Bonfire Dreams (Otherworld Tales #7)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

What the hell? How did I get myself into these messes? I dug my claws into the branch, holding on for dear life. I couldn’t have climbed this high, could I? But somehow, reality refused to conform to my wishes. I was stuck in the tree, regardless of what I wanted to believe.

A crow screeched at me from a branch several feet higher up than I was, startling me. I dug in my claws, holding on for dear life. The last thing I needed was to go tumbling to the ground below.

Shut up! I hissed at the bird.

Stupid cat, the crow screeched back. Get out of my tree.

I’ll move when I decide to, I grumbled back.

But the truth was, I was scared. Somehow, I’d managed to get myself so high that I was terrified to even make an attempt to scale my way back down the trunk.

I glanced down at the forest floor, trying to estimate the distance.

But when I was in cat form, everything got a little fuzzy when it came to mathing.

I wished I had listened to Camille’s warning and not run out so far on my own.

Even though we’d lived on this land for six months, we still hadn’t fully explored the property, and I wasn’t even sure which way I’d come.

Besides that, the first snow of the season had arrived, and it had been snowing most of the day. My tracks were covered by now.

Camille’s going to scold me, I thought. I might be the second-born, but both of my sisters treated me as if I was the youngest. It pissed me off, but at times like this, I could see their point. I didn’t exactly make the wisest of life-choices.

My coat was all poofy from both the chill and my worry. I glanced up at the sky. The sun was setting, and it would be dark soon. I clutched the branch with my claws again and let out a loud wail. It hung in the air a moment, and I hoped I was loud enough for my voice to echo back to the house.

As the sun faded into dusk, I tried to shift back. If I were in human form, I could get out of the tree more easily. I was athletic enough that I knew I could manage to scramble down the giant fir. But no matter how hard I focused, I couldn’t shift forms. I was still too nervous.

What are you doing? The voice startled me, coming from several branches down. It was grumpy and reminded me of some old codger.

I peeked over the edge of the branch, only to see a gray tabby further down the tree, perched on a branch. I slow-blinked at him, hoping he wouldn’t see me as an enemy. Maybe he could even help me.

I’m stuck, I said. I can’t get down.

That’s a ginger for you, he said. You’re not that far from the ground. Just jump down onto this branch, and then I’ll guide you out.

I tried to muster up the courage, but girding my loins just wasn’t working.

I shifted position on the branch, slipped, and hung on by my front paws until I managed to shimmy back up.

But no dice. I wasn’t getting off this branch on my own.

Maybe I’d just make my home, build a nice bed, and hope that fate drove a couple of birds my way for me to eat.

The tabby gave me a disgusted look. You’re serious? You’re too afraid to jump?

So sue me. I’m a chicken. Laugh if you want. I paused. What’s your name?

Cromwell, he said. And you?

Delilah. I’m a werecat.

A skin-shifter? That explains it, then. Well, I’m off to hunt for dinner. You’ll get down when you’re ready. I’ll see you around. And with that, he lightly began to bounce down the tree, pushing off branches and boughs.

Wait! I didn’t want him to leave. But he was gone, and I was alone again. As I resigned myself to a night in the tree, I suddenly heard someone calling.

“Delilah? Where are you?”

That was Camille’s voice.

“Kitten! Get your ass over here!”

And that was Menolly.

I began to yowl as loud as I could.

“You hear that?” Menolly asked.

“That’s her,” Camille said.

As I tried to peer into the growing gloom, I saw them walking toward my tree. I wailed as loudly as I could. They crossed to the trunk of the tree and stared up.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake…how are we going to get her down?” Camille said.

“I can get her,” Menolly said. She began to levitate, slowly rising up toward me as she avoided hitting into the branches. A moment later, she was staring at my fuzzy ass. She rolled her eyes, snorting. “Come on, Kitten. Come to your Menolly,” she said, holding out her arms.

I crawled into her chilly embrace, digging lightly into her sweater and shoulder as I snuggled close to her, licking her face.

She tasted funny—not at all like she used to, but I had gotten used to the difference since she came home one night, over twelve years ago, fangs out and looking for blood.

That had been a nightmare, but we’d made it through, even though we’d had to protect her from Father’s animosity.

“Silly girl,” she murmured, slowly floating back to the ground. “What were you thinking?”

“Let’s just get her home. It’s cold and I want a mocha,” Camille said.

They carried me home, though the woods, and I began to relax. Halfway back to the house, I felt myself shifting. I pawed at Menolly and meowed, and she set me on the ground. Within seconds, I was back in my human form.

“Thanks,” I said sheepishly. “I can’t believe I did that.”

“What were you thinking?” Camille asked, hiding a grin behind her scolding. She reached out and put her arm around my waist, hugging me to her side. “You have to be careful. We still don’t know this world all that well. We don’t know all the dangers.”

“I know,” I said. “I just wanted to go for a run.”

But inside, I was grateful that they cared enough to come find me. No matter what, we were bound together by more than just blood.

“Cromwell!”

A week or so later, I was standing at the bottom of the back porch steps. I’d seen Cromwell a couple of times since my debacle in the tree, and each time, he looked too thin to me. So I’d started feeding him. Now, he was used to me in my human form.

As cats, we were grumpy towards one another.

I was territorial, and it irritated me, but it was just biology.

If we’d been born together, or brought up from kittenhood, I wouldn’t mind his presence, but I also felt sorry for him.

To ease my conscience, I fashioned a house, rigging it up with a secret entrance so it would be hard for other animals to enter.

I had shown it to him while in my cat form, and told him it was his to use if he wanted.

Cromwell had stared at me like I was crazy, but after pretending that he didn’t care, he left a dead mouse at the backdoor three days in a row and had finally given in, snuggling up in the hideaway, out of the weather.

Now, I gazed at the sky. We were due for snow again, so I filled his food and water dishes. Then, folding my arms against the chill, I scanned the backyard. It was still hard for me to believe that we were living Earthside.

As I inhaled deeply, then slowly let it out, I noticed something on the edge of my senses. It felt dangerous—both wary and watchful—and I realized I was shivering.

Danger…my senses screamed loud and clear. Something was out there, watching the house, and whatever it was, it was dangerous. I lifted my nose.

Coyote…I smelled a coyote.

We’d encountered coyote-shifters for the first time a few months back, and they had a peculiar scent to them.

Most humans wouldn’t notice, but all shifters had an underlying fragrance that mirrored their inner animal.

I tried to hone in on its position, but just got a general direction.

It was near, but not near enough for me to find it.

Nervous—coyotes were unpredictable—I turned back to Cromwell and shifted into my Tabby.

He blinked, but didn’t run. He knew that I wasn’t fully cat.

Do you smell that? I asked. I didn’t specify what. I wanted to see if he smelled the same thing as I did, without directing him.

Seeming to sense my urgency, he blinked and looked around. After a moment, he said, Wild dog. But magic.

‘Wild dog’ was what most of the natural cats called coyotes. If they were talking about shifters, they added ‘but magic.’

I was right. A coyote shifter. Do you know where it is? I asked.

Cromwell focused again. No. But near enough. Keep alert. He winced.

I wanted to ask if he was all right, but didn’t.

That would break the code. Among the feral cats, it was unacceptable to ask if another cat was feeling okay.

They tried to hide all signs of vulnerability, because being vulnerable meant being open to attack.

But I walked over to him and sniffed his head, then licked his face.

He froze, then leaned into the grooming.

Cromwell had experienced a rough life, and he wasn’t used to kindness.

After a moment, he settled on the ground by the food dish, and I shifted back into my regular form, reaching out to gently stroke his back. He let me pet him for a few minutes before getting up and meandering off. I hoped to hell that the coyotes wouldn’t find him.

I stood, moving the food dish into the protected shelter. I had done what I could to keep the raccoons and squirrels out, and only Cromwell and my sisters knew where the opening was. Camille had done her best to help me disguise the opening with her magic, and luckily it hadn’t backfired.

With one last look over my shoulder, I turned around and went back inside.

“It’s about time,” Iris said. “I’ve been waiting dinner for you.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I was talking to Cromwell.”

Camille had set the table with two place settings, and then a bottle of blood at the third. The bottles were dark so we couldn’t see inside. It made it easier to be around Menolly when she fed.

“What’s he up to?” Camille asked.

“It’s not him I’m worried about,” I said. “I smelled a coyote shifter out there. Near enough to catch my notice. I just have an uneasy feeling.”