The Human Bargain

It was a pea-soup foggy afternoon in Port Townsend. The Cat King's warehouse may have been right by the ocean, but with the thick curtain of fog, it was impossible to see it. Only the gentle roll of waves and the distant cry of a seagull made its seaside location undeniable.

Cat - as he was known to his friends (which were not many, but the number was growing) had been spending most of his time in London. But Port Townsend was still his primary domain. Thanks to his ability to teleport wherever there were a dozen or more cats, the commute was entirely reasonable - if a bit taxing magically-speaking.

Several of Cat's subjects came out to greet him as he walked up to the warehouse. Felines of all shapes and sizes chirped at him in greeting and scent-marked his legs by brushing against him or winding around his ankles. But he wasn't here to see the feral cat colony of Port Townsend.

He was there to see a bird. A crow, specifically. And one crow in particular.

Monty had been hanging around the warehouse since Esther had been killed. He'd been stuck in his crow form since, and didn't seem to know what to do with him. He was a bird without a purpose, and one who had tasted life as a human. Being just a bird after knowing human emotions and human passions was a special kind of prison.

Cat didn't really concern himself with Monty, but nor did he do anything to discourage him from hanging about. Sometimes his subjects took issue with a bird on his turf and went after him, but it wasn't by his orders. He felt pity for the creature, even though he also felt jealousy and anger. He'd betrayed Edwin, and that wasn't something Cat could abide. But he also felt an odd kinship with him, as a fellow animal-turned-human.

But Edwin was in need of a bird ally, and there wasn't much that Cat wouldn't do for that particular Edwardian ghost - including consorting with a corvid.

Cat dug his hands into the pockets of his long, dramatic leather duster that nipped in at the waist. He squinted up at the roof. "I know you're up there."

There was the distinctive sound of talons clacking across sheet metal, then a shiny black head peeked over the edge and looked down at him quizzically.

Cat's jaw tightened as he remembered how Monty's betrayal had almost sent Edwin and Charles into oblivion. But he pushed down that irritation, then shoved open the door to the warehouse. "Come on, Monty. We've got business to discuss."

Monty looked at him, hopped along the eave, then looked down the dock at the half dozen or so feral cats milling around. He cawed.

"Don't worry. They won't attack you unless I tell them to. And you're going to be a good bird, aren't you?" Then Cat swept the dramatic coat around and entered the warehouse proper.

Monty didn't follow immediately, but after a wary few minutes, he hopped in through the door and cawed again.

"You're hanging out on top of my place. Of course the cats are going to harass you. You're just lucky they can't get up on the roof." Cat turned around and walked backwards, then spun back again. He flopped dramatically onto the pile of wooden palettes that comprised his throne, beneath the glowing neon sign in the shape of a crown. London was great, especially since he had Edwin, but there was something about the unfettered authority he had in Port Townsend that he had missed. In big cities, there were all sorts of competing power dynamics. But in the sleepy seaside town, he ruled the roost - especially now that a certain witch was gone.

Monty hop-hopped forward and then to the side. Then he jumped and flapped a few feet, landed, then cawed again.

Cat rolled his eyes. "Are you really going to sass me? Seriously?" He leaned forward, elbows on knees, eyebrows raised.