away.

  "I have an idea which might help get Shakespeare to talk. He might give us some idea of what happened here. But. . . ." I carefully sat the recorder down. "No, I can't do it."

  "You are going to drive me crazy. You really are. And I think you're doing it on purpose."

  "What? Oh, sorry. No, you can go to bed. I'll be there in a minute." I looked at Shakespeare.

  Cato limped back over to me and sat at my feet. "Okay, what's this plan you want to do but don't think you should?"

  "There's a bird at The Rookery --"

  "You're right, you shouldn't do it," Cato said emphatically.

  "He's only a little bird. A cockatiel, but he speaks pretty good parrot."

  "Your parrot only speaks human and you want to add a cockatiel who speaks parrot. What a great combination."

  I grinned, glad to see him back to himself. "I think Shakespeare might open up to another bird, especially one who is kind of outgoing and --"

  "Obnoxious?"

  "Well yes. But don't worry. I won't get him."

  "Why not?" Cato asked, wincing as though he regretted having to ask the question.

  "This is no place to bring another animal. It's not safe for the two of you, and I can't justify --"

  "Kat, as far as I can tell, with the trouble going on here in town, there isn't anywhere safe. And I get the feeling things will get worse out there. Here, at least, we have you and a lovely ward to keep us safe to sleep in our own warm bed tonight."

  I hadn't thought of it that way. The trouble, though directed at me, wasn't going to be just my trouble before too long. The magic was getting s
tronger, and even the peripix --never mind the specters -- were going to give the city all kinds of trouble. Something was behind the problem. Something purposely attacking me, and that made me leery of bringing others here. But still --

  "Kat, I'm going to bite you on the ankle if you don't get moving. There's nothing you can do tonight anyway."

  You know, I really hate when the cat is thinking far clearer than I am. I also hate when he bites me on the ankle. So I went off to the bathroom and took a shower, lacing the water with a little healing magic to help with my battered body. Little magic . . . I was good at little magic. I just couldn't do the big stuff, and tonight that worried me more than it ever had.

  I came to bed a few minutes later to find Cato already curled up and asleep. I settled in beside him, though he twitched every time the storm rattled the window.

  So did I.

  Chapter Eleven

  I rose at dawn, swept up dust bunnies and dropped a couple more into the holding cell out back. I glanced over at the four little graves and got tears in my eyes, but I went back into the house feeling calmer than I had since the day before. The real sleep had helped. I sat down at the table with a cup of tea, watched Shakespeare for a moment, and tried to get my thoughts in order for the day. I had to do things. I wasn't certain what yet, but I had to get a plan together.

  I tried contacting my father but with no better luck than I'd had yesterday.

  Outside, a storm built up as the sun rose and heated the atmosphere, creating another round of thunderstorms. I listened to the distant roar of thunder and wondered how long before the rains reached us.

  The phone rang.

  I jumped. So did Cato and Shakespeare. The phone does not ring often in my house; I very nearly cursed, with the possibility of turning the device into something I might have to chase down later.

  Phones are iffy for me, even with my powers damped down. I walked to the wall and gingerly put the receiver to my ear. I heard a lot of static.