Chapter 2
Billi stepped into the grey light of a wet morning. City workers bustled past, a sea of black and grey camouflaged against damp stone buildings. They always disappointed her. The lack of personality displayed by the average office clerk was depressing. They could be anything, had every opportunity to do so. Yet here they were, muted, grey, resigned. Why do people insist the only way to be professional is to have your personality surgically removed? Billi strode into the street and pulled out a striking yellow umbrella. Her red skirt and high gloss black heels drawing envious and somewhat nervous stares. They always stare, she thought, some even comment on how brave she is to wear it. Brave? It was only colour. She shook her head at the quiet desperation of them all. They could dress however they wanted, only something held them back. Some wheedling voice left in their heads by parents, grandparents and the unthinking ridiculousness of what they laughingly referred to as the education system. So terrified of being different, so desperate to go unnoticed, they hide in self-imposed uniforms of drabness. Dull, dull, dull. She sighed, brought some food and two cups of takeout coffee from a street vendor and ducked into a rundown alley. Its narrow walls so tall they seemed to close in overhead while doing little to stop the pouring rain. Water washed the walls, but nothing could disguise the smell of every alley everywhere. Urine, vomit, and soggy cardboard hit Billi's olfactory system hard. What I'd give for a human's sense of smell, she thought. Halfway up the alley, in a small alcove covered by a leaking tarpaulin, sat a young woman. Raised off the floor by a broken pallet, wrapped in a pile of old blankets, she soothed her grumbling dog.
'Morning, Alison.' Billi said as she approached.
Billi brought Alison food every morning, at least she did if she could find her. Alison had been one of the first people Billi met in the city, and, considering Alison's sleeping arrangements and Billi's intimate knowledge of what lurked in the dark, she had taken it upon herself to look after Alison the best she could. Alison was twenty-six, but her prolonged exposure to life on the streets and all that came with it had aged her. From somewhere among the blankets, the dog growled.
'I dunno why he don't like ya,' Alison said, looking up at Billi.
Billi smiled and handed Alison the bag of food and a hot coffee.
'He can probably smell my cat.'
'I didn't think you was a cat person.' Alison said.
'I'm full of surprises.' Billi said, taking in the damp scene.
The pallet kept Alison out of the worst of the water, but her makeshift roof was not watertight. Billi crouched beneath her umbrella, forcing Alison to meet her gaze.
'OK then, let's hear it. Where'd you sleep last night?'
Alison stared at the ground. Billi sighed.
'How many times? It's not safe, Alison, we've been through this.'
She pushed some money into Alison's unresisting hands.
'Take this. Get in a shelter. Where it's warm and dry,' she looked at the dog, 'the one by the station takes dogs.' She added, knowing wild horses would not part Alison from her beloved brindle Staffordshire Bull Terrier. 'Please, stay out of the caves.' she said.
Alison smiled at her, took the money, but shook her head. Her face fixed and determined.
'I like you, Billi. But caves is free. Ad'rather sleep on dog shelf than those rank beds at shelter. Anyway,' she said, 'shelters 'ave too many rules. I like my freedom.'
'Is that the freedom to die cold and alone, or the freedom to accept my help?' Billi snapped, then softened. 'Alison, you promised. Please, go to the shelter.'
Part of Billi, the part who escaped a life of pain, admired Alison's need to make her own way, but she did not want her to die at the hands of some vampire. Alison looked hurt. Billi softened.
'Sorry,' she said, 'I just don't want you to get hurt.'
Alison looked up at Billi, then at the rain-washed walls and her shivering dog.
'Fine,' Alison said, 'for you, I'll go.'
Billi knew Alison would not stay out of the caves. Part of her understood. Billi had escaped her past. She only wished she could explain things to Alison, tell her why it was so dangerous to be underground in this city. But who in their right mind would believe in vampires? She had thought about showing Alison her other form, but doubted watching a human transform into a tiger could help anyone feel safe. Or sane. As she walked, she tried to push the dangers of the city from her mind. But the scent of vampire still clung to her, and her rage was hard to keep at bay. Her phone rang. Sally, she hoped. It wasn't. The caller I.D. withheld. A marketing call. Billi growled and hit answer.
'What?' She said.
'The White Tiger is in Nottingham. You're in danger.'
Billi stopped walking. The voice was male and muffled, like someone trying to disguise their identity.
'Who is this? How did you get my number?' She said. The line went dead. 'Hello?'
Billi stared at her phone.
'What the fuck?' She said.
She stood for a moment and concentrated. The rain dampened her sense of smell and dulled the sound of people dragging themselves to work, but there was nothing out of place, no rogue scent or sound of feet walking with exaggerated care. She sighed and made a mental note to call Sally at lunchtime. If anyone knew who the White tiger is, it would be Sally. She climbed the stairs of the council house. The wind tried to liberate her umbrella. She wrestled it down and stood under the cover of the atrium, shaking the excess water from its folds and stopped dead. Something was wrong. Shivering involuntarily as the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Someone was watching her. She turned to the marketplace. People dashed across, but no one paid her any attention. She stared intently, her focus unwavering, but there was no sign of anything that did not belong. Shaking herself back to reality, she turned and entered the building.
George bridled as he listened to the tiger and vampire talk of the feline menace causing Eldred so much trouble. George should have stopped her. That was his job. A werewolf employed to do things the vampires could not. The problem was he knew who she was, and he could never hurt her. He'd thought about talking to her, but he knew that would not stop her. She could be quite stubborn. He had chosen life with the vampires as a way of keeping her safe. It had worked until now. And this morning, not knowing what else he could do, he got himself involved in her life, something he swore he'd never do. He didn't want to bring her closer to danger. But this tiger would kill her. He hoped his call to Billi had piqued her interest. If anyone could protect Sally, it was her. He'd seen what she was capable of, albeit from a safe distance. Jack stood, Eldred rose and shook his hand. George smiled as the vampires closest to Jack flinched. All but Eldred. To George, Eldred smelled entertained, not afraid. As Jack left, the vampires relaxed. George stood, but a large vampire leading a weeping woman across the room pushed him back into his seat. George closed his eyes as they lead her past. Hating how powerless he was. He could do nothing to save her or any of the others Eldred became entertained by. He stood once more and followed them. Eldred looked at the crying woman.
'My cello.' She whimpered.
Eldred smiled.
'You won't need that any longer, my dear.' He said.
The burly vampire supporting her nodded and pulled her from the room. Her sobs echoed down the stairs. For a moment George thought Eldred smelled uncertain, but it was gone as soon as it came. As George sat in the chair so recently vacated by Jack, the stench of tiger hit him hard. It made him more uncomfortable than the scent of the vampire ever had. He tried not to inhale. Around them, candles were being snuffed out. Eldred's pale skin seemed to glow brighter the darker the room became.
'Why do you need him?' George asked.
Eldred peered at him over steepled fingers.
'I assume you're talking about that rather arrogant tiger?'
'Why him?'
A sudden sharpness in Eldred's glare made George squirm. He was sure his mind was being read.
'Stolen documents, repeated break-ins.' Eldred said, 'You had one job, George, and you continued to fail me. You forced my hand. You are the reason for him.'
Eldred placed both hands on the table and leaned in closer. George fought the urge to look away.
'I agreed to keep you hidden from the innocent people you are so terrified of hurting if you did this for me in return. And here you are. You have hurt no one and I am still tortured by this cat. I keep my bargains dog. You agreed to remove those obstacles we cannot. And yet, this cat still steals my possessions. You failed me. So, I moved on.'
He rose, unfolding slowly. Somehow, he was always taller than George remembered.
'Do not elevate your position here. Perhaps you think you have a say in the running of my empire? Or you believe I should value your opinion? You. Are. Nothing.'
Eldred turned from George and left without another word or a second glance.
It had been an interesting meeting, Jack mused as he wandered through the city. Eldred was not what he expected. He wasn't sure what that was, but he was certain it had not been a calm, dapper gentleman requesting help in locating a cat doing much damage to him and his kind. He had not requested that he kill it yet, but that he found it and killed it later, if needed. It sounded like the man wanted to talk to it first. But why? Any cat could take a vampire. No, he corrected himself, that's not right, but any big cat could. And a man like Eldred would not employ a man like Jack, if there was any other way of getting what he needed. He leaned against a frigid stone lion standing guard outside Nottingham council house. The Clowder Council claimed Agamemnon and Menelaus were an homage to them. He doubted it. No one knew they existed, so these stone lions were coincidental, but the council never let the truth ruin a good story. Even if it was true, so what? Those cats were nothing anymore. Diminished, far more than they understood. They had become lost in their words, obsessed with the purity of blood and the sanctity of their ancestral teachings. Jack had long ago ceased to believe in any gods and refused to see his elders that way. That's what they taught, wasn't it? We are gods, not messengers like human preachers who speak the words of gods. Our leaders are gods. To refuse them is to refuse God. He shivered and pulled his coat around him. The sooner I do this, the better, he thought. He did not want to stay in this city a moment longer than necessary. He dug his phone from a pocket and searched for the street name Eldred had given him. It was all they had. Castle Gate had apparently been the last place that dog could trace the scent. That was a lie. It surprised Jack that Eldred did not realize that. A werewolf had a sense of smell almost as good as Jacks. George was hiding something. It was daring. In a way, it impressed Jack. If Eldred realized, he would rip George apart. He put his phone back in his pocket and set off across the square. It was unusual to have another cat living free of the council's rule. It must be her, he thought, The Cat. She caused trouble wherever she went. He crossed the square and headed up a side street, sniffing as he went. Then he found it. A sudden rage boiled over inside him.
'What?' Jack said, furious.
Because he had found a scent. But it was not The Cat. Jack stalked the alley, sucking in the offending odour. A domestic, he thought. The Cats little pet? They did not summon me, me, to dispose of a domestic. He stormed down the alley. Eldred would soon discover what it meant to insult The White Tiger. As he stepped back into the square, his furious sniffing struck something else. His head snapped up; his eyes darted through the sparse crowds. And there she was. He remembered her, and the carnage she left in her wake as she and that pet of hers escaped. Billi climbed the stairs of the council house as the wind tried to steal her umbrella. She turned to enter the building, but as Jack watched, fixated, she turned, eyes searching the people dashing through the rain. She felt him watching her, he realised, and smirked. The Cat. He grinned, his anger waning as he watched Billi enter the council house. Deciding Eldred could wait, he instead made plans to meet her.
Sally declined the university's lunch offer, insisting she needed to get back to work. Instead, she took the time to explore a cave she had spotted in a residential area close to the castle where she worked. Looking over her shoulder, she slipped into a small gap between garden fences.
Alley was too grand of a word for this overgrown space, narrow and forgotten. The kind cats and foxes disappeared into when spooked. Sally knew it to be more than it seemed. If she pushed through the overgrown vegetation, she would find a small entrance carved into the sandstone wall beyond. Sally ducked through the gap, excited by what she would discover. Daylight struggled to illuminate the space. That was no problem for Sally. She had excellent night vision. The outside of the cave was narrow, around two feet wide and only four feet high, but inside, the cave opened into a wide unsupported semicircle carved into the cliff. Sally marvelled. This was incredible. Judging by the items littering the floor, Sally supposed this cave was last inhabited in the seventeenth century. These caves were often hand carved by those unable to afford a house. Whoever had lived here had hewed a bench into the wall, above which carved alcoves held small personal items. Dusty and long forgotten. One day she would come back and catalogue those, she thought. But today Sally was looking for something else. Rubble on the floor drew her eye to the far wall where another hollow led deep underground. This tunnel was newer, dug out in the past hundred years, giving the city's less salubrious inhabitants a way of moving around. Sniffing the air around the tunnel, it was obvious this path was no longer in use. She smiled; her curiosity piqued. Sally moved to step into the tunnel when something buzzed. She jumped. Then smiled as realization dawned. She pulled her phone from her pocket.
'Billi, hi,' she said, happy to be talking to her friend.
'Who's the white tiger?'
'Yeah, I'm good thanks, Bill, you?' said Sally, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She heard Billi take a deep breath.
'Jesus Sal. Hi. This is important.'
Billi sounded frustrated.
'I got an odd call this morning from an unknown number. They told me "The White Tiger" is in town, and that I'm in danger.'
'Who called?' Sally asked.
'An. Unknown. Number.' Billi repeated, in a tone that suggested she was speaking to the hard of thinking.
'The White Tiger. Hold on.' Sally said, using her phone to access some files. 'The only white tiger on council records is some dude called Dima, a Siberian white. He's a scout. There you go, not a problem. He's a scout. Not like he's an assassin, I mean, cats don't kill cats.'
The sucking silence at the end of the phone made her cringe. She closed her eyes. How could she be so stupid?
'Shit. Sorry, Bill, I didn't mean- '
'Forget it. Right, I'll be on the lookout. Somehow, I imagine he'll be easy to spot,' Billi said, and Sally relaxed.
'If he's got any sense, he'll be the one running from you.'
'Where are you? There's quite an echo. You're not spelunking in your lunch hour again, are you?'
'What after you explicitly told me not to? Obviously not.'
'Be careful, Sal.'
'Bye, Billi.'
Sally smiled and pocketed her phone. Turning back to the tunnel. It soon opened into another rounded room the size of a small bedroom. Sally padded into the darkness. Her feet made no sound. On the right, a small half sized door caught her eye. Crouching, Sally ran a hand over the wood. It was old. She tried the handle; it opened. She stopped and took a deep breath. The air inside was undisturbed. She sniffed. Someone had been here three, no, four months ago. It was such a faint scent she couldn't pick up a species. OK, she thought, let's see what they left me. Carefully, Sally pushed on the door and, with little regard to her smart suit, crawled inside. Despite the height of the door, the room beyond was tall enough for her to stand. It stank of books. Sally took her phone from her pocket and turned on the torch.
'Jackpot.'
Eldred had offered Jack a place to crash. He declined, preferring life above ground, and opted instead to rent a luxury apartment in the lace market. He lay on the huge bed in the gilded master bedroom, legs crossed, hands interlaced beneath his head and stared at the ceiling. Billi, now there was a fascinating creature. A tiger raised among cats. The only female who ever broke out, whoever fled the council, and she was still in the city. Why? They feared her; he knew. She was uncontrollable and driven and uncommonly angry. Maybe she reminded them of themselves. But why go to all that trouble, spill so much blood and not leave? Her and that pet cat of hers had stayed in Nottingham. And now the pet cat was doing something to scare the vampires, something that worried Eldred so much he had called his enemy to fix it. He was missing an important piece of information he knew. But, fortunately for him, he also knew where to go to have the blanks filed in. He looked out of the window. Well, he thought, at least it's not raining.
With a certain amount of trepidation and a little too many detours, Jack headed towards the one place he promised himself he would never return. 50-64 Clarendon Street, or Terrace Royal, was not only a spectacular group of Victorian Gothic revival style houses, the Gothic revival had gone a little hard in Nottingham, it was also the Clowder Council's stronghold and was known locally as a small and incredibly exclusive boarding school for boys. And in a way, that was true. Though in a truer and far more accurate, if less palatable way, it was a place where father punished son and raped nieces. It was a place of true nightmares, and scrutinizing its façade once more made Jack weak at the knees. Behind its many doors was a warren of corridors and small rooms. The attics filled him with remorse and its dank basements with disdain. Every man in there wanted him dead, something he realised he had in common with Billi, and every woman wanted nothing more but to do as the men told them. It was not their fault, he knew, they were brainwashed much harder that the boys. They needed to be. It was the only way Bagh and his ilk could get them to mate with them. He shuddered.
Terrace Royal faced Nottingham General Cemetery. Strangely apt, Jack always thought. Bleak outside and in. He stood inside the walls of the cemetery and watched. He could smell lunch and knew the man he was looking for would soon be out for his afternoon break. If he waited just a little longer and handed over the large bottle of whiskey he had brought for the occasion, Jack knew there he would find out all he needed to know and more. As he waited, he tried to decide what to do about Billi. She could be a powerful ally or a fierce adversary. He would have to wait to see what the night's hunt would bring.
Billi wondered why a rogue scout was back in the city, and why someone thought it necessary to warn her. Sure, a scouts job was to bring unsuspecting women into the hungry arms of the council. For a brief moment she wondered if the council had sent him. She shook her head. No. They wanted her dead, not back in the attic. She was an irritation, not someone to warn. Billi stood bathed in the cold light of her fridge. She was tired, not just run-of-the-mill lack of sleep tired, but mentally exhausted. Physically, she was fine. She could have run a marathon, though doubted running away would change anything. The monotony her life had become was getting hard to face. Life in Terrace Royal had been brutal. It had almost killed her. But there had always been something worth fighting for. Now, well, what did she have? A few vampires every night, and a friendship she was losing her grip on. Despondently, she extracted some Tupperware from the depths of the fridge, peeled back a corner of the lid and sniffed cautiously. Bolognese, when did I make that? It hardly mattered. She ripped the top from the container and threw it into the microwave. The sun was setting. That would mean hunting. More killing. More death. The last red light of day poured into her apartment, turning the white walls pink. Billi pulled the balcony door open and stepped into the fresh night air. Red sky at night, she thought. Was that shepherds or sailors' delight? Either way, it was not hers. It was beautiful, though, and peaceful until the unmistakable scent of vampire drifted up to her balcony. Closing her eyes, she triangulated, turning to face their location. She wondered if this white tiger was in town, maybe she could leave the hunting to someone else for once? Then again, what would she do with a night off? She had no friends. She had nothing else to do. The microwave beeped. Billi's shoulders drooped.
'Eat. Hunt. Repeat.'
It was dark when Billi stepped into the cool night air. Despite the chilly air, she wore no jacket. Only a sheer gold blouse over a cropped black tank top and skinny black jeans, black high-top leather converse and a black canvas messenger bag. Her glossy black hair loose over her shoulders. When she turned up Pelham Street, music clashed as bar fought bar for attention, and lights painted complex patterns on the still damp ground. She stood at the junction of Pelham, Carlton and Victoria streets, trying to decide where to go first. They would be underground, she knew. It was where they felt safest. That meant Tantra. And that meant a sticky basement bar with a barman who held a small candle for her. And that meant small talk. Billi was not good at small talk; she was only passable at talk. She strode into the road, eyes fixed on the door to the bar and stopped in the middle of the road. Something was not right. Again, she felt watched. At least she thought she knew who it was now. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, tuning her head from side to side, listening for the sound of someone trying very hard to be quiet. In the surrounding cacophony, she pinpointed each individual sound and scent. The nervous odour of a couple on a first date, the frantic heartbeat of a woman looking for her next hit. Laughter, music, the mastication of innumerable meals. Nothing unusual, no tiger. The incessant ringing bell of an oncoming tram snapped her back to reality. The driver swore at her as he passed. She returned the gesture and crossed to the bar.
Sometimes Billi really hated her sense of smell. The bar reeked of stale beer and sticky spirits, mixed with some rather more human scents. Humans, Billi thought, are so gross. There were no booths in this bar, instead a raised platform ran along the back wall covered in mattresses piled in scatter cushions. A beaded curtain partitioned each stall. Even at this early hour, couples and groups occupied each bed. They wouldn't be doing that if they could smell what I can, Billi thought. Still, I was right about one thing. Over the scent of human emotion, and the sweet tang of stale alcohol, came the all-encompassing stench of vampire. Billi walked to the long black bar and rested her arms on its red glitter top. She lifted them off. What was that? This place, she thought, is tacky in every sense of the word. At the other end of the bar, a tall guy with curly dark hair serving drinks smiled at Billi. She smiled back as she sat on a tall swivel stool and turned to watch the vampires. Resting her elbows on the bar behind her, she leaned back and examined each filthy booth. The one that interested her held five people, and only one heartbeat. The barman placed a drink behind her, French Martini, her usual. She didn't order it, and he didn't ask her to pay. She swivelled the stool back to the bar. The vampires weren't going anywhere. She deserved a drink.
'Thanks, Tom.'
He nodded and moved down to serve the other customers. Since Tom started working here a few months back, Billi had never needed to order, or even pay for, a drink. She had tried at first, and even now, when Tom understood why he didn't have what Billi was looking for, he kept doing it. He said he didn't want her to think he was only trying to get into her pants and laughed when Billi pointed out that, in fact, he had been. It was nice, though, almost like having a friend. She sipped her drink, savouring the few moments of peace before she would have to face them. It would not be hard, it never was. Even though the council had never trained her, she had honed her fighting skills better than any other cat she knew. She had Sally to thank for that; she knew everything about their kind.
Billi's phone buzzed in her bag. She dug it out and saw a message from Sally. It read, "W.T. is missing, presumed dead. Be careful, xx". OK, Billi thought, the White Tiger is rogue, so am I. We ought to be on good terms. But tigers are not social creatures, are we? And those raised by the council have more than a simple passing contempt for one another.
'He's just a cat.' She said to herself, trying to soothe her nagging, rising doubt. And looked up to see a dark-haired vampire swaggering over to her. 'And he's an idiot.' She said, putting her phone back in her bag and meeting the green eyed monster striding towards her. He looked to be in his thirties, unless you knew what to look for. This one was old, maybe even pushing triple figures. His eyes were the deepest green. And that was confusing because he should realize what a danger she posed. And yet, he walked towards her, a charming grin hiding the callousness within. She maintained eye contact, her face a mask of amused intrigue. He smiled warmly and sat on the stool beside her.
'We don't like your kind in here.' He said, his warm tone at odds with his words.
'Who's the girl?' She asked.
The vampire turned back to the booth. The girl was talking animatedly to the remaining vampires. He shrugged.
'A snack.' He said. 'Reads too many fantasy books, seen too many movies. Seems to think we're taking her back to a wonderful realm where she can live forever. Ain't she in for some disappointment?'
Billi said nothing, it was true that more despondent young women seeking out a brighter future had found themselves victim to the green-eyed monsters of late. They all seemed to have forgotten about Buffy and were out here searching for their Edwards. It was hard to blame them for wanting more than this mercenary world could offer. There was too much fear, too much us against them. At least in fantasy, they could see a future for themselves. She watched sadly as the girl danced happily with a female vamp.
'Settle a bet for me.' The vampire said. 'I say you're a filthy little moggie, but my associates think you might be something more-' He sought for the correct term. 'Exotic.' He smiled.
'How thick are you?' Billi asked, 'I'm Indian. Does that narrow your field of view? Even the small cats there could take something like you. And the smallest cats there are really small.'
She leaned in close.
'How about I take you somewhere private, and I show you?'
They locked eyes. Billi went to stand, but something froze her to the spot. The vampire also froze. His eyes fixed on something over her shoulder. Billi had never seen a vampire look so terrified. But she understood his fear. That scent. It was so strong. It fixed her in her seat. Told each cell in her body to run and run fast. Every hair on the back of her neck stood on end. Christ, every hair on her entire body did. She fought the urge to run, fought the urge to change. The scent of tiger filled the entire room. How could he smell like that?
'Shit.' she said.
The vampire stumbled backwards, trying to put as much distance between him and that tiger as he could. Billi closed her eyes and took some deep breaths. Her heart rate slowed, and she pulled herself together. He's just a tiger, she told herself. I have no reason to fear him. She smiled as she watched the vampire's terrified escape cause a woman to drop her drinks all over the floor. When she allowed herself to turn around, she came face to face with the most strikingly handsome man she had ever seen.
Billi stared up at him, searching for some clue to how this might end. He only smiled. Then panic broke out all around them. Billi's eyes flicked momentarily downwards. She hoped the other tiger had not noticed, but saw he had. For a terrified moment, Billi thought the shock of finding herself trapped in a basement bar with a large male tiger had caused her to transform. Her fear faded to red cheeked embarrassment that this stranger had witnessed her moment of doubt. The panic in the bar was not caused by her becoming a tiger, it was caused by fire. Smoke billowed from the vampire's booth. They were long gone. Billi smiled as she realised, they left the girl behind. The fire alarm sounded. Billi looked up at the white tiger again. He smiled and placed a hand on her shoulder. She shuddered. Seeming not to notice the disgust on her face, he talked to her.
'They went that way. Should we follow?'
He smiled again. Billi shrugged his hand from her shoulder. She was about to reply when Tom came over. He glared at the tall, white-haired stranger.
'Come on, Billi, we need to leave.'
He held out a hand. She knew why he was doing this, to mark his territory, to claim her as his own in front of this interloper, but she did not care. She grasped Tom's hand and let him lead her from the bar.
A small crowd gathered outside the bar as people decided whether they should move on or stay and watch the firefighters. There were sirens in the distance. Billi pushed the other tiger up the street. The fear that had gripped her when he first arrived now passed, and in its place was anger. No, it was rage. Red-hot fury. How dare he? How dare he just appear? How dare he ruin my hunt? Who does he think he is?
'Who the hell do you think you are?' She demanded in an angry growl.
That this statement seemed to amuse him did not lift her mood. He placed his hands gently on her shoulders and walked her to the shadow of another building.
'Just a curious cat.' He said.
Billi smiled dangerously.
'You know what they say about curious cats, don't you?' She asked.
He smiled a thin smile.
'I wanted to introduce myself. As someone else who believes the council lacks a certain vision, your quarrel with them interests me. I'm Jack.'
He held out a hand. Billi stared at it. He lowered his hand.
'Quarrel?' She said, 'This isn't some petty argument! They think you're dead, by the way.'
'You know who I am?'
He beamed with barely concealed arrogance. Billi shrugged.
'By another name, yes.' She said.
Jack laughed.
'Well, yes, you know better than most how they are with names. They called me Dima. Fighter. Apparently, they had plans for me. Plans I didn't agree with, so I left.'
'They had plans for me, too.' Billi said, 'I escaped.'
Jack nodded.
'But you kept the name?'
'I am who I am.' She shrugged.
'If you left, how did you find out about me? I didn't think you were on speaking terms with those. What was it? Oh yes, pious wankers,' said Jack.
Billi groaned. That had not been a good day. How did he know about that? The memory of it still made her furious. They had lied. The council always did, but this time they went too far. Sally had received a message from some nameless high-up in the council. How they had discovered where she lived, Billi still did not know. The message spoke of Sally's mother. When they escaped, they had left her behind. Sally had never forgiven herself for that. But her mother told Billi to save her daughter and run. So, they had. Now the council was offering to allow Sally to visit her mother. Sally was desperate to go, but Billi was cautious. She had faced the leaders of the council more than Sally and knew you could not trust them under any circumstance. Especially with the things you loved. Sally had begged to go, knowing Billi would do anything for her. And as expected, Billi caved under Sally's pleading gaze.
The council had told them to meet at All Saints' Church. Of course, the setting needed to be dramatic. These men needed us to feel we were somewhere sacred. Billi shook her head as they entered the church. They had filled it with candles. Christ, she thought, we are just as bad as the vampires. The effect was somewhat spoiled by the bright posters made by Sunday school kids pinned to one wall. That's what you get when you do not have spaces of your own. We have been in this city for centuries and all we have to call our own is Terrace Royal. Younger cats allowed to witness this pantomime peopled the shadows. Billi studied them. They watched her movements while standing utterly still as only cats can. She took a breath. Being here was hard. The memories associated with the five men stood at the altar were ones she wanted to forget. The council was a hierarchy, strongest cats at the top, weakest at the bottom. Billi was a tiger. Tigers were at the top of the pile here. But they had always treated her as less. Leaving her to be raised by the lowest of the low. The domestics, the council's slaves. Sally's family. She pushed her rising anger down again. Now was not the time to fight. Not yet. If she needed to fight her way out, she would be ready. She glanced once more at the people in the room and strode forwards with a confidence that only arrived when she spotted the number of bodyguards standing with feigned nonchalance around the room. They feared her. Good.
As she got closer to the men behind a candle laden stone altar, she stifled a laugh. Pomposity radiated from them. Their attempts to hold themselves in a regal stance were comical. She smiled.
'Sally, would you care to announce this year's winner of the pompous bastard awards?'
Her words echoed in the silence.
'Careful.' Sally whispered.
'Listen to your little friend.' A deep voice boomed around the church. Billi did not need to look up to see which of the ridiculous men had spoken. She knew that voice. Bargh, head of the tiger clans, and instigator of most of the tortures of her life. She growled. Angered by his voice but still amused by their outfits. Each man wore ceremonial robes, all representations of places and countries none of them had ever set foot in. Each of the big five wore garb that stated beyond any doubt that they were the leaders of their clans. There was so much animal print. It was like she had stepped into a nightclub in the 1990s. Bagh the Bengal tiger wore a silk tiger print Sherwani set trimmed in gold. Behind him, the ranks of other tiger leaders huddled. They, too, dressed traditionally based on cultures they knew nothing of. The South China tiger in his gaudy Changshan. An Amour tiger wore a toned-down statement of power, a simple kosovorotka trimmed in tiger fur. The final of Bagh's guard was a Sumatran tiger who expression Billi could not place, and while his clothing was traditional; a plain baju takwa and a tiger print peci, he did not have the stance of the others. He looked disappointed, saddened. Interesting. Beside Bagh stood Simba. King of all lions, a Masai, wrapped in beige and red and covered in beads. His guard of honour was female. Fierce fighters, Billi had been told. She did not wish to find out. Then, almost as afterthoughts beside these two giants of men, were the leaders of the Leopards (Chui), Jaguars (B'alam) and finally the leader of the Snow Leopards (Chitwaa). They stared down at her, trying to make her feel small. It did not work. She met their stares, unimpressed and unafraid.
'I'll say what the hell I like. You are not now, nor have you ever been in control of me.'
She looked at Sally.
'Or her, or any of the others you abuse.'
Now Simba spoke. Bristling with rage. It was so easy to make them furious.
'I find your insistence on raising this point insulting, Cat! Questioning what is written is sacrilege!'
He almost screamed. Billi raised an eyebrow. They really were unhappy. Determined to make them crack, she smiled and crossed her arms. This was a game she had been playing for a long time, and they still didn't know the rules.
'Well, it's hardly my fault that what's written is bollocks, is it? Where is she? You told us we would see her.' She said, elated at their looks of shock and disgust. 'Look, even those as unaccountably arrogant as you must have realised that when I found out she wasn't here, I'd get - upset.' she continued.
'We do not fear your temper tantrums, woman! Why should we fear a female trained in combat by a mere felis catus?' Simba spat.
Billi bridled and took an unconscious step in front of Sally. It was ok to bully her. She was strong, she could fight. But Sally was off limits. Billi gritted her teeth.
'You couldn't tame me at 15. What chance do you think you have now? If you have hurt a single hair on her mother's body, I swear to any god I can find I will make you pay.' She said, meeting Simba's gaze and smiling as he looked away. 'She trains me so I can protect us.'
'Protect you from what?' Simba barked.
Billi shot him a look like a dagger. He took a step back.
'From you!' She roared, 'You, who kept us locked away as slaves, and expected gratitude! You, who look down on me, with your ridiculous ceremonial names, and call me Cat. Like I am the one who should be ashamed!'
Sally took Billi's hand and squeezed it gently.
'One day, this cat will bring you to your knees,' Billi said.
'How dare you threaten us! Now you are free of our rule!' Simba said.
Billi's rage caused her words to catch in her throat. She glared and Sally stepped forwards.
'Free? We are no freer than the women you lock up, and the cats you keep down. We will not be free until you change the way you rule.' Sally said, 'We merely live outside the confines of your dominion.'
Bagh handled that pretty well, Billi thought. He handled it by ignoring it.
'I called here you, Cat,' he spat the word as if even saying it pained him, 'to face sentencing for crimes committed on the night you fled, and for continuing to neglect your sacred role as a female. Not to once again draw our attention to your personal beliefs; beliefs we have warned you against in the past. This insubordination will not go unpunished!'
Billi stared at him for a full ten seconds, it was a trick she had picked up from a fictional character called Lord Vetinari, and it never failed to make people uncomfortable. When her words finally came, they were deliberate and modulated with growls.
'You called us here to talk of our mother. This is not insubordination, it is rebellion. You cannot beat a population down for so long and not expect revolution. My belief that treating women like cattle is wrong will never change. Nor will my belief that you are not gods! You brought us here to see her and you lied. I should not be surprised,' she said, far more calmly than she felt. 'The fact you pious wankers have your heads so far up your own arses that you can't see the truth is honestly not my concern.'
Billi heard Sally stifle a giggle.
'As for sentencing, you said I was free of your rule. So, am I, or aren't I?'
She squeezed Sally's hand.
'What happened to those boys that night is on you. If you want to sentence someone for those needless deaths, then sentence your damn selves!'
The ferocity of this statement made the leader's bodyguards tense. Billi then spoke so quietly they had to lean in closer to hear her.
'Unless you produce her mother now, we're leaving. And if anyone wants to stop us, then please, please try. As for neglecting my role as a female...'
Billi shuddered at the images that flooded her mind. Sad young girls in dirty rooms. Leering old men.
'You remember what happened the last time you tried that, don't you?'
The image of a tiger mauling a screaming man's legs passed through everyone's consciousness. Billi stared into Bagh's eyes.
'Did he ever walk again?'
Billi blinked back a tear. Not sad, she told herself; I am not sad. I am furious. Jack moved to wipe a tear from Billi's cheek. She jerked away.
'You weren't there.' she said.
Jack shrugged.
'I didn't need to be. Word like you gets around. Come on, let me buy you a drink. Call it an apology for spoiling your hunt.'
Against her better judgement and driven by her own curiosity, Billi followed him. They crossed the road and moved into the shadows of a narrow street.
Jack pushed open the heavy red doors of Mandarin. Billi followed, watching Jack try to keep up his helpful and charming persona. It was fascinating. He wore his nice guy affectation the way others wore clothes, and it was only a matter of time until this slipped. Billi wondered if he believed it. He's all confidence and bravado. She wondered if he knew she could see right through him. One thing was for certain, though; her head throbbed. His pheromones were driving her crazy. They had been the reason for her reaction in Tantra. He had them supercharged. Every vampire in the city would know he was here. But it just gave Billi a headache. Jack strolled into the bar. Around fifty people sat in groups around low lacquered tables, talking in hushed voices. Billi rubbed her temples. Something was not right. But she was finding it hard to concentrate on anything but Jack.
'Can you turn down the aftershave, please? Seriously, you're giving me a headache.' She said.
Jack smiled politely and nodded.
'Sorry,' He said, 'I like to see vampires squirm.'
'Do I look like a fucking vampire?'
'You don't look comfortable.' Jack said.
Billi rubbed her head again, scanning the bar. Candles on tables, drinks in glasses. It looked ordinary. But there was still a nagging voice in the back of her mind. Something was blinding her to her surroundings.
'Are you surprised?' she asked. 'I don't know you. You just turned up in my territory using a scent so strong I can taste it, and corner me in a basement bar. This is my first life. You're lucky my impulse control is strong.' She said, frustration rising.
Jack still smiled, but its warmth had vanished. Now it was only a smile by shape.
'Age has nothing to do with it, you know that. I've met cats six or seven lives in who would have reacted worse. But I had confidence in you. From what I've heard, you're one of the best. Besides, there's a protocol in place for unexpected changes.' He said.
'A bloody one.' she said, amazed he would even consider that to be an option.
'Come on. It's just a few humans.'
'What?'
'Look, I wanted to meet you. I didn't think you'd mind me stopping by.' He reached out a hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. 'Most women don't mind my company.'
Every hair on Billi's body stood on end. Her subconscious obviously trying to get a message to her, but she ignored it, fascinated instead by this arrogant fool.
'That's why you're here? Sex? Look, I don't know if you've heard, but I'm not like the other women you've met, sweetheart. They didn't brainwash me into worshiping that Y chromosome of yours. I'm sure you heard what I did to the last man stupid enough to try.' She smirked. 'After all, word like me gets around.'
The warning bell inside her head was now a furious cacophony of sirens. She tore her attention from Jack and listened. He wants you to keep looking at him. Notice the bloody room. Who are all these weirdly quiet people? And he still hasn't dropped the pheromones. He wants to keep you distracted. Billi tried to focus on the people in the bar, but Jack turned and walked to a table. Billi followed, aware that the groups of people had turned to watch them. This was going badly, she knew it, and yet she could not take her eyes from him. Jack stopped at a table upon which a bottle of red wine and two glasses stood. He took the bottle and poured two glasses.
'That's not yours.' Billi said.
Still grinning, Jack handed Billi a glass.
'Oh, but it is,' he said, sipping his.
She took the glass and slammed it back down onto the table. Its deep red contents spilling, splattering the bright white tablecloth with dirty red streaks. Jack raised an eyebrow.
'You killed them.'
'What? Killed who?' She demanded, momentarily derailed.
'You asked if I knew what happened to the last man who tried to mate with you.'
He grinned as Billi cringed at the word, enjoying making her so uncomfortable.
'He's alive. He's in a wheelchair.'
'I was told you killed three boys.' Jack said. Before making a little tutting sound that made Billi want to rip out his throat. It was bad enough they had forced her hand back then, but for people to believe she had wanted to do it, or even enjoyed it, was horrifying.
'That was different. I had no choice.' she said.
The memory of Sally's desperate screams for help reverberated through Billi's head.
'They would have killed her, or worse. I was helping my friend.'
Jack raised his glass towards her.
'How righteous of you,' he said, sipping his wine. 'I prefer to help myself.'
His smirk finally got the better of Billi.
'What are you so happy about?' Billi growled.
Jack gently placed his glass back on the table. He looked at someone behind Billi and nodded once. Billi froze as she heard the lock click behind her.
'You're a scout. The council finally found someone stupid enough to come get me?' she said.
Jack laughed and shook his head.
'I thought you were smart?' Jack sneered. 'Let me turn off the scent for you. I can see it's having a detrimental effect on your mental capacity.'
He took a deep breath, and Billi watched his face as his overwhelming pheromones died down, and a scent that should have made her furious replaced them. Vampires. Everyone in there was a vampire. Billi knew Jack was expecting her to freak out, to fight. Instead, she simply closed her eyes and groaned.
'I knew I was good,' he said. 'They told me you were better. I knew they were wrong.' He beamed and opened his arms, gesturing at the people in the bar. 'These are my clients.'
Billi did not need to look around to know how bad this situation had become. Now Jack's scent had gone. She could finally absorb the full stench of the room. No wonder he had his scent turned up to eleven. She sighed as she realised something else. There was a metallic scent, too. Copper.
'You know, they wanted me to hunt down some wretched trouble making domestic?' Jack went on. 'Me! But when I saw you, well, I could hardly resist. Killing the council's greatest enemy. I could use that.'
Billi couldn't hide her anger now. It radiated around her. She closed her eyes again. This time she took a deep breath and breathed out slowly. When she finally looked at Jack, her changed expression made Jack's smile drop.
'You're going to kill me? Another cat?'
Billi paced the restaurant like a tiger in captivity, searching for a weakness in its enclosure. She was calm now, furious, yes, but her rage was controllable, usable. Anger was a tool she learnt to wield long ago, and this idiot didn't understand that she had faced far worse than him. She would fashion her anger into a weapon, and he would walk right into it. She stalked from table to table, picking up a knife here, replacing it there. As she approached, vampires scattered like cockroaches in the light.
'You did,' said Jack, watching her curiously. 'I'm doing this for our future,' he went on, 'to change the way we run the council.' He looked into her eyes. They glowed gold in the low warmth of the candles. She was close to him now. Pressing herself into Jack, meeting his piercing blue gaze with her honey warm amber eyes. 'I could spare your life. You could join me.' He whispered. The fight gone from his tone, replaced with one of desire. Billi felt his warm hands trace her shoulders, sweep down her back and come to rest on her hips. She smiled softly. 'Imagine us together,' Jack said. 'We would be unstoppable.'
Billi held his longing gaze for a moment, aware of the stunned silence from the vampires watching them. She leaned in closer, whispering into his ear.
'So, my options are to say no and die or agree and live?' she purred. 'That's not change, sweetheart. That's what I left behind.' She watched Jack's expression change as he felt something sharp against his chest. 'You pretend to know me, so you know I'll do what I need to.' she said. 'And for the record, I am better than you. I'm better than anyone.'
Jack looked down at the steak knife held firmly over his heart.
'You're not the only one who knows how to play with their pheromones.'
Jack took one hand from Billi's hip, pulling her closer still with the other, and reached up to the knife. He did not try to move it but wrapped his hand over hers.
'You know that won't kill me, don't you, sweetheart?' He said, the angry tone returning. 'Or do they really not teach you women anything?'
They did not break eye contact. This was a game of chicken neither was prepared to lose. Jack leaned forward. Billi did not move. The point of the knife pushed through the fabric of Jack's shirt and broke his skin. He grinned as blood trickled onto the blade of the knife. The vampires shifted uneasily. Suddenly, in feeding mode, every green eye in the building settled on their motionless tableaux. Billi shrugged.
'It'll sting.' she said, before looking pleadingly into Jack's eyes. 'Don't make me do this, Jack. Killing once was enough.'
Jack laughed coldly.
'Oh, come now, you killed more than once.'
'They would have killed her!' Billi screamed.
'I think I'll enjoy this,' Jack said.
Billi watched as his eyes changed. He was trying to intimidate her. Letting his eyes take on their tiger colourings. She knew his next move would be to pounce. But no matter how fast Jack thought he was, Billi was faster. She lashed out. She did not waste any time transforming; she did not need to. Instead, she ripped the knife through Jack's throat.
Arterial pressure spat blood across her chest and into the restaurant. Covering the white tables and drenching the vampires standing closest to him. Jack's hands were at his throat, shock on his face. Billi cried as Jack blinked before slumping to his knees. Billi stood fixed to the spot, convulsing with anger and tears and covered in blood. Aware of the massed vampires watching her in shock and awe, and something else. Hunger. She wiped her blood free hand across her eyes and walk towards the bar. The Vampires parted as she approached, waiting. Then, as one, the vampires could hold out no longer. Behind her, Billi heard the sickening sounds of their feeding frenzy. She closed her eyes and prayed for momentary deafness. She walked behind the bar and poured herself a large whiskey, careful to keep her gaze from the feeding vampires, and drank. It did little to numb the tide of feelings rising inside her. She washed the blood from her hands. Drank more whiskey. Behind her, the vampires were quieter. Finally, she looked up at the vampires covered in blood and made a decision. Slowly she undressed, folding each item and placing it carefully into her bag. She stood naked, streaked with blood, and waited for the vampires to finish. Emboldened by their meal, one or two moved towards Billi. She scowled.
The tiger pounced. It was not a fair fight. Billi had it all her way, even vampires with copper weapons were dispatched with ease. Frantic with fear, they stumbled for the door. Billi knocked them down like skittles, scattering dust and ash across the floor and into the still warm blood that pooled around Jack's lifeless body. The metallic tang of his blood distracted her long enough for a vampire to sink a dagger hilt-deep into her shoulder. She roared in pain as the blade snapped off in the wound. The luckless vampire who landed the blow exploded into dust as Billi's enormous paw slashed his head from his body. Soon, Billi was alone with a single female vampire trying to unlock the door, but unable to tear her eyes from the furious tiger. Her orange and black fur, now white with ash and red from her own blood. Billi stared unblinking at her remaining foe. She roared. Her ears flat to her head, her eyes narrow. A sound so terrifyingly primal it froze the vampire to the spot. Billi padded towards her as the vampire fumbled blindly with the door behind her. It clicked. Relief flooded the vampire's features, and she turned and fled into the night.
Billi could not remember how she got home. The reflection in the mirror hardly looked like her. She was dirty and bloodstained but at least she was dressed. She stared blankly into her own eyes. Tearing herself away, she tipped the contents of her bag on to the bathroom floor, scattering clothes, coins and old receipts, and pawing through it found her phone and sent a message. Her phone rang instantly in response. Billi ignored it. Dreamlike, she moved to the shower, turned it on and still dressed, stepped under the running water. She pressed her back into the cold tiles, trying to feel something, anything. When her legs could no longer support her, she slid down the tiles, folding towards the floor and sobbing uncontrollably. She pulled her knees into her chest and rested her head on them as the water ran red.