Lost and Found: A Tale of the Tylwyth Teg

Chapter 12 - Fairy Felines and Not So Fancy Feast

In minutes, Anne had all 20-plus pounds of our newest addition spilling over both sides of her lap, as she rubbed his luxurious coat dry. He was enormous, even in his reduced size. Think 6-month-old Saint Bernard... It's a wonder his slamming into Anne hadn't sent them both flying off the other end of the landing.

"I'll go see if they've got cat food at the gas station," I said as I grabbed the car keys.

"No need," Anne answered, "Fay put two cans in my bag as I was leaving, along with that pink catnip cigar."

I found a saucer whose cup companion had long since broken and placed the food – Fancy Feast – on it.

"Ma Cherie, that is a very tiny can," I commented, and was rewarded with an evil glare and both hands on her hips. Anne is a cat person, you see. Never argue with a cat person. No, seriously. I knew in my gut that cat-bear was not a canned cat food aficionado. He was the type of animal you gave bloody, raw meat to. Still alive, preferably.

As soon as the plate reached the floor, Anne let out a cry and I nearly lost my grip as the bearcat simply appeared in front of it. And then looked at me, evidently disappointed.

It shoved the plate away, sliding it across the floor where it stopped right in front of the kitchen garbage can. I felt my face turn red and was about to expel a stream of invective when Anne coughed. "Let me handle this," she said. She knelt before him and bowed her head.

"Forgive us, Sir?" she began, and scratched under his neck. She discovered, hidden amidst the luxurious fur forest, a golden collar with a medal. On it was inscribed the name 'Alwyn.'

"That's Welsh for 'blessed', yes?" Anne states, but I am wrapped up in the impossible absurdity of this entire evening, and remember an old Paul Simon song which I sing (with altered lyrics) to Alwyn:

"If you'd be her bodyguard, I can be your long-lost pal...

You can call her Annie, and Annie when you call him, you can call him Al."

And our catbear (bearcat?) gave me a look that would best be described as condescending. And I swear, though Annie fiercely disputed it – he rolled his eyes. I put down a bowl of water, and then grabbed Annie's hand and led her into the drawing room.

I tended the fire, occupying myself with simple menial tasks that didn't require me to suspend my disbelief. It was only yesterday that I'd decided there was something paranormal going on in Cambria. A bearcat, jumping from a place beyond an impossible door was not something I had expected to deal with on the very next day.

"Goodness sakes, Lils, sit down! We've known a cat would be coming, we just didn't know when. I think he's wonderful." She sat down quietly and calmly, drying her lovely tresses with a towel she'd taken from under the kitchen sink. I was too wound up to stay still, so I paced.

"Annie, my love – that is not a cat. I swear on RBG's lace collar it's part bear. And while you might not remember how big it was, I certainly do! He was as big as a Saint Bernard! And where in Goddess' name does he come from!"

"Come now, Lils. The answer's pretty obvious. It's from wherever that door leads." Al chose that moment to appear on Anne's lap again.

I sank into the sofa and took her hand. "This fairy lore – it's your area of expertise."

Annie gave me one of her rare 'raised eyebrow' looks. "You're a reporter, love. I don't need to tell you how to research this."

Al then leapt from her lap and settled into my lounge chair – a good eight-foot horizontal leap. Anne's grip tightened on my hand. And pieces of cat lore fell into place. Of course, Al chose my chair. It was a challenge of sorts. All I needed to do was to accept Al into our 'den' and show dominance. I walked over to my chair.

"I haven't yet thanked you for stopping Anne from going through that door," I said, with sincerity. "It's almost as if you were waiting for her." I hefted the massive creature in my arms and sat down in the chair while placing Al in my lap. He then licked the back of my right hand, and materialized curled up in front of the fire, sound asleep.

My hand tingled where he'd licked it, and what I saw next unsettled me. Five cat pads in the shape of a paw appeared, shimmering wetly golden before the feline tattoo vanished in two heartbeats. At the time, my logical brain assumed I was imagining it, due to stress or exhaustion or both. Al was snoring loudly – in basso profundo.

I followed Anne into the kitchen and began to giggle. Anne stared at me as if I'd lost my mind. But I shook my head and pointed at her once-beige trousers that now were a midnight black, covered in long, fairy bearcat hair.

"Lint rollers go to the very top of the grocery list!" she sighed. She'd begun ladling 'Leftover Love Stew' into bowls and handed me one. Leave it to my practical paramour to remember we hadn't had supper yet. We sat down, and while I'd thought my appetite had fled with my sanity after tonight's escapade, we ate ravenously. As she dipped her warm bread in the soup, Anne sighed deeply. 

"I'm sorry I took the key. I just...I don't know. It's eerie. From the second I saw that key, I'd made my mind up to open that door, and it was important that I did it tonight. And when you said that lovely bit about the last time, and sunlight, I didn't want to do it anymore. And when the opportunity came..."

I was furious at her, yes. She's supposed to be the one with an overabundance of common sense. We began clearing away the meal when a thought occurred to me.

"It was like you were possessed, right?" I suggested. She'd had a look in her eyes I'd never seen before. Wild, and also somewhat fey. I admit, she looked crazy sexy for a brief instant, but in a dangerous and unstable sort of way. Like some of the heroines in the few Young Adult stories she'd written.

"I forgive you. Something strange is hovering around us, and there's no one I'd rather have at my side to confront it." She threw her arms around me, and things continued like that until we both fell asleep in bed.