Dr. Susan's Reign: Cat Johnson series (Cat Johnson Chronicles Book 1) Read online

  It took a few weeks to warm up to her enough to talk in my human tongue, but finally, the food she was giving me was so nasty I had to say something. It was like a mixture of dog shit and chalk. I felt like my waist size was deteriorating by the day eating that... And as a tuxedo cat, I had to work hard to maintain my excellent figure.

  I vow if I saw another one of those flea fucks, I could commit arson over it. Burn, burn, burn, baby! They were practically demons. Cat literally tried to laugh me off when I told her that. Saying they were pretty awful but not demon possession horrible. Thinking she always has stuff right, when she was usually wrong. At least with the Cat logic of things.

  The shower water is coming to a halt as the human fixes up all her last-minute bedtime rituals. My eyes pleading to be lulled asleep. Soon enough, she finally plops on the bed, plushie in her arms. Her blue hair is a jumble, as it’s knotted up in a bun to keep it out of her face during slumber. Wearing an oversized band shirt and shorts.

  I purr, moving up to her to lie down by her side. “Night human.”

  “Night Maori.” She murmurs, giving me a kiss and a pat on the head before being lulled off into a deep slumber. “Sleep well.” Such an excellent human.

  Chapter 3

  Cat

  My eyes scan the daily news as I drink my morning coffee. Desperately needing the caffeine to kick in so fucking badly. Please hurry it up! Another feature about Dr. Susan in the archives. They got her good side. I shake my head, stopping myself from lingering at the picture far too long. Almost looking like she didn’t age a day if it wasn’t for her anger lines around her lips that got added in time. That was history.

  The oversized cat they were looking for was missing, along with an extremely unflattering picture of him. Growling at the camera, because of course the dumb fuck cameraman stayed in the way. Shocker! Of course, not without picking out a couple of humans as treats to begin with. And talk of how someone can lose a 12-foot cat… It’s not like humans haven’t lost other hard to lose things, or better yet would throw them aside; marriages, pets, there could be an anthology of everything and still not yet cover it all.

  Marie Gilbert. It could have been worse. Not that any death was acceptable… She was on the pro-life campaign. Because heaven forbid a woman to actually determine what to do with her body. How can people be so pro-life and not give a fuck about the kids in the foster system? Or about the lives of individuals other than their white supremest friends?

  Disgusting.

  You have the people pressing for animal rights on the matter and the ones who felt he should be put down. I was part of the first group. This wasn’t the cat’s fault. He shouldn’t be slaughtered just because a human decided to become greedy.

  The dreaded phone call? My phone buzzes and I realize it naturally is. If only I could be as psychic with other matters in my life.

  “Hi.” My answer sounded peppy while aiming to keep the reluctance out of my voice—the call I was dreadfully expecting.

  “Did you locate that cat mutation?” Straight to the point--- no, how’s your day, or talk of the weather. This was my second big solo job. Before, I was side kicking on bigger projects, or doing my own smaller ones, subsequently moving up to get my own. I worked part-time as a manager for the game store and an odd job here or there for this company on weird cases. Most of them remain out of view of the public eye, but inevitably failing on this one. A company I ran into by accident four years back ago. When I was seeking to locate where Maori ran off to, after a trivial squabble.

  Fuck! I felt myself falling downwards as if I’m Alice going down the rabbit hole. Everything passing by me in a misty blur in the 50 ft drop. Not expecting my death to be so pleasant as I settle on a fluffy feather cushion. Felt so snug it couldn’t likely to be real?

  I grant myself to linger in luxury, waiting for the light.

  Instead, a bald male face turns centimeters away from mine. “Why the hell are you slacking on the job?” His breath stinks like garlic in my face. Meh. Was this some hell?

  I peer around the rest of the surroundings, identifying multiple mattresses beneath the spot in the ceiling. The fellow looked normal as can be, though bothered and plump in his suit. A cat that must be Maori a few feet behind him.

  “Kitty!” Without thinking, I scrambled up to her. Delighted to have my soft fuzzy fur ball back in my arms. Even with the slight cat allergy that made me sneeze around them. Hell, maybe I was a masochist. Hmmm... there’s much more I could say on that, but wouldn’t want to get too deep just yet.

  He examines me up and down. “How did you get in here without a badge?” Seeing I don’t have any form of recognition that their company has. Always the outcast.

  “No, I was just searching for my cat and fell down the hole there.” I point out, not sure if it rings too foolish to believe. My head is nearly doing a backlash as the spot is now covered. It doubtlessly did, but I wasn’t the one who set up this contraption. Lying wasn’t my specialty, but some of my stories and excuses would be far out there enough to become problematic. I had a point of being brutally honest, or at least seeing some truth hiding some place in the lie.

  He doesn’t respond to my comment, but monitors me as he shouts into his communicator. “We had a random fall down here. Do we keep her, get rid of her by other means?” Those words have me grabbing Maori as I desperately look for a means out. How did Alice leave Wonderland?

  “Sweetheart don’t bother. You won’t find it.” He grunts at me. Sicking one of his boys on me, that I didn’t realize were there to hold me down. Fuck! “I know that’s not our stereotypical procedure. I know we’re sort people for this city. With how odd she is, you truly think she could be one of us?” He nods, okaying, giving my odd appearance a look over. My bright pink, purple hair, and raccoon eyes- I was dressing for me, not for some douche to savor the view. Having always been the odd one out, I gave up on conforming in middle school. Some people won’t ever like me, I’d rather happily be me rather than a miserable Barbie.

  Maori wasn’t put in a hold since it wasn’t felt as needed for a young cat. She climbs up the leg of the dude on the phone, swiping it straight out of his hand with her paw. It comes crashing to the ground. Good kitty! A smile creeping up on my face at the sight. Her eyes narrowed. She had the most expressive eyes of any other cat I’ve met.

  “Fucking cat!” He flings her off. Fucking prick! I attempt to say something, but it’s muffled out at the dude’s hand over my mouth. Asshole!

  “Hey, watch where you’re throwing the merchandise, asshat.” That gets him to do a double-take at me, thinking it couldn’t have been the feline possibly talking. “Yes, it’s me. I’m talking, aren’t I?” Thickly layered snark at hand. Classic Maori.

  “How?” He kneels to gain a closer look at her. His mistake, as she strikes him again. A paw to the face! This time drawing a few scrapes of flesh with her, as red lines are shadowed on his face.

  “Same as you, dipshit. I move my mouth, and words come out.” She points out as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “Duh." She turns towards me, "Cat when will we get to go back home?" Like she wasn't the one being chased after she ran off.

  He gets back on his phone, standing up. “This actually could be promising. Let’s look into it more.” And that was the initial time Maori saved my life on the job. “Be ready to buckle up, buttercup. This ain’t your friendly tv training. This is the real shit. Don’t say I never warned you.” Later I found out his name was Brian, a guy I grew to loathe as he regularly had one out for me and the little furball. Trying to insist ‘the talking cat’ would be better suited with a pro. I don’t care if you hold me up at gunpoint; giving up my cat is never the option. She’s family.

  “Nope, sorry he ran off before I could seize him.” I try to sound somewhat sympathetic. Not troubling to incorporate the details of where he was residing or anything else significant. I wasn’t commonly a liar, but I didn’t choose to be responsible for the wretched cat to take
more abuse and anguish than he already has.

  Technically, I should have turned in the cat to the head guys in charge. And most of the time, I didn’t have an issue turning them in. But this case was unique. It was the cat of an old friend. How can I turn a cat in just to be experimented on further than he already has?

  “Any idea where it went?” Tiger wasn’t an it. Then proceed with infinite questions. My lie seems to sound stable enough over the phone for the reliability of that not being questioned. My expressions make me easy as a book to read, some would say. While others would say I had no expressions and looked pissed off all the time. Who’s to judge what was true?

  “Sorry, boss.” I pip, he murmurs, not pleased with the lack of knowledge.

  “We will catch her,” I reassure him, knowing the reward of it is pretty huge. It was practically a life-changing amount.

  “Bye, Cat, call us if you get further news.” He sounds like a stickler about it, not getting any of my hinted enthusiasm. It sounds like he could have used it. When was the last time he got laid?

  “That better not hinder us from eating for the week or whatnot.” Maori saunters into the room. Food was repeatedly the first thing on her mind. Well, food, sleep and fucking around. To be a cat must be nice. Stretching her paws, as it looked like she was getting up.

  “I wouldn’t do that to you.” Maori gives me a look as to say, ‘as if.’ Thinking that fits well enough to not strain with muttering useless words. “Then, why is my bowl empty?”

  “It’s not empty, Maori. You can just see the bottom.” I wave towards all the other food stacked high in the dish, around that one tiny spotless area in it.

  “I’m practically desiccating over here with what little you give me.” Drama queen. She gives me a sad look from her bowl. Making a show of pathetically patting the bottom part, as if she were incapable, which she was far from. Until I resolve to give it a shake so she can’t see the horrific bottom of it. We deal with many bad guys daily, and no foe is scarier than an empty food bowl.

  “I should get to work.” Glimpsing at the time, I could still be a slightly early if I headed out now. That could allow me to get some behind the scenes work done before the doors opened.

  Maori sticks her head up from the food bowl, glancing over my rumpled appearance. Hair a goofy mess. Jeans having been worn the previous couple of days, so they weren’t as well fitted. “You’re going in dressed like that?” Her tone was full of disapproving judgment. Coming from the one who wouldn’t wear clothing if my life depended on it. “Those pants have blood on them from where you were cut.” Maybe I could say it was paint? That’s been one of the misconceptions when I would come in with colorful hands from not wearing gloves while dying hair the night before.

  “Oh.” Blood, that’s not something I’d wish to explain to some kiddie coming in to get singles.

  “And we need to make sure your cuts are okay. Self-care Cat.” Well, I guess I wouldn’t be arriving early today. “They’re fixing up nicely.” She notes when looking at them. More than I can say for the shirt that’s ripped to shreds. “Don’t get into any other trouble that I must save you from at the day job.” Fat chance of that happening. The worst that I could be involved in is some mind dulling work. “And don’t come back smelling like that other cat.” You would think the latter was worse, judging by her tone.

  The store cat Minx. She was a beauty. Long white fur and mischievous blue eyes. They almost looked like they were lined in eyeliner, but that was just the natural beauty. They would tell you they could do no wrong, but periodically she would be around the corner waiting to knock that particular box of magic over if she got in a mood. Maori would have to be disappointed on that one. I can’t run into a cute cat and not pet it. That just wasn’t something that couldn’t happen. I wasn’t a monster.

  Chapter 4

  Maori

  One.. two.. three... I count while stalking up to the field mouse. Waiting for the perfect moment to pounce. Catch him off guard, and then…

  Go!

  He passes right from underneath my paws, the fucker. “You didn’t catch me this time.” Next time I would. “So that’s 9 escapes for me and 1 catch from you. Your percentages aren’t looking all that great Maori.” I throw him a dirty look. Percentages, meh. Who used math anymore when they had their phones? “Maybe you’re just getting old. Having a midlife crisis, girly?” Oh, the bastard!

  I whack his body a few feet across the floor at that comment. Not so much of an attack as a warning strike. Never mention a woman’s age. The bastard was lucky he was still alive.

  He shakes it off fairly easily, though. “Or maybe you’ve just grown lazy, as you don’t need to hunt with a human pet that spoils you so well.” He makes a point of looking at the chub hanging from my skin, the bastard. I give him the stink eye. Sure, Cat was nice to have around, but I could take care of myself if push came to shove. I bet I could survive the harsh outside world. I could catch a bird or squirrel as well as the next cat.

  I lean back, stretching my legs. “So what’s the news on the underground Hector?” Believe it or not, the mouse was my pal. We just played some games now and then and liked to fuck with each other as friends do.

  “Transformers?” He questions. His expression ruffled, and somehow I feel he has the word mixed up. If I recall correctly, transformers are movies about cars that transform into these robot guys? A cat is far more observant than one would guess from appearances. Not nearly as interesting as that spider guy, though, or the spaceships. “Changes? Um?”

  Maybe that had to do with last night’s festivities. “Are you talking about the mutations going around?” I glimpse at him.

  And he nearly jumps up and down from the excitement of it. “Yes, that’s what I meant. Mutations. This one woman was seeking to gather the specimens she could to experiment on.” His face drops. I suspect he knew some of them. “My lovely was one of them.” His eyes always get all starry, dazed wonder while speaking of her. “Carlynn was one in a million.”

  She hung the stars in the night. She was the cheese to his crackers. A hidden beauty that he was lucky to come across. Would never meet another one like her.

  “Sorry, Hector.” I offer him my condolences. He hugs himself against my leg. I let it remain for a moment, permitted the situation. Normally I wasn’t much of a cuddler.

  After the moment, he brushes it off. “That was a while ago, though. I heard she was experimenting with bigger animals. Like you!” He exclaims, looking at me. “You better be careful out there, Maori.” A glimmer of worry in his eyes. As if, just because I was a chonk didn’t mean my stealth wasn’t the best around.

  One time when we were moving to a new place, Cat got freaked the fuck out because I was in hiding mode the first few days. Well, I got stuck in the fold out couch, but tomatoe tomato.

  “She hasn’t managed to get the equation downright, though,” I murmur, feeling a pang of sympathy for the cat I helped yesterday. I’m certain he would carry well even in that wooded abyss, being far bigger than anything that could try to attack him.

  “You seem to know a lot about Dr. Lady.” He notes.

  “My human is tracking her down. The current mission.” He nods. Never quite understanding why I would take up the company of a human. They weren’t all quite nice to his kind. “She’s been nice to you Hector, don’t look at me with that judgy expression.” She left him out treats and other stuff when I told her about him.

  The little white mouse, with black spots, looks up at me expectantly. “Yes, the one point she encountered me, she called me Pikachu.” Her cats were the only animals she could properly communicate with back and forth. Most animal whispers still sound like quacks and barks. The nickname may have partly been my fault. I knew her brother was into the yellow character, so a few misleading whispers may have gone around. Hell, I have to have some entertainment for myself when stuff gets dull.

  “Humans aren’t the brightest creatures.” I excuse, earning myself a g
lare from him as if to say, ‘yeah, I’m sure that’s it.’ “Any other ongoings in the area?” I changed the subject.

  “A few doors down, a litter of kittens got brought in.” Oh god, those buggers. They were cute, but such a pain in the ass with how much fucking energy they had. Why couldn’t they learn to take a kick back and relax like me? “I’ve been dodging that place since then. They have a bet going on with who can bag me first.” He quivers, shaking his head. Not appreciating the notion of being some kitten’s meal. Or more like them toying with him while he's dying, and then just left there barely holding on. Kitten’s man…

  He continues on supplying me with the rest of the gossip from the building. Apparently, Sheryll got a haircut that the husband claims to like, along with new threads. But really actually didn’t notice, except for the transactions on the credit card. He was too busy screwing some young, fresh-faced thing. Disgusting. At least cats don’t disguise who they really are. What you see is what you get. Human’s their onions with many layers, some of them already rotting from the secrets they hide.

  I allow myself the moment to bask in the sun. Hector is already long gone by now, claiming of the other errands he had to run for the day. Why do mice run so much? It looks so very exhausting? It’s hot out today and feels so glorious on my coat. The human doesn’t know that I take time outside when she’s not home. What was I expected to do all day, though? Not everyone is nearly as engrossed in the savior dark knight complex of Damon Salvatore as she is. Any day now, there would be a shrine to rearrange for him. Not that there wasn’t his face already on a few of the walls. Once she was dopey enough that she said he was my daddy.

  Hopefully, Cat didn’t let her emotions impede stopping Susan. They had a flame in the past and that she was a softie in the core of her center. I would always try to tell her that something was off, but she chalked it up to me not liking other people. I’m nice enough to others. Saying hi and allow them to feed me treats out of their hands. Gracing them with my presence when I see fit.