Kitty Wishes

by Dahlia Dewinters

  Evernight Publishing

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2011 Dahlia DeWinters

  ISBN: 978-1-927368-02-2

  Cover Artist: Jinger Heaston

  Editor: Emma Shortt

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  Though the act of writing is usually a solitary pursuit, rarely does a book make it to completion without the support of many. To that end I’d like to thank the following:

  To Jeri, who got me started reading romance and whose cat gave me the idea in the first place.

  To Junebug66 and Onimosity, who read and commented on super short notice and tolerated no whining.

  And most of all to my dear husband whose unwavering support, love and tolerance of my hours at the computer brought this all to fruition.

  Much love to you all!

  KITTY WISHES

  Dahlia DeWinters

  Copyright © 2011

  Chapter One

  The letter was written on what seemed like regular copy paper that had been burned around the edges, probably to give it a more mysterious look. Sakaria Thorpe unfolded it cautiously, wondering what on earth it could be. The scent of charred paper tickled her nose as she scanned the badly written words with a growing feeling of bemusement.

  Warning to the reeder of this note. Prepare yourself. You have been cursed. You will turn into a cat a dais after Halloween. Be warned. W.K.

  Sakaria tossed the letter on to the blond wood of the sideboard in the dining room, and laughed out loud. Far too sensible to believe in curses, spells or witchcraft she strolled into her cozy yellow kitchen, shaking her head, her socks making no sound on the polished hardwood floor. The morning sun shone brightly through the white lace curtains, further dispelling her belief in the curse. How could she be cursed when the sun beamed so beautifully? She peeked out of her kitchen window, momentarily calmed by the view of the colorful autumn woods.

  Sakaria gave an exasperated sigh as she reached for the refrigerator handle, suddenly realizing exactly who WK was. One date with the guy, one lousy, horrible date, and now this? An absurd and rambling letter? Besides, it was already four “dais” after Halloween and she wasn't a cat yet. Apparently, the dude had trouble with time. She sighed again. He had trouble with a lot of things.

  Sakaria paused, her hand on the fridge handle. Maybe she should call the police, but for what? A stupid half-burned letter that declared in a rather roundabout way she was going to turn into a cat? It was weird, but not very threatening. Best to just forget about it.

  By the time she had finished breakfast and made her way to the café, she had pushed the odd letter to the back of her mind. Friday was inventory and cash reconciliation, their busiest day, and she didn’t have any time to think any further about it.

  It was only when she was brushing her teeth Friday evening that the whole weird incident came rushing back to her as she met her own eyes in the mirror. Could it actually be true? No way, if it were true I’d be a damn cat by now. Stop thinking about it. People can’t cast spells on other people. Forget it! She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and finished cleaning her teeth. As a distraction, she occupied herself with a few meaningless tasks. Straightening throw pillows, rinsing dishes and scrubbing the toilet bowl. When she finally lay on her pillow, she had pushed the entire incident out of her mind.

  * * * *

  When Sakaria awoke the next morning she stretched lavishly, getting the sleep-kinks out of her body before opening her eyes. Somehow, that didn’t help the itchy and restless feeling that remained, even after two deep breaths. Her heart seemed to be beating unusually fast and, when she finally opened her eyes she realized that something was wrong. She was under her bed…

  She blinked once and then again. Was she losing her mind? Could the tea she drank last night be a bad batch, bringing on odd behavior? Hallucinations?

  Things were definitely not quite right. She didn’t seem as big as she should be. Her joints; knees, shoulders, elbows, even fingers and toes either seemed to be in the wrong place or simply non-existent. Out of the corners of her eyes she saw what looked like… guitar strings… sticking out of her face. She sneezed and the sneeze sounded muffled and small. It sounded squeaky. And somehow she could smell the raw chicken parts she’d thrown into the garbage the night before. How could that be when the garbage was in the kitchen, two rooms away?

  Something was very, very wrong. She started to crawl from under the bed when she looked at her hand.

  It was a chocolate-colored, furry paw.

  She stretched out her other hand. Another chocolate-colored, furry paw. Same dark brown as her hair. But... a cat’s paw. With claws, she realized, as they sprang out, unbidden.

  Unbelievable. She stared at her new furry appendages. I’m a cat. A freaking cat. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the realization wash over her. Her too-fast heartbeat increased and she opened her mouth to… pant. She had to calm down, her human mind thought, or she was going to have a cat heart-attack. Do cats even have heart attacks?

  Sakaria sat very still, afraid to move. This is not happening. I am not a cat. She glanced down at the furry paws again, her mind refusing to believe the evidence so clearly in front of her. I’m a cat. A cat! Ye gods and little fishes!

  Questions crowded her now furry head. How long would she be a cat? Hopefully not forever, she thought frantically. The garbage would start to really smell soon, and the kitchen window was only open a crack. If she could smell it now, it would be unbearable later. But never mind the kitchen smells. The bigger question was who would take care of her? She couldn’t very well shop for her own food. What about her house, her car, the café?

  Her mind raced over all the loose ends. She wished she’d told Julie about the letter.

  Eventually, curiosity overcame fear, and she crawled away from the dust bunnies and forgotten shoes that inhabited the darkened space under her mattress. Used to walking on four legs instead of two, the colorful throw rugs softened her fall as she tripped herself up and fell on her rump, her furry legs in a tangle. The human way of putting one foot in front of the other wasn’t going to work in this case. It was much easier when she concentrated on the placement of each paw and soon adapted to the rhythm of her new body. She wanted to see herself in the full length mirror attached to the bathroom door.

  The reflection allowed no further self-delusion. Staring back at her was a coffee-colored, long-haired cat with dark brown eyes. Her fluffy coat was an interesting mix of browns and blacks. Wonder if my hair would be the same color… if I ever get back to human form, that is. Sakaria opened her mouth. She watched as the mirror-cat opened her mouth too. She lifted a paw. The mirror-cat did the same.

  There was no disputing it. She was indeed a cat. What were the details of this curse? The letter hadn’t told her much of anything. It wasn’t a joke, judging by the looks of the furry feline in the mirror. She looked exactly like a cat she saw in the Animal Channel documentary some time ago. The Siberian is the national cat of Russia and one of the best jumping cats in the world….

  Is jumping going to be my new claim to fame? Sakaria tried to scream, but all that came out was a strangled cross between a meow and a yowl of terror as she rushed back under the bed.

  * * * *

  For the next twenty-four
hours Sakaria paced around her house, a once familiar, cozy place full of rugs she’d latch-hooked herself, jazzy throw pillows and generally people-comfortable furniture. Now, as a cat, she noticed that it was rather cat-friendly too. The only problem was that she didn’t have anything to eat. She was able to turn on the bathroom faucet to get water, but accidently closed the drain in the process, filling up the sink basin. That was fine as it was a source of fresh water, until the second time she went to get a drink, leaping from the floor to the toilet to the sink, she slipped into the cold water, soaking herself to the skin. Not a pleasant experience.

  The kitchen telephone and the cell phone in her purse rang in alternating bursts. She knew it was Julie, her closest friend and partner in the café with whom she had promised to go shopping this weekend. Julie actually came by and knocked on the door while she hid under the bed, embarrassed and somehow ashamed. This wasn’t something that you could easily explain to anyone.

  When the spell finally broke after twenty-four hours, Sakaria came to herself on the living room sofa, naked, starving and disoriented. It was a pleasant Sunday morning and the cheerful sun streamed through the bay window. Once she had gotten over the shock, trotting and jumping around the house as a cat for the last day had been rather fun. Now, back in her human form, she felt more clumsy and awkward than ever. It was harder now to resume thinking on two legs instead of four.

  Sakaria tumbled off the sofa and sat on the floor in a daze. Her stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn’t had anything solid to eat for the past day. Dizzy and uncoordinated, she crawled to the refrigerator and yanked it open. Still on her knees, she reached for a small container of strawberry yogurt. She tore the foil top open with two fingers and greedily sucked the contents down her throat. Her stomach cooperated for a moment, but cramped painfully when she smelled the rotting chicken parts in the garbage. Desperate to keep the nutrients down, she clapped both hands over her nose and breathed evenly until the urge to vomit passed. Stomach calm, she pulled herself up via the kitchen doorjamb and slowly made her way to her bedroom, holding onto the wall. Finally, she collapsed on her bed, managing to pull the covers over her before falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  The next time she woke up it was dark. She fumbled for the remote and turned on the television that was mounted on her bedroom wall. According to the news channel, it was eight pm, Sunday evening. She stuck out a naked brown arm and exhaled in relief. No fur, no paws, no claws. All clear, at least for now. Throwing back the covers to go take a shower, Sakaria wondered what in the world she was going to do.

  ****

  Sakaria prided herself on the fact that she was a practical, realistic person. It was this practicality that had helped her and Julie operate the café through those lean, early years, when the customers were few and the bills seemed insurmountable. She had found solutions to those problems, so why not this one?

  She called Julie and dodged her questions about the weekend, telling her that she had fallen sick with food poisoning and was either sleeping or in the bathroom when she’d called. Though Julie’s tone implied her slight disbelief in her story, she didn’t press Sakaria any further.

  Logic told her that if she had the physical ability to change into a cat while she was asleep, she should be able to change into one while she was awake. And she was going to figure that out today. Maybe that’s not such a good idea. You could wind up a cat forever.

  “I could also wind up shifting at work or while driving or cooking. If I can get a handle on it, maybe I can live with it until I figure out how to get rid of it.” Her voice sounded shaky and hollow in the morning silence of the bedroom. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath to calm herself, willing away the tendrils of fear that were coursing through her veins. She needed a clear, level head or it wouldn’t work.

  Still wearing her pink nightshirt, a calmer Sakaria settled herself in the middle of her bed, on top of the brightly colored quilt her mother had helped her make when she was a teenager. She closed her eyes and thought cat-thoughts. Meow Mix, kitty litter, hello kitty, nine lives, meow, be the cat. Her brow furrowed as she envisioned herself becoming a cat.

  Nothing happened. This is BS. She was about to open her eyes, when a cold, tingly feeling began in her fingertips and her toes. The sensation intensified, almost to the point of pain, then rushed up her arms and legs to explode at the back of her head. Her lungs seemed to convulse as she sucked in a huge breath and opened her eyes.

  The pink nightshirt had now turned into a cotton nest which snuggled her furry body. She breathed in her human scent, which both comforted and calmed her. Her heart wasn’t racing as it had been her first time and she was content to burrow even further into the fragrant cloth. Now I have to figure out how to shift back. She yawned, stretching her little cat jaws. The nightshirt, still warm from her body heat was making her cat-self sleepy. It was time to get up, move about and think.

  Sakaria paced over the soft surface of the quilt, careful to keep her claws in so they wouldn’t snag the delicate stitches. She settled on her haunches away from the nightshirt, so the temptation to nap wouldn’t overwhelm her and began concentrating again.

  There’s no place like home. Being human. I’m every woman. Shift! The little brown body shook with concentration as she focused her mind on reclaiming her human form. This time the shift happened a lot faster. It raced like icy lightning up all four legs to the tip of her tail and her ears. She yelped, yowled and…

  Sat up on the quilt blinking, naked and human. Pleased at the success of her experiment, she smiled to herself as she slipped her nightshirt over her head. If she could control the shifting, that meant she might be able to suppress it enough to make it go away for good. The least she could do was try.

  Facing Julie the next day was the hardest part. Though she stuck to her story about food poisoning, Sakaria caught her friend watching her out of the corner of her eye a time or two while she was in the café. As the week wore on, however, the subject of Sakaria’s mysterious illness fell by the wayside, at least for the time being. At work, at home, whenever that tingly feeling started, she’d used every bit of her will to not shift. She simply refused to allow it to take over.

  But it was exhausting. Therefore, awakening under the quilt the next Saturday morning meowing because it was so dark didn’t surprise her as much as it should have. After all, she had gone an entire week fighting it off. Question was, could she extend this success long enough to keep it dormant? She was certainly going to try.

  Chapter Two

  The track was surprisingly full at eight o'clock on a Saturday morning. It was unseasonably warm for the last week in November, but a slight breeze cooled the recreational walkers and hard core runners as it blew across the green expanse of the freshly marked football field. It was mostly women on the track this morning, Desmond observed, walking or running or a combination of both. He supposed they were either still working off the Thanksgiving calories from last week, or trying to get ahead of the Christmas cookies.

  He and his cousin, Ryan, sat at the top of the metal bleachers enjoying the fall breeze, a respite after their workout of a four mile run followed by bleacher runs and countless pushups. He relished the ache in his muscles. It made him feel like he had been doing something besides sitting in front of the computer screen all day.

  He and Ryan has established this routine in high school, when Ryan, a year older and a starting running back for the football team, bet the smaller Desmond that he couldn’t beat him in a race around the track. Desmond had beaten Ryan by at least twenty feet, surprising them both. They had been best friends after that.

  Tired from all the exertion and more than a little sleepy, Desmond gazed through half-closed eyes at the mountains in the distance as the breeze continued to ruffle his black hair. He contemplated going home to shower, then taking a nap. On the other hand he could see Ryan was on high alert, his eyes trained on the ladies walking the track.

  “Look at her i
n the yellow,” Ryan gestured. “She is luscious.”

  “You can’t tell that from way up here.” Desmond said. As a firefighter in a town that loved its firefighters, Ryan was as much of a star on the smoke team as he had been in high school football. He had no shortage of lady friends, some who moved in his life, out, then back in again. To Desmond, they were just a long line of smiling faces and willing bodies ready to serve the uniform in every way possible. Ryan called them ‘foopies’, as in ‘firefighter groupies’ but he didn’t fight too hard in fending them off.

  Right now he was grinning. “Oh yeah, you can. Look at the way she walks. You

  could learn a lot from me, if you’d just listen, cuz. So,” he leaned back. “When are you going to get back out there? It’s been, what, six months since Angelica left?”

  “Eight months.” Desmond’s tone was flat. “And her name is Angela.”

  Angela, super busy with her ultra career-climbing life, had sought him out as an oasis from the noisy chatter she had to endure in her line of work at the insurance company. According to her, he had been the perfect companion. Not a lot of talk, but didn’t run from the restaurant check. Look at my nice boyfriend who takes care of me.

  When he’d finally had enough and refused to go to anymore of her “gatherings” she’d left. Angela’s cat, Desmond’s quiet companion on those nights when he’d stayed in, left too, although he’d like to think the cat would have stayed if given a choice.

  “Angela,” Ryan repeated, stretching his legs out. “I never liked her anyway. Too uptight. Talked too much.”

  “I liked the cat.” Angela had only taken the cat to spite him. She never gave the poor animal any attention besides food and water. He, on the other hand had a cat flap installed in his door just so the cat could get in and out during the day. Angela had chided him on that, saying it was a stupid move and that they would have stray cats from all over town waltzing in and out of the cat door.