from Of Cats and Cars, a short story from Of Claws and Fangs by Faith Hunter
Of Cats and Cars
A Story of Beast and Cows with Trees on Heads
This short story, originally written from Edmund’s point of view, was first published on my blog in 2019 (for 30 hours), and as a serialized blog tour event. It has been rewritten and extended (with more of Beast’s point of view). It still fits nowhere in the existing Jane Yellowrock timeline. For the sake of argument, I am cramming it into a three-day period just after the end of the Sangre Duello between Leo Pellissier and Titus, the Emperor of the EU, and the end of Dark Queen. Also, after the short “Life’s a Bitch and Then You Die.” The timeline isn’t perfect. I know that. But it is a fun story. Enjoy!
Edmund
“No. Absolutely not. I forbid it.”
“But—”
“There is no way beneath heaven’s sun that I will allow that . . . that . . . cat creature to hunt from my car. The seats are original. The carpet is original. It has never been off road and it never will.” His voice rose. “She is in pristine cond—”
“That cat creature is your queen,” Eli said, his tone cutting into the beginnings of an excellent tirade and still managing to sound laconic.
Edmund Sebastian Hartley shut his mouth. There were times when being the titular Emperor of all of Europe and the defacto (though not titular) Master of the City of New Orleans meant nothing, most often when dealing with Jane Yellowrock or her heirs and business partners, Eli and Alex Younger. He had already made arrangements to ship his prized Maserati to France, where he would join Grégoire, Blood Master of Clan Arceneaux (and assorted French titles, properties, and cities) in his campaign to seize all of Europe for the Emperor of Europe—himself—and the Dark Queen of Mithrans—Jane.
The goal was to conquer the unruly, warring Blood Masters, claim their fealty, gain control over their hunting territories, and bring peace to the blood-families that had been left in limbo when Jane Yellowrock killed Titus, the former Emperor of Europe. Thanks to her, Edmund was now that titular, if moderately unwilling, Emperor. It was an empty title until he conquered the land and killed his enemies.
However, walking away from war wasn’t an option, now that the European Mithrans and Naturaleza were hunting and killing humans. He could not abdicate. Leo Pellissier had made clear what the ramifications of such an abdication would mean politically and in regard to world unrest. Therefore, Ed would fight. And he would win.
Ed frowned at the puma lounging in the kitchen, her eyes on the three men gathered in the living room. She yawned, showing off her fangs, and flicked her ear tabs at him. She was a magnificent creature, lean and muscular, and he had it on good authority that those curved and serrated fangs could tear the head from a powerful blood-servant or even a vampire. Apparently, there was photographic proof.
Ed didn’t know what was going on with Jane, but she hadn’t been herself since Leo had been defeated. When in human shape, she was pale and withdrawn, grieving as all of them were, but there was something more, something that had sent her into Puma concolor form for the last two days. Normally when in mountain lion form, Jane was present. She acknowledged comments, answered questions, participated in discussion as best as the cat form allowed. At such times she called herself Beast. But not now. Two days past, she had texted him with the request to take her Beast hunting for a cow, in his car.
For a cow. In his car.
He had refused. He still was refusing. Not. In. His. Maserati.
Except that the cat creature—sans Jane—was following him around, watching him, often vocalizing loudly with clicks and whistles and mewls, like a kitten begging for milk. This dusk, he had waked from his daily sleep to find her lying on his chest, her fangs inches from his eyes, breathing cat-breath upon him. That raw-blood-and-meat stink had been the scent of his first breath of the night. Her fangs had been his first sight. Had he been alive, he would have expired on the spot. Ed had no idea how she had opened the sealed door to his newly renovated, windowless, attic sanctuary or, more likely, who had let her in, but there it was. And because Jane, in whatever form, was his Dark Queen, his hands were bound to her in fealty. Her desires were his command. Blast and damn.
He dropped to the leather couch, leaned at an angle to the couch back and arm, and propped his chin on his fist, staring hard to his left at the cat in the kitchen. This is all utterly unacceptable.
The cat rose, all killing grace and muscle, and walked to him, her very long tail moving slightly. When she was ten feet away, she leaped, landing beside him. Despite his centuries as a human-hunting vampire, he flinched.
Eli chuckled.
The cat dropped to the sofa cushion, her head fell into his lap, and she started to purr. He had a ridiculous urge to scratch her ears. She batted her eyes at him, for all the world as if she were flirting. He had no idea that mountain lions had such long eyelashes. Or perhaps only Jane’s cat had them. Her golden eyes wore the loving expression of a cat who wanted something and wasn’t above emotional manipulation to get it. There was no sign of Jane in the cat’s eyes at all, and he wondered for a moment where Jane went when she disappeared and her cat roamed free.
The cat rubbed her jaw on his bespoke suit pants, scent-marking him and leaving behind cat hair. His tailor would be appalled. There would be no getting out the musky scent. “Stop that,” he demanded. The cat rolled over and stared at him from upside down, her belly exposed. “No. I am not scratching your belly and you are not hunting in my car.”
The cat mewled and began to purr, the vibration gently shaking the couch.
Read the rest in Of Claws and Fangs by Faith Hunter to see what happens from here—and spoiler: it’s ridiculous and fun.
My thanks to Let’s Talk! Promotions for the invitation to participate in this tour and the materials (including the book via NetGalley and Berkley Publishing Group) they provided.
Announcing 20 Books of Summer ’22—phew…I already have 2 draft-lists for this. Glad Cathy’s doing this again, I’ve enjoyed it.
Grab a book, any book.
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