[Warning! This chapter should only be read after the epilogue of How to Tame a Cat. If you read this before you finish HTTAC, you will likely find spoilers.]
~Chapter One: Book One – Heather and Those Powerful Witches~
"Stay behind us."
The whispered order makes Heather frown, but it is too late to argue about her position on this mission, as they are already at the scene and delaying the Hellion team here would be a terrible idea. With the enemy just a quarter mile down the road, it is only a matter of time before the witches notice the miniature army of sixteen demons sneaking through the dark forest in their stupid white uniforms.
To be honest, she did not really want to go on this mission, especially not after what happened the last time she worked for the demons. Because of the stupid cutting spell she was hit with in the stomach a few days prior to visiting her brother at his cabin, Cade started getting suspicious. If something happens this time around, only a few days before she will be seeing her brother again, it will be hard to get out of answering any of his questions.
However, just because she did not want to return to field missions right away does not mean she wanted to be sidelined when she is assigned a new mission anyway. At the very least, they could let her take down a few bad guys. While Heather knows, as the only Were among highly-trained warrior demons, she is the weakest link to this seventeen-person team, that does not mean she cannot pull her own weight.
Yet they refuse to let her shift. Apparently, since she is only on this mission as someone who can use advanced technology, she needs to retain her human hands. After all, this entire mission is just to retrieve files from a closed server in a demon-base-turned-witch-camp after the demons who lived here were overrun. She is also supposed to then wipe the hard drive to make sure no one else gets the highly-encrypted, top secret files.
Apparently, they don't teach Hellions how to use computers in training...
With a silent sigh, Heather obediently follows the well-armed group of Hellions in their pristine white uniforms, which cannot possibly be considered stealthy. It takes less than a handful of minutes before they happen upon the fallen base, which is nothing more than a cluster of cabins along the side of a usually-abandoned road. The cabins are clearly occupied, as all the lights are on and some even have smoke coming out of their chimneys.
Outside, there are five witches lingering on the porch of one of the middle cabins, which should be no problem for her team, but there is no doubt in Heather's mind that there are more inside or currently out of sight, which might be a little harder. Even if the witches are not as strong as the demons, they can still do a lot of damage, especially if they have numbers. If there are too many of them, they might even have to call for backup, which is forty minutes behind, waiting with the cars.
All of witches she can see are wearing thick cloaks to fight off the frigid night air of Montana, though it likely would have been wiser to wear actual coats. Since when have villains ever been rational when they can be dramatic?
Rolling her eyes, she hangs back at the edge of the forest when she sees the sergeant in charge of the team signal her to stop. While she would much rather stick with them, as she does need protection when she is not in the body of a giant cat with giant claws, Heather figures that there will be a fight the moment the witches see the demons and it would be safer to just follow orders until he fight is over.
Can't I at least shift until the danger is gone?
Sighing softly, Heather decides to sit at the base of a tree, half hidden by the trunk in case she needs to duck fully behind it to hide from rogue magic. Of the fights she has been in, she knows how messy the Hellions can be when using their magic. They seem to think brute strength and showing off their powerful magic will win them the battles. It is likely why they lost against the Fae, though she would never say that to a demon's face. It would likely lead to her hair being fried off, and she is rather fond of her hair.
Not even ten seconds after Heather makes herself comfortable against the tree, there are shouts from the witches when the demons are spotted – why it took so long for them to spot white-clad figures in a forest with very little snow, she has no idea – and a fight breaks out. Despite her disinterest in the demon fighting styles, she still watches the fight with intense focus. It would be really bad if she failed to notice a signal from one of her team just because she was bored. In fact, she was warned by one of the captains, Vepkoadur, that she might need to steal the files during the fight if there is an opening and the team is in danger of losing, which is probably the reason they insist on her human form.
The first death is a witch within thirty seconds of the fight starting, but the poor girl is quickly followed by an earth demon who was overpowered when a group of witches came storming out of one of the cabins. Heather frowns at the sudden increase in the number of witches since the demons are now outnumbered, though only by two. As expected, the demons immediately try to even out the number of players on the field.
What is not expected is the power level of these witches. By now, Heather and the others have grown used to the witches using the wands, weird as it is, but they had also adjusted to the moderate strength the witches usually display. This is not moderate strength; it is not even close.
Did they take steroids before the fight or something?
A glance at her watch shows that it is not even seven minutes into the fight and it has already become abundantly clear who the winner will be – the enemy. Heather's eyes widen when the sergeant in charge literally flies over a cabin when he is hit by multiple orange spells thrown by the witches. She has no idea what those spells were, but they could not possibly have been good if they did that. Demons might have tough bodies, but there is a very small chance he lived through that.
Even if he somehow did, though, the fight will be over before he can recover.
With the sergeant gone, all the lower ranks, who are likely still rather new to Hellion battles, become less coordinated and two of the remaining ten die within minutes. When another one dies, Heather moves further behind the tree and starts to shuck of her clothes. Orders or not, she is not going to wait around for everyone to die, herself included. Thanking her parents for being black panthers and not something small like a bobcat, Heather shifts.
Due to the stress of the situation, the shift only takes twenty seconds rather than the usual tense minute. It hurts a great deal more, but it is worth it to finally be able to protect herself instead of hiding behind some tree like a coward. Flexing her claws into the damp dirt, she allows herself a moment to adjust before glancing out at the fight again.
In the short time it took her to undress and shift, another demon has already fallen. Despite this, the other demons continue to fight, giving no indication that they plan to surrender any time soon. It might be stupid, but the one thing you can always expect from the Hellions is their drive to keep fighting even when they have pretty much already lost. Though, she suspects that once the number of Hellions reaches two or three, things will change, especially since they have to be running low on magic by now.
In the back of her mind, Heather knows the best thing to do would be to get the backup team. However, her eyes land on the familiar face of one of the demons she spent an hour talking to on the car ride here. She also sees the numerous wands pointed his way. And then she sees nothing but red.
The next thing Heather knows, she is jumping onto an unsuspecting witch's back, knocking them to the ground. Her teeth maul the man's shoulder and, while he screams, she renders him immobile by dragging her claws down his back. It is not enough to kill him, though, unless he does not get medical attention in the future and eventually bleeds out.
To Vepkoadur's chagrin, Heather is not the type to kill her enemies. He believes it has to do with her morals, but it really has more to do with the fact that the mere thought of killing someone makes her want to throw up. To actually kill someone would likely lead to her spending a good ten or so minutes coughing up her last meal into a bush. That would be an unnecessary waste of time in her opinion, as well as a sign of weakness to everyone still alive, so maiming it is.
Satisfied with the witch's condition, she charges at another opponent, only to be blasted sideways by an orange spell. The spell stings more than it hurts, but since it led to her colliding with the wall of one of the cabins, she is still momentarily dazed. The slight dizziness does not hinder her enough to miss the next spell coming her way, though. She then sprints to cover the distance between her and the witch who dared to hit her with that annoying spell, dodging each spell the fool sends her way. They might be proficient at magic, but their reflexes are slow and they have absolutely zero close combat skills from what she has seen.
Instead of jumping on her attacker and attacking the jugular like her instincts demand, she gets close enough to slash the female witches face with her claws and the woman cries out, instantly dropping her wand to clutch her bleeding face. This offers Heather the chance to slash her claws along the woman's calves, making the witch drop with another shriek. She would have done more, such as mauling the witch's arms a little to ensure the woman stays out of the fight, but another stingy spell colliders with her hip, sending her sprawling sideways.
When she attempts to rise, another spell hits her from another direction, making her roll a few times. Instead of attempting to rise, Heather remains motionless as she tries to figure out where the demons are. It is as she is looking around that she becomes aware of how quiet it is and mentally frowns. Her mental frown only grows when she cannot spot a single upright demon in front of her. All the ones she can see are...well, they all look dead.
Oh, this can't be good.
A ball of anxiety starts to form in her stomach as she lifts her head a little to look behind her in hopes of seeing at least one of her allies alive. However, there are only a handful of witches behind her and three witches in front of her, all of them looking at her. Some of them appear to have relaxed with their wands at their sides, but at least four have them pointed directly at her, waiting for her to make a move.
"We won't kill you if you shift back," someone behind her offers and she turns her head to glare in the general direction of the voice since she does not know who spoke.
I make bad decisions, like charging out here, but I'm not stupid enough to believe that. Besides, there are things worse than death.
She would have said that out loud, but the lack of human vocal cords makes it come out as nothing more than humming growl. Heather immediately cuts off the sound, though, when an idea comes to mind. Ever so slowly, Heather rises to her feet. The witches eye her warily, but do not attack, thinking that she is merely getting into position to shift back. It is a good thing they do not seem to know a Were can shift from just about any position, even if the preferably position is standing to avoid the chance of cramps.
Heather bunches her muscles and twists her face in an attempt to mimic the start of a shift. This act would never fool another Were, but the witches remain unaware of her plan. It is because of this that it takes them a few seconds to process what she does next, which is suddenly running for the trees.
While her instincts tell her to jump into the first tree she happens upon, she knows it would do her no good, not in this situation. Instead, she continues to run past the trees without hesitation, knowing that their human legs will be unable to keep up with her at this speed. Once she is far enough away, she will slow down and allow herself time to catch her breath, as leopards are not endurance runners, but until she reaches that point, she is not slowing down for anything.
However, in the end, her act goes to waste, as she only makes it a few yards past the first line of trees before a very precise blue spell hits her back leg, instantly numbing it and sending her tumbling head over heels into a tree she was about to dodge. Heather's front legs connect with the tree first and there is a loud snap as one of them breaks at the forearm from the force of the collision. Her scream comes out as a pained wail.
She would get up in an attempt to keep going, injured or not, but the spell that hit her back leg hasn't worn off, keeping it numb. Even if she did manage to get on her feet, she would not make it far with only two working legs when she should have four. Instead, she just cradles her front leg close to her chest and listens in growing horror as the witches approach. One of them hisses in sympathy upon seeing her broken leg, but the other two who came after her just snicker.
"Shift back," one of the snickering witches, the only blond in the group, orders. Heather simply glares at him.
The blond witch points his wander at her and looks about ready to fire another spell, but the sympathetic female witch, a redhead, grabs the wooden stick before he can. "Find the Were's clothes, idiot. They're going to be naked when they shift back," the witch scolds, glaring at the other two.
"That could take all night!" The blond witch exclaims, clearly not pleased with the prospect of searching the dark forest for an enemy's clothes.
However, before the female witch or the blond can argue further, the third witch, a brunet, unclasps the button keeping his cloak closed and places it over Heather. This immediately shuts up the other two witches as they turn to look at Heather expectantly, as if expecting her to shift now. They clearly do not understand how private a shift is, as they would turn away otherwise or at least offer her some form of privacy other than the cloak.
Since that is not going to happen, though, she reluctantly shifts back to human. There might be things worse than death, but at least as a human, she can curse them out if they torture her. The change takes a little longer that it had earlier, though it has more to do with the broken arm having trouble with the shift than the lack of stress, as she is practically sweating anxiety right now.
Thankfully, the cloak keeps her covered from neck down through her shift. It only takes a moment for her to recover before she is sitting up while holding the cloak around her to hide her nudity. Since Heather refuses to be the first to speak, she simply glares at them, waiting in tense silence. The hush over the four of them only lasts a few seconds, though, before the brunet witch points his wand at her.
Heather immediately tries to move out of the way, which is made hard by her numb leg and broken arm, but he says something rapidly in a strange language and the dark blue spell hits her before she can attempt to roll away. To her utter confusion, though, it doesn't hurt. In fact, her arm hurts less. However, she knows it was not a healing spell, as her broken bone doesn't suddenly mend itself back together; it is just her mind that gets disoriented.
"Are you the only team or should we expect more?" The female witch asks, looking down at Heather with a blank expression.
To Heather's confusion, her mouth starts to move without her brain's permission. "You should expect more, but not for a while. The captain thought we would be enough," she answers, in a voice that sounds numb even to her.
Her answer receives a groan from the blond, but he says nothing, leaving the questioning up to the woman. Apparently, the backup team is of little concern to them, as they move right onto the next topic. "Was your goal to take back this base?"
"No," Heather answers, internally ordering herself to shut up, "we needed the files from the databases left behind."
The three witches exchange intrigued glances before focusing their full attention on Heather. "What's on those files?" The redhead asks, crouching in front of Heather, which makes it a little easier on the cat's neck now that she does not have to look up as she talks.
"Locations of bases and allies," she answers, and inwardly, she wants to cry out of frustration. However, the truth spell – or whatever it is – somehow keeps her expression in a blank mask, meaning that she cannot glare, snarl, or curse them out, as even her mouth refuses to work without prompting.
"Do you know the passwords to the computer?"
"Yes," she says, though thankfully, the question did not ask for an elaboration, making it easy to fight the need to give the passwords. However, she knows it is futile and just a way of stalling, as they need only ask.
The blond witch's fist connects with her face and since the spell keeps her compliant, she is unable to do more than be knocked down by it. There is a hiss from the female witch and she smacks the blond on the side of the head before helping Heather sit up and rearranging the cloak so it continues to cover her properly. "You idiot, control your temper," she snaps, slapping him again before turning back to Heather. "What are the passwords?"
Heather opens her mouth to answer, tasting the blood of her split lip in doing so, but before she can say anything, she is being hit by another spell from the side, this one brown-green. It, like the truth spell, does not hurt, but she starts to feel tingly when her mind clears of the odd numbing fog and she once again regains control of herself. Though, she still ends up hissing in pain when she can once again feel her broken arm.
"What do you think you are doing?"
The accented voice sounds like it is laced with malice and all three witches visibly flinch. When Heather looks over, she spots a shadowy figure wearing the same cloak as everyone else, though the man under the cloak is more intimidating than any of the other witches are. She tries to catch his scent, but her nose is stuffy and uncooperative after being punched. She really hopes it isn't broken...
To her surprise, the stranger crouches down beside her and brushes a finger over her soon-to-be-bruised face before saying something in an unknown language. It sounds Russian, but she could be wrong. After all, it is not like she studied languages in college like her little brother currently is, so how is she to know what he is speaking?
Despite his close proximity, the shadows protect his face from her sight, even with her great night vision that should make him easier to see. The witches, though, seem to know exactly who he is, which is likely why they take a step back when he looks over his shoulder at them. Heather is not sure if they are reacting out of respect or fear, but it is clear who is in charge here.
"Interrogating the enemy," the blond answers, his tone very close to a stammer.
"I never gave you permission to interrogate anyone," her 'rescuer' snaps, his accent growing stronger until his words are almost unrecognizable. However, the witches seem to understand perfectly, likely used to the man's accent, as they nod rapidly in response. "Good, now put her on one of the beds in the cabins; we're leaving."
"What?" The female witch exclaims, before promptly snapping her mouth shut.
The air suddenly grows thicker with tension – a tension which suspiciously seems to be radiating from the shadowy man. "I said, we're leaving," he says, speaking slowly to enunciate each syllable. "We may have won the battle, but it is only a matter of time before they send reinforcements in greater numbers."
"There's a second squad, but you could easily defeat them all by yourself, sir," the brunet witch says, though much calmer and far politer than the other two.
The brunet's polite way of addressing him seems to calm Heather's rescuer down a bit, or it could have been the rather obvious compliment. "Perhaps, but we already proved our point and have what we came for. There's no need to defend this place any longer," he replies. "Now, take her to the cabin, make sure she's comfortable and warm, and then we leave."
Odd way to treat an enemy, but there's no way I'm saying that out loud.
It is the brunet who moves around the heavily-accented stranger to pick her up, though the female witch fusses a little with the cloak to make sure it covers Heather properly as well as positions Heather's arm to avoid further breakage. Heather is not sure if it is because her rescuer ordered it or because they are not necessarily bad people, but either way, she is glad for the positive attention, even if it is from her enemies.
"Oh, and Clayton," her rescue addresses the blond witch, drawing Heather's attention over to them. She just barely catches the glimpse of a brown-green aura on the stranger's pale hand before the blond witch, Clayton, is being thrown back into a tree with a force that rivaled the spells she was hit with earlier. "Never hit a woman off the battlefield."
- - - - - - -
The door of the single-room cabin flies open and a couple demons rush in, ready for a fight. However, the two demons in the doorway immediately freeze upon seeing the single figure lying on the only bed in the cabin. Heather, once again clothed in more than just cloak, gives them a little wave with her good hand before one of the demons runs out and shouts, "I found Wilson! She's alive!"
The remaining demon searches the room, ignoring Heather when she tells him that everyone left over two hours ago. Five minutes later, Vepkoadur, the dark-skinned captain himself, walks in, or perhaps she should say he speed walks in, as he appears to be in quite a rush. "Are you all right?" He asks, and then pauses in the middle of the room when his eyes land on her wrapped up arm that she has cradled to her chest. The redhead did a pretty good job of making a temporary cast to keep her from injuring it further, but Heather will need a professional to set the bone. "Oh Skuure, you need a hospital."
"It's not that bad," Heather immediately complains, not at all fond of the idea. After all, her body can heal broken bones just fine. She just needs a little help from one of their medical team to fix the bone.
Vepkoadur moves closer and starts to unwrap it, only to stop when she hisses in obvious pain. "Even with the wrappings on, I can tell it's swollen, Wilson. You're going to a hospital," he says, in a no-nonsense tone. He then carefully picks her up and starts walking towards the door. "You can tell me all about what happened on the drive there. Considering the scene outside, it will be quite a story."
"Fine, but you have to make sure the hospital releases me by tomorrow. I don't care if they say I have a major concussion; I have a C.A.T. meeting to attend in exactly three days and I can't miss it."
In the end, the hospital let her go in two days, not one, causing her to miss her original flight and having to book another one. Despite how hard she tried, she still ended up late to the meeting.
[AN: There will be one chapter for each of the books, and then one final chapter that takes place afterwards. I hope everyone is doing well~ Halloween is so close! Any fun costume plans?]