J. H. Sked (2 page)

O
nce I'd filled the girls in, things started moving pretty fast. 

We decided that the safest thing would be to check our client into a little motel down the road. Although the action had stayed in the basement so far, none of us wanted to take the chance of it staying that way.

Susan went back inside to pack a bag. Ruth went with her, which neither Astrid nor I were crazy about, but we couldn't think of a good reason to stop her. If it was too dangerous for our partner, we had no business sending our client back in, and we knew it. Didn't mean we had to like it, though. 

We were back on the car, sitting quietly. One of the best things about Astrid – no unnecessary chatter. We've been friends for a long time. Neither of us feels the need to talk just to fill the air. 

"He sneezed on me, Astrid. Repeatedly." And not in a place I could easily clean, either. Oh, no. He'd managed to hit the back of my neck. At full volume.

"And if he'd done that to you, he'd have needed a body bag." I extended my hand, feeling the urge to flex my claws. 

"I wouldn't have climbed onto his lap to start with," she retorted primly. 

I felt my eyes narrow. At the time, Mike had no idea what any of us were, and we were trying to keep it that way. I was role-playing, okay? Besides, he’d been really good at scratching behind my ears, and I’d wanted more. Bad kitty. 

I was saved by answering when the front door popped open and Susan and Ruth came out. Thankfully, our zombie had only packed one bag. Granted, it came to her waist and was wider than me, but I've known women who couldn't go for an overnight stay without a matching set of luggage. 

I stayed on the car and sulked a bit longer over bringing Mike on board. On the bright side, it meant I wouldn't have to go into the house with him. Having your medium sneeze himself into a coma is generally a bad idea. And a human on-site meant that Astrid could be invited into the house. I stretched and climbed off the car, feeling a lot perkier.

Five 

W
e dropped Susan off at the motel and went back to the apartment we shared. 

Yes, the ghost has her own room. Ruth can manifest pretty much at will. Something about the three of us together means she can also become corporeal. She can’t eat or drink, and she doesn’t need to sleep, but she can interact with the living world. She told me once that the best thing about our little group meant being able to take a real bath for the first time in fifty years. 

Astrid called Mike Lin on her cell phone on the way over. He got his latest boyfriend to drop him off, although said boyfriend insisted on escorting him to the apartment door, and looked very relieved when Astrid answered. I know this since I was winding around her ankles at the time. 

I took a moment to wonder what the boyfriends reaction would have been if I’d answered the door in my human form. I doubted I’d have the chance to put the idea into practice; Mike doesn’t do needy or insecure very well, and he’d seen the look too.

"Maybe you should give the kid a break," Astrid said. "You're a good looking guy, Mike. Can't blame him for feeling nervous." 

Mike shook his head. "If he can't trust me, I'm not interested, dear. I have enough shit from my family, I don't need any more from my lovers." He shook his head and headed for the couch, dropping a casual hand on my head as he sat down. 

"You went through a series of fairly painful injections for the guy, but you're willing to boot him out for a moment of insecurity?" 

"It's only as complicated as you make it, Mike. I'll say one more thing and then butt out, before you tell me to. You deserve to be happy, Mike. Until you accept that, you'll keep finding reasons to end relationships." 

It took another coke and a good deal of explaining. Mike knew about ghosts, of course. And he knew Astrid was a vampire, which wasn't too hard for a medium to figure out. He didn't know about zombies. Or my little condition.

Mike stared down at it. "Billy the cat is also Billy the detective? As in the fairly large guy I met at your office a year ago?" 

I chirped helpfully, and thought about climbing into his lap again. If the stroker is not sneezing all over you, there is no better place for a cat.

"Billy," Astrid said patiently. "Can we try not to freak out the nice medium any further please?"

Since the nice medium had spent the previous twenty or so minutes fondling my ears and rubbing my belly, I wasn't sure that was possible. 

I had to give the guy credit for quick recovery though.

Mike reached out and tugged the end of my tail gently. "How does a guy who is at least six foot tall and possibly hits 180 on the scale end up as a house cat? I mean, he's a fairly large cat, Astrid, but still?" 

Ruth drifted through from her bedroom, but stayed in the doorway of the living room. She tended to stay away when Mike was over.

They made each other acutely uncomfortable, for some reason. "A better question, Mike, is how does a 25 pound house cat end up as a fairly large guy?" 

"Perfectly normally Main Coon cat," Ruth said. "Well, when I say normal, we've been sending her to a pet psychologist. She's been a bit stressed since Billy shifted the first time." 

As I slipped around the door jamb, I heard Mike whistle under his breath. "Man. I thought
my
mom had issues." 

Six 

M
om was waiting for me in my room. 

Maine Coons are intelligent, and can live into their twenties with care. Mom was pushing twenty-seven, and showed no sign of slowing down.

The girls had her fixed after I came on the scene - before my first shift.

Astrid was in the room when it happened. Apparently, she pretty much swallowed a lit cigarette when the cute, wobbly legged kitten fell off the couch, and a confused looking baby landed on it's ass on the living room floor, looked up at her, and giggled. 

I stayed in human form for nearly a week before the kitten re-appeared. By that stage, Astrid and Ruth had stocked up on diapers and baby formula, and Mom had made her first trip to the pet shrink. 

Twenty three years of tranquillisers is a long time, but it means that Mom can stay in the same room with me in human form without climbing to the nearest high point, and only has a break-down every couple of months, instead of weekly.

Take it from me, this is a good thing.

Don't get me wrong - she loves me, and I adore every part of her, from her tufted ears to the extra toes on her paws - but having a parent who shows signs of PTSD every time you enter the room is hard.

Apparently she was skittish all the way through her pregnancy, but was getting pretty much back to normal after she had me. Then I had my first shift, and pop goes the weasel.

Ruth thinks something happened with my father; that he did something to traumatize her during or just after they got together. I have my own theory on what that was, but don't like to think about it too much.

I do, however, sincerely hope I meet my father someday. Just for five minutes.

Anyway, I had a good four hours before my physical shift switch set in and I reverted back to human form. I jumped onto the bed, curled my tail around my nose, and let Mom fuss over me for a bit. 

Seven 

T
wo hours later, I was pacing outside the house again, Ruth beside me.

Astrid and Mike had been in the basement for nearly thirty minutes. I had no idea how either one was staying in there with the stench emanating from the house; even more acute since I was still in cat form. 

Finally, the front door opened, and my partner came out, supporting Mike. She kicked the door shut behind her and carried him down to the car. 

"Not sure," she said, tapping him gently on the cheek. "Nothing happened for a while, then he just stiffened up and collapsed." She looked up at Ruth. "Can you check him for passengers?"

Considering the attitude of whatever was in the basement, we didn't need it out in the world at large. Some spirits can hitch rides on a human host. I've never heard of one crazy enough to try it with a vamp, so we weren't worried about Astrid.

"You're not kidding there," Mike said. "Is there a reason you didn't tell me your zombie friend ate a serial killer?"

Eight

"H
e was a serial killer?" Susan's voice squawked out of the speaker phone. "No wonder I threw up afterwards."

We looked at each other. We were back at the flat, since Mike badly needed to eat something to ground himself, my shift was due to happen at any moment, and we urgently needed to speak to Susan.

"In the basement," she said. "I woke up and he was busy digging in the corner, and I was just so hungry.. everything blurred for a bit. And then I started to hurl, and I saw there were bits of him and - I threw up again. I couldn't stop."