A Lion’s Mate by Eve Langlais
Chapter Ten
The look of horror on Joe’s face could only mean something terrible.
“No. I ain’t going.” Joe shook his head violently.
“You don’t get a choice,” Zach declared, getting the car onto the highway.
“There’s a choice. I’ll stay with you.”
“You can’t come. Who would take care of Neffi? We both know Nonna is likely to make her into a stew.”
“Cat stew?” Fluffy couldn’t help but sound intrigued.
Zach scolded. “No cat stew. Because my dad is going to make sure my grandmother doesn’t use Neffi as an ingredient.”
Grandmother. The concept brought to mind an image of a woman, older than herself, hair graying, lines in her face, but smiling and holding her arms out.
Did she have a grandmother?
“Who’s going to protect me from that old bat?” Joe argued.
“She’s your mother,” was Zach’s dry reply.
“A child is supposed to move out, not back in.” Joe wasn’t about to give in. “And need I remind you? She lives in that seniors’ residence.”
“It’s a two-hundred-acre ranch with guest quarters.”
“This is abuse,” Joe said, turning to her for sympathy. “He’s using this as an excuse to dump me in a home.”
She had no idea what to say, but Zach did.
“As if I’d be wasting my hard-earned money.”
“You saying I’m not worth it?” his father retorted. As they bickered, she settled into the passenger side of the back seat, trying to process everything that had happened.
The attack. People asking questions of her. Putting her and Zach in danger. His father and now the sassy feline in the front seat.
Also traumatizing? The scuff on her new shoes from when her kick to the attacker’s face dragged over his teeth.
She’d need a new pair while she got these ones fixed. Staring at them, she saw another place, a closet with a three-story rack of them. Heeled. Boots. Open-toe. Closed. So many gorgeous shoes. Did they belong to her mother?
And who was her father? It bothered her that she didn’t remember anything. She hadn’t been that young when her mother died. Fourteen. Not a baby and yet—
Worry about the box. The terse reminder had her tossing her trepidation aside. Concentrate on the now and the most important thing: getting back the treasure. They were moving in the right direction thus far. It tugged at her, whispering, demanding that she come to it.
And when they were reunited. Then what?
Worry about it later. Sleep.
She slept.
They drove until Zach had to stop for gas. She squatted over the toilet rather than sit, mostly because the visible wet spots were disgusting.
They resumed driving, Zach finally agreeing to let his father take over for the last leg. Since the cat wouldn’t move, Zach sat in the back seat beside her and promptly went to sleep. It was easy for her to shift his head to her lap, it reminded her of their time in the cage. A scary yet intimate moment.
She ran her fingers over his temple. Working together, they’d escaped.
He’d proven that she could trust him. He’d keep her safe.
“He likes you,” confided Joe.
“No, he doesn’t.” She understood Zach well enough now to know when she irritated him. Sometimes, she did it on purpose.
“He’s never brought a girl home before.”
It thrilled even as it saddened. It was probably the last home she’d ever see. Once she found the box, she’d find a new cave to hide in.
Um, what? She heard her voice in her head asking the question, and then got a spooky reply.
You need to guard it. Somewhere remote. Abandoned.
She blinked. No.
It’s your duty. The harshness of it jarred.
Maybe I don’t want to guard. She didn’t, and yet a part of her did. It pulsed inside her, wanting to get back to the box.
It wasn’t normal. Something controlled her.
Sleep.
She woke to find Zach, still lying in her lap, staring at her now. She smiled. He started to smile back, then caught himself and scowled.
He pushed off her lap and leaned between the seats to ask Joe, “Where are we?”
“Almost there.” The ominous declaration happened just as the headlights of his car hit a sign and illuminated it.
Private property. Trespassers will be shot.
Far from friendly, and surely illegal. They saw another sign farther up the road. Turn back now. Followed by a, We mean it. The winding path took them between trees that pinched the road the farther they went. Watching the shadows stream by, she would have sworn she saw movement.
Light greeted them in the form of illuminated stakes, the kind that charged all day with sunlight and then glowed when it got dark. They outlined a massive gravel driveway that branched off. But they parked by a sprawling building, a place with more than a few additions. The mismatched seams of wood showed where some stopped and started. A massive porch led to the main doors, sporting a half-dozen rocking chairs and two hammocks, one of them occupied. The sleeping person dangled a leg over the side.
They pulled to a stop. “We’re here,” Joe announced but didn’t move. He clutched the steering wheel.
“Why don’t you go see if Nonna is up while I get the key to the guest house?” Zach suggested.
Joe flashed him a look. “Why don’t you? She’s been waiting to see you since Christmas.”
Zach grimaced. “I couldn’t make it for dinner. She can’t still be mad.”
“Oh, she’s mad,” Joe sang.
The argument brewed, and while she wanted to enjoy it, she also smelled something delicious. It had been a while since they’d gotten anything to eat. She spilled out of the car and stretched before yelling, “Hello?”
Zach dove through the same door as her and shh-ed her. “Some of the residents are grumpy when woken.”
“Why are they sleeping during the day?” She lifted her face to the dawning morning sun.
“Because that’s all old people do is sleep. Which is how I know I’m not ready for a place like this,” Joe declared, getting out of the car.
Zach snorted. “You nap all the time in that chair of yours.”
“Because of the cat. I can’t exactly move while she’s having a siesta.”
“You are so full of shit, your eyes are brown,” Zach declared.
“Doubtful, since I drink a glass of prune juice every day.”
Over the noise of them arguing, the oddest sound started and grew louder. A whirring, whistling, then an object flashed by. The shoe caught Joe in the face.
Joe reeled, and Zach laughed. “Looks like Nonna is pissed at you.”
Whir. Wing. Whack.
Zach recoiled. “Nonna!” He held a hand to his gut. “Where’s the love?”
“What love? You’re strangers to me. Ungrateful brats who never visit,” a woman declared as she stepped out of the woods. She was short. So very short. With steely gray, coiled hair, and a pink tracksuit that glittered. No shoes.
“You can’t blame me for not visiting. You’ve been gone since Christmas on that cruise. You got back like what? Three days ago?” Joe declared.
“Three days of no love,” she argued as she neared.
Neffi chose that moment to exit the car with her tail held high. The moment she saw Nonna, she hissed.
Nonna grinned. “What a good boy, bringing me fresh meat.”
“Don’t you dare eat my cat!” Zach reached for Neffi, who swiped and drew blood.
“For hurting my grandbaby, I’ll make you into mittens, too,” Nonna declared.
Joe threw himself in front. “Over my dead body.”
“It should be enough to feed the gang for crib night.” Nonna eyed him, and Fluffy wondered if she planned to serve him raw or cooked. With his puffy middle, Joe would be crunchy.
“You eat people’s faces?” Fluffy asked, her voice low and guttural.
“Whenever I get a chance,” Nonna boasted.
Fluffy rubbed her hands together. “Yum. Do you have salt or ketchup?” Her two new favorite things.
Nonna cocked her head. “Who do you want to eat, child?”
“You. Then him.” She pointed to the fellow watching from the hammock.
“Fluffy, what did I say about eating people?” Zach admonished.
She pouted. “Nonna said I could.”
Nonna snuffled. “Who is this crazy girl? I like her. Come with me. I’ll give you something better than an old wrinkly face.”
“Bacon?” she asked, following the little old lady’s quick pace.
“You like bacon?”
She nodded. “And hamburgers. And fries.”
Nonna laughed. “Well then, how about bacon and pancakes, with home fries and juice? Maybe a few eggs. Some toast. You like jam?”
“Yes!” Fluffy followed her stomach and the woman who promised to fill it.
