How to Catch a Cat (29 page)

EXORCIZED

“WANDA? WHAT ARE
you doing in here? Is that a knitting needle? What happened to Oscar? Wait a minute . . . You’re not Wanda . . .”

It took Monty several seconds to process the scene. He stroked his chin, pondering the implications. “How long has Mabel been masquerading as Wanda?”

Meanwhile, the niece was busy fending off Mabel and her advancing needle-knife. The niece had scooted to the far end of the boat and was nearing a corner where she would be trapped against the hangar walls.

“Monty!”

Startled, the Batman-clad mayor swept into action. He sprinted across the hangar—but stopped short a few feet away from Mabel, held back by her glancing blade.

From the ground at her person’s feet, Isabella stopped hissing long enough to issue a sharp “
Mrao
.”

The niece provided the interpretation. “Monty, the cane!”

As Monty lunged for the wooden rod that lay on the floor beside Oscar’s lifeless body, Mabel directed her blade at the mayor.

For a split second, the niece thought back to the moment in the mayor’s office suite when she’d wondered what she might do in a situation such as this . . .

Then she shrugged off the notion as ridiculous. Dumping Rupert to the ground, she moved in to try to disarm Mabel.

“Monty, watch out! She’s coming after you!”

Monty looked over his shoulder just in time to see the needle’s blade coming down. He whipped his costume cape in front of his body.

The blade sliced through the wet suit fabric with ease, missing its target by inches.

“What are you using to sharpen that thing?” Monty asked in amazement as he stared at the shredded tear.

Mabel extracted the knife from the cape and adjusted her grip, preparing to make another stab.

Isabella had had enough. She crept along the rounded top of the boat’s plastic hull, sizing up the jumping distance to the crazed attacker.

As Mabel flexed her arm for another thrust, an orange and white blur leapt through the air and landed square across her shoulders.

“Eh?” was all Mabel got out before four sets of claws dug into her skin.

The subsequent screech could be heard across the pavilion.

“Oh my,” Monty said, flinching at the sight.

“Isabella!” the niece cried, rushing forward this time without regard for Mabel’s knife.

Mabel flailed about, trying without success to remove the snarling beast who had attacked her.

Screaming in pain, she ran out the hangar entrance.

The niece chased after them, sprinting out onto the walkway that lined the pavilion—as a loud splash hit the water.

Isabella stood at the edge of the walkway, gazing proudly down at the trail of bubbles.

“Mrao.”

To herself, the cat thought,
Now,
that’s
how you do an exorcism
.

Just Outside the Golden Gate

August 1775

HOW TO CATCH A CAT

THE MOON GAZED
down from the daytime sky, watching the
San Carlos
sail out the Golden Gate. As the ship began its return trip along the California coast, the moon knew the world would never be the same.

Her precious bay had been discovered. She could no longer keep it to herself.

In future years, a settlement would sprout on the protected shore. Over time, San Francisco would be invaded by gold miners, overrun by hippies, and taken over by technophiles. Earthquakes and fires would raze the city, but each time, it would rebuild and reinvent itself anew.

And one day, these gracious waters would host a famous sailboat regatta, a competition that would thrill spectators and break record books with a fabulous come-from-behind win by the home team.

In the meantime, the moon would enjoy the few quiet days that remained.

•   •   •

DOWNSTAIRS IN THE
ship’s kitchen, the chef stood at his counter, pondering the menu for that evening’s meal. Expertly shifting his weight with the rocking of the ship, Oscar surveyed the remaining provisions. He’d run out of sausage. He would have to improvise for tomorrow’s breakfast. He had biscuit dough and plenty of leftover fried chicken.

“Hmm . . .”

The niece sat on a stool nearby, reading a book—until her ears picked up on a conversation in the ship’s center hallway.

“Rupert, I think it’s important, now that Petey’s gone, for you to maintain some form of exercise.”

Getting up from her stool, the niece walked to the kitchen doorway and stared out at Father Monty, who crouched on the floor next to her cat.

“I think you should find something else to chase,” the priest said, strumming his fingers against his knee.

Isabella sauntered past, her tail sticking up in the air, the orange tip kinked to one side.

Monty pumped his eyebrows and wrapped an arm over Rupert’s furry shoulders. “I’ve seen your technique. You could use a few pointers. Let me give you a couple of tips on how to catch a cat.”

Isabella stopped and looked back at the priest with disdain. To her brother, she gave a don’t-you-dare look.

“Mrao.”

Looking for more?
Visit Penguin.com for more about this author and a complete list of their books.
Discover your next great read!