Cat Scratch Fever; Blue-Collar Werewolves V (33 page)

The story sounded incredulous to his own
ears, but the customer service rep was happy enough to help once he
supplied his social security number, his pass code, address, phone
number, shoe and underwear size.

He looked up at the plate of sandwiches
dropped on his makeshift work area made from a couple of TV trays.
Nathan tossed him a soda. “You coming out anytime soon? Or are you
going to brood all day?” Matthew looked at the clock. Three
o’clock. Ouch.

“I’m getting my life back in order.” He took
a bite of sandwich and a hit of the soda. He’d stopped drinking the
coffee once it’d gone cold and used the excuse of work to avoid
talking to anyone, especially Nathan, who was proving as intuitive
as he was helpful to Bastet’s overall plan.

“You need to get out.” The panther was also
a pain in the ass. Matthew met the suggestion with a grunt and a
glare. Nathan’s face split into a grin as he pushed off his knees
into a standing position. “Well, too bad Leo. ‘Cause you have your
first real meet with one of your peers in about an hour.” Matthew
just about choked. He slugged down soda and waved at Nathan to
explain. “Jared Morgan, the fairy local leader, wants to meet you
for bar-b-que at The Pulled Pig. It’s neutral ground.”

“I was going to make contact myself.” He
wasn’t ready for this. He still had to lay the ground work. Find
out more about the others. At the very least, he needed to be able
to take care of his own needs.

“Morgan’s a fairy, not Galaxar the E.T. He
did all the contacting.” Nathan’s flash of smile wasn’t as cheery
as attempted. “Besides The Pulled Pig makes first class
bar-b-que.”

“Tell me about him.” Matthew could only
stomach one sandwich. Setting the plate aside, he tried not to let
his mind wander back to the argument with Naomi. It didn’t matter
if she trusted him or not. Time would prove whether he was decent
management material for the cats. “What role does he play?”

“Morgan keeps to himself, but likes to stick
his toes in everyone’s pool.” Brandon strolled into the room, his
supernatural hearing having picked up the question. His greenish
brown eyes assessed every nuance of the room for potential danger.
“He has loyal subjects in the police department, sheriff’s
department, the city council, and any other branch of local
government.”

“That’s handy.” Matthew shuffled his
paperwork together, and looking around the room, decided that in
lieu of a desk and filing cabinet, his top dresser drawer would
have to do. He neatly moved aside clothing to make room for his
notes, then closed the drawer. “So this Morgan is a politician of
sorts.”

Brandon snorted. “No. He’s a feudal lord,
with connections and enough magic to level a major city.”

Matthew paused, not knowing how to digest
the information. How did one dress and act with a fairy lord? “Then
why is he asking to meet with me?” Was he being viewed as a
contender for territory? Already, Matthew felt defensive of the
small house and land that felt like home, more so than his house in
Dallas ever had.

“Because he likes the food?” Nathan’s joke
fell flat. Seriously flat.

“Probably because he’s allies with Adam and
he wants to check out what he might be up against.” Brandon’s words
evoked a mental collage of every fantasy and horror werewolf movie
he’d ever seen. Wizards and bow toting elves leveling the
countryside while werewolves ripped his small encampment of
refugees apart. His whole world had been broadened in ways that
he’d never imagined and what was still unknown was more than a
little unnerving. The movie generated images chasing through his
mind brought a little shiver along Matthew’s skin. What was he
supposed to do?

“Order the potato salad,” Nathan answered
the question he’d unknowingly voiced. “Cole slaw at The Pulled Pig
is kind of watery.

Outside, Matthew paused. Was it possible
that there were more people than yesterday? There had to be more
than a hundred people, some scattered, and others in family units.
All paused to take note of the Leo. Being watched so closely was
unnerving; he had to lock down the sensory overload from those he’d
developed connection with.

A small girl dressed in pink overalls,
hauling a large furred and bonneted creature on her shoulder,
hurried over to stop directly in front of Brandon. Enchanting,
Jolie, sent a beam of sunshine his way as she alternately jiggled
and patted her burden. “Hello Uncle Mattchew. Daddy.” she smiled at
them both. “Do you like my baby, Ramses?”

“Hello yourself, Jolie.” He fought to keep
the laughter out of his voice for the cat’s sake. Ramses ignored
them all. “You might want to be careful though. Cats aren’t known
for their patience.”

Jolie tipped up her impudent nose. “My baby
likes his pretty hat.” She shifted the cat so that she could rub
noses with him, then kissed Ramses on his nose. “Don’t you?” The
cat made a strangled sound that she took as an affirmative and
flashed a gorgeous smile back at her father. “See?”

Turning her attention back to her ‘baby’,
Jolie shifted him back to her shoulder and scanned the area with a
little frown wrinkling her forehead. “Well, bye Daddy, Uncle
Mattchew. I hafta find my baby’s daddy. He ran away again.” A rich
aroma wafted on the wind, smelling of a psychic using her gifts.
Several steps away Jolie stopped and turned back. “Oh, yes. You
hafta be careful of tigers so you can watch my movie with me.”
Jolie made a ninety degree turn. She pointed a small finger at a
thin boy carefully skulking around the back of a short RV. Matthew
had to admit, the kid was good. He hadn’t seen him. “Tie! Don’t you
dare sneak away. It’s your turn to hold the baby.”

The boy froze, his mouth agape. Noting that
the kid seemed to be wearing the same clothes as yesterday, with
the same dirt smudges as before, Matthew made a mental note to
check on the boy’s mother. Too late to run, Tie accepted his fate
and walked beside the little girl, his thin frame towering over
her. After a moment of thought, she accepted his refusal to take
the growling cat from her. Matthew met Brandon’s proud gaze with
amusement.

“Wow. She certainly knows what she wants and
goes after it.” Matthew laughed.

“Yes, she does.” Brandon’s pride was very
evident, though his expression sobered. “She and the boys enjoyed
meeting the kits today.” Or in Jolie’s case, terrorizing them into
obedience. His niece would grow into a woman of rare and powerful
talent, nurtured by people who would encourage her development.

Matthew nodded, feeling a combination of
triumph and concern that Brandon would choose to bring his family
here. It was a statement to the wolven Pack that Brandon picked the
cats over them. He didn’t know or understand what Brandon’s
relationship with Adam, Diana, and the rest of the Pack was, or
even the reason for Brandon’s decision, but if Mack the tank of a
wolven from last night was any indication, they missed their
missing Pack members. He’d meant what he said about Brandon not
burning his bridges, but the selfish part of him was happy that
he’d brought Karen and the kids to this side instead of going back
to the wolven.

“You know, we don’t always have to take your
truck.” Nathan glanced at a far more economical car. Personally,
Matthew had some ideas of trading his car in for a truck sort of
like the big monstrosity that Brandon liked to tool around in, but
kept his opinion to himself.

“In that sardine can?” Brandon snorted and
pulled out his keys. When the panther would have balked, Matthew
dropped his arm over his shoulder and steered him toward the
truck.

“Come on. You can tell me about who you
think will be good security for Naomi instead of driving.”

“Don’t worry about that. She’s covered.” As
one, their steps slowed as the buzzing agitation from this morning
increased in Matthew’s head. A hulking male stepped into their
path. Longish ragged dark blond hair, in desperate need of a cut
fell around the hard planes of the werelion’s face. An over-wide
nose and dusky skin hinted at a mixed heritage that gave the
impression of a lion even in his human form. More about him clicked
into place for Matthew while he studied the situation from between
Brandon and Nathan. His bodyguards closed ranks for his
protection.

The werelion was the source of Matthew’s
agitation. The male’s anger and frustration buzzed at Matthew. Two
younger males hovered nearby; their loyalty to the lion evident by
both their feelings and the way they kept glancing to the more
experienced guy for direction. They reminded him of the nomad lions
from TV nature shows. Sometimes the prideless males, especially the
younger ones, banded together for survival. Were-people were
turning out to be a fascinating mix of human and their animal
counterparts.

Matthew focused on the leader. He thought
about a more friendly approach and crossed his arms over his chest
to wait instead. Less than a minute into the standoff, the werelion
didn’t disappoint. “So you’re the one who thinks he’s the Leo,”
sneered the lion. On either side of Matthew, Brandon and Nathan
tensed imperceptivity at the slight. To the clans, they appeared
calm and alert.

“I am Matthew Ridley.” Despite the lion’s
hulking appearance, he didn’t look quite healthy to Matthew’s eye.
There was a slight sag of tiredness to the lion’s posture. A
rimming of red in his creased and tense eyes. “It looks like you’ve
been on the road for a while. You can get a meal in and a shower at
the house. Accommodations are still in the camp-out stage.”

“We don’t need your charity.” The lion’s lip
curled distastefully around the last word. “The clans are free. We
scrape and bow to no one.” His gaze raked over Matthew. “Least of
all a pencil-pushing lab mistake.”

Matthew’s small rumbling growl made him
reach out with a gentle psychic touch to the panther. Nathan
immediately stopped. Matthew could feel him waiting, however
impatiently for his Leo to get on with things. He felt Brandon
constantly assessing the situation, confident in his ability
eliminate his enemies while defending Matthew.

“Survival is never a mistake.” With a shrug,
Matthew turned his attention to the younger ones, effectively
dismissing their leader as he approached worse off of the two
leaning against the truck’s shiny chrome cattle guard. He reached
out a hand to the young werelion that couldn’t be more than
nineteen. “Hey. Come on. We’ll get you a hot meal and a place to
rest.” Not to mention, Matthew would look into the reason behind
the kid’s sickly, underweight appearance. Damn it. The clans
weren’t free nomads. They were abandoned and homeless. Closer to
street people than the popular romantic ideal of gypsies.

“Nooo!” The massive werelion roared and
charged. Beside him the young werelion cringed. In the split second
it took for Brandon and Nathan to block the lion’s lunge, Matthew
Changed. Power and magic flowed through Matthew’s veins. The
werelion lunged against the hands gripping him, then stopped,
staring as the Change bulked up Matthew’s body. His shirt seams
gave up under the pressure, swept from his tiger striped chest by a
spotted plate sized claw. Jeans and shoes met the same fate.

He embraced the pleasure-pain of the magic
reshaping his body, leaning into the push of jaw and nose. The
explosion of teeth in his mouth. Hair flowed down his head covering
his shoulders in a dark mantle. He revealed the Leo to his people
in a gasp of awe.

The werelion’s mouth dropped in disbelief.
Matthew indicated for his men to let him go. After only a tiny
hesitation they did, taking one step back. Matthew motioned once
more with his hand, very aware of their disapproval even as they
moved further away as he approached. “How about this,” Matthew
crossed his arms again and controlled his aggravation; he wanted to
tear this fool apart. Only the twitch of his tufted tail slapping
the ground gave an indication of his mood.

The werelion’s eyes focused on that bit of
movement, then back at Matthew when he spoke again. He enunciated
with care, the shape of his muzzle and the sharp teeth were
becoming more familiar with each Change. “I’ll give you the chance
right now to prove what you believe I am or not.” When the werelion
just stood there, Matthew tilted his head and flicked his black
tipped ears in annoyance. “What? No takers?” he shook his head as
if disgusted and turned back to the younger werelion.

In that moment, Matthew felt his opponent’s
intent as well as his own. Sidestepping the open armed tackle, he
shoved the werelion out of the path of the younger weaker lion and
moved into the space between them. The werelion rolled to his feet,
his body finishing up the Change into his half man-half lion
form.

In the wild, lions charged and grappled when
they fought. Each biting, trying to penetrate the thick protective
manes and clawing to cause maximum damage. Going with an
almost-remembered instinct, Matthew brought his clawed foot up and
kicked, sidestepping again out of the way.

The werelion rolled to his feet again,
snarling, his brown lip curling, showing sharp loin’s teeth
designed for ripping and tearing. The werelion charged again,
aiming his approach more to the right.

Matthew listened to his body and waited,
dropping one knee and thrusting his shoulder under his opponent. He
rose, flipping the werelion behind him. Matthew twisted, his spine
as flexible as any cat’s. His long, sharp claw buried into the
werelion’s mane as he hit the ground and pinned the lion on his
back. Matthew leaned in, accepting the bite of the others claws in
his flesh as he went nose to nose. He found and pressed lethal
claws against the lion’s jugular. “This ends now.” His voice was
gravel over water. The horror the man in him would have felt at his
willingness to kill was pressed into the void where survival
reigned supreme. “Yield or die. Your choice.”