“I say we go knock on the door,” she says with a sly smile.
“I agree,” I reply. “Worse comes to worse, we’ll run back out.”
“Or fight to the death,” she calls out laughing.
I smile, my nerves not as straight and narrow as hers. She pulls on her coat and shoves her hands in her pockets, walking close to me. I want to think it’s because she wants to be that close, but I have a feeling it is more for my ever-radiating heat than anything else. Either way, I enjoy the stroll down the country road, but when I step foot on the drive to the house, immediately I tense. I stop for a moment, taking in a deep breath, sifting through the smells.
“A cat lives here,” I point out. “We need to be careful.”
Clarissa nods, and we continue up to the house, stopping at the door and staring over at each other. She nods, and I reach up, pounding hard on the door. I can hear footsteps quickly approaching, and as the door swings open, a dark-haired, middle-
aged man with piercing green eyes looks out at us. At first, he has a smile on his face, wiping his hand on his towel, but as he glances back and forth between us, that smile fades. Immediately he turns, trying to slam the door, but I catch it and race after him. I run down the hall and through the swinging door into the kitchen, stopping and looking around. Clarissa runs in after me and stares for a second, looking at me strangely.
“Watch out,” she shouts, forcing me to turn and look behind me.
As I do, I find a frying pan swinging toward my head, the man perching on a hanging rack over the kitchen island. I duck, throwing the man slightly off balance, but like a cat, he lands on his feet. His fangs begin to protrude, a loud roar echoing from his belly. He swipes a hand and hits me with his claws in the face, tearing my cheek open. Clarissa growls behind me, and I look back at her, seeing the rage almost steaming off her body.
She is breathing heavily, her hands clutching into fists, her eyes searing toward the cat.
Carefully she steps forward, flexing the muscles in her arms, and I notice fur beginning to sprout from her forearms. She shows her teeth which are no longer perfect and straight but instead are sharply pointed fangs, stretching throughout her mouth. The cat watches her with curiosity, almost as if he knows her, but doesn’t know what she is capable of. Slowly her hands begin to shift, claws stretching from her fingertips as she crouches, stalking her prey.
I step bac
k, unsure of what to do, unsure if she knows who she is anymore. The cat looks at me and jumps to the side, but I grab his foot and watch as he tumbles to the ground, rolling across the hard tile floors. Instantly, Clarissa is in the air, a deep hiss moving from her lips, pouncing high and striking down hard on the cat. He screeches and hisses until his voice is no longer Primal, but a cry for help in human form.
“Please,” he says putting up his hands. “I don’t know anything.
Please don’t hurt me.”
“The cowardly cat,” I chuckle, walking over and putting my hand on top of Clarissa’s head.
She jerks her head up, breathing heavily, staring into my eyes.
Slowly she creeps back, letting me grab the cat by the neck and pull him to his feet. I look into his eyes, seeing the anger behind the fear. He knows who we are. He knew that eventually, we would turn up on his doorstep, yet he didn’t take many precautions.
“Tell me what you know about the Elite,” I bellow.
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” he spats. “I hate bears, so big, so strong, and so stupid.”
I smile, not taking the bait. It is obvious whatever fear he had in his heart at the beginning, is quickly dissipating. I reach over and grab a paper lying on the counter. It has the insignia, the one from the crime scene, etched in the corner. I hold it up to his face.
“You do know something,” I say. “Tell me, and I may spare your life, don’t, and you will be nothing more than a dead cat.”
His stare is intense, but I stand my ground, staring right back, turning toward Clarissa who is back to normal again, looking slightly peaked. The sound of laughter fills my ears, and I turn back to the cat, staring at him even harder.
“What is so funny?” I say, my jaw clenching as I restrain myself from killing him immediately. “You think the loss of your life is funny?”
“No,” he wheezes. “The fact that you think a pack of ragtag degenerates and their half-Primal whore can shut down the Elites.
You are pathetic, and I look forward to seeing you in hell.”
“Oh, I think they make an even better place than hell for feline traitors,” I say, clenching my teeth. Nobody gets away with calling Clarissa a whore.
I set the man back on the floor and move quickly, grabbing him by both sides of his head and twisting hard. His body falls lifelessly to the ground, and I look back up at Clarissa who is staring at her arm. I tilt my head, a smirk on my face.
“That doesn’t even phase you.” I laugh.
“Did you see that?” she asks holding up her arm.