Cat Scratch Fever; Blue-Collar Werewolves V (9 page)

The Leo had returned.

The great leonine head lifted, flashing a
full set of very sharp teeth, in deafening roar of outrage. The
dark mane flowed down, protecting his neck and shoulders. Sleek
tawny fur covered a muscular chest. With the tatters of his clothes
on the floor, only the gray tiger’s stripes covered The Leo torso
and upper arms. Leopard spots flowed down his arms and dinner plate
sized hands that ended in switchblade sharp claws. With a catch in
her breath, Naomi’s gaze traveled down, snagging briefly on
undeniable proof of his masculinity. The combination of cat and man
blended very well on Matthew Ridley.

She followed the spots down his powerful
tawny thighs to his feet, watching as he shook one to finish
removing the remains of his shoe. Claws just as sharp as the ones
on his hands, tipped his feet. A very lion tail swatted the brown
tuft against the floor like an angry snake as he regarded the
captive scientists.

“Kill them,” hissed a small green hairless
goblin that resembled a naked bug-eyed chimpanzee without the
muzzle. Naomi couldn’t tell if it was male or female. It was one of
the five non-lycanthropes released from one of the cages. It looked
up at a larger, hairy version of itself, a green and brown gorilla
without hair. The troll grunted, moving forward in unison with the
goblin. The scientists began to back up faced with the goblin, a
troll, and another distasteful looking fairy that she couldn’t
identify. Just like shape shifters, fairy-kind had its more
attractive combinations, and some that you wished nature had
decided to leave well enough alone.

“That’s not a good idea,” interjected the
wolven, stepping forward just a bit to intercept. “We need to
leave, not play.”

“Mind yous own, wolf,” snarled the goblin.
Using its long arms to propel it, the creature monkey hopped just
outside the wolven’s reach. “Yous had yous. Now times toos get
paybacks.”

The wolven crouched, growled, and raised a
deadly claw tipped hand. “Back off frog,” The quietly spoken words
sent another shiver down Naomi’s spine. She had no doubt the wolven
could kill them all. He was a lethal killing machine, just this
side of sane. Her fingers clenched in Matthew’s mane without
realizing it. Matthew stood up; with a twist and ripple of his
shoulders, he extricated himself from the cat’s protective
embrace.

* * * *

“
Brrran-.”
Matthew rolled the word
around on his tongue, trying again once he got his tongue to move
in the right combination. He wanted to stare at his dinner plate
sized hand/paws and the other changes in his body. Instead,
something urged him to pay attention. He felt responsible. He had
to get them out of here fast, before Faust showed back up with more
lackeys and bigger guns. They weren’t safe, not by a long shot.
“Brrraan-don.”

His werewolf brother-in-law looked up at
him. The partial Changes, like before, looked like a graceful
extension on him, not grotesque. For his part, Matthew felt large
and unwieldy. Plus he wanted to crash and sleep for about a week.
“Got to go.” He managed to get the words out around his muzzle of
teeth.

Brandon looked ready to make a sarcastic
comment, then his dark gaze tracked over the scientists, then the
goblin-kin, he nodded once. “Let’s go.” He walked past the
scientists, reaching out to jerk the tag from one of their coats.
The scientists, he surmised, would have to fend for themselves
against the angry monkey-things. A few shuffling steps behind
Brandon, he watched the werewolf slide the card through the
security panel.

Feeling the other cats’ stares, Matthew
turned his head, just a bit irritated that they weren’t on their
heels, just as ready to quit the place. The low vibrating call that
he emitted surprised him more than anyone else. Still, it prodded
his small band of cats to action.

The woman paused, concern creasing her
delicate features. The extremely short spiky haircut made her green
eyes appear large, lending to the air of innocence. Matthew
repeated the call, deepening the demand. They were his
responsibility, the hows and whys were unimportant. It just was. As
his brother-in-law, Brandon represented a certain level of trust.
Plus, he was the only one Matthew had seen in a fight. And they
needed to leave. Now.

“Time to leave, Lia,” Murmured a lithe,
black haired man.
Leopard
, supplied the subconscious
instincts and urges that Matthew struggled to keep in check.
“Something tells me, the goblin-kin will be in for one hell of a
surprise if they press the issue.” The ravaged looking blond man,
tiger,
rasped a laugh, as if it was something he’d like to
see. Matthew could not care less. The scientists weren’t being
forced to perform their work. They signed on knowing that if the
captives ever got free, the tables would be turned.

Brandon left the lab, pausing once to check
the white, industrial hallway for guards. He slipped out without a
backward glance. Matthew followed, his three charges crowding close
beside him. Opening the fire escape, they started up, when Matthew
balked. “We should go down.”

“There’s nothing down there,” argued the
woman called Lia. He wished his senses weren’t so damn fuzzy.
“Unless it’s more labs. We should go up and out.”

Brandon gave him a steady look. Silently
waiting for the reason behind Matthew’s words. “Generators,
plumbing, everything for the bottom two levels is down. It’s going
to tie into the city’s waste removal and electrical system.” The
cats didn’t get it, but Brandon did. Approval gleamed in his
brother-in-law’s eyes, though the emotion never crossed his
features.

“And know you this how?” asked one who
smelled like tiger. Skepticism turned his tone harsh as he glared
at Brandon’s back. The werewolf changed directions and started down
the stairs.

“I got a good look at the blueprints before
my boss tranqed me.” Matthew felt like he lumbered down the stairs.
How the heck did one change
back
into a human? He stared at
one huge hand that was more paw and claw than anything else. A flex
of a certain muscle group shot his claws out like switchblades. He
flipped the hand over, to look at the back side. It seemed
effortless when the others did it. He pushed back niggling fear
that he might not be able to change back and continued on.

“You actually work here?” disgust laced the
tiger’s question. Lia made a sound of disapproval.

Dealing with them helped to keep the
overriding instincts at bay. He concentrated on that and not
stumbling down the steps in a very uncatlike heap. Ramses would be
mortified if Matthew did that. He almost smiled at the thought.
Damn, he missed his snotty cat.

“
Worked
. Being tranqed and
experimented on didn’t come under my job description. I think OSHA
and maybe the ASPCA would have issues with locking people up and
experimenting on them,” he shot a glare at the tiger. “And turn
them into freaking big cats who want to go on safari in the middle
of Dallas.”

He had to stop for a moment to collect his
fraying composure. He really did want to run through the halls to
see what he could flush into running. That was one of the reasons
he wanted to go down instead of up. Fewer people to tempt him. The
feeling was horrible. Monstrous.

“Hang in there, Ridley. You’re holding
together damn good for a bitten in his first Change.” Brandon
stopped at a padlocked door at the bottom of the stairs. A twist of
his wrist and the lock snapped off. The door opened easily. “Most
bitten wolven have to be caged for the first seventy-two
hours.”

The bit of information did what it was
supposed to; it distracted from his internal struggle. He had
questions. Lots of them. “Wolven. Is that what werewolves call
themselves?” Out of apparent danger, the agitated need to run, to
be free itched like ants inside his tawny fur covered skin. The
scent of the others, the cats, hit him in a visceral punch.
Especially that of the female. If he wasn’t so concerned with the
other things he was feeling, he’d be damned embarrassed at his
body’s constant reaction to that scent. God, he wanted to envelope
himself in it. Roll in it. He jerked his thoughts away from that to
focus on Brandon’s explanation.

“Werewolves are killers, outlaws. Seriously,
though. My brother bit a Hunter six months ago. The bastard still
had to spend forty-eight hours in a cage.” Brandon waved them
through the door with a more than a hint of impatience when Matthew
stopped to think and get a grip on himself. The door clicked shut
with an echoing thud. Very final sounding. “And Hunters are souped
up big game hunting psychics. They keep going and going.”

“Like the battery rabbit, only not so pink
and cuddly.” Commented the leopard as they made their way down
another industrial hallway. “That bastard Carter is going to turn
on you guys one day. He needs to be put down. His loyalties aren’t
going to change just because he sprouts fur and howls.” This
hallway wasn’t prettied up with white. It was just gray concrete
block that wanted to press in on them.

“Shut up, Nathan.” Brandon’s eyes flashed
red. The sense of danger rose in a flash, making Matthew want to
insinuate himself between the two. The old warning about not
sticking your hand in a dog or cat fight held him back.

“You know each other,” Lia said, from
Matthew’s side. “You knew the scientist too.”

“Well yeah,” rejoined Nathan. “Name tags are
handy that way.”

“Don’t be a jerk,” she stopped and planted
herself, her gaze taking in them all. “I think it’s time for some
introductions and a little pertinent information. Like how a wolven
can disguise his scent and abilities enough to fool the psychics
into believing he is one of them? And how can one of ours belong to
their Pack? How did you show up here, in the same place?”

Brandon snorted and started walking again.
“None of your business. Be happy you’re free.” She turned her head,
questioning Nathan with raised eyebrows.

“I told you,” Nathan shrugged. His torn,
tattered clothes and dark looks made him and Brandon look a lot
alike. Except that Nathan was shorter. His dark gaze rested on
Matthew. “I came for Bastet’s chosen king. The cats’ true alpha.”
In their depths, Matthew glimpsed loyalty. Despite the woman’s
claim of Nathan being bound to the werewolves, wolven. He felt it,
too. True loyalty. Not anything his father had ever exhibited. It
made him uncomfortable.

“The Leo,” interrupted the weretiger.

“Matthew,” corrected Matthew, closing his
eyes against the urge to use the well of power that bubbled inside
him. It was hard, but he’d had a lifetime of denying his mother’s
heritage. He had the distinct feeling he was missing something
pretty important here about the cat people. A lot of somethings
that he might catch onto if he could just make sense of his wildly
churning emotions and senses. “My name is Matthew Ridley.”

The industrial hallway ended at another
padlocked door that held back the electrical humming of large
machinery. Brandon took care of the lock with a twist of his wrist,
tossing it into an inconspicuous corner.

The pressure of the woman’s fingers on
Matthew’s arm increased. He looked down, catching a glimpse of a
soft emotion as it left her face. “I am Naomi.”

“I thought your name was Lia,” Matthew’s
confusion lowered his voice into a growly sound. The others didn’t
seem to notice the difference. Maybe they were used to it? Hell, he
didn’t know. A year ago, he only thought his weirdness was a rare
genetic thing he got from his mother. He never imagined that his
brother-in-law was a werewolf— No, a
wolven
. Or that he’d be
turned into a cat person. And from the looks of it, he couldn’t
even do that right. He was some fucked up multiple cat-person.
Naomi’s eyes widened in surprise while the guys just stared. It
took him a second to realize he’d actually said the words out
loud.

Naomi patted his arm. “Each of the cat types
is called a clan.
Leo and Lia
are the very polite addresses
for the lion.” She paused, obviously leaving out a part of the
explanation that might upset him. “
Tigre
and
Tyree
are the polite for the tiger families. None of the other cats
remember or adhere to old titles. Usually, shape shifters call one
another by species. And you’re not f’d up.” A happy sort of glowy
hope shone from her eyes, reflected in those of the other two cats.
“You’re just as you should be.”

“What about leopards?” Matthew asked “What
do you call yourselves?”

The leopard’s half-smile made him think for
a moment that he wouldn’t get a straight answer, but the dark
haired man surprised him. “Like our lovely Lia said, panther or
leopard is fine. Panthers and the rest of the leopard families have
two main objectives in life. Beyond that, we aren’t much for
titles. There’s no point when you have no real society.” He touched
two fingers to his forehead in a mock salute that felt all too
real. As did the words that followed. “Nathan Parda, at your
service, my Leo.”

Matthew looked at the tiger. “Morrow,” the
man answered with a nod that once again felt more important than it
should. Matthew told himself to get a grip. He wasn’t any more
special than he was before. If he wasn’t careful, then pretty soon,
he’d be having his father’s delusions of grandeur. He didn’t want
to be anything like Richard Ridley, not anymore. He slumped against
a concrete wall, welcoming the presence of Naomi, Nathan, and
Morrow as a living counterpoint for the closed-in space, the
electrical hum, and the thump-thump of machinery.

“Hey.” Brandon’s familiar voice brought
Matthew from the stupor he’d fallen into. He frowned, wondering
when he’d sat down and how long he’d been out of it, cuddled
between Naomi and Morrow. Nathan seemed at the ready, leaning
against the free space between a grouping of pipes in varying
diameter running ceiling to floor. Matthew could hear the liquid
rushing through them as Brandon crouched in front of him. As usual,
the wolven’s expression was unreadable. He was still figuring out
the scent, thing but that was obscure too. All Matthew could
discern was Brandon’s calm.