CHAPTER 9

            “Jasper.”  Joseph’s warning held a growl.

            The young man shrunk under Joseph’s disapproval.  He couldn’t have been older than sixteen.  “Sorry, sir…”

            “Who’s shift lead today?”

            “Chang, sir.”

            “CHANG!”

            There was a clatter in another room and a stocky young woman stormed out, holding a half-empty cup of coffee – looking very angry at the interruption.  She was taller only than Sagacity, with her hair swept up in a messy bun and several folders jammed under a very muscular arm.  “I’M BUSY, GALLO!”

            Simon and Sagacity winced.  She’d bellowed louder than the giant.  Joseph looked unfazed.  “Good morning, Chang.”

            She slammed the folders on the office’s front desk.  “THE TURNING JUST ENDED!  DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH BACKLOG I’VE BEEN WADING THROUGH?!”  Her head swiveled to glare at Simon with wide eyes.  “BY THE GODDESS, YOU SMELL FRICKIN’ DELICIOUS!”

            “Indoor voice, Chang,” Joseph said patiently.  “We have a late candidate for Turning.  Couldn’t turn due to a medical condition.”

            “I’ll say,” Chang’s voice was lower, but still bright with disbelief.  “What are you – thirty?”

            “Twenty-seven.”

            “You must have been seriously sick.”  Chang looked Simon up and down without pity, just measurement.  “Yeah, I’ll sort you out.”  She turned around a grabbed a handful of pamphlets, shoving them at Simon.

            She stared at Sagacity, finally noticing her.  “A dragon, huh?  Hey, kid.”

            “Hey.”

            “Cool.”  Chang smacked Joseph’s back and pointed to the room she’d walked out of.  “You have ten minutes, human.  I need to have a talk with this big idiot about next year’s Turning.  Let’s go, Gallo!”

            Gallo let himself be herded away.  After they’d left, there was a minute of stunned silence.  Jasper was the first to recover.  “Sorry about her – she can be… intense.”

            “Are you a werewolf, too?”  Sagacity sat down on a bench by the wall, her tone uncharacteristically demure.

            Jasper grinned.  “Yeah, I’m technically still a pup, though.  … Do you need help with those, sir?”

            Simon was grateful for the kindness in the teenager’s voice and face.  “Yes, thank you.  The name’s Simon.  There’s just too much information – I don’t know if I can make a decision in eight minutes.”

            Jasper sat the stool back up, sat down, and slid himself over to a file cabinet.  “We have a questionnaire for beastkin if that’s what you’re leaning towards.”

            “That would be correct.”  Vampyres had made a terrible first impression on Simon, and he didn’t much like Sagacity’s description of the cannibalistic fae species. 

           Jasper took out a single paper and grabbed a pen.  “Got it.  Let’s start with the basics.  Would you prefer a pack beastkin or solitary?”

            He was very picky about people.  “Solitary.”

            “Any interest in flying?”

            “None at all.”

            Jasper nodded, checking a couple of boxes off the paper.  “Canine, feline, reptilian, or ursine?”

            “Absolutely feline.”

            The young werewolf wheeled himself back over to the filing cabinet and took out a tablet.  He swiped through a few screens, comparing it to the half-filled questionnaire.  He questioned Simon extensively on his diet, aesthetic preferences, activity levels, and self-care disciplines.  Jasper finally nodded, satisfied.  Sagacity hung limp over the bench’s edge – bored to tears.

            “You definitely fit the domestic variety more than the wild.  I’d say your best bet is either the Masingita or the Little Leopard.  We have the Masingita in house, but we can request the Little Leopard from two towns over.”  He handed over the tablet to Simon.

            Since Pouncessa had entered his life, Simon had become enamored with cats.  He immediately recognized this world’s versions of the Abyssinian and the Bengal cat.  Both were handsome, but aesthetically – he preferred the Abyssinian’s coat.  Leopard print was always a challenge to properly accessorize.

            “I’ll go with the Masingita.”

            “GOOD choice,” Chang boomed, re-entering the space with Joseph.  “I’m of the feline variety myself!”

            Jasper saw their curiosity and discreetly swiped a few times on his tablet and set it down on the desk behind him.  Sagacity and Simon peered over and looked back at Chang in shock.

            The formidable beastkin was apparently a flat-faced ball of feline fluff.  On his world – a Persian cat.  Here, it was known as the Queen Dowager cat.  Simon desperately wanted to see it.

            Chang wasted no time.  “JASPER!  Get the Masingita ready!  Before you go – hand me the bacon grease!”

            Jasper hesitated.  “Will he need it?”

            “… No, he would not need it.  Nice catch, Jasper.  We want a scratch, a little nip – not a ravaging.”

            Scratch?  Nip?  Ravaging?  Simon didn’t like any of those words.

            Chang walked over to a small safe sitting under a cabinet.  She retrieved a vial of purple liquid and with the ease and swiftness of many years’ experience, started prepping a long thin needle.  “Prepare the injection site, Jasper.”

            Jasper was very gentle, asking Simon to roll up his sleeve and sterilizing a small spot on his left shoulder.  He tried to look encouraging, but he had a very honest face.  With his chubby cheeks and soft, sorrowful eyes, he looked like a hamster – staring sympathetically through a house window at a squirrel seconds away from being grabbed by a hawk.  It was an odd bit of imagery, but one that lingered as Chang approached.

            He’d barely felt the prick of the injection, but the hard part was yet to come.  After a few minutes of feeling nothing, Chang led Simon to a tiny room.  It was dark and comfortable, with a pair of armchairs that were surprisingly cushy.

            Chang had been quiet for a while, which only made Simon more nervous.  “So – what was I injected with exactly?”

            “The domestic strain of the beastkin virus.  The adjustment period is considerably shorter than the wild strain, with manageable side effects.”

            “Side effects?”

            “Mild fits of nausea, cramping, and tension headaches.  Nothing a strong cup of peppermint tea won’t fix,” Chang said stiffly.

            She seemed unwilling to provide more information.  So they sat there in silence, waiting.  After a few more minutes, Simon couldn’t take it anymore.  “Is Jasper bringing the cat?”

            Chang’s brow was knitted with stress.  “She’s here,” she admitted in a low whisper, barely moving her lips.  “Don’t… fight her.”

            Maybe it was knowing that there was something else in the room, but Simon’s ears suddenly picked up a swishing noise, like a tip of a cat’s tail twitching against fabric.  A few seconds later he heard another noise, like pushpins slowly sticking and unsticking from a board.  She was behind him.

            “AAAAAGH!” For the second time that night, Simon shrieked, flinging himself off the chair.  A cat was hanging from his neck, claws hooked in, and fangs sunk deep through his skin.

            Chang shot into action, grabbing the cat’s head with a firm but careful grip, finally pulling her off of Simon without tearing out more skin.  Chang was sweating as the cat yowled with fury, trying to scratch her way back to Simon’s neck.  “They – ALWAYS – go for the arm or leg.  No one’s EVER gone for the throat!”

            Jasper and Sagacity burst into the room.  At the sight of Simon’s freely bleeding neck, the young werewolf fainted dead away.

            Sagacity was enraged.  “He is MINE!”  Her roar tore from lungs ten times her size.  The cat in Chang’s hands instantly wriggled free and fled with a tucked tail back into the office.

            Chang grabbed a kit from under her armchair and handed it to Joseph, who had just ducked into the room.  “Fix him up,” she ordered.  “I need to get that cat before it breaks into the main store.”

            She jumped over Jasper’s body and disappeared.  Sagacity ran to Simon, tears spilling down her face.  “Don’t die!”

            Simon sincerely hoped he wouldn’t.  Joseph eased him back down in the chair and calmly began cleaning the main wound.  Simon closed his eyes against the spots of black in his vision.  He felt the tattoo on his wrist pulse.  Distracted by its warmth, he slipped into easy darkness.