Draugr
“A re you going to meet your new client? ” Vitor, my deputy asks. I can hear the smile in his voice.
“You still giving me crap about this?” Voice low, almost sing-song-y as I watch the creature in the oak tree over our heads. I don’t want to scare it, even if I really want to pummel Vitor to straighten out his smirk.
“Yep. Every day. I can’t wait to see how this works. She’s going to chew your ass up and spit- it - out.” Slowly, carefully, I let my tail get close enough to Vitor’s legs to thwap him good. He hisses in pain. I smile.
“Here, kitty kitty. Cannoli, it’s time to go home,” I say, mentally begging the cat to come down to me. In a side whisper, without turning away from the cat, I ask Vitor, “Hand me one of those dried anchovies.”
“Ugh, boss! They smell awful! Do I have to?” This blasted cat also smells it, her whiskers and tail twitch. That’s a good girl.
“Yes, you do. It’s part of your job,” Hand out, nice and slow, to receive the fish. “Just like guarding and protecting is part of my job,” I explain again, for the umpteenth time.
“My job is supposed to be protecting the innocent, locking up bad guys, not getting cats out of trees” he whispers back at me as he places the fish in my hand.
“Mm-hmm, and we are protecting the innocent. That’s also what my client gig is. Here ya go, sweetheart.” Hand raised high, palm out, I can almost touch her. “She needs a bodyguard for protection from her ex-boyfriend, and her new rabid fans.” I could just grab Cannoli, but I would like to end the day not covered in claw marks. I’ve had a lot of work injuries, but cat scratches are my least favorite.
“That’s what you said before. But do you remember all the shit she used to say about us in town?”
“Don’t move, I’ve almost got her. Another fish. We are going to give my client the benefit of the doubt. People grow and change.” I shrug, voice quiet and steady.
“You’ve almost got this cat like you’ve got a client who respects and trusts you.” The cat reaches out again. This time my hand moves away from her and her branch, slowly. A paw— good girl. A meow— progress. I move my hand again.
The calico cat gives me a look, stares into my eyes, her tail giving the tiniest twitch. She’s going to trick me, I can feel it in her energy as her muscles tense. My other, non-anchovied-hand gets ready, fingers spread wide, and I twitch my tail at my deputy as a get ready motion.
Cannoli springs, my hands close around her, fast but gentle, and I hug her into my body as Vitor unfolds a towel and wraps her in it. The cat kennel sits ready, wire gate open, ready to receive the beast.
“She’s pretty cute,” I say, admiring her hiss at Vitor. “Good spunk.”
“You have awful taste,” he says as he locks the gate shut after I set her, towel and all inside. I set another dried anchovy through the mesh wire for her.
“Come on, boss! That’s going to make my patrol car stink like fish!”
“You’re welcome to deal with that once you’ve returned her home,” I slap him on the back with my fish scented hand. He slumps a bit in defeat.
“Just so you know, your client has been watching you this whole time,” Vitor grins a shit-eating grin at me. Arms crossed, I look from him to the cottages lining the street behind us. Sure enough, the brown one with the peeling paint has a woman watching us from the front window. I raise my sheriff’s hat in a welcome. She skitters away into the darkness of the house. The heavy curtains close, blocking out any more spying.
“It’s bound to happen. Small town,” I shrug, twirling my keys.
“You’re still serious?”
“As a demon can be.”
He snorts. “Well, you’re braver than me.”
“And that’s why I’m the sheriff.” I help him get the cat’s kennel snug into the backseat of his car. “Make sure you tell Mrs. Hood that we’re available whenever she needs help. And smile.”
Another snort is all I get from the orc as he gets in his Moonfang Haven patrol car. New this year; makes me feel like our little town is moving up in the world.
And it’s about to move seriously up, now that we’ve have a viral ukulele star visiting this week. I step off the curb and cross the street to the little brown house that’s seen better days.
I think there’s something very brave about a woman who dumped her racist ex, left town to start a new life, became famous with her ukulele song about ripe tomatoes in summertime, and has come home to hide out from both her overly eager yet probably benign fans, and her ex who thinks he has a claim to her.
Brave.
Picking up a gig as bodyguard for her feels like it was meant to be.