Page 20 of Catnapped

“That’s our cue, my darling,” Lucifer said, helping Darlene to finish emptying the carts before shoving them out into the hallway. “Eat until you can’t possibly eat another bite, and then go do the things pesky little mortals do when bored and left unattended. Do not get into more trouble than you can handle alone. Try not to have too much fun getting into trouble. I’ve learned once mortals discover the delights of creating trouble and mayhem, it becomes habitual. My secretary needs to balance the perfect amount of containing vs creating trouble and mayhem.”

Without another word, the pair teleported away.

Darian sat down beside me, selected a platter, and took off the lid, revealing a breakfast of scrambled eggs, toast, bacon, sausage, pancakes, and fruit. Silver vessels tucked to the side contained maple syrup, jam, and butter. “There has to be magic at play here. There is no way I would normally finish one of these.” Pointing at platters, he counted, where they were scattered everywhere, including taking over most of the kitchenette. “They expect us to eat ten plates each.”

“Whoever can’t eat another bite first loses. Whoever eats the most in the shortest amount of time without throwing up wins,” I proposed, as only my competitive nature would get me through one plate let alone ten. Two would be pushing my luck, but for the sake of victory, I could cram enough into my stomach.

“What are the stakes?”

“Good question. Any reasonable favor? I’d say sex, except it seems I’m out of commission for a while.” I glared down at my chest. “Society has convinced me sex should be sinfully pleasurable, and I do not want to be disappointed because of this mess.”

“You really are not shy at all.”

“Why should I be? I got the talk young, although it was presented in a way to keep me a pristine virgin for religious reasons. Really, the only reason I haven’t dragged a man to bed involved paying off that wretched mortgage and time. I worked hard to get rid of that mortgage, but I did such a good job at it I just don’t have time for a man. I really don’t. At least right now. I mean, what am I supposed to do with a man? Hang him up when I’m done with him in bed and pull him out whenever I have an itch I want him to scratch?”

Darian laughed. “Your view of life is definitely refreshing. My mother is convinced I’m reckless and should not be trusted anywhere near a delicate flower of a woman. I keep trying to tell her women aren’t fragile. She throws a temper tantrum about how she is the most delicate of women, pretends to faint against one of my fathers, and otherwise disgraces all women everywhere. Really, she thinks I’m excessively sensitive and will be a wilting lily if there’s any pain or bloodshed.”

I stared at him. “Please tell me your mother explained how women’s bodies actually work.”

“I am well educated about the blood tithes women pay every twenty-eight days. My mother claims she is sacrificing blood to some blood god once a month. And if chocolate is not sacrificed to her, everyone around her will pay. Also in blood. I’m also educated in how to identify lumps, as my mother is convinced that wise men should be intimately familiar with the texture of their wife’s breasts.”

“If you win, I will take you to a brothel, where you can get whatever education you desire about sex in application. And I’ll pay the bill. Try not to bankrupt me. I feel you have been unfairly restrained and deserve to get lessons from a succubus if you want them.”

With a grin, Darian replied, “Okay. If you win, I’ll help you negotiate your job offer with the Devil, and I’ll make sure you have the appropriate time off. I would offer to take you to a brothel, but you’re pretty enough that you might be asked to stay as a worker, and my mother would really kill me dead if she found out I was leading delicate women into darkness. I will also offer to drive you to any clinics you need for cancer screening and health checks, as that shit is stressful and having someone to go along for the ride can be helpful.”

“I can live with those terms. The way my chest hurts, I’m thinking somebody fucking lied to me about the severity, because it seriously feels like he flash fried my breasts before boiling them to mush. I touched. I am not making that mistake again, Darian. I am not touching them as much as possible. Frankly, I might ask you to help me in and out of my shirts, so I don’t have to move my arms as much.” I lifted my arm and pointed at the muscles connecting my breasts to the rest of my body. “Doing this is not comfortable. I’m getting painkillers before we go out today. And I’ll try not to whine about it, because this beats cancer, but it is not comfortable.”

“Well, I’ll do what I can,” he promised. “After we eat, we’ll talk business. With a little luck, we’ll be so busy searching for your cat you won’t have time to remember it hurts. And even if we waste half of this, we’ll be grateful for it later, because with my luck at wayfinding, we will have quite the hike ahead of us.”

To both my relief and disappointment, we tied at who could eat the most and how fast we could shovel food into our bottomless pits formerly known as stomachs. Magic played some role for certain; every now and then, flickers of blue-white flame danced over our skin and arms before soaking in and vanishing without a trace. Every plate I packed away helped to ease the soreness in my breasts, something I appreciated—and would appreciate later, once I had to move around and get work done on finding my cat.

“I hate when I owe people for anything,” I complained, tossing down my napkin on top of the pile of dishes. As part of my feeding frenzy, I’d licked every plate to come my way clean, and I’d even scoured the little dishes for every drop of syrup and scrape of butter. I’d abandoned all dignity, and I suspected I had jam or syrup on my nose. “I’m essentially obligated to accept the Devil’s job offer, and while I’m good at negotiating with others when my boss tells me to, I clam up when it’s time for my yearly review. Every damned time. It was beaten into me as a kid to be grateful for what I had, and this makes it hard to do things like ask for a raise. But I’m supposed to be an adult. I should ask for raises. Or negotiate higher, because my work is worth more. Great. Now I’m whining.”

“You’ve had a hard day yesterday and today. I think you’ve earned a chance to whine. I’d be whining, too, if someone stole my pet. Honestly, in your shoes, I would be tearing the planet apart stone by stone, and I don’t even have a pet. But if I did, I would.”

I straightened, pleased he directed our conversation to the matter of finding Mr. Flooferson the Magnificent. “Oh, good. Then you won’t judge me too badly when I go to drastic measures.” I could work with that. A willing accomplice made everything easier. With a little luck, easier would mean we could find and rescue my cat sooner.

“I admire that your first line of offense was to call the Devil. That takes serious courage. Or insanity. I’m not sure which, but I’m here to find out. That leads me to the problem of my wayfinding ability. While Lucifer told the truth about my general abilities and limitations, we still need to talk about it.”

“He said you couldn’t go to people or other living things, and that you had some restrictions.”

“Correct. For example, I can take the fur you gathered and search for if the fur had been used in an experiment, and if so, where. The fur is not a living being, especially once taken from the cat. I’m not searching for the cat, I’m searching for the fur, a non-living entity.”

“But the fur came from my cat.”

“I could pluck a hair from your head and search for the brush that last touched your hair and create a path to the brush, but I couldn’t search for you. The hair isn’t you. It was, until plucked, a part of you, but it lacks the spark of life. That’s typically where the line is. So, we will have to make certain we frame all of our searches with that. I can only establish one path a day. Once the path is set, we have six hours to get to where we’re going before it disappears. Reestablishing the same path is feasible after I’ve gotten some rest. That’s limited compared to some wayfinders, but my magic will usually take a good route to where I need to go. Most wayfinders take direct lines only. Mine at least somewhat understands roads exist. It will take the path of least resistance. Unfortunately, if there is a river, it might try to follow the river rather than a road, as it doesn’t really distinguish the difference between water and asphalt.” Darian shrugged. “If I’m in an area with a lot of water, I tend to make sure I have an ATV so I can follow along. I usually will get a truck rental, load an ATV into the back, and go for a look. I’ll have to check out the terrain here to see if an ATV is a good option. I’ve been to California only once before, and I made a pretty direct trip to where I needed to go.”

“I’ve been here a few times, but it really depends on what part of California you’re in. Some areas are desert. Some? Forests with huge trees. Where are we?”

“Good question.” Darian reached over the arm of the couch and grabbed the leather-bound hotel guide, flipping it open. “It seems we’re in Redding, which is somewhat north of Sacramento. We’re getting close to not being able to go much farther north before entering Oregon.”

“What the hell could possibly be up here?”

“Drugs,” he announced. He turned the guide my way, which showed a map of the state, and it included nearby counties. He tapped one of the counties along the coast. “This is Humboldt, and it’s considered to be one of the drug capitols of the United States. Ironically, this is where I was during my only visit to California. From illegal variants of pixie dust, plant-derived drugs, and various illegal labs, if you’re looking for some form of narcotic, chances are, you can get it here. The residents are pretty closed mouthed about it, too, so you have to be careful around these parts.”

“How do you know that?”

“I busted down a business that was running illegal labs out of Humboldt. I got the run around on the operations, so my first wayfinding took me to a different lab, but what I found there led me to Humboldt. Since your cat is a rescue from a lab, I already have a feel for how the illegal operations work.”