The Cat Tracks Down The Key

Tilting my head, I listen to the sounds of the night with my eyes closed, soaking in the surrounding cacophony. Most people would say the night is quiet, all is safe and sound, but they don't have my senses and they are not waiting for a psychopath.

I am.

Tonight, I'm seeking answers to questions I haven't had the courage to ask out loud—not even to my brood. My source of information is as dangerous as the possibilities borne of the information that I seek, but I've exhausted all the other options I know of.

That sounded cryptic, but the changes I'm going through are unheard of in my community.

The only person who might have the knowledge of the ‘Creation' and the science behind it is the clone I'm in this park waiting for. Taurus doesn't associate with his own community, much less the Resistance. He's unpredictable, violent, and only plays by his rules. I shouldn't have opened Pandora's box by contacting him.

But he's my only viable option.

After the Battle of Blood and Steel ended the Conflict, his family moved from the evolving landscape of the Cabal Quarter to its outer limits. The Rift was changing, and his kin refused to change with it, preferring to isolate themselves from the fray. He keeps his ears open—as does his mate—because prior to asking for this meeting; I baited him in public, hoping to pique his interest.

As predicted, he couldn't stop himself from parading about, preening and showing off before disappearing again. Once he and his mate started paying attention to our world, I had them right where I wanted them. I primed them for my approach despite this being the worst plan possible. Taurus is a snarling, opinionated son of a bitch who dines on the likes of me for three squares a day and he makes sure everyone knows it. His ego is the size of a small third world country—that will be my way in. If I can maneuver my request around that behemoth carefully, I'll get what I need without raining hell on my entire community. He doesn't need to know more than what I offer and he definitely doesn't need to know what's going on in the Resistance.

I don't want to give away all our secrets for his help, regardless of how much I need it.

After my gambit worked, I made a polite inquiry to his mate, Talia. She's no less a slithering venomous reptile than him, but my email was well-received. She informed me that Taurus would ‘grant me an audience' this evening precisely at eleven p.m.

The edicts about tardiness and rescheduling made my teeth grind, but I let it go.

Checking my watch again, I sigh. Talia told me in no uncertain terms that he would leave if I was a second late. It's a half hour beyond our appointment time, there's no sign of the snooty clone, and I'm officially on borrowed time. My eyes are darting around nervously as the seconds tick by, hoping no one in my house wakes up to find me gone. That will set off alarms I'd prefer to stay silent, especially since none of them know what I'm doing tonight.

Why am I still herewhen it's obvious that the assclown stood me up?

Because I need to know the answers to my questions, that's why. I have to fix my beastly bullshit before it destroys my family, and he's the only person I know who might have access to this information.

The ‘Creation'—that's what they called engineering the first clones—is shrouded in mystery. The Company scientists called what they did ‘trade secrets.' They never leave the HQ, unlike other human staff and workers. No one has a damned clue what they did to ‘create' the three originals, nor how they created the clones that followed.

Hell, no one even knows what their huge campus hides or how to get to it.

Science on that level has to be the cause and solution to the crap happening to my frail human body. It's not normal to turn into a fucking were or whatever overnight; there has to be an explanation. I'd be willing to bet my entire shoe collection on the fuckers who developed the clones and created this damn place having the tech to reverse it. Letting my family know how worried I am would only make the problem worse, so I accept it with grace and wit.

My deception entails pretending I love every aspect of my kitty transformation without question, which is one of the colossal lies in my life. Truth be told, I've had enough of the damn turmoil since it started. I don't need some crazy mutant virus to eat my body from the inside out, nor do I need my mates losing their shit over it.

It's too damn much for one person to handle on their own.

That's why I'm in no condition emotionally to hash my feelings out with our resident serial killer, but I don't have a choice. Now I'm here, he's not, and I'm done waiting. That prehistoric, preening prat used to rule the roost in this town, but no more. He and his Cabal-loving ilk left the playing field open when they all bounced after the Conflict.

The Resistance claimed our own section of the Rift to call our home when the Cabal faded into the background. I always thought it was weird that they went to war to claim this place, but after they won, every single one of their leaders slowly disappeared. Perhaps they couldn't deal with how the landscape changed after the war or even that they had to wage one at all. I wasn't living in the Rift during that time, but it wouldn't surprise me.

Dictators like people they can keep under their thumbs and they realized that would never happen again.

My friends Dominique, Lily, and I were the ones who set up the Resistance quarter, and now it's bigger than the Cabal quarter ever was. We're all close and the more people we recruited, the closer our community became. Somehow, I took on the role of leader for our people, and ever since, my home has been a revolving door of friends and family. It probably looks like I"m a feudal queen to an outsider, but they do not know what my life has become in the past few months. They don't know that despite my large family; I feel completely alone.

The people I love have damaged me and becoming a shifter made it worse.

That doesn't mean I'm going to let that antiquated birdbrain make me doubt my place in this universe. Taurus may have left me sitting here like a fawning debutante, but I only stayed because there is no other source I can wheedle this info out of. The Company recruits, their archives, and their resources are within his grasp. He's not the first clone—that honor belongs to one of my extended family—but he is the only one still connected to the people involved in the ‘Creation'.

That's it.

I snarl in frustration, kicking a rock across the pavement as I storm back to my borrowed motorcycle. My inability to resolve this shit tonight means I'll have to start over. My Beast is seeping through the barriers as the tension inside me mounts. I close my eyes, knowing that I don't have a strong enough hold on her to allow my anger to overflow in public.

Calm must prevail.

I haven't had the courage to let the Beast completely free more than once, and that did not turn out well. My passion induced lapses have led to nothing but trouble and heartache, leaving me to pick up the pieces of my battered heart like a sad little custodian. Allowing her free rein because I'm angry won't have any better results. I'll just end up with someone kicking me to the curb like before.

A breeze ruffles through the trees and carries a scent most wouldn't catch—it's faint, but so very male. The smell makes the primal part of me take notice and I turn slowly. Tamping the cat down internally, I struggle with how delicious the scent is. I doubt my appreciation would go over well with Taurus's dangerous and possessive mate, so I breathe carefully when he finally approaches.

His posture is perfectly arranged to draw my attention. The pose is reminiscent of the cover of a supernatural romance novel: a slouching predator with gleaming platinum spikes and leather worn tight enough to mold to him over his sleek designer clothing. A haze of expensive—probably personally blended—tobacco smoke curls around him, and the moonlight shines off his boots and bike.

Why in the bloody hell did I think this was a good idea again?Are my answers this important?

This situation has disaster written in blood all over it and yet, I can't come up with one solid alternative to being here. Not only that, but I can't even think of two syllables to string together. He's glaring at me as if my silence is as egregious as his lateness and I have to fight back the cat again when she takes umbrage at his gall. I didn't realize how hard this would be—focusing on his shit and holding my beast back—and I'm paying for it now. There's no way out, though, so I have to suck it up and deal. I crack my neck and narrow my eyes at the dark figure standing before me.

Fine. Be pissy, you prancing prima donna. Two can play at that game.

A brow arch is the only response I get to my change in posture. Obviously, I have to throw him off guard, so he doesn't think he has the upper hand. The only way I can do that is to puff myself up as big as he is, dismiss his power, and use my brain and my body to throw him off my scent. It's a good thing I came here well rested or I don't know if I could pull this shit off. I'm constantly tired since my new ‘friend' showed up and I can't seem to muster up the energy I used to. Pretending to be a hundred percent will drain the hell out of me… but I don't see any other way.

Time to put on the show, Deli.