Molly Fitz: Himalayan Hazard (Pet Whisperer P.I. Book 8)

I rolled my eyes. “Just remember, we’re not on the train for that long and you probably won’t see her after we get off at our station. Or actually, Rhonda said they’d be getting off first…” It took me a moment to make sure I had recalled that detail correctly since I had to wade through hours of cat stories to get back to the beginning of our conversation.

Suddenly, I felt very sorry for my poor kitty. Not only did he not stand a chance, but he’d probably never see his crush again. “Just don’t get all heartbroken over this,” I warned. “I hate to see you hurting.”

“Love always finds a way, Angela,” he said sagely. Although in this particular case, I had no idea how things would work out, considering the object of his affection actively disliked him.

Also they were cats. Could cats even fall in love? It seemed like maybe they could. I hoped one day Octo-Cat would find a lady who would return his romantic longings. I was also incredibly happy that he was fixed, given his complete lack of modesty when it came to… well, everything.

“Does this mean you’ll be more accepting of me and Charles?” I asked, hoping that my feline’s own brush with love might get him to stop referring to my boyfriend as UpChuck.

He said nothing, but a giant purr rolled up from the carrier in what I had to assume was the kitty version of humming blissfully while thinking of one’s beloved. Wow. He really had it bad.

Speaking of having it bad, I returned to my seat only to find my parents wrapped even tighter around each other as they both stared at my mom’s laptop with rapt attention.

“What are you guys watching?” I asked, noticing that they were sharing a single pair of earbuds.

“Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part Two,” my mom answered without removing her eyes from the screen.

“Ugh, you guys! Why are you starting with the last one?”

“Well, we need to know it has a good ending before we invest in such a long series. Don’t we?” my father asked with one raised eyebrow.

Personally, I hated spoilers. They took away at least half the fun. At least my parents were giving it a try, though. I had to give them credit for that.

The aspiring writer I’d met before stopped typing and seemed to watch us from his peripheral vision. Was he waiting for an opening to tell me about his novel again?

Looked like I had a choice to make. I could either cuddle up with my already too cozy parents and pretend to watch the movie or I could go off exploring again. After the chat with Rhonda and Grizabella, I needed some alone time to recharge, which meant I had to get out of there before the conceited writer guy launched a second attempt at conversation.

“I just needed to grab my jacket,” I said, hoisting the lightweight denim from the seat and draping it over my shoulders. “Oh, and before I go, do you have something I can eat?”

“As the Boy Scouts say, always be prepared.” My dad picked up his travel bag and tossed a granola bar my way, still not removing his eyes from the movie. Well, at least they really seemed to like it.

“Thanks,” I called over my shoulder, already making a getaway. We’d already found the dining car, and it was probably too soon to go back if I wanted to avoid a second get-together with Rhonda. Perhaps I could find the viewing car and hang out there for a while.

We passed through the three cars between our seats and the dining car, then four more to find the empty glass-sided carriage with seats arranged down the center to face the giant walls of windows on both sides. Only the very top of the ceiling was covered in metal, providing a panoramic view as far as my eyes could see, just so long as I didn’t tilt my head up or down.

I set Octo-Cat’s carrier on the ground and opened the latch. He pranced right up to the giant window, his movements soft and swaying despite his hatred of that carrier. A gentle rain had begun to patter on the glass, surrounding us in a peaceful dream-like bubble.

“I wish Grizabella was here to see this,” he said with a longing I’d never heard from him before, not even when he spoke of his late owner, Ethel Fulton. The poor guy had it so, so bad.

“It is romantic,” I said, cuddling into my jacket and scooching around in my seat until I found the most comfortable position.

We both watched the rain for some time, and beyond that, the rolling hillside of whichever state we were steaming through now. Probably still Maine, or perhaps we’d made it to New Hampshire or even Massachusetts by now. I’d almost drifted to sleep when Octo-Cat hopped up onto the seat beside me and then climbed onto my lap, a rare move from him, indeed.

“Are you worried about meeting your family for the first time?” he asked as he padded my lap with his front paws to increase the comfiness before settling down to relax. He almost never asked how I was feeling. Normally he just told me—yes, told me how I was feeling. I decided not to point that out and just enjoy his concern. After all, I really did need someone to talk to about this.

“It’s weird,” I admitted, pensively stroking the fur at his neck. “I always thought I knew who I was and where I came from, and then suddenly it’s all wrong. And the weirdest part is that I never would have known if Pringle wasn’t such a sticky-fingered snoop.”

As much as the raccoon irritated me, I would forever have him to thank for finding and revealing the truth about my mother’s—and consequently, my—heritage.

Octo-Cat purred in a way that told me he could only be thinking of his new lady love. He still appeared to be paying at least some of his attention to me, too, so I asked, “What would you do if you were in my shoes?”

“Shoes?” He huffed at the suggestion. “You’re such a human.”

I couldn’t tell whether or not this was intended as an insult, so I kept mum. I was incredibly human, after all.

He stopped purring and crossed his forelegs in front of him. “It’s different for cats. It doesn’t really matter where you came from. Only that you turned out right.”

Such a simple thought, but a nice one. Sometimes I really liked his way of looking at things.

“Cats don’t see their families again after we’re taken away. I mean, I guess strays and alley cats might.” He stopped to shudder at the thought. “But what happened with Nan and your mom, that’s really normal for cats. We are born to our cat family but then taken away by our human family, and that’s where we stay.”

“So what are you saying?”

“Nan is your human, and she’s a good one. Things could have been much worse.”

He was right about that. Sometimes my cat was so smart, and other times he stared at the wall for no apparent reason. He was weird, all right, but luckily our weirds matched just perfectly.

And with that thought, I drifted off to the sound of his purrs.

Chapter Five

The continuous song of the rain and the unexpected bliss of kitty cuddles lulled me to sleep right where I sat. I dreamed I was Anne of Green Gables taking that first fated train ride that would deliver her to the Cuthberts. A nice dream, considering Anne was one of my all-time favorite heroines.

The lovely dream came to an abrupt end, however, when a horrible shriek rent the air and four sets of claws dug deep into my lap.

“Ouch, careful!” I cried, shooting to my feet so fast that Octo-Cat fell to the ground.

He immediately popped back to all four feet and stood with his tail drooping toward the ground and his neck stretching toward the roof. “It’s my Grizabella!” he said, his ears twitching like satellite receptors. “She is in trouble. We must go to her.”

The shriek shattered the night once more, and I realized then the scream was, in fact, feline and not human. That didn’t make it less frightening, but it probably meant that most other passengers would choose to ignore it.