Page 1 of Cats Never Fly

Chapter One

SIMON

Earlierin theSummer,DuringtheHeatWave(takes place just beforeHellhounds Never Lie)

I’dalways been comforted by the knowledgeIhad nine lives.

Thatwas particularly true now when things inWillowLakewere getting a little tense.Mamasaid this tension in the air was nothing new, that things had been like this since the wolf pack split in two, but that made little sense to me—althoughI’dnever ever tell her that.Imean, sure,I’dgrown up thinking of one as good and the other as evil, but the pack broke apartyearsandyearsago.Whywould something that happened whenIwas a kid bother me now?

Maybethis crazy heat wave was messing with me.Thelonger it lasted, the more people got antsy.Butwhatever was causing it,I’dbe okay.Iwas still on lifenumber one, after all.AndMamaalways saidMotherMagic, who almost everyone else called theEternalMagic, liked cats, which was another blessing in my favor.

Really, who wouldn’t want to be a cat shifter?

Sure, the three wolvesIwas observing—from a safe distance and downwind—would likely disagree, but they weren’t the nice wolves.Theymight smell a bit like our alphaHayden, but they weren’t our wolves.No, these could only be from the half that’d broken away from theWillowLakepack, the ones who were a bunch of jerks.Sowhat would they know?

Atleast they hadn’t noticed me.

Iwasn’t keen on losing one of my nine just yet, andIdidn’t like my odds if they discovered me out here on my own.They’dthinkIwas spying on them.Iwasn’t.Notreally.Itwas an accident thatI’dseen them at all.

Mybrothers would call them prickholes or something like that, butItried to keep the language, even in my head, to aPGrating.WhenIremembered, anyway.Mamawas merciless about pinching our ears whenever we swore.Itdidn’t matter that we were all adults now.Ididn’t know how the others could stand it.

Whichis one of the many reasons they called me a mama’s kitten or a scaredy cat.

Whatever.

Iwas just smarter than the rest of my brothers.

Takenow, for instance.Itmade sense to stay hidden and safe.Anyonewith half a brain would do the same if they saw the scruffy trio who had appeared out of nowhere a few minutes ago.

Although,Idoubted my brothers would hide like me.Didthat mean they had less than half a brain?

Mamawould disagree with that conclusion.Shewas ridiculously proud and protective of all her kittens, even the reckless ones who refused to protect their nine.

Thewolves were in their human form, but that didn’t stop one of them from tipping his head back and howling at the night sky.Thenoise was meant to intimidate, and it was doing an excellent job.Icyfear skated down my spine.Iheld my breath and prayed they wouldn’t find me.

Notfor the first time,Iwas thankful for my black fur.Itwas perfect camouflage on nights like this.Andright now,Iwas banking on my coloring to keep me concealed in the shadows of the leafy tree branches.Wewere far enough from the lake here that the trees were further apart and more aspen than pine.Mamaalways complained that this area looked grubby and untidy with all the scrubby bushes, butIliked it.

Really.

Itwas… um… pretty.Sure.

Isighed.

Okay, fine.Itmightbe because large predators often stalked their prey closer to the water, but no one needed to know that.

“Thatwas too easy,” one wolf said to his buddies.Hisgruff voice carried across the sleepy landscape.Apparently, he didn’t see the need to whisper, even though it looked like he’d been up to no good, asMamaliked to say.

“TheysayUlric’sgrandkid ain’t a supe.Don’teven know about us.Wouldn’tthink to watch his shit or havewards or nothing,” another wolf said as he lumbered toward an old clunker of a pickup truck hiding behind a scrubby shrub.

Thetruck was more rust than anything else.Ibet even a human with their weak eyesight could see how bad it was.Butthat wasn’t what caught my attention.Nope.Itwas the bag—its bulging sides and contents clanging and clinking with each step he took—that one wolf had hoisted over his shoulder.Myears twitched and my nose wiggled asItried to figure out what they were hauling.

Thescene reminded me of those old cartoons with a robber and his cloth bag of stolen stuffIused to watch as a kid.Theonly things missing were the dollar sign painted on the side of the bag and black masks covering the top part of their faces.

Andyes, maybeIstillenjoyed cartoons onSaturdaymornings.Catsneeded time to relax and chill.Itwas a thing.Butthat wasn’t what was important right now.

Iwatched, unblinking, as the guy lifted the bag higher to toss it in the back of the truck.And?—

Oh!