Page 14 of Inked & Bloodbound
“So if he’s all talk, then why did you kidnap me?” She huffs “Why did you smash his skull into the wall back there? Why have you taken my phone and forced me to abandon my car? This is not normal behavior. I should?—”
An impatient mewing noise interrupts her tirade, and she immediately stands up and searches in the dark for the source. Within seconds, a small ginger cat with one eye and a stumpy tail slinks out of the bushes and bounds over to us. She drops to pick him up and pulls him against her chest.
“Oh, bud, I’ve been so worried about you.” She beams, kissing him on the top of the head. “Where have you been, huh? On an adventure?”
“That’s your cat?” I ask.
She settles next to me. The battle-worn cat settles in her arms, nuzzles her chin, and purrs loudly as she scratches his ears.
“Kinda,” she says. “He doesn’t really belong to anyone. Me and the neighbors all take turns feeding him, and he just decides where he stays. Someone tried to claim him a while back, but he keptwandering off, so now we all look out for him. This time he’s been gone for a week without resurfacing, so I started to get worried.”
I reach out a hand to pet him, but when I get within an inch of Lily’s arm, his ears flatten against his skull and he hisses a low warning. Message received, loud and clear.
Animals hate us. Still, it was worth a shot.
She shushes him as she glances over, brow furrowed. “Weird. He likes everyone…but I guess he doesn’t like you.”
“I guess not,” I agree. “I’m not really a cat person. Maybe he can sense it.” Yeah, he can sense it, all right. “So, what do you call him?”
“El Gato.”
I laugh. “The Cat? Your cat’s name is… The Cat?”
“I mean he’s not really my cat…”
The ginger bundle squirms, so she drops him down onto the deck, and he saunters off into the night, leaving us with only the sound of the cicadas and the rhythmic thunks of a clueless moth hitting the porch light.
“Ah, well. There he goes again.” She smiles. “Mrs. Miller next door probably opened a can of tuna or something. I swear that cat has a sixth sense for it.”
She’s more relaxed than she should be. Less than an hour ago she watched me throw someone across a room with supernatural strength, and she’s making casual conversation about cats. Most humans in her situation would be catatonic with fear or demanding I take them to the nearest police station.
I need to test something.
Carefully, I reach out with my abilities—the ones that let me influence human emotions, calm their fears, make them trust me. It’s a subtle thing, like adjusting the temperature in a room by a few degrees, and centuries of practice have made me an expert. I probe at the edges of her mind, searching for an opening, then send a gentle pulse of calm her way, trying to soothe the anxiety she’s radiating.
Nothing. She’s gradually warming up, but when I try to penetrate her emotions she seems to bristle, like she’s sensed the intrusion without understanding what it is.
Well, that’s that. She’s definitely not a normal human.
I realize, with a sinking feeling, that I’m going to have to talk my way out of this instead. Emotional manipulation I can do no problem, but speaking? That’s never been one of my virtues.
“You’re still shaking,” I observe. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I’m being placated,” she shoots back. “I want answers, and if you don’t give me anything satisfactory, I’m going inside and calling the cops.”
“I have your phone,” I challenge, but it’s playful.
She squares her shoulders in defiance. “Then I’ll use the landline.”
I smile. “You still have a landline?”
“I do.” But her voice wavers, giving the lie away.
I put the beer down, careful to tip a little out onto the ground so it appears like I’ve been drinking it, and turn to face her, ready to lay on the charm.
“Cyrus is a petty thug, but he’s got a huge ego and a lot of bad friends. He doesn’t like being told no or put in his place. In a few days he’ll cool off, and this will blow over, but when he’s on a rampage, it’s best to get out of his way. What happened tonight was probably nothing, but I didn’t want to test that theory. Okay?”
She side-eyes me. “Fine.”