The Tales of Twisted Felix Katt (Book 1)

Once More Down the Yellow Brick Road (NaNoWriMo)

Wanting to be someone else is a waste of the person you are - Kurt Kobain

The smile fell right off my face a split second after a flung piece of cake made itself intimate with my visage. More sounds of splatter and laughter, then sudden silence. I scraped some of the icing and cake off of my no longer freshly scrubbed self, and saw all the kids and adults alike looking at me in dismay and slight fear. But today was not the day to get worked up over a little food fight, even if normally my cheap nature would begrudge the waste of food.

“Mmmm chocolate.” I licked the icing off my fingers and turned to shoot a grin at Van and Rorick. They both had their own sugary decorations splattered all over but they looked a little more shocked by it than I did. “As you were.” I waved to the tableau of startled families and walked on passed to go clean up, again.

Because it was Mardi Gras, I changed and headed out, knowing that the other two were already incognito and out to enjoy the night. My dress was a red Oriental number with gold and ivory accents. My hip length black hair was down and loosely wavy. I’d done careful makeup even though I had a golden lion’s mask on, my hair a rich mane to frame the rampant cat face. The Nottingham Shuffle was still in full sway and I was glad because the torchlight and bonfires only added to the ambiance of the night.

“Happy birthday Felix.” I whispered to myself, the secret barely making it passed my lips. No one knew my actual birth date. That would only help pinpoint my real identity so I never let anyone know. Normally I even forget it because I was usually sky bound and it’s hard to keep track of dates when you’re mid constellation. Since I remembered this year, I promised myself a night to relax and just eat, drink and be merry.

Avoiding the more likely to be trysting spots, I made my way towards the sounds of live music and loud laughter. This was going to be my kind of night. The first bonfire circle I came across was in a clearing where the beginnings of the beach helped keep the fire contained. There were roasted meats available and I grabbed what was likely a drumstick and ate it quickly while someone passed me a drink. Normally I’m as paranoid as the next girl, but tonight I simply taste tested it to see if my sensitive palette could detect any toxins, found it clean and drank it down. Honey wine, ick, way too sweet. When this circle started to play soft guitar music, I wandered away towards another bonfire,

On the beach there was a much bigger bonfire, the lack of trees letting the flames dance high, and I spotted an old shed slowly being consumed in the heart of it. These were people more likely to dance and play than sit and talk, and its where I found some decent whiskey. My eyes were scanning the people carefully, looking beyond costumes and masks to see if I could recognize the body language of the man I was searching for. Just because I couldn’t have him didn’t mean I didn’t want to look. It helps that it’s really hard to disguise his bulk, distinctly bald head and identifying slave collar. Even tonight he couldn’t take it off. But as I watched the crowd, I realized that this was a young twenty something bonfire and I wouldn’t find him here. Walking passed a few interested smiles, I left and walked towards a further bonfire.

There was more laughter here, up off the beach, and people were sitting in comfortable sprawls. The ground was grassy and the fire small but bright. One masked man was standing before the fire, telling a well known fable with its less well known lascivious passages. I settled in and listened, laughing at the inept hero of the tale. Someone passed me a sandwich and I reluctantly passed my whiskey over to share. That was an unspoken rule of Mardi Gras, you shared what you had. Even if you came empty handed like I had, eventually you’d get something and then you’d have something to share. When the troubadour finished, I decided to tell then a heavily edited version of the infamous Van shot in the ass run. It’s a good story and it continued the laughter. I bowed as I finished my tale, the crowd clapping and as I headed back to my seat, a pair of musicians began to play. The troubadour from earlier pulled me into a dance and I laughed and let the sly man twirl me around. I could relax because he was harmless and wanted nothing more than a dance from me. Others were dancing around us as well, but I got this sudden feeling that someone was stalking me. My instincts and I went through our awkward phase years ago, so I knew now that I could trust that feeling of ‘oh shit’ that flared up.

My dance with the troubadour ended and I left the dancing behind to scan the people lining the perimeter. I saw the back of someone retreating under the trees and my feet were suddenly off after him. Of course that meant that the rest of me had to follow so I ended up running into a forest that was only illuminated by starlight, the moon not yet visible. Not  my brightest of moves, but by the time I reached where he had disappeared, there was no sign of him. I shoved aside the sense of disappointment that realization caused and took my time walking in the forest. He’d been leaving this area, headed in this direction and my gut was telling me to follow, so I did. The vague trail I wandered led me out onto a cliff head. There was no bonfire but there was a violinist playing a haunting song. I must have walked right passed the masked man I’d followed here, as I watched the stars sparkle overhead. You try not being impressed watching the stars glimmer over an ocean, while the waves crash below and a master fiddler plays.

The sense of being hunted returned and I turned around to find him already there. Surprisingly I wasn’t one hundred percent sure it was Rorick. The obvious indicators were all disguised. The man who set off my spidey senses was wearing a man in the iron mask replica. The crude metal and leather contraption covered his entire head and came down his neck, so I couldn’t even tell if he had a collar on or not. The man’s large frame was shielded in concealing layers and folds, a cloak only added to the confusion. In the man’s large hands was one single, long stemmed red rose, and when he saw he had my attention, the large man stepped behind me and swiftly pulled a few strands back to braid the rose into my hair. I have to admit that it brought a flush to my cheeks and goose bumps all over my skin. Goddess I hoped that this was Rorick, but that meant he knew it was me behind the mask. I should leave then, this would only make it harder on both of us when I had to reject him later. But I stayed still while he circled back around me and took my hands, leading me into a dance. Oh yeah, birthday dance under the night sky bright with stars, a Cliffside view and a fiddler; there was definite swooning on my behalf.

His hands only left my hips to reach up and remove his mask, revealing that yes, this was my Rorick. My hands stayed against his broad chest as he dropped his mask and slid his hands behind my head to untie mine. This way lies dragons, I needed to stop him. Tonight of all nights I should be free to do this, but Rorick didn’t even suspect that I had a terrible secret that would keep us apart. I had to reject him because anything else would lead to his death. But I couldn’t say a thing as he lowered my mask away and dropped it next to his. Rorick’s face lowered to mine and he kissed me. It made my entire body suddenly jolt into hyper sensitivity, like I’d been touched with a live wire, or main lined caffeine; which is how I felt it when someone brushed past us and lifted my pistol. Rorick’s kiss had stunned me and made me slow, so I didn’t react in time to stop the bastard.

I broke off the kiss. “Dick just stole my gun!” I blurted out and bolted after the soon to be dead man.

“Damn it Felix.” I heard Rorick grumble as he lumbered after me, but he didn’t try and stop me. That was the .45 I’d reclaimed after the Bluewater incident and my pride wouldn’t let me abandon it now. So of course he came with me after it because, even as slow witted as I was, I knew his place was at my side, watching my back. The young tough who’d tried to lift my pistol bolted like a startled rabbit. Rorick charged straight after the man but I peeled off to the side, running as fast as I could on a parallel.

When I heard a girlish scream and a gunshot, I threw myself through the greenery and tackled blindly into the young man with my gun. Most of my attention was focused on beating the shit out of the little idiot and reclaiming my gun. My distracted peripheral attention though, had realized that the idiot bleeding under my fists had been about to shoot a masked woman with my gun. Rorick had jumped over the two of us grappling and placed himself between the masked woman and us, only kneeling down to check the pulse of a bleeding masked man on the ground. I couldn’t really focus on the scene despite my curiosity, because this assassin was determined to escape. Too bad for him, I hold onto one hell of a grudge.  I finally beat him into submission and stood to find five more guards standing around us.

The woman whose life Rorick and I had just inadvertently saved took off her mask and I felt like I’d been kicked in the gonads. “Queen Anna. Well, this night certainly isn’t turning out how I expected.” I babbled.