Bob vs the Cat Read online

  Bob bristled his fur. He hoped Jack would at least get some hint that the shop’s new addition was dangerous.

  “Hey. Calm down. Seriously, he’s not staying.”

  And now his human thought he was acting like a jealous pet. Bob closed his eyes and shook his head. He wasn’t a dog—or any other kind of pet for that matter. Most of the time, Jack had some inkling of that fact.

  Bob considered his options, then made a growling noise.

  “Was that crab I gave you for breakfast off? It sounds like you have a touch of indigestion.” Jack accompanied this pronouncement with a commiserating look.

  Maybe, if he tried really hard, he could reach him psychically. Humans were terrible at mind-to-mind communication. He had no idea how the dragons managed it. But Bob was almost certain he’d broken through a few times—once without even trying—so it was worth a shot.

  He tried for the simplest of associations. Cat-gryphon, bad.

  Bob shoved that thought at the closed box of Jack’s brain over and over again.

  But nothing happened.

  No glimmer of recognition. No hint that Jack was picking up anything at all.

  And Bob felt like he’d smashed his head against a brick wall about twenty times. Enough already. Time to regroup—and get rid of the massive ache in his head.

  Bob hid himself behind a veil as he considered his options.

  A direct confrontation in the presence of his human—probably a bad idea. Waiting for another moment of privacy in which he tried fruitlessly to convince his human to open his eyes—also a bad idea. There was no great sense of urgency, but he would have to sleep at some point.

  Bob’s head pounded. The entire shop had filled with the acrid scent of cat urine mixed with the foul, musky stench of gryphon. The odors didn’t help his aching head one bit.

  The gryphon in its house cat form might be considered appealing by some with weak noses. It seemed Jack found the creature amusing. But, to give his human some credit, the creature was putting on a masterful show. It twined itself through Jack’s legs and rubbed on his ankles in a very ungryphon-like way.

  Bob didn’t see any way around it. He’d have to chase the thing off soon. He was overdue for his mid-afternoon nap. And everyone knew a tired Arkan Sonney was a cranky one.

  As Bob steeled himself for the confrontation, he saw that Jack had pulled out the shiny bracelet.

  Jack eyed first the bracelet and then the cat. “I forgot to buy you a collar, didn’t I?” He unhooked the clasp and held it up, as if estimating the distance.

  That mangy cat-bird wasn’t getting his shiny bauble. Not him and not his kelpie mistress.

  Bob’s second set of teeth pierced through his gums as he leaped to the ground and stepped through the veil.

  The small black cat crouched low, ears flattened against his head. His tiny, tattered form hissed and spat. But then the small, pathetic cat grew sleeker. And then larger. And then more muscular.

  Wings unfolded, knocking glassware and ceramics from display shelves.

  Unmindful of glass shards, razor sharp talons scratched furrows in the concrete floor.

  His beak slashed the air as he arched his feathered head.

  The gryphon was big in his true form. Bob blinked. Really big. He grunted in annoyance. Should have hit him before the creature had fully realized his larger form. Bob puffed himself out as big as he could, hardened his bristles, and darted for the beastie’s avian legs.

  He had to scramble to miss the slash of its beak. Bob was faster than the giant beast, but barely. He flew out of the beak’s path and spat out a mouthful of feathers.

  No flesh on those skinny legs, so—fast as his four padded feet could carry him—he darted for the hindquarters. And victory! Blood dripped from Bob’s mouth as he flitted away. Good thing Jack wasn’t squeamish. Bob paused to spit out the weirdly fishy bit of flesh in his mouth.

  Uh-oh, Jack…

  Jack had pulled his gun, and as Bob watched, his silly human fired—one, two, three, shots—at the gryphon. If Bob didn’t have larger concerns, the look of surprise on Jack’s face would have been amusing. But the shots had failed to damage or even slow the nasty beastie, and it was now heading toward Jack.

  Quick as a blink, Bob darted for the underside of the wing. He ripped at the sensitive flesh where feather met fur. Less protected, the flesh gave way easily and blood flowed. It screeched, a high-pitched wail that was fueled in part by pain but also by anger.

  Distracted by the ear-piercing noise, Bob tarried too long and the creature turned its focus back to him. The gryphon’s beak slashed fast. Faster than Bob.

  A sting of pain goosed Bob to sprint away—but the creature had hold of his spiky hairs. He steeled himself then wrenched loose.

  Bob quashed the squeak that burbled inside him and hustled out of the gryphon’s reach. Mighty warriors did not squeak. And they also didn’t falter when their quills were yanked out. He made a little grumbly noise. From the root. His skin rippled, trying to ease the stinging pain.

  Right. Time to kick some gryphon butt.

  Bob shook off the loss of his precious quills and circled behind the gryphon. A little pain made him faster, and he planned to use the adrenaline rush for a final attack.

  Bob darted in, nipping and tearing at the beast’s haunches. In and out. The creature slashed with his beak but couldn’t catch Bob as he sped round and round it.

  Bob was starting to lose his fear- and adrenaline-powered rush, when he felt the wave of magic emanating from the wounded creature in the middle of the shop.

  The gryphon, with its bent feathers and torn fur, crouched low. It sunk in on itself, becoming smaller. It grew smaller and smaller until nothing was left but a small bundle of feathers. And then that bundle exploded into flight: a dove. Not the fancy white variety, but the plainer taupe-grey kind. It flew to the door—previously locked and now cracked—and flew out into the evening sky.

  Bob chuffed out a sharp breath. Good riddance.

  “Bob?” Jack stood with his gun drawn but the muzzle pointed to the ground.

  Bob sighed. His second set of teeth had receded, his claws had retracted, and his hair had smoothed down once the gryphon had fled—but Jack had to be wondering. Things were always different after the humans saw his second set of teeth, his spikey quills, and his claws.

  “You okay, buddy?” Jack holstered his gun and scanned the room a final time before turning to give Bob a concerned look. No hint of fear tinged his voice. Jack walked to the front door, closed it, and locked up—for the second time that night.

  Same old Jack. Bob grinned and nodded. And that’s why he’d chosen this one.

  “All right, I didn’t know that was a…whatever that was. Don’t suppose you could give me a hint as to why a…” Jack pulled out his phone. “Lion…bird…” He tapped his phone a few times then looked up and said, “Good lord. A gryphon, right?”

  Bob nodded and made a little spitting noise.

  “So you don’t like gryphons, huh?”

  Bob shook his head. It would have made his day easier if Jack had understood Bob’s earlier attempts at communication, when he’d clearly told his human that the little black fluffball that had invaded the shop was no good.

  “Don’t suppose you could have warned me earlier? You know, before I bought his gear and maybe before he peed in the office.”

  Bob narrowed his eyes.

  “Right. Sorry. I guess that was the whole indigestion thing earlier.” Jack rubbed his neck. “No hints as to why he was here?”

  Bob blinked. Looked at the bracelet, back to Jack, then to the bracelet again.

  Jack retrieved the shiny bauble. He examined it briefly, then dropped it into one of his deep pants pockets. “We really need to find a way to communicate in a pinch.”

  Bob chuffed in happy agreement.

  “Ah, and Marin’s gone. She’d have known about cats that turn into birds and sometimes have giant eagle feet. Wait, why didn’t it set off the sensing wards?” Jack raised an eyebrow. “Why don’t you set the sensing wards off? You’ve been holding out on us, Bob.”

  Bob just shrugged.

  “Right. Time for a beer. I don’t suppose he’ll be back later?” When Bob shook his head, Jack said, “All right, then—you joining me?” But he didn’t wait for an answer. He was already headed back to the office and the fully stocked mini-fridge.

  Bob breathed a sigh of relief when Marin returned. Jack seemed to attract more trouble than most humans, and having a dragon on the premises allowed Bob to ease his vigilance.

  Bob was so happy to see her, he remained unobtrusively visible when she entered the shop.

  Jack stopped fiddling with the bracelet when Marin honed in on it with a laser-like—and possibly green-tinged—focus. She dumped her bag and made a beeline for Jack. “Good lord, Jack. That thing must be worth a small fortune.”

  “You’re kidding.” Jack laid it flat in his palm and examined it. “I thought it was costume jewelry. Besides, even if it’s real, the stones are tiny.”

  Marin held out her hand, and Jack passed the shiny bracelet to her. She ran the tip of her finger over the intricate designs. “At a guess, there’s twenty carats here.” She flipped the bracelet over to examine the setting more closely and sighed. “Platinum, from the twenties or thirties. It’s gorgeous.”

  Bob sniffed. Prettier before Jack scrubbed the green stones.

  Jack reached for it, but she closed her fingers around it. “What exactly did you plan to do with it?”

  “Ah…” Jack turned a mildly pinkish hue.

  Bob wouldn’t rat him out. Marin need never know how close his shiny bracelet came to being a cat collar.

  “Never mind,” she said. “I have the perfect buyer
. My friend Penelope, you met her on that eminent domain case, remember? This is exactly her style.” Marin flashed her dragon grin, the one that showed a few too many teeth. “And she has the cash.”

  Bob squeaked his protest. Nasty, greedy kelpie—and cheap. Then he remembered—Marin understood rudimentary speech. “Over my rotting corpse.”

  Marin scanned the room and did a double-take when she spotted Bob. “Or maybe we won’t sell it. And hi, Bob.”

  “Hey, Bob. You’re all sorts of social today.” Glancing in Marin’s direction, he said, “Or you’re suddenly a fan of Marin’s company.”

  Marin laughed. “I don’t know about that. He’s talking about grisly outcomes if we sell the bracelet.”

  Just if they sold the pretty bauble to cheap, smelly Penelope—with her thieving trickster henchman. But Bob blinked at Marin with innocent eyes and didn’t correct her.

  Bob would find a home for his shiny bracelet.

  THE END

  Kate’s Starter Library

  My Starter Library includes:

  Lost Library, the first book in the Lost Library series—a $2.99 value with more than a hundred 5-star ratings on Goodreads, and

  Spirited Legacy, the second book in the Lost Library series—a value of $3.99, and

  Rage, an audio short recorded by Roberto Scarlato, a narrator with more than 500 5-star performance reviews, and

  Revealed, an audio short recorded by Kristi Burns, the voice of the Lost Library audio story Witch’s Diary.

  To receive my Starter Library, sign up for my newsletter, where you’ll also receive special offers, release announcements, and exclusive content!

  Also by Kate Baray

  LOST LIBRARY

  Lost Library

  Spirited Legacy

  Defensive Magic

  Lost Library Collection: Books 1-3

  Witch’s Diary

  Lost Library Shorts Collection

  The Covered Mirror: A Lost Library Halloween Short

  Krampus Gone Wild: A Lost Library Christmas Short

  SPIRELLI PARANORMAL INVESTIGATIONS

  Spirelli Paranormal Investigations Season 1

  Entombed: A Spirelli Investigations Novel

  Writing as Cate Lawley

  THE GOODE WITCH MATCHMAKER

  Timely Love

  Ghostly Love

  Deathly Love

  Forgotten Love

  The Goode Witch Matchmaker Collection

  VEGAN VAMP

  Adventures of a Vegan Vamp

  The Client’s Conundrum

  The Elvis Enigma

  The Nefarious Necklace

  Writing as K.D. Baray

  BEAUREGARD

  Mistaken: A Seth Beauregard Short

  About the Author

  Kate Baray writes paranormal and urban fantasy and lives in Austin, Texas, with her pack of pointers and bloodhounds. Kate has worked as an attorney, a manager, a tractor sales person, and a dog trainer, but writing is her passion. When she's not writing, she sweeps up hairy dust bunnies and watches British mysteries.

  Kate also writes sweet romances and cozy mysteries as Cate Lawley and thrillers as K.D. Baray.

  For more information:

  www.katebaray.com

  [email protected]

 

 

  Kate Baray, Bob vs the Cat

 

 

  Thank you for reading books on Archive.BookFrom.Net
Share this book with friends