Page 12 of Cats Never Fly

Andworse?SheknewIwas lying because she knew my schedule better thanIdid.Shekept better tabs on all her kittens than the paparazzi did on those famous humans inHollywood.

Butnow thatI’dtold herIwas busy,Ifelt likeIneeded to go do something.Myguilt was almost a living, breathing entity.WhatwasIgoing to do?

Despitenot having a shift at the motel until tomorrow night,Istill attempted to maintain a nocturnal schedule during my free time.Ihad been raised that way, and breaking those habits was hard.Yearsago,I’dtried to questionMamaabout our nighttime lifestyle after my high school biology teacher taught us cats were crepuscular, notnocturnal.Mamahadn’t been impressed, nor had she felt inclined to change how we lived.

Whenwe were in grade school, our schedule was more nocturnal than most of my classmates.Weslept as soon as we were home from school so we could be up all night.It’dmade making friends difficult, since we couldn’t join most extracurricular activities.NotthatIwould have been very good at team sports—the very idea of participating in a game where you had to perform while everyone stared at you was horrifying—but something else might have been nice.

I’dbeen off work the nightIfound the whistle too.Thatwas whyI’dbeen out roaming.ButIdidn’t want to roam too far tonight.Goingout and hunting held no appeal.AllIwanted—this was going to sound crazy—allIwanted to do was hang out with the whistle.

Butmy guilt over lying to my mama meantIhad a heck of a time falling asleep after breakfast and it didn’t get any better throughout the day.Aseries of catnaps broken up by staring at my whistle wasn’t helping me think any more clearly.

Finally,Igave up around dusk and wandered over to theWillowLakeInn.Mymama would at least hearI’dgone out tonight, andIcould pretend that had been my plan all along.Besides,Ihadn’t eaten since breakfast, so dinner at the pub sounded like just the thing.

Idebated leaving the whistle in my apartment, but the thought of leaving it behind made me queasy.Likeevery timeIwent out with the whistle in my pocket,IprayedPawsand all the other supes who hung out at the inn wouldn’t sense its magic on me.Iwasn’t a thief—mekeeping the whistle was more of a finders-keepers situation—andIdidn’t want to be blamed for its theft.

Yes.Iknow.Myreasoning was a little suspect.Icould hear my mama’s voice in my head saying thatIneeded to return the whistle toJake, but…Notyet, okay?

Soon.

Pinkypromise.

Worriesand hopes whirled through me by the timeIarrived at the door to the pub.Whatif this time someone talked about a missing whistle?Or, better yet, what if someone mentioned what it did?Ibraced my shoulders and kept my hand in my pocket with my fingers tight on the whistle asIpushed open the door to the pub.

TheWillowLakePubwas attached to one end of theWillowLakeInn.Thebuilding used to be the old werewolf pack house back in the day, but the wolf pack had broken up whenIwas a kid.Haydenhad sold the building to wormy nosedUlric, who’d still owned it whenI’dgone to the pub for the first time as an adult.

Theplace still stank of wolves on an average day, but it was worse on muggy days.Andeverything was old, not the fancy old things that rich people liked to buy, but this-should-be-thrown-away old.

Theinn was changing now, though.Thebombing hadn’t givenJakeany other choice but to renovate.

Hmm…HowwasJakepaying for all those changes?Itwasn’t any of my business, but it still made me curious.Becauseif he was selling some of his grandfather’s things to pay for the repairs, then maybeIdidn’t need to feel so guilty about keeping the whistle.MaybeI’dstart leavinghim some bigger than normal tips, kind of like an installment payment plan for the whistle.

Thesmell of new paint and sawdust assaulted me whenIwalked into the pub.Isneezed.Everyhead in the place turned toward me.

Icringed and thought about shifting and hiding to escape their stares.Luckily, when they saw it was me, the regulars all turned back to whatever they’d been doing.Icrept forward, trying to avoid catching anyone else’s attention.

Throughthe corridor that connected the pub to the inn came the sounds of hammers and saws.Itwas already evening, soIwas surprised there was still construction happening.Atleast the pub was still open while they renovated the rest of the inn.

Thepub itself had sustained minor damage in the bombing.Thebiggest problem was the lingering smell of smoke.Jakehad tried to fix that by painting the walls and putting new fabric on the chairs.Theresult wasn’t perfect, butIthought it was enough.Ihated change.Thepub’s familiar atmosphere was comforting.

Halfthe tables were empty, which made sense since it was a weeknight.Irecognized everyone, and all of them were supes.Tomy right sat the pool table, and just like every other timeI’dbeen in here,CarterJoneswas leaning over the pool table, displaying his muscular behind, with his big beefy hand wrapped around a long, sturdy pool cue.Ifhe wasn’t such a big bear of a man—even in his human form—you’d think he was compensating for something, given the way he was always fondling that big stick.OldThom, a grumpy ancient-looking troll, was in his usualspot in the corner.SallytheSuccubus, with her tight pink jeans and puffy platinum blond hair, sat on her usual barstool, watchingJakemix a drink.

Mamahad said something aboutSallynow being in a relationship with the couple who owned the bakery, so she didn’t need to find partners at the pub anymore.Butshe had decided she needed to watch overJake, so she still came in here regularly.Atleast that’s whatMamafigured.Ididn’t know whyJakeneeded a surrogate mother since he was a grown man and was mates with one of the most powerful supesI’dever met, butMamastill ruled my world, soIwasn’t one to argue about mothers or mother figures.

ShouldIgo over there or sit at the bar?

UnlikewhenIfirst found the whistle months ago,Jakeknew about supes now.Heeven had his own supernatural abilities.IfIwas going to hear anything juicy,I’dneed to be close to him.Afterall, it was his stuff that had been stolen.Ifanyone was going to talk about what was still missing, it’d be him, right?

ExceptInever sat up there.

Peoplewould wonder whatIwas doing ifIswitched things up now.That’show people got caught, right?Theystarted acting out of character.That’swhatMama’smystery shows said.

Okay, sitting at the bar was out of the question.

OrmaybeIwas overthinking it.

Wait…Jakewas an oracle.Whatif he’d had a vision about me and the whistle?Whatwould his demon boyfriend do to me if he thoughtIstole fromJake?

Mystomach felt like it dropped about five inches.Fursprouted along the back of my neck just so it could stand up and quiver.Mygaze darted toJake.Hewasn’t looking at me.Wouldhe look at me if he’d had a vision about me?Wouldhe keep an eye on me until someone took me into custody?Hestill wasn’t looking at me.Didthat meanIwas safe?