Page 2 of Cats Never Fly

Whatwas that?

Mybreath caught.

Somethingdropped out of the bag.Itcaught the moonlight on the way down, looking all shiny and golden.Ididn’t know what it was, but it was pretty.Evenfrom this distance,Icould tell that much.

Iknow,Iknow.Thatdead human poet talked about glittering things not always being gold or whatever… butIdidn’t need gold.Ijust needed that thing, whatever it was.Somethingin my gut saidmine, mine, mine.Mytailtrembled, andIclenched my teeth to keep from chirping at my prey… my prize.

Please, please, please…Don’tlet them see it.

Idesperately wanted to know what had dropped out of that bag, but it would be stupid to look right now.Particularlywhen these three looked hyped up on adrenaline from their heist of theWillowLakeInn—because that was the only place they could be talking about.

Ishould report the robbery to the police.

Itwas the right thing to do.

Probably.

Although, after growing up in a houseful of cats, all of whom, except maybeMama, saw the world in varying shades of gray—not the fifty sexy ones, but the morally ambiguous kind—Ihad a bit of an aversion to snitching on anyone or anything.Imight work in security, but whenIwasn’t at work,Ikept my whiskers out of other people’s business.Mybrothers taught me being a tattletale was asking for trouble.

Andwould it actually harm anyone if the wolves got away with whatever they were doing?

Ulric, the former owner of the inn, had been a mage of some kind and had collected all kinds of magical junk.Hedied almost a year ago and left the place to his grandkid, so it wasn’t like anyone was using the stuff.

I’dalways found him creepy—Ulric, not the grandkid.Thegrandkid,Jake, was weird, but kind of cute too.IfJakewas the least bit supernatural,Imight have asked him out.Or, rather,Iwould have daydreamed about asking him out.Ihadn’t ever been on a date, andIcouldn’t imagine starting with a guy likeJake.Hewas out of my league, likeevery guy in town.BecauseAshwas pretty cute too—and hewassupernatural, so he fit my hypothetical dating criteria—andIhadn’t asked him out either.

Beinga scaredy cat might protect my nine lives, but it could also make life pretty boring.Itwas worth it though.Mynine weren’t going anywhere ifIcould help it.

Butcoming back toUlric, the grandfather, now he had been creepy, like a fictional wizard brought to life with scraggly gray hair, wire-rimmed glasses, and grotesquely long and thick hairs protruding from his nose and ears.Iswear those things—the hairs coming out of his orifices, not the rest—twitched and writhed around like skinny little worms with every breath he took.Itwas disturbing.

I’dhad nightmares about those worm hairs… or would they be hair worms?

Whatever.

Mamaalways saidIwas being silly whenItold her about them, but that hadn’t stopped me from avoiding the man when he’d been alive, which meantIdidn’t know much aboutUlricexcept what the town gossips said.Foryears, there’d been rumors about all the creepy things he had squirreled away in his private chambers at the inn.Andnow it looked like the wolves had stolen them.Buthow?WillowLakeInnwas miles away, andIhadn’t seen or heard them walking through the woods until now.

“Whatabout the cat?”

Ifroze.Hadthey found me?Didthey knowIwas watching and listening?

“Ididn’t see it.”

“Meneither.”

Theyshrugged in unison.

“Whatever.Wedid it once, we can do it again.”

Phew.Okay.Theyweren’t talking about me, although my heart felt ready to pound itself to freedom outside my body anyway.

Andthe cat theyweretalking about wasn’t any normal cat shifter.

Pawslived at the inn and had been there ever since the werewolf pack had abandoned it years ago.Somepeople thought he was a god doing penance for some mischief he’d caused.Othersspeculated he was a plain old cat shifter who’d been cursed by a mage to never change out of his cat form.Therewere also the people who believed he was once a beloved pet who belonged to aNorwegiangoddess.Andthen there was the theory about him being aScottishfairy creature.

Speculatingabout their neighbors was the one thing the people inWillowLakeliked to do.Honestly, why hadn’t someone asked the cat what he was?

Well.Notme.Iwouldn’t ask.Thatcat was almost as freaky as oldUlric’shair worms.Butsomeone else could have and probably should have.

Anyway, it didn’t matter ifIdidn’t know exactly who the cat was or where he’d come from.WhatIdidknow was that being near him made my tail puff up and twitch like the inflatable tube man thing my bossLevihad installed outside theTarbeckMotellast week.