Page 61 of Catnapped

“That would be our cue to leave, Lucifer. Let us retrieve the feline and get out of her way. I will even be a good brother and help you with Darian. That one is simply no good at summoning circles and will need all the help he can get. Frankly, you might have to send him here with a golden bridle and hope he can tame her that way.”

“As if I’d make it that easy. A golden bridle? What nonsense is that. If he wants to bridle her, he’ll have to weave a rope made of Russian sage, unicorn tail hair, an angel’s feather, snow leopard fur, sphinx fur, and strands of a kelpie’s mane, all freely given. Unfortunately for her, there are plenty of beings who’ll hand over the various bits needed to make the rope. Oh, and the bridle itself would need to be handwoven of silver, copper, and aluminum wire. There shouldn’t be a bit used, as she’d melt it and it would hurt her delicate mouth.”

“I am going to be a generous being and assist him with the bridle,” Gabriel muttered. “Else we will be waiting most of his lifetime to figure out what needs to be done. Must you always be so difficult, Lucifer?”

“Yes.”

Gabriel heaved a sigh. “Good hunting, Diana. I will try to keep my brother from turning this into a disaster, but I make no promises.”

Lucifer pointed into the woods surrounding us. “The lab is that way. You can’t miss it. While I expect this won’t help much, do try to remember that there is nothing you could do to save some of those animals, which is why He had mercy on them. You can rescue and baby the rest, but don’t wallow in your guilt too much. I’ll permit a little wallowing, but not too much wallowing.”

Without another word, the Devil and his brother vanished, and with nothing else to do—and annoyed neither had explained how to manifest a horn—I went in search of the assholes responsible for Mr. Flooferson’s disappearance.

Fifteen

Asking for forgiveness only went so far.

A trailer community, much like the one we’d found at the lab in California, littered the forest, and the stench of male wolves permeated the air. How I identified the scent as male wolf baffled me, but it reeked, annoying the hell right out of me to the point my fur bleached to white. When I breathed, blue fire trailed from my nostrils, and the smoke emerged as shimmering white clouds.

Lucifer needed to pay for the various adjustments he’d made to me, including the repulsive stench of male wolf. Why did male wolves stink? How did I know the smell? The repulsiveness of the stench tested my already flagging patience.

I bet the damned Devil had made male wolves stink so I’d be tempted to kill them all without bothering to question them—or look closer at their activities. As defying the Devil and his plans appealed, I cooled my temper, gave myself a few minutes to become better acquainted with my new form, and practiced walking, trotting, galloping, and cantering around the forest.

I could only assume the Devil had imparted some base instincts on how to function as some hellish equine, as I didn’t trip over my own hooves. Tripping while trying to stomp the life out of a bunch of assholes who thought illegal testing of animals was a good idea would not improve my day, although I looked forward to finding out how well hooves could crush through skulls.

With me, they would get some form of mercy in the form of a short death rather than whatever hell Lucifer would give the bastards. What the Devil did with them after they went to one of the many hells wasn’t my problem, but I severely doubted anyone who worked with the operation met the minimum requirements for a trip to heaven.

He didn’t seem like the kind to cater to users or abusers. Or so I hoped.

Asking for forgiveness only went so far, and humanity couldn’t get away with false promises of redemption.

That was what the many hells was for, so those who crossed the lines got a taste of what they’d sown before being given another chance to get it right. The next time some idiot claimed God wasn’t a benevolent being, I would remind them He could have made a soul’s stay in the Devil’s many hells a permanent affair rather than a temporary rehabilitation for those who strayed.

I pricked my ears forward at the thought of being stage one of an intensive rehabilitation for the misguided.

The first thing I needed to do to begin an intensive rehabilitation campaign was to create a multi-step program. Unlike other programs, meant to work with the victims of drug abuse or other serious problems, mine would make sure I walked the straight and narrow while enabling me to send the jackass animal abusers straight to some dark pit in hell where they belonged. Turning my ears back and snorting, I considered the best steps for a successful rehabilitation program.

Step one: check the trailers for evidence of children.

Step two: reevaluate plan if evidence of children located.

Step three: rescue animals.

Step four: kill bad people hurting animals.

Step five: burn it all down.

After the burning, I would need to figure out what weird demoness-devil horses ate, as my stomach informed me it would like a snack. As I was doing a damned good job of earning my place in hell, I added a final step to my program.

Step six: find a snack and eat it.

Pleased with my plan, I approached the trailers, peeking into windows for any sign they had little ones underfoot. I discovered the sort of slobbery a hoarding television host would flinch at, ranging from garbage left out to rotting food. The cleaner trailers opted to store their trash outside, where the local wildlife feasted. A few warning snorts drove the wild animals off, as I didn’t want to hurt them when I started my rampage.

The deeper I went into the trailer community, the more I realized the Devil hadn’t been kidding about an army. After sixty trailers, all of which showed signs of housing anywhere between two and five lycanthropes of the male wolf variety, I came to the conclusion the Devil and his brother had been onto something. Hundreds of lycanthropes made a legitimate army, and judging from the strength of the stench, they were all contagious. Given an hour and a city, they could spread enough contagion to begin an epidemic, one that could take decades to mature but begin inflicting consequences upon the victim within a few months, depending on exposure levels.

If the group had figured out how to accelerate the virus’s replication, I could understand how they could trigger an End of Days playing God.

Idiots, all of them.