The Catalyst

The Catalyst

Zoe Winters

*Digital Edition*

Copyright © 2012 Zoe Winters

all rights reserved.

Digital Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment
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If you would like to share this book with another person, please
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of this author.

Publisher's Note:

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters,
places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or
are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales,
or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Contact [email protected]

Acknowledgments

Thank you to the following people:

Robin Ludwig for cover art!

Natasha for her always-amazing copyedits.

Kimberly and Michelle for beta reading.

Michelle for the book trailer.

Tom. For being Tom.

For Elizabeth Anne
Mitchell

Author’s Note: Please
enjoy the free sample of Life Cycle (book 4 in the series) at the
end of this book.

Chapter One

Just have to make it to the mailbox. Everything
will be okay.
Fiona Patrone stared out the window at the lonely
box at the end of the driveway. Her house was surrounded by trees
in a heavily wooded area of Golatha Falls—so far out it was amazing
the mailman delivered. And yet it felt so open and unknown out
there. It was safer inside.

There probably isn’t any mail. Just check it
tomorrow. Nothing important. Not worth going out.
The thoughts
tunneled through her mind like vicious moles. If she didn’t venture
out, she’d be even more a prisoner of her own mind and fears. She
couldn’t remember the last time she’d gone past the mailbox. If she
got to the point where she couldn’t even get that far…

The birds outside screeched then, chattering
warnings, screaming the same awful things they screamed at her
every day.
If you go out there, something bad will happen.
She believed them. Birds had no reason to lie. They were excellent
seers, so much so, that for centuries people had read bird
entrails, not realizing you needed a live bird to get any knowledge
of value.

Something bad.

They could at least give her a little detail, some
clue as to what she should fear, but the threat remained the
same—vague and foreboding as ever.

Fiona had been able to understand the language of
animals before she could understand that of humans—a rare and
special gift for a witch to inherit. She’d gotten it from her
grandmother. Though she’d always seen it as a curse. If not for
those damned birds, she’d be outside living her life. Maybe she
would have found love, a job, something.

Well, she had a job on the Internet. Her money was
direct-deposited. She ordered her clothes online and had her
groceries delivered. Thanks to the web, agoraphobia had never been
so easy. At least from a logistics standpoint.

She took a slow, measured breath, her hand poised
over the doorknob.
You can do this. You can do this. You can do
this.
Fiona mentally repeated it like a subliminal message she
prayed would take hold. The doorknob clicked in her hand. She moved
through what felt like invisible molasses as she forced herself out
the door and into the throng of screeching, angry birds.

The wind had a new crispness. Almost Halloween. As a
witch, shouldn’t she be in her element right about now? But the
idea of ghosts and goblins and veils thinning served to make the
whole ordeal seem more dangerous.

Fifty-five steps.
She
counted them every day because counting them was the only way she
could make herself get there. It wasn’t far. She could run back
into her house if the birds were right.

The mailbox held nothing of interest: an electric
bill that could have waited until tomorrow. On her way back, step
twenty-four, she became aware of the eerie silence. The birds had
stopped their squawking, and a stillness blanketed the yard. She
would have run straight for the front door except for the plaintive
cry coming from the yard.

Ignore it. It’s not your concern,
she told
herself.
Thirty-five.
But the noise happened again. So sad,
scared. She’d want someone to help her if she were in distress. She
tucked the electric bill into the waistband of her jeans and
struggled through the wild growth of the front yard. She hadn’t
worked on the garden in five years, and it showed.

When she reached the side of the house, she found a
wolf pup with wide, brown eyes, crying. He was old enough that he
should have started learning the language of his kind, but he
hadn’t. There were no words to pick up and decipher. She could
still get emotions and basic information, especially if those
emotions were strong. In some circles, this made Fiona dangerous;
in others, it would make her a pawn of those who might want to
capitalize on such information.

The pup was lost, hungry, scared.

She didn’t sense a mother wolf nearby. Had he been
abandoned? Her mind screamed at her to leave him there. But he was
so hungry and pathetic. She couldn’t stop herself from scooping him
up and taking him in the house.

She sat him on the kitchen counter, and he stared
curiously at her, turning his little wolf head to the side. He was
reddish-brown and white, the cutest thing she’d seen in forever. At
least he seemed old enough to be weaned.

She cut some meat from a leftover roast and put it on
the counter. The pup’s tail wagged as he gobbled up the food. She
placed a bowl of water down, and he took care of that, too.

He stared at her from the top of the counter as if to
say
What next?
Oh wow, yeah. She hadn’t thought through that
part. If he was just lost, his mother would be coming soon. If he
was all alone, she couldn’t have a wolf in her house. Even
understanding what he needed, it was just insane. And probably
illegal.

He positioned himself on the edge of the counter,
shifting his weight from paw to paw, negotiating the drop to the
ground. His full concentration was on the jump. When he made it to
the linoleum, he looked up at her, all pleased with himself, and
she melted. So cute.

“Well, maybe you can stay for a little while until I
figure out what to do with you.” Those words had barely tumbled
past her lips when the window over the breakfast nook shattered,
and a large ball of black fur leaped into her kitchen.

It must be the mother.
But no. As her
confusion cleared, she saw it was a large, angry black panther.

Fiona edged back, afraid he’d pounce if she made any
sudden moves. What she wouldn’t give right now to have a few handy
incantations at the ready. For spells, she needed all the proper
tools: sage stick, herbs, candles, salt, etc. She could incant a
little if she was very focused, but now, with her heart pounding so
fast, wasn’t one of those times. Her own name was a blank—forget
coming up with a snappy protection chant.

She grabbed at stray pots and pans and emptied a
whole drawer of utensils as she threw everything she had at him. He
batted the objects away, prowling closer, his growl low and
menacing. Within seconds, he had her backed into a corner, claws
out, swiping at her.

She screamed and grabbed her bleeding arm. Her side
burned as well. All at once, her brain snapped into sharp focus.
She was going to die in a matter of seconds if she didn’t figure
something out right now.

He’d stopped clawing at her for a minute and was
growling, something about her taking the pup, wanting to hurt him,
people after him. Oh, wait. Wait! She felt the magic crackle around
the panther. Therian! That meant there was a person in there.
Somewhere.

She called on every reserve of courage she had to
form words. “I wasn’t trying to hurt him. He was lost and hungry. I
brought him in to feed him. That’s all. I’m not whoever you think I
am.”

The panther stared at her hard and growled again.

“Yes, I understand you.”

How is that possible?
He growled.

“Rare gift. I meant the pup no harm. I swear.” She
held her hands out defensively, hoping he believed her. An animal
attack wasn’t how she wanted to go out. Blood dripped in a steady
flow down her arm; her shirt was torn near her ribcage where more
blood was pooling. Oh God. That swipe alone could have killed
her.

Breathe, Fiona. He’s calm now. Everything will be
fine.
Thank God he was a therian and could understand her as
well as she understood him.

She still couldn’t figure out what a panther’s
concern with a wolf pup was. But really, all she wanted was to get
the both of them out of her house and call a window repairman. She
was trying to forget the bleeding part. She vowed she’d listen to
the birds next time.

So you can understand him?
The panther’s gaze
shifted to the pup who gingerly stepped around the broken glass,
sniffing things.

“Well, he doesn’t have language like you have yet,
but I know what he needs. My gift runs a little deeper than just
speech.”

He shifted—right in the middle of her kitchen. Her
eyes didn’t know where to go. Tanned, muscular legs. And… oh dear,
skip that, skip that! But her brain had already processed parts of
a man she’d never seen outside of television or the Internet, due
to her phobia. There weren’t a lot of opportunities to hook up with
men when you never left your house.

Farther up, were very nice abs and pecs—and those
arms. Oh boy. She swiped the back of the hand that wasn’t bleeding
across her face, afraid she might be drooling. She wanted to lick
him, but under the circumstances that seemed a little weird. Her
arm and side burned like fiery hell, but damn, he was pretty. So
sleek and lithe, just like what he shifted into.

When her gaze made it up to his face, a boyish smirk
graced his lips. There was a twinkle in his brown eyes. His dark
hair was longish, but somehow still masculine. Oh yes, there wasn’t
an unmanly bone in his body.

“So,” he drawled, moving closer by mere centimeters,
“should we just get it on now?”

Her mouth dropped open. He couldn’t have just said
that.

A strange look crossed his face. “Sorry. Wild animal
here. A little amped up. That was inappropriate.” He extended a
hand, attempting to move past the new awkwardness. “Let me look at
you.”

The pain in her arm and side flared fully to life as
she processed everything that had just happened in her kitchen.
When she didn’t respond to his request, he pulled her to him and
lifted her shirt to inspect her side.

He frowned. “Not as bad as it could have been.
Nothing major harmed.”

She was about to get angry and indignant about his
flippant attitude, but then his eyes met hers, warm and honest.

“I’m very sorry about your injuries. I was afraid for
the pup and sensed the magic on you. I thought you were one of the
ones who tried to take him. I’m all he’s got.”

The pup, as if sensing he was being talked about,
clomped through the debris to sit between them, his little wolf
gaze going back and forth.

Fiona looked back at the man standing in front of
her, so sincere and intense… and attractive, and then the
waterworks started.

“Oh, no, don’t cry,” he said, almost in a panic.

It wasn’t pain that had brought forth the tears; it
was the fact that
this
was what it took to get near a hot
guy for her: a near-death experience, and him breaking into her
kitchen: the idea that he was going to take the pup and go on his
merry way, and she’d have the memory of him emblazoned on her
brain, but that would be all. Her close brush with maleness. Inches
from her, but no dice.

It wasn’t that she wanted to take him up on his
carnal offer. He was a stranger. And, as he said, a wild animal.
And she wished he’d cover himself with something, because judging
from outward signs, he was all raring and ready to go. Like most
therians, he was unaffected by his own nudity or arousal. It was
something she wished humans shared in common with them, so she
wouldn’t feel so freaked out by his nearness… or so much longing
for something she wasn’t going to ever have since she couldn’t make
it past her own mailbox.

His smooth, deep voice interrupted her mental
hysteria. “Do you have bandages?”