Aubrey ran down the dusky drive, men shouting behind her. The bubble in her gut pressed against her lungs and ribs. She kept running, hand against her side—I escaped before. I can do this, run, get away, even as far as Braesmouth.
She reached the drive’s end. Ahead of her, on the other side of the main thoroughfare, two policemen loitered; she could make out their green kerchiefs in the dim light. They leaned against a cart, arms folded, eyes on the end of the drive.
Mr. Stowe’s doing—he’d sent them to spy on her. Protect me. She didn’t think the policemen could see her, perhaps just her shape under the trees. She opened her mouth.
A hand gasped her neck. “Kitty, kitty,” Dmitri said. “No biting now.” He pulled her fiercely against him, one hand clenching her wrists until they ground together. “And no claws. I have a buyer who covets your pelt.”
She couldn’t call out, couldn’t even beg. Her only recourse was the bubble in her gut.
“Personally, I’m going to recommend declawing.”
No. Please.
“Let’s go home, Puss.”
The policemen had straightened to peer at the tussle in the shadows. Aubrey kicked backwards with her legs as the bubble found the underside of her skin. She knew what it was and did not resist. Let it come. Let me change. Anything is better than this.
Voices shouted from the lodge end of the drive. The policemen started to cross the street. Aubrey squirmed, her body moving from limp to feral. Dmitri lost his grip on her neck.
Get me away from this life.
The world blurred, dropped upwards. Aubrey rolled inside her gray gown, kicking frantically at its weight. She was free of it, running close to the ground: a long, slim body covered with fur.
She could think, reason even, while her new self struggled with an influx of sights, sounds, smells. Dmitri hadn’t followed. She could hear him cursing far away, and then his voice was lost amongst a thousand more. She left the thoroughfare instinctively, fleeing loud voices, stomping feet, rattling carriages. She darted down the hill behind mansions, through stone mews. Something drew her forward: quiet freshness, softly pungent greenery.
She wriggled under an iron bar and paused, one paw lifted, as she adjusted to an expanse of verdancy. She was in Belemont Park. Her ears twitched to rustles: birds settling for the night, water rippling in the park’s pond.
She had to change back. She mustn’t end up in another magician’s workshop. Or drowned ignominiously by an advocate of animal control. She didn’t know which fate would be worse.
I’ll never be safe. Except Mr. Stowe wanted to arrest wayward magicians. Except for that.
He was going to detain me at the station, hold me in police custody. And yet—
He kept the worst of Kev’s treatment to himself. He warned me the Academy might behave ungentlemanly.
If she’d been human, she would have snorted. Ungentlemanly! They behaved like rutting dogs.
She pressed her furred body to the ground. Braesmouth. That was her goal. But could she make it that far? Even if she knew which roads to take? There were dangers on the road, in the countryside.
Her only recourse was the police—what else could she do? She needed to reach Shops. The police station was there—on the other side of Belemont Park.
