The Un-Familiar: A Tale of Cats and Gods

By Lynne M. Hinkey

Coincidence leads to talk and talk to speculation and speculation to rumor and rumor to belief. And belief brings the supernatural to life. There’s a lot of talk about what’s behind the bizarre weather on the island of Puerto Rico...

Two years ago, people breathed a sigh of relief when Detective Eddie Corredor exposed the crooked and costumed mayor of Rincón as the real monster that had been terrorizing the island with his shady business activities. But now, the natural disasters occurring in a most unnatural manner have people whispering about a supernatural beast again. Is the chupacabra real or rumor?

Señora Milagros, familiar to the dog-god of Mercy (also known as chupacabra) knows the truth, but even she has some surprises in store as a host of new beliefs bring more gods to the island. There’s a beast of a storm brewing, and only a god can stop it. But which one? And will Señora Milagros sort them all out before the recent arrivals destroy the newly returned dog? If not, it’s not only her retirement at stake, it’s the future of mankind.

The chupacabra returns in another zany caper that started with 2014's "Ye Gods! A Tale of Dogs and Demons." This raucous island adventure weaves the myth and mystery of the chupacabra (Spanish for goatsucker) with some endearing island characters in a madcap look at science, belief, and the gray area in between. There's a beast of a storm brewing and only a god can stop it. But which one? The chupacabra returns--and this time, he's brought some friends (and an enemy or two).

**All Proceeds from Ebook Sales of "The Un-Familiar" are donated to Animal Rescue and Rehabilitation Organizations.**

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lynne M. Hinkey
• Release date: Sep 21, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370403615

Lynne M. Hinkey

SPECIAL!! 100% of the proceeds from book sales are donated to animal rescue organizations in the US Virgin Islands and Puerto Rico as these organizations work to recover from the devastating blow of Hurricanes Irma and Maria. To help, the e-books have been priced as "Reader's Choice," meaning you determine how much you want to give. I guarantee every cent of it will go directly to these organizations. Think I'm being mercenary to sell books? Then don't buy any. You can make a donation directly to these organizations at: St. Thomas Humane Society: http://www.hsstt.com/donate.html St. John Animal Care Center: http://www.stjohnanimalcarecenter.com/donate St. Croix Animal Welfare Center: https://www.stcroixawc.org/ Animal Rescue Foundation of Rincon: https://arfrincon.org/ BIO Lynne Hinkey is a marine scientist by training, a writer by passion, and a curmudgeon by nature. She spent years hanging out at marina bars around the Caribbean, where she eavesdropped in on fascinating conversations that she then turned into fun stories reflecting the zaniness of island life. She lives in Charleston, South Carolina, with her husband, cat, and two dogs. Her short stories, essays, travel articles, and book reviews have appeared in a number of print and electronic publications. She is the author of three novels: Marina Melee, Ye Gods! A Tale of Dogs and Demons, and The Un-Familiar: A Tale of Cats and Gods. The latter are books 1 and 2 of her Chupacabra Trilogy. The final installment, Ye Goddess! A Tale of Girls and Gods," is in development. When not writing, Lynne is an adjunct professor of biology and an avid, but not accomplished, dog agility competitor. Visit her website at www.lynnehinkey.com.

Book preview

THE UN-FAMILIAR

A Tale of Cats and Gods

The Chupacabra Trilogy Book 2

by

Lynne M. Hinkey

This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are either fictitious or are used fictitiously.

THE UN-FAMILIAR: A TALE OF CATS AND GODS. Copyright © 2016 by Lynne M. Hinkey. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Paperback edition published by Casperian Books (www.casperianbooks.com) and available in print from most online book retailers.

ISBN-10: 1-934081-52-3

ISBN-13: 978-1-934081-52-5

Also by Lynne M. Hinkey

YE GODS! A TALE OF DOGS AND DEMONS (The Chupacabra Trilogy Book 1)

MARINA MELEE

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

~ ~ ~

DEDICATION

To the many dogs and cats who have brought so much love and joy into my life.

~ ~ ~

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Dedication

And So It Begins

1. In the Beginning

2. Raining Cats and Dogs

3. Strange Changes

4. Stranger

5. It's Electric

6. Can We Talk?

7. Girls Just Wanna Have Fun

8. Old Friends

9. New Friends

10. A New Recruit

11. Hail, Hail, the Gang's All Here

12. His Eminence

13. Snakes in the Grass

14. Oh-Dark-Thirty

15. Conspicuous Consumption

16. Past, Present, Future Tense

17. Ye Gods!

18. Raines Pours

19. Catch-22

20. The Demon Inside

21. Saints and Sinners

22. Dog Gone

23. Trick or Treat

24. Chasing Tail

25. Strange Bedfellows

26. Kingdom Come

27. I Believe in Miracles

28. Ye Goddess!

29. In the End of the Beginning and the Beginning of the End

Acknowledgements

About the Author

AND SO IT BEGINS

THE RISING COST OF CLIMATE CHANGE: $4.5 BILLION IN LOSSES

Costliest Wildfire Season in US History

U-T San Diego, San Diego, CA

28 September

CATEGORY 4 HURRICANE GRACE TO PUMMEL ISLAND OVERNIGHT

Residents Urged to Hunker Down and Pray

El Nueva Día, San Juan PR

13 October

REV. AURELIO PEÑA TO VISIT ISLAND

Famed spiritual leader says God, not man, behind extreme weather

En Otras Noticias, Mayagüez, PR

17 October

~ ~ ~

1. IN A BEGINNING

THE GODS

A blue flash rent the time-before-time sky, and threw the verdant landscape into brilliant relief. When the gods' eyes adjusted to the returning dimness, their number had increased by one.

Sentience, spat the amorphous gray and black cloud of Extreme Weather.

Evolution, grumbled the dancing flames of Fire.

Lovely, whispered the one they'd nicknamed DD.

The others focused their various forms, solid and ethereal, on her, the oldest among them. Disease and Death.

She shrugged, or what passed for such in her murky miasma of pestilence. Without evolution, there'd be no sentience. Without sentience, there'd be no recognition of self and other. Without that, there is no one to blame or be afraid of but oneself. Now they have us for that. I think it's lovely the way they've created us from a mixture of their fears and hopes. She turned to the newcomer. I am the cause and the end of pain. What do you do?

More. I do more.

More what? asked the Dark of Night. What is the belief that brought you here?

More. More is better, safer. More food provides more energy, a bigger lair offers more protection from predators, more mates ensure more offspring. More.

The others nodded, as much as their physical forms allowed.

This will continue, said the golden orb of Daylight, blurred into silhouette by her own blistering brightness. She pointed at the newcomer. He's the proof. They already believe in quantity over quality. No offense, she said, eyeing the greedy new god.

Greed glittered when he replied. It's what I am.

Daylight continued. We'll have more and more gods popping up for every little thing. Especially now that mammals have developed abstract thought. Worse, this latest group of uprights has learned to rationalize. They'll never take responsibility for their actions now. It'll be 'this big, bad god made me do it' and 'I'm being an ass in the name of that god.' Before you know it, there will be almost as many manifestations of belief as there are believers. You know what that means, don't you?

Competition. The air swirled around them, kicked up in dirt devils when the roiling cloud of Extreme Weather spoke. Belief makes us stronger, so we'll all want more believers.

What's wrong with wanting more? asked Greed.

One of us... DD looked at each of them in turn until her eyes settled on the newcomer. ...might get greedy. Try to take over.

The deities gasped. You mean a single god?

Absurd.

Horrifying.

Unbelievable.

DD nodded. But possible.

Extreme Weather's voice thundered: We must prevent it.

So it came to pass that, in a rare moment of self-awareness, the ancient gods--charter members of the club, as it were--recognized their own arrogance as a potential threat. They devised a strategy to keep any one god from gaining enough belief to eliminate the rest.

What form will these helpers take?

Should we give them a choice?

I vote for something with thumbs. Handy feature, that, the god of Fire offered.

As intermediaries between us and our followers, I think they should choose whatever form will be familiar to our respective believers, no? suggested Daylight.

Familiar. I like it.

They agreed these beings, who would both help them to achieve their full power and hinder them from overreaching, who could regulate their power if needed, would be called familiars.

What do we do with these familiars when belief wanes? asked Greed.

The god of Darkness grew darker. Wanes? What do you mean?

Oh, come on. I know it's already begun for you. Greed nudged the Dark and pointed to Fire. The uprights figured out how to keep you at bay and it's weakened you some. Am I right, or am I right? It happens. But so does evolution. There'll always be something that's afraid of the dark, so you'll always be needed. Still, if we're, let's call it 'on hiatus' due to a lack of belief, do the familiars die or what?

How about hibernation? suggested DD. If we go through all the trouble to select the right ones, train them up, bond with them, we don't just want to start over every time some fickle followers chase after a shiny, new god. She paused and addressed Greed. No offense.

None taken. More glittering.

DD went on. We'll allow them to wait for our return, but in stasis.

Even then, their bodies will eventually wear out--that's just how physics and chemistry work, Daylight said. We can't change that.

Fire flickered. I like the idea of them going dormant to wait for us. Save on wear and tear, extend the life of their bodies. But, the bright one has a point. They will wear out. We'd better come up with a plan for succession, for when their bodies...retire. Maybe even some sort of compensation package, as a reward if they served us well.

The others agreed.

Thus, the gods created familiars. These assistants would hold part of a god's powers, doling out additional portions as their deity demonstrated the maturity not to abuse it. They would help their respective gods find their true nature, but would also humble them and snap them out of any delusions of omnipotence that might come from having many believers.

This required familiars to have their own abilities. The gods weren't fools, and, like anyone with power, they were a bit paranoid. To avoid the risk of being overthrown by their aides, the gods made the familiars' powers dependent on the physical presence, proximity, and strength of the god they served.

This will work. Fire nodded.

Evolution changes things, said Darkness. The uprights will find a way to fuck it up. You just watch.

We've thought of everything, Extreme Weather assured the Dark. What could possibly go wrong?

~ ~ ~

CARMEN DEL TORO

Darkness and something more enveloped her. Something scratchy and moist like a giant cat's tongue rasped against her back and legs. A knobby shoulder poked into her belly, jostling her back, forth, up, and down.

Where was she? Where was he taking her? Did she know it was a he? For that matter, who was she?

The woman made to call out, but her lips remained shut and her cry for help turned into a squeal. Duct tape will do that to a scream.

It's okay, Carmen. Almost there, a deep voice rumbled over the wind and rain.

A man. She'd gotten that part right. Was Carmen his accomplice?

The rain stopped beating down on her. The storm's noise muffled and grew distant. Opening her eyes wide did nothing but confirm her predicament--bound and bagged--so she squeezed them shut again.

A disorienting flip tossed her from his shoulder and deposited her in a soft pile of blankets on the ground. The sodden burlap sack pulled from her head to reveal cave walls. Firelight shadows danced over dripping yellow, brown, and green moss. She twisted and craned her neck to see the man behind her.

The fire's flames cast his features into an eerie, writhing orange and black mask. He turned his gaze on her and she once more tried to scream.

Shh. Easy, Carmen. I'll protect you.

Protect her from what, she wondered? Had he saved her from the raging storm? Why? What did he want in return?

I have to go now. More work to be done. You'll be safe here. Hurricane's almost past us, only a few more hours. He reached for her and firelight glinted off a blade in his hand.

She shrunk away.

He grabbed her tethered wrists. Shadow and light bathed the man in a demonic glow. The knife slashed through the air. There. He dangled the cut rope in front of her eyes.

Returning circulation prickled through her fingers and up her arms. She scooted back until she bumped against the damp wall.

What do you want?

You have to help me, and I can help you. We'll talk when I get back.

Her eyes flicked to the cave's mouth.

Don't try to leave. That'd be dangerous, out in the storm. In the meantime, I need you to remember.

Sure. Easy for him to say, but she couldn't even recall her own name. Remember what?

A beginning. He laid a hand on her head.

The tingling in her arms raced upward, then exploded, sending her crashing back into the warm, soft pile of blankets. And she remembered.

A blue flash rent the time-before-time sky...

~ ~ ~

2. RAINING CATS AND DOGS

THE DOGS

Gale force winds lashed the water and plucked the tops off breaking waves, smashing them in furious bursts against the sea grapes and coconut palms along the shore. The storm begged the universe to answer the age-old riddle: If a tree falls on the beach and no one hears it over the shriek of hurricane winds, does it make a sound?

Does anyone care?

A dog cowered at the base of a tree for the protection it failed to offer. She whimpered her last. Her broken body grew cold and wet. Three newborn pups wiggled beneath her. The largest, a pudgy male with black and white spots, succumbed first. With no knowledge of the world they'd been born into and no mother to teach them, the remaining two, driven by instinct as old as life, cried into the void for help, for mercy.

I am here, came the answer.

The lone female, the runt, small of stature but boldest of the litter, responded: Who are you?

I am Dog. The disembodied voice chuckled at its own joke, but the humor was lost on the pup.

Help him, please, she begged. Her brother's last sigh blew warm across her neck. The runt felt his body grow limp.

It is done. Now move over, commanded the voice in her head.

What?

Make room.

For what?

For me.

Why?

I have chosen you.

Why me?

Why not?

Too tired to debate and afraid of being alone, she scrunched her consciousness into a small corner of her mind. Will it hurt?

Not at first.

~ ~ ~

SEÑORA MILAGROS

Fifi the cat yawned, mouth open so wide her eyes scrunched closed. She extended one long, slender forelimb and spread her toes to unsheathe razor-sharp talons. Ahhhh, her new feline form felt so lithe. Far better than that aging human body with its aches and pains, crackles and creaks. She brought a paw to her lips and licked at bare skin with her smooth wet tongue.

Bare?

Smooth?

Her eyes flew open and she examined her retractable...fingers?

She ran the tip of one over her tongue. Soft and moist. That's not right. She wasn't Fifi the cat at all, but Señora Milagros Isabela Hernán de Santiago. Still.

Well, shit.

What happened? Where were the dainty cat's feet, twitching tail, and raspy tongue? She should have gone through the change. Retired. Become Fifi, the black and white tuxedo cat. What went wrong?

Remnants of a dream tickled her memory, one of those dreams that made her heart race. Roused by an overwhelming fear, the feeling disappeared into a cloud of nothing the more alert she grew, and left her with an urgent need to act, but no memory of why or how.

She concentrated, trying to grasp some shred of the cause for her angst. A voice echoed through her, spoke directly to her soul: You have revealed too much.

She pressed her lips together and nodded. I'll fix everything.

The voice, sounding very much like her own, whispered: Better get a move on, then. You don't have much time.

What did that mean? As she pondered the strange warning, the background noise, a din like a thousand semi-trucks barreling down the highway, seeped into her consciousness. She cranked the handle of the jalousie to roll the window open but something blocked the slats' movement. She flicked the light switch. Nothing. Sniffed the stale air.

Boarded windows. No electricity. Roaring wind. The pieces fell into place.

Hurricane.

Carmen? she hollered and stumbled from her room. Carmen? Are you all right? She threw open the door to the spare bedroom and seeing the mound of blankets, breathed a sigh of relief. Together, they could try to figure out what had stopped the change.

Señora Milagros laid a hand on the lump in the middle of the bed and gave a gentle shake. The body beneath rolled over with a groan, then bolted upright, eyes wide, and screamed.

Milagros mirrored the reaction. Except her scream was significantly louder than the one coming from the duct-tape-covered mouth of the woman she'd awoken. Laurie? Why are you here? Where’s Carmen? She yanked at the duct tape.

Unmuffled, Laurie's shriek pierced the air. Señora Milagros winced and covered her ears. "¡Cállate! Tell me what happened."

Laurie Buso, Señora Milagros’ personal assistant and housekeeper, held her bound hands in front of her while Milagros hunted for the scissors and cut her free. Laurie gathered her composure and, with a few sporadic hiccups, began. "Un ladrón. I never saw the thief. I was bringing in the chairs from the porch when he grabbed me from behind. He covered my mouth so I couldn’t scream. I don't remember anything else. She scowled. Wait. There was a flash, like lightning, then nothing. She broke into soft sobs. What did he take? She looked around the room. Where's Carmen?"

Milagros shook her head and absently patted Laurie's back. Oh, dear. Losing one's apprentice couldn't be good. If the succession of power didn't go smoothly, the results could be catastrophic.

Her own continued presence in human form indicated it hadn't gone smoothly. It appeared to not have gone at all. Only Carmen had gone.

Señora Milagros picked up a newspaper from where Laurie had stacked them on the kitchen table and checked the date. Two years. Why, that was hardly a cat nap for a familiar.

What day is today? she asked.

Tuesday, I think. That's yesterday's paper. The last one before the storm hit. We have to call the police.

Milagros held up the silent receiver. Phones are out. And this isn't the work of an ordinary thief. The only thing missing is Carmen. She didn't add that only someone--or some thing--with extraordinary power could take her apprentice. She'd need extraordinary help to find her.

Scanning the headlines for news of murders, mayhem, or dead livestock, she found nothing out of the ordinary, aside from warnings of a category four hurricane. She picked up another paper. Even the gossip-filled En Otras Noticias made no mention of the chupacabra.

He had to be back. The god's return was the only thing that could have awakened her.

Flipping to the best-seller list in the Sunday paper, she searched for Jack Halliman's name. Where was it? While she hadn't exactly revealed the mysteries of the universe to the author, she had inspired his creativity. The result of that inspiration, Murder in Mayagüez, should be on the bestsellers' list. It had to be. That had been her plan: Jack's story would get people talking, talk would create belief, and belief would bring back the god, sometimes known as the chupacabra.

If Jack's latest novel hadn't created belief, how had he returned?

She flicked on the NOAA weather radio and the robotic voice of the announcer filled the room. Hurricane Grace has been downgraded to a category three storm and continues to move west-northwest away from Puerto Rico at seven miles per hour. Hurricane-force winds extend thirty-two miles from the well-formed eye, with sustained winds of 114 miles per hour and gusts up to 140.

Even with that warning of what awaited outside, the devastation took her breath away. Power lines and poles down, trees stripped bare of leaves, roofs torn from houses, sofa cushions, mattresses, and clothing strewn through the streets. A boat sat in the road in front of her house, deposited there by the storm surge.

Tears welled in Milagros' eyes. So many animals out in the deluge. How they must have cried for help, for mercy. Now she understood how he had returned. He had felt his followers' belief, heard their prayers, and answered.

Laurie stepped onto the porch next to her and they huddled together against the gusting wind and rain, taking in the destruction around them. A sheet of corrugated roofing flipped through the yard. Come in, Laurie said. There's nothing we can do until this passes.

Milagros fought down the frustration and helplessness that threatened to make her do something stupid. They went into the kitchen where Laurie busied herself setting out plates and a thermos of tepid coffee.

You seem no worse for the wear. Are you sure you're not hurt? she asked her assistant.

Laurie rolled her head from side to side. You know, I actually feel really good. When we catch this man, I'll have to thank him for the good night's sleep. Before we throw him in jail...or worse. Milagros glared, but Laurie ignored her and sliced the guava brazo gitano, Milagros' favorite. Eat, she commanded, and filled their cups.

Milagros lowered her nose over the cake and dabbed at the powdered sugar with her tongue. She sniffed at the coffee and hissed. Do we have any milk?

Laurie poured her a glass. Tilting it until the liquid ran toward her mouth, Milagros darted her tongue in and out, lapping at it. When she noticed Laurie watching her, she set the glass down. I'm fine.

Laurie stared. I thought you'd be...more different.

Milagros shrugged. So did I. She wadded up a piece of paper and batted it back and forth across the table. Something had prevented her becoming more different. But what? And why?

~ ~ ~

CAPTAIN EDDIE CORREDOR

Captain Eddie Corredor tucked a squeaking, squirming towel into the front of his coat and stepped from his car into the rain and gusty wind. The day before, the yard in front of his condo had overflowed with the bold colors of tropical vegetation: emerald-leafed palms and banana trees, scarlet wild ginger, sunset-hued birds of paradise, and a rainbow of bougainvillea. Today, all the leaves and flowers lay drowned in puddles, stripped from their stems. Beheaded palms stretched to the angry sky, the barren landscape naked and gray, like images of Hiroshima after the bomb.

Spying the intact roof of his condo unit, the tension that had been with him all through the long night departed. The neighbor's building hadn't been so lucky. Eddie shoved a sheet of corrugated roofing aside and walked up the three steps to the small porch. Using the crowbar he'd pulled from the trunk of his unmarked police car, he pried a board from the doorway. Rafael? he called. Rafi? You okay? I only have a few minutes. Open up.

His pareja emerged. "Cielo. He embraced Eddie, then pushed him to arm's length. How are you holding up?"

Good. You?

Rafi's hair, usually pulled into a neat ponytail, haloed his face in tawny ringlets. His hazel eyes, red-rimmed from a sleepless night, were alert and concerned, but held no sign of panic or distress. I'm okay. Just worried about you.

Eddie relaxed as a weight lifted from his shoulders. Like public safety officers everywhere, in the most dangerous of times, he had to leave his loved ones behind to serve