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The Cat King was observing from a distance the duo of detectives and their impromptu assistants talking to the policewoman that had just arrived at the Lighthouse location.
Going on a hike so early in the morning hadn’t exactly been on his bingo card for the day, but he had been feeling a little restless since his stealthy spies reported back to him a few days before, sharing all but pleasant news.
Sounded like Edwin was collecting quite the little roster of admirers. Not that the Cat King could ever feel threatened by a crow with angel eyes and an overzealous passion for astrology. Such bullshit. No, the fact that Edwin had been spending a lot of time with that feathered Pinocchio had nothing to do with him being here now; he was just bored, that’s all. Besides, he would be an idiot if he didn’t take advantage of the stuffy ghost’s presence in Port Townsend while it lasted, if only the latter weren’t always so focused on his job.
He licked fastidiously his paw as he waited for his chance to go talk to Edwin. He had considered telling him about his new bird friend’s true identity, but he was fairly sure the young detective would soon figure it out on his own. And if that didn’t happen, well, nothing stopped him from intervening and setting things right. But that could wait. He was just in the mood for an amiable chat, a quick update.
The Cat King watched as the lady from the gift shop approached the group and the policewoman walked away; the former invited the girls in for a cup of tea, to which offer the girl he had previously met once in his den – Crystal, was it? – politely refused, while the blond one accepted with a keen smile.
He heard Edwin praise the girl, Niko, for taking the initiative and he suddenly felt something stirring inside him. Maybe it was the pleased smile and impressed tone with which Edwin addressed the girl, maybe it was just his patience reaching its limit; whatever the reason, he promptly jumped out from his hiding place behind a bush and marched straight towards the trio, snarling loudly as his retractable claws scratched vindictively at Edwin’s shin to get his attention.
The ghost erupted in a surprised gasp, “Blast it!” He immediately brought two fingers at his right temple, closing his eyes. “One hundred and forty-two,” he counted out loud.
The Cat King spun around once, then ran away meowing with his tail straight up. Once out of sight, he stopped, hearing Edwin making up an excuse to temporarily get away from the other two. With a complacent meow, knowing the other was now following, he reprised his run, heading towards a more secluded area by the cliff.
He entered the circular low rock wall that delimited one of the viewpoints over the coast and mountains ahead, his tail catching the transverse light seeping under the grey clouds covering the sky, the orange of his fur glowing even brighter for a second. Edwin was right behind him.
The Cat King transformed back into his human form, sprawled on his side on the cold stones that made up the wall, one leg comfortably bent at the knee. Edwin climbed up the last couple of steps, then stood there like an exclamation point, his profile partially bathed in the warm light.
“A note would suffice,” he said coldly, “The cat scratch was unnecessary.”
“Well, in my experience, uptight boys like a little bit of rough play,” replied the Cat King almost immediately after, giving a slight shrug with his shoulder.
“Right,” commented Edwin, unimpressed and a little confused, but mostly eager to change the topic. “There are 142 cats,” he stated with a self-assured lilt in his voice, only to be quickly shut down by the Cat King’s retort.
“There are absolutely not 142 cats,” said the latter, playing absentmindedly with the lining of his fur coat. The Cat King could’ve patted himself on the back for the way he recovered from Edwin’s statement, his tone sounding condescending enough to spur a flare of irritation from the other.
Edwin huffed. “It is an impossible task,” he said taking a couple of steps forward, clearly exasperated. “How on earth does this make you happy?”
“Because it gives me more time with you,” replied the Cat King, blinking innocently.
The look of utter bewilderment that took over Edwin’s features made his insides churn with pleasure. Clearly the ghost wasn’t expecting such retort.
“Hmm. Cat got your tongue?” asked the Cat King with a cheshire grin. Maybe he was enjoying himself a little too much. On second thoughts, he had probably been a bit too sincere with Edwin just now.
He quickly resorted to his usual playful approach, shifting the tone of the conversation. “Now I get it. I might be too mature for you, but I’m not a daddy type,” he pointed out, not missing the confused crease forming between Edwin’s eyebrows. “Although I am hundreds of years older than you. I know it can be intimidating, but aren’t I fun?” He rested one hand on his knee, smiling temptingly at the other.
“Not in the slightest,” replied Edwin dryly, “it’s just old.”
“Ouch.” The other’s comeback barely stroked the Cat King’s ego. He was actually quite pleased with Edwin. “Well, with age comes experience. I can really be…” his voice almost sounded like a purr as he stood up, “…anything you like.” He took a step forward. “How about…this?” He disappeared in a burst of purple flames, only to reappear a second later in the form of Monty. “He is fun!” he stated with an amused grin. “You like role play? Maybe something like this.” He transformed once again, this time taking the appearance of Edwin’s so loyal partner, Charles.
He slowly walked over to where Edwin was standing with his mouth agape, petrified with barely concealed shock. The Cat King couldn’t help but smirk as he unhurriedly slid his gloved palm up Edwin’s chest, justifying his motion by then adjusting the other’s bowtie. He was smiling seductively at Edwin, who stalked entranced his gesture until his gaze eventually fixed into the Cat King’s amber eyes.
Realization made Edwin’s own eyes sparkle as he snapped out of his trance. “Stop it!” he said taking a decisive step back. “If you’re not going to take this off,” he continued, holding up his right wrist, still adorned with the enchanted bracelet, “then I need to get back to my investigation.”
It both thrilled and unnerved the Cat King that he could elicit such a visceral reaction from Edwin only by taking on the ill-fitting shape of his friend. He reluctantly morphed back into his old self.
“Why do these cases of complete strangers matter to you so much?” he asked diverting his attention from the stinging feeling in his chest to Edwin’s own irritation.
“Not that you would understand,” replied the young detective, “but I help ghosts whose cases would go unsolved. I right wrongs.”
The Cat King had no doubt Edwin believed what he said. Still, it wasn’t enough to make it true. At least not completely. “Oh, wow. That is beautiful. Did your publicist help you write that? It was pretty good,” he replied sarcastically.
Edwin didn’t reply.
“No, that’s not it,” said the cat King, shaking imperceptibly his head. “I mean, besides being a Boy Scout…” he stepped down from the raised stones, getting even closer as he adjusted Edwin’s lapel, “…there’s something else,” they were now intently gazing at one another, “behind those emerald eyes,” concluded the Cat King. He lifted a hand and brushed his index over Edwin’s lips, his commanding words bolstered by the power of a truth spell, “Tell me.”
“I’m…” Edwin hesitated for a moment, fighting to resist the effect of the magic that now marked his lips, but to no avail. “I’m also doing as much good as I can so that eventually if I have to go back to Hell, I can make my case for leniency,” he said all in one breath.
The Cat King nodded. He knew there was something else to it. Despite how hard Edwin tried to hide it from the others and probably most of all himself, there was still a part of him that deep down acted upon his own self-interest. It was only natural. Actually, the unnatural thing would be constantly attempting to suppress that side of himself, thought the Cat King.
He removed the spell, tracing his finger back up Edwin’s lips. “Now, doesn’t the truth feel better?” he whispered knowingly.
Edwin’s hand shot up to his own mouth, his expression astonished, unwilling to believe the words that had just escaped him.
The Cat King nodded encouragingly. “You never, ever, ever have to pretend with me.” He leaned in until their faces were just a couple of inches apart. “I like your secret parts.” His voice was a warm whisper, his eyes never leaving Edwin’s, which on the other hand lingered way too long on the Cat King’s lips to then presume to feign a complete disinterest on his part.
When their eyes met, Edwin retreated again, this time even more vehemently. “I’m ashamed,” he admitted, looking down for a second.
For a moment the Cat King wasn’t sure whether Edwin was still talking about the reason behind his hardworking disposition or maybe something else. Something that the latter wasn’t willing to admit just yet…
“It’s selfish,” continued Edwin, pulling the Cat King out of his fantasies. “Now, unless you have more damnable spells, I should go. I have a case to solve.” He turned around and made for a quick, dignified escape towards the stone steps.
The Cat King dropped his gaze to the ground, not at all surprised by Edwin’s sudden retreat.
“Happy case solving,” he wished him with anything but an enthusiastic tone, his hands clasped in front of himself. “Oh, and, uhm, Edwin?” he suddenly called the other back after a few seconds. He wasn’t going to let Edwin dismiss him so easily.
Edwin turned around, his countenance visibly more under control than before, waiting for the other to speak.
“Don’t forget to count the cats,” said the cat King in an almost solemn tone, “You were way off. I mean miles off.” A little misdirection wouldn’t hurt after all. “A hundred and forty-two? I mean, come on…” he chuckled amused, quite satisfied with his acting skills.
Edwin dropped his head for a second, defeated, then walked away down the stairs.
As soon as Edwin was gone, the Cat King materialized back to the warehouse at the docks. He strode across the throne hall as one of his cats greeted him cheerfully.
“Boss! You’re back early!”
Upon seeing the look on the Cat King’s face though, the grey British shorthair that had just spoken immediately retreated, sensing an impending dressing-down on the way.
“I want to know,” the Cat King’s voice resonated across the vaulted warehouse, “how the fuck did he manage to count you all so quickly! And I swear, if I hear a single one of you mention a fucking sardine...” he trailed off, trying to rein in his temper.
A tabby munchkin stepped forward from a corner. “Ya see, Boss, you told us to keep an eye on him so we kinda took turns doing that. Especially since two of us were ambushed by that nasty witch…”
“She threatened to call animal control on us!” complained a cat at the back of the group.
“Sorry, Boss. We just did what you told us to do,” intervened apologetically another cat.
The Cat King took a deep, not so calming breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You know what, you’re right. This was my fault. I obviously put too much on your plate. My mistake.”
The munchkin exchanged a guilty look with an American bobtail.
“May I at least know who are the five fucking champions that managed to go unnoticed, please?”
Five very hesitant cats stepped forwards from the clowder, forming a small group in front of the Cat King, swaying their tails. There were a couple of black cats, a blue-eyed Siamese, a kitty ragdoll and a sphynx.
“You’re telling me Nudo wasn’t sniffed out?” the Cat King pointed towards the sphynx cat, his face scrunched in an expression of utter disbelief, “Are you fucking kidding me?” he scoffed, blinking repeatedly.
An embarrassed buzz spread across the hall, cats suddenly exchanging accusatory looks at each other or staring intently at the floor or the run-down ceiling, some meowing to clear their throat.
The Cat King shook his head. “Never mind,” he shushed them waving a hand dismissively. “Twins, Demeter, Marie and Nudo,” he addressed the five cats at his feet, “I want you to avoid that ghost as if he were the walking reincarnation of all dogs that ever existed. He pops out on this side of town, you’re immediately on the opposite one, clear?” He pointed his finger at each one of them as he explained in a solemn voice. “No more fuck ups, okay?”
“Yessir!” meowed in unison the five cats.
“Awesome. Now off you go. I’m this close to having a migraine attack right now…” he wiped a hand over his face, exhaling loudly.
The cats scattered around the room, most of them exiting the building to go hunting for mice or more likely plundering the fruits of the nearby fishermen’s endeavor.
“Shit…” muttered the Cat King, retreating to his own room.
He dropped face down on the bed, grunting in annoyance at how the situation had turned around. Maybe he had underestimated Edwin. He had given him a second option out of mercy, but had also made it an almost impossible task out of self-interest, like any respectable cat. He counted on the fact that Edwin would end up spending more and more time with him, as he strove to overcome this remarkable challenge, possibly – hopefully- realizing that maybe the first option to get rid of that bracelet wasn’t such a bad deal after all.
The Cat King let out another muffled sigh, turning his face to rest his cheek on the furry pillow. He then rolled over and stared at the ceiling of his room for a good ten minutes without moving an inch. Eventually, he transformed back into a cat, curling up on the multiple layers of blankets crumpled over the mattress. He struggled a bit to find a position he was truly comfortable in, but he succeeded in the end. He shut his eyes, hoping for a restorative sleep that would chase the imminent headache away. Time passed and he was still awake. Maybe he should try counting cats to fall asleep faster, he thought.
Unfortunately, when sleep finally came, the dreams that animated his rest couldn’t exactly be described as restorative, although they certainly weren’t nightmares. He dreamt of wild chases across the country and nights spent clubbing; curious gloved hands exploring the smooth planes of his skin and pale, marked lips spilling secrets in his ear, lips he so yearned to taste; the leitmotif connecting all of his dreams was a pair of emerald eyes staring back at him with stubborn defiance. He dreamt of chasing again, or maybe being chased? The distinction between the two suddenly blurred in a game of cat and mouse where he no longer knew which was his role, but he was content enough to be playing. And when he thought he had finally caught the object of his desire, holding him in his arms, he regretfully woke up.
He was once again staring at the ceiling of his room, having transformed back into his human form sometime during his sleep. He bit his lower lip, feeling the frustration swell in his chest.
“Get a hold of yourself, Thomas…” he mumbled to himself, with a self-deprecating grimace.
Since when had that fuddy-duddy ghost gotten so much under his skin? Was he losing his touch? Had he become a softy all of a sudden? No way.
He stirred and turned back into a cat. He started dragging his paws over the fabric of the bed, flaking off the dull outer layer of his nails and revealing a newly sharp set of claws underneath.
He was ready to go hunting again.
***