Клер Донелли - The Big Kitty

Besides, arguments like this often led to Shadow losing his place to live. So he tried not to get too attached. That was why it was better to keep his distance from Sunny—especially since the Old One obviously didn’t want him around.

Shadow made his way to the top of the box that kept food cold. That was another weird thing about the two-legs. They’d take food from a box that made it cold and put it in a box to make things hot. Shadow didn’t even try to figure that out. The cold box was good, though. It offered a good high spot where he could look down on the room and the hallway beyond. And sometimes there was a hum deep within the box—interesting and pleasant to feel.

For a while, Shadow drowsed. He heard Sunny go up the stairs, and the Old One turned on the box of pictures. Sometimes the pictures were of interesting things, but the only smell the box ever gave off was of something burning, and it sent out an odd sensation that made his whiskers tingle.

Still, he thought he might as well take a look.

The picture showed a man and woman sitting behind a desk, talking. One of the more boring things that turned up on the box.

As he turned away, though, Shadow caught the scent of tuna. He raised his head, taking a deeper breath. Yes, definitely tuna, floating on a wave of cool air. It must be coming from the open window. Usually when it got dark the glass was down. Shadow found glass fascinating, like hard air you could see through but rest a paw against. He’d never found tuna out there before. This was definitely worth investigating.

The easiest way to get to the windowsill was from the couch.

Shadow looked up at the Old One, who sat slumped, his eyes closed, his breathing regular. Three good bounds took him to the bottom of the sofa, then a careful leap to land as lightly as he could. The Old One was likely to shove if he was awakened.

Padding softly to the arm of the couch, Shadow climbed up to the back of the seat. The scent of tuna was stronger, coming in on a cold breeze. Shadow crouched low. A piece of wood rested on the couch back, creating a bridge to the windowsill. And outside the open window in the darkness, yes, he could smell tuna.

Shadow stepped onto the wood, placing his feet carefully, then with more confidence. He advanced on the tuna, licking his chops. But as soon as he was beyond the window, the wood beneath his feet suddenly shot forward. The cat found himself falling, barely twisting in time to land on all fours.

A noise above him caught his attention—the window going down.

This male Old One is different from the female Old One, he thought. Full of tricks!

The cold air began to make itself felt. Shadow shivered, rippling his fur. Then he began casting around for the morsel of tuna that had gotten him into this situation. It might be a while before he had an easy meal again.

Once he’d found it and finished eating, Shadow set off on the next most important thing—watering the plants the Old One set such store by.

After that, he searched for a place to sleep. Shadow had been outside on far colder nights than this. He needed a place that would be sheltered from the wind and hard for larger creatures like the Biscuit Eaters to get into.

The low deck behind the garage offered a perfect space. Shadow had to crouch to get underneath the wooden slats. Some leaves had blown in, and he gathered them together, walked in a circle to trample them down, and then lay with his legs tight to his body and his tail curled around his feet.

He was comfortable enough and not hungry. So he slept.

In the dream, the world was dark, but Shadow was warm, pressed against a warm fur body, and there was milk, and the very good smell of belonging. It jarred him to wake up in a chilly den with the smell of decaying leaves.

Had he ever really known the happy time that he lived in that dream? Shadow wasn’t sure—he certainly didn’t remember it.

He strained his ears, probing for whatever strange noise had roused him. Then he heard the low, muttering sound of a car engine—a car that hadn’t been here before—and the scrape of shoes on the driveway.

By the time Shadow came around the garage, he didn’t see any people. But a huge vehicle still stood on the drive, its engine rumbling.

He took a few running steps and leaped for the top of the hood. No one sat behind the wheel.

Some cats in the streets crawled up in the open spaces under cars for warmth. But doing that while the car acted alive could be dangerous. The metal pieces were hard, and hungry for cat tails, or even legs.

Jumping to the ground, Shadow circled the car’s great bulk. Then he froze in disbelief. He’d never seen a car with a tail. Approaching cautiously, he tried to figure out what this might be. It looked like a made thing—some humans he’d lived with had one that squirted water, and looked like an enormous snake. But Shadow didn’t see any water.

During his wanderings through more rural areas, Shadow had come across snakes and found them pretty good eating. The ones he’d hunted smelled like the flowers or plants they lived among. Sometimes, when they got upset or frightened, they let off an odd, musky sort of odor. The problem was, this thing didn’t smell like any snake he’d ever encountered. All he got was the scent of dust and a trace of mold.

Shadow hesitated. Was it food or not? Maybe it was a sick snake. The stupid thing had somehow stuck its head into the part of the car where bad smells came from. That couldn’t be good.

A low cough came from inside the big machine, and the snake-thing quivered. The movement made Shadow’s mind up for him. This was possible food.

Shadow immediately leaped to the attack. He went for a grip on the neck, putting as much power as he could into his jaws. Sometimes that was enough to take a snake’s head right off. This time, though, something was wrong. The snake’s body gave under his teeth, and it tasted wrong. The body felt flabby as he savaged it with his rear claws. And then he was spitting and sneezing, enveloped in smoke!

Coughing, Shadow rolled out from under the vehicle, his tail rigid with disgust. There was nothing here to eat. The snake was empty, a made thing filled with choking smells.

That Old One, he sure has lots of tricks, Shadow thought darkly as he stalked back to his sleeping place. The night had gotten colder, and he was starting to feel a little hungry again.

But there was one part of him that was full again. Shadow changed course to give those plants a little more attention.

11

An hour beforeher alarm clock was supposed to go off, Sunny jerked awake to hear her father bellowing, “What the hell is that truck doing in our driveway?”

She shrugged on a bathrobe and jammed her bare feet into a pair of running shoes, tucking in the laces because she didn’t have time to tie them.

Even as she did that, she could hear her father’s angry footsteps clomping down the stairs.

Since the heart attack, Dad hasn’t even wanted to go driving because he’s afraid of the stress involved, she thought ruefully. But he’s ready to go down and wage a war over somebody invading our sacred driveway?

She got to the front door and opened it, expecting to hear Mike roaring to the neighborhood in general.

Instead she found him standing in silence, his hands jammed into his bathrobe pockets.

“Are you okay, Dad?” she asked.

His voice came out very low, almost in a stammer. “I—I was coming back from the bathroom, passed the window, and saw this thing down here. But now—”

Mike took a hand out of his pocket and pointed to the rear of the big, bright maroon Jeep Wrangler. “Do you see it?”

Sunny blinked her bleary eyes, trying to make sense of what she saw. The end of a black garden hose—their garden hose—lay under the SUV’s exhaust pipe, a tangle of duct tape wrapped around it. The hose stretched from the driveway to the house, to one of the cellar windows where a pane of glass had been broken and the other end of the hose poked through, jammed in place with a bunch of rags.