Vincent Albright was at the top of his game. He had achieved fame, fortune, and the love and adoration of thousands through his artwork. After a falling out, however, he sought haven on Charlie's Isle, a small, low populated island off the coast of...
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Mary and her mother had had their coffee and after several more hours of trying to interpret the murals it was my turn for the shift downstairs.
The Fields family lived above the Brown Horse Tavern, which Oscar and Mary Fields had bought when they were young. Soon after Oscar revealed to Mary, a human, that he was a Werecat and offered to change her. Mary decided to remain human to age alongside her mother, Ethel, who would probably not be able to survive the bite and shift due to her already advanced age. All three were both born and raised on the Isle, Mary only ever traveling to the mainland twice in her 40 years.
It was only around 4:00 and the tavern wouldn't start picking up until 7:00. Until then, I had my laptop out researching abstract art. I thought I knew all there was, but this had both Ethel and myself stumped. After her coffee she had made her way back upstairs to take another look. She spent a solid 10 minutes silently staring at the pieces, but nothing came of it. Ethel was never quiet and always had an answer even if it were a snark one. She just shook her head and walked off.
I had just opened an article called 'Interpreting Art: Where You're Going Wrong' and I thought it looked promising when my laptop slammed shut with my fingers still on the keyboard.
"Shit!" I hollered, whipping my fingers out.
"Where have you been?"
I swing my head up from my aching fingers to meet a pair of worried, forest eyes. Fuming eyes.
"Are you deaf? Is that why you haven't been answering the phone either?" Ivy asked.
"This is out of character." I said, trying to crack the tension. It didn't work. Ivy reached over the bar and smacked me upside the head, "I've been working, alright? I haven't slept in days because of these damn murals that aren't making sense!"
Ivy's glare softened. She was one of the few people that could understand my need to paint when 'the feeling' hits. I explained it several months ago, and the best comparison she could reach was Raven's visions from That's So Raven except I had to put mine on canvas.
She didn't apologize for hitting me, but instead hopped her way up onto a bar stool and asked for her usual. She normally came in during my shifts to share a beer and people watch.
"Did I miss anything good?" I asked after a few minutes of silence.
The normal Ivy was back. She launched into a story about her younger sisters attempting to hunt an entire herd of deer and failing miserably. When reenacting the highlights, her bobbed blonde hair swished around and she made some noises that earned stares from the other customers.
Ivy and I weren't what you would call 'fast friends.' It took us weeks to warm up to one another. We had met in panther form, hunting the same prey. In panther form our instincts drive us just a bit more than human will, so when it got down to who got the goods there was some bloodshed. Neither of us were severally injured, but she did take a chunk out of one of my ankles that took a few days to heal completely.
After that we kept away from one another. If we caught the other's scent we'd hunt in the opposite direction. If we happened to glance the other before shifting we would find something else to look at. Eventually, however, being the only Werecats on the Isle around the same age got the best of us and we grew close.
Ivy was still telling the story when the bar started to fill up. I was taking 10 orders a minute and flying by with bills and closed tabs. It was a small building, so it got loud easily. Most of the conversations were either incoherent or irrelevant, but a group of three humans sitting at a nearby table had caught Ivy's attention.
"What is it?" I asked so only she could hear me.
"Shh..." Ivy responded, nodding in the general direction of the three men.
I tuned out the rest of the room to listen in...
"...was out huntin' with some buddies last night and said this big thing crossed their path." One man said. He was probably around 60. He and his friends weren't regulars to the tavern, but obviously lobster fishermen judging by their clothes and smell.
"Did they shoot it?" One of the others asked.
"Nah. They were so spooked that they didn't think of it. Said the thing was bigger'n any mountain lion they'd've seen." The first responded.
The third, who had remained silent until now, said, "Was 'prolly just the shadows of the moon playin' with their eyes. It was full last night."
"'Prolly. Regardless, they're goin' out again tonight to find the thing." The first said. After that the topic changed and Ivy wheeled around on her barstool the face me.
"Drunk?" She asked.
"Nope. Their tab is open but they're all on their first rounds." I responded as I glanced at my notebook to double check.
"Think it's a Were?"
"I doubt it. We're not allowed to hunt within 5 miles of the town." I responded.
When my parents were my age, the system of Werecats living in leaps under Ris, Anaxi* and Heads fell. I grew up hearing the stories of Riley Brun and her friends' fight for justice during a period of time that's become known as 'The Dark Years.' When the leap system crumbled, Echo Accardi and his counterparts in the new government declared that Werecats could live amongst humans under the condition that we hunt and shift 5 miles or more from any large human population.
Ivy, downing the last of her second beer, brought her mug down with force and smiled at me, green eyes fully aglow, "Looks like we've found you a reason to shift tonight."
_________ * Anaxi - the Werecat equivalent of a Beta. Not mentioned often in Riley's story because her leap lacked an Anax and Reina had neither an Anax nor Ri. Pronunciation: (plural) an-ax-ie
