“I’ve got that covered,” I said with relief. More relief than the situation warranted, probably. I was terrible with change. But rescue. I was amazing with that. Not that I’d ever frame it in those terms to Thompson. He could come home with me. And if he chose to stay, become part of my pack, well, that would probably work out just fine. We’d see how it went.
“Are you okay?” the surgeon asked, reaching a hand out for me. I realized then that I was shaky with relief. Or maybe the released adrenaline of the whole damned night.
“I’m good, thank you. I think I just need to sit down. Or lie down. Maybe go home and sleep. Someone will call me when he wakes? I assume he’s still under anesthesia?”
“I’ll see to it,” she said, and turned back for the surgery center.
I let her go and turned back, but the strangers were gone, leaving just Cami staring after them. My legs carried me only so far as a chair I could collapse into, and Cami collapsed into the one beside me.
“What was that all about?” I asked. It came out more or less coherently.
She gave a bark of a laugh. “They’re here on behalf of a high-profile client, who asked that his name be kept out of things. Apparently, his ‘dog’ got free. He sent them for a private retrieval, which has now been accomplished, and they wanted to assure us that there’ll be no more trouble. There’s no reason to open an investigation or hunt down the animal. They’re going to cover all of Thompson’s medical bills, by the way—and they’ll be back around in the morning to talk to you about a donation to your rescue.”
“Oh, good,” I said, or almost. A yawn split my face before the words were entirely out.
“Good? I thought you’d be hopping mad. Someone’s keeping a dangerous animal that clearly got loose and savaged Thompson. That seems like the sort of thing you’d want me to investigate.”
If this was a lion or tiger or some other exotic animal, she’d be exactly right. But the krokotta was on another level entirely. Something about it fading away as I watched, freezing me and Beau in our tracks said it wasn’t entirely of this world. And I didn’t think that my people or the Sergeant and her force were equipped to deal with it. If this Tori Karacis was, so much the better. But I’d be asking some hard questions of the P.I. when she came to visit, and if I wasn’t satisfied… Well, now that I knew such creatures as the krokotta existed, I could hardly let them go running amok. Or allow the beasties to hurt others. Or be hurt or hunted themselves.
I hadn’t known a lot about wolves or wolf dogs before my first rescue. If need be, I could launch a whole new crusade.
But I had a very strong feeling that the two who’d arrived had things well in hand, and I’d be more than happy to get back to my pack and my son. And maybe, once Thompson was ready to come home, a new normal.
Lucienne Diver is the author of the Latter-Day Olympians urban fantasy series, featuring Tori Karacis, P.I., who makes a cameo in “A Cry in the Night.” Long and Short Reviews gave the series her favorite pull quote of all time, “a clever mix of Janet Evanovich and Rick Riordan!”
Lucienne has also written the Vamped young adult series—think Clueless meets Buffy the Vampire Slayer—and young adult suspense novels, including Faultlines, The Countdown Club, and Disappeared. Her short stories have appeared in Kicking It, ed. by Faith Hunter and Kalayna Price, Strip-Mauled, and Fangs for the Mammaries, ed. by Esther Friesner, Faith Hunter’s Rogue Mage Anthology Tribulations, and more.
On a personal note, Lucienne lives in Florida with her husband, daughter, the two cutest dogs in the world, and enough books to someday collapse the second floor of her home into the first. She likes living dangerously. Wolves are her spirit animal. If not agenting and writing, she would run off to work at a wolf rescue. Or become a dryad and guardian of the forests, but, so far, no opening has become available.
The Kindness of Cats
By R.R. Virdi[3]
THIS IS THE STORY OF ONE of the most important things in all of Brahm’s creation.
Myself.
The people of Ghal have called me many things: nuisance, thief, miscreant, stray, and disaster. But my first real friend called me Shola.
The shy one, at least as far as he understood it. But in truth, it means the flame. I suppose we are both alike in that regard, though he doesn’t understand it himself. Then again, he doesn’t understand a great many things. But how can he? After all, he’s only human. Not everyone can be blessed with the uncanny knowing of all things.
It is a gift I possess.
Because I am a cat.
The world has worsened in its cold and uncomforting climate. Taking to more snow than the appropriate amount, which happens to be none. It makes it a discomforting prospect to go about my morning necessaries with the accumulation of ice. A terrible design, if you asked me.
But perhaps if the creator of all things had bothered to consult a cat, the world would be a more orderly place, and make better sense. Brahm could have at the very least given me more direction in what to do with my charge.
The boy is young, and currently sits huddled on the floor of his room before a flickering candle. Its glow washes over him and brings its brightness and color to the light brown of his eyes. He stares at it, searching for some answer, but he’s rather blind to the one it casts along the lines of his face.
I suppose that is the nature of people. They look so hard for answers everywhere other than within themselves. But, even with all the things Ari happens to miss, I am fond of him. He gets the important things right.
Such as kindness.
He remembers this, even when he is caught in a weary torpor, like now. A stillness gathers around him just as much inside. Moments where the best of him is silenced and weighs on him like a mantle of lead. I worry for him, and the wounds he carries so deep inside he cannot see them.
But it is not so easy a task to make a human aware of these things, most especially when they lack the skill to understand the other creatures of the world. So, it is our duty to speak to them in simpler ways and remind them of the things they overlook.
A single bound from his bed brings me to one of Ari’s legs. He sits with them crossed, hands resting in his lap as he regards the candle. His eyes flicker to one side as he notices me, then return just as quick to the flame.
I would sigh if I possessed the ability. Instead, I thump my head against the meat of his thigh, drawing his attention.
“Hm?” He turns his head, long dark hair coming to hang before his eyes. A brush of a hand sends it all back and he looks at me—the candle’s orange still burning through his gaze. “What is it, Shola?” His fingers come to touch my skull and gently run along it.
You are doing it again, Ari. Sitting and sulking. Souring yourself. You should leave the candles be for a moment and move. Better yet, feed me, and perhaps yourself. There is little that cannot be fixed with food. He hears none of this, of course. “Mrrp.”
Ari nods as if he understands me, though I know that is far from the truth. But, a small smile breaks across his face regardless. “Maybe so. I just… I can’t make sense of it. I was so close—Brahm’s blood. The fire, the binding. I had it!” He lets out a heavy breath and his hands ball into tight fists.
3
Author’s Note: This story is from the series