Little Big Cat

By Debi Matlack

Maeve Kavanuagh’s world, already on shaky legs, is torn apart after she barely survived a psychic attack from a still-unknown entity hell bent on killing her. All her filters against the unseen world are shredded and every sense is constantly violated by the sixth. Seeing ghosts and being a psychic is the norm now, and Maeve is still adjusting, but it’s not easy when your family mollycoddles you and even the man you love thinks you’d be better off in a straitjacket and locked up in the looney bin. That kind of protection is the last thing she needs.
With all this going on, she might really lose her mind. With the looming threat of the creature she thought she’d sent packing back to haunt her, Maeve has the fight of her life ahead of her. Will the price to be paid to vanquish this evil entity be her own life, or someone else’s?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Debi Matlack
• Release date: Sep 9, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370877027

Debi Matlack

Debi Matlack is a rare creature, a native-born Floridian. This means that the concept of snow and ice and mountains sounds good on paper, but is best experienced vicariously, through print and visual media rather than personal experience. She lives in Floridduh, land of the completely ridiculous, please God-don’t-let-the-perpetrators-be-from-Florida-(damn) news story, with her parents and husband and cats. Her main ambition, right behind not ending up as one of the aforementioned news stories, is to be successful as a writer. Proceeds will be used to support her and her family in a manner to which they would like to become accustomed. The quest continues.

Book preview

The darkness was palpable, smothering me with its inky density. It brushed against my skin, caressing, then gripping, squeezing my jaw to force my mouth open, I struggled, but every attempt to push it away was like being submerged and trying to shove the water away from my face. It infiltrated my nostrils instead, winding into my sinuses, blocking my airways, becoming solid and brittle, shards breaking off to scour the interior of my skull. Gasping for air, I was forced to open my mouth. The darkness leapt down my throat with glee, and filled my lungs to bursting with a substance that left no room for the oxygen I desperately needed.

Maeve?

I was jostled from outside, disrupting the dream and I coughed, then sucked in lungfuls of antiseptic-scented air. The darkness wasn’t nearly as dense now. I saw shadows and shapes and Barrett’s silhouetted face above me, all raspy beard and tousled hair, backlit from the bathroom light shining through the partially open door. I blinked, more assured that my unseen attacker was gone.

Maeve? You okay?

I took another, almost untroubled breath, only to be brought up short by a twinge in my ribs, not liquid obsidian in my nasal passages. Yeah, I’m okay.

The hospital recliner rustled as he sat back, gusting out a jaw-cracking yawn.

Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.

Hey, don’t be sorry. It sounded like you needed some help.

An involuntary shudder shook me for a second and I sighed. You’re probably right. Something was suffocating me.

He sat forward and slid his hand under the bed rail to hold mine. It could be some memory of not breathing, or the pressure from the chest compressions. I’ve had patients tell me about things they remembered from being resuscitated, even if, to all appearances, they were at best unconscious. Oh, dear, sweet Barrett, always trying to put a reality-based spin on things. I was remembering something all right, but it had jack shit to do with CPR or not breathing and everything to do with a certain soul-scrambling, psychic-eating, body snatching… entity, trying to do those very things to me.

Could be, I said, just to fill the void.

But that’s not it, is it?

All that, and an insightful mind, too. He really had come a long way. No.

Feel like talking about it?

I considered it for a moment, then shivered again and shook my head. Not really.

Okay. He squeezed my hand. But if you do, I’m here.

I nodded, not bothering to answer out loud as exhaustion absorbed me into the bed. I didn’t have much time to fret about nightmares before I was asleep again.

~~~

Some time the next day, during one of my rare periods of wakefulness, the door to my room opened to admit Barrett and his best friend, Detective Scott Jenkins. It probably didn’t show, but I was very happy to see them both, even though as a result of my latest psychic shenanigans, seeing auras now seemed to be my default setting and it took concerted, blinking effort to resume my regular, non-paranormal vision.

Scott put a massive poinsettia, complete with red velvet bow, on the nearby table, then each of them pulled up a chair, one to either side, and bent to place a gentle kiss on my face. I placed my hand over Scott’s, feeling coolness from the chilly weather outside and gripped it in gratitude. Thanks for helping keep my body alive so I had something to come back to.

He brought my hand up to his lips and pressed a quick kiss to the back of my knuckles. You’re very welcome. I like to ensure my friends always have a live body to occupy.

Barrett flicked his eyes up to Scott and raised his brows, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. Back off, Officer, you’ve got your own, this one’s mine.

Scott returned the look with a smirk. You’re just jealous because all the women like me better. He did let go my hand and sat down in a bedside chair. You look a lot better than you did the last time I saw you.

Which is not saying much, I imagine. I hadn’t seen myself yet, but it probably wasn’t pretty. Physically, I was relatively undamaged, despite how I felt. I sported bruises, cuts, scratches and some cracked ribs from my inglorious fall from the pine tree and possibly the CPR Scott and Barrett had performed. However, in the grand scheme of things, such complaints were paltry compared to the hammer to the skull over a year ago that sent me to the hospital, my Poppy to the morgue and launched this whole absurd psychic drama my life had become. When I’d first discovered my abilities, roaring to prominence after the traumatic brain injury, I had no idea that being a psychic would ever be physically dangerous. That notion had collapsed into a pile of burning, ashen rubble.

Barrett’s warm fingers laced through mine and I sighed with contentment. He’d been at my side almost constantly since my arrival and I missed him when he was gone. Not exactly the hard-headed stubborn creature I pretended to be anymore, at least not regarding him. He’d come a long way too, from a ‘just the facts, ma’am’ skeptic to completely accepting of my cryptic talents. Thus fortified, I turned my attention back to Scott.

So, are you just here to ogle the bedridden, or is there an ulterior motive?

Scott chuckled, squirming a moment to free the edge of his badge from his waistband. I’m here in both official and unofficial capacities, look at me multitask.

Very impressive, I praised, but right now it just looks like you’re sitting there.

Unofficial duty, checking on your wellbeing, done. Official duty commencing. He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. We found Tony Fentriss’s fingerprints all over the barn. Do you want to press charges?

No, I do not. I sighed. Unofficially, he was as much a victim as I was, and will continue to be.

It was his hand that held the hammer that killed your grandfather and damn near sent you after him.

I nodded. What you say is fact on a mundane level, but the truth is poor Tony was nothing more than a vehicle driven by that thing.

Still no idea what it was? Barrett’s question was further evidence of his recognition of and belief in the hidden world. He’d seen only the aftermath of my near-fatal struggle with Tony and his possessor, but he accepted my story about the events and the entity involved without questioning my sanity.

I squeezed his fingers in response. None whatsoever. All I know is it fed off my family’s psychic ability for generations. You read all the same articles and theories I did about the Pinehaven Killer, most of which were crap.

Scott sighed with a wry smile. Do you have any idea how frustrating it is to know the truth behind the biggest series of crimes in that little Podunk town and not be able to tell anyone?

I chuckled carefully, my ribs threatening me with violence if I laughed too hard. Try being a fairly new-minted psychic who hears things from dead folks all the time and not being able to do anything with the information.

Touché. He scrubbed his hands through his hair. I sure wish I understood more about it, though. Even a supernatural threat has to have some kind of limitations or laws it’s bound by.

Whatever they are, I don’t know what they are, what it is, and I’ve researched my ass off, I began. The first anyone knows about it is when it attacked Adam, way before the Civil War. Even he doesn’t understand why it didn’t kill him, maybe it wasn’t strong enough, maybe it had just enough strength to draw energy from his Sight, but not enough to finish him, just turn him into a vampire. I suspect the spirits at the pond are there as guardians or some kind of early warning system but I honestly don’t know more than that. I found myself wishing Adam Bell, my fourth great-grandfather and accidental vampire, was more comfortable with daylight, that way he could come see me and I could thank him for all he’d done for us, sooner rather than later. Having a vampire in the family turned out to be handy, even if he did sometimes treat me as if I were a small, stubborn child. I’m not that small.

I know Tony was the actual wielder, but the intent was all in the pond monster. My decision stands. Where is Tony, anyway?

Scott leaned back in the chair with a rueful expression. We arrested him, but he’s not right.

In what way?

Well, to give you an idea, he’s playing checkers and coloring with the shift commander’s ten-year-old son right now. The psych eval rated him intellectually at about five years old.

I was flabbergasted. Are you serious?

As a heart attack. The shrink said they’d do more testing but he was pretty sure that Tony is operating around a kindergarten grade level.

I felt my face and hands go cold, and it wasn’t because Poppy was nearby. Barrett leaned toward me in concern. Hey, you okay?

I tried to take a deep breath to calm myself, but it juddered and rattled past where my heart had taken up residence in my trachea. If that thing did that to Tony, what the hell did it do to me?

Well, you seem to be your regular intellectual capacity, Scott ventured. Your doctors haven’t said anything and I know they’ve x-rayed and scanned everything they possibly could. He shrugged. Aside from the physical trauma of falling out of a tree and receiving CPR for five minutes, you’re in decent enough shape, mild concussion instead of a skull fracture and brain swelling this time. If they saw any demons or shit like that on your MRI, it didn’t go in the report.

There is that, I conceded. Still, I was sad for Tony and more than a little afraid for myself. What will happen to Tony then?

Scott smiled. His aunt has come forward to take responsibility for him. I think she’s the only real family he has left.

And then it finally hit me. Too bad we can’t mark Poppy’s case ‘solved’.

Scott raised his brows. Yeah, it looks like officially it will stay unsolved, but at least we know what happened. He leaned toward me. Will that be okay with you?

Losing the battle with weariness, I nodded, blinking. I guess it’ll have to be.

Consider it done, he said, getting to his feet. I’ll leave you alone now. Get some rest, I expect to see you hawking some more crap I don’t need in my house to my wife in the near future, hear me?

Yessir.

Scott stopped at the door, his hand resting on the frame. Take care of yourself, Maeve.

My eyes drifted to Barrett, who met my glance with a quiet smile. With that simple expression, a tingle of warmth spread through me. I’m in good hands. Maybe love was the best medicine, it sure beat the hell out of the hospital. I turned back to Scott and winked. Now scram so I can sleep.

Two

Fighting an epic battle almost wholly inside one’s head after falling out of a tree takes a lot out of a person. I spent most of my three-night stay asleep, conscious long enough to entertain visitors, answer questions from the nurses and doctors, endure more bloodwork, assessments, examinations, scans. Sleep was fitful but fatigue gave me no choice.

Since I was always sleeping or being evaluated, I didn’t have much opportunity to determine if or how much damage was done by Tony’s ex-possessor. I still had no name or even category to put to this creature, if that was an accurate term. It used Tony’s family for generations to ‘feed’ off any of mine that possessed psychic ability. But it hadn’t counted on me to effectively fight back, its latest chosen all-you-can-eat buffet. In the majority of modern society, most meals don’t struggle so much before consumption. That element of surprise may have helped me and Tony overcome it.

The entity that had possessed him? I had no idea what it was besides something ancient and bitter. All my research into nonhuman creatures gave me nothing concrete to call this thing. Endless movies, novels, conspiracy theorists and general nutjobs dealt with all sorts of esoteric creatures but nothing seemed to fit my particular criteria.

A millennium or so ago, it had dominated an entire village and driven the people to kill it as well as themselves, presumably to prevent it from having that sort of power again. They deprived it of its body, but the malignant spirit still lurked, bound to the land its physical self once inhabited, waiting for a fresh opportunity to control another host and begin its hunt again. It turned my ancestor Adam into a vampire, feeding on his paranormal ability and leaving him with a thirst for blood; to my knowledge, he was the only one of us to survive an attack, until I came along. It tried to appropriate my body when Tony evicted it but, like Adam, I was not a benign, complacent host. The family stubborn streak apparently does not dilute over successive generations. Why I didn’t suffer the same fate as Adam, I have no idea.

Even for that brief moment it invaded, it shredded my psyche into tiny, colorful, terrifying bits. As a result, the visions it left behind as a parting gift ensured that my nights would be fraught with abhorrent dreams for some time to come. Frankly, it didn’t matter if you called it demon, spirit, Beelzebub, or Bob, the fact remained it was egocentric, greedy, and malicious.

~~~

Poppy showed up the next day, announced by the gradually apparent focal cold spot, this time near the foot of my bed. Barrett had gone to get something to eat, so I didn’t have to try to carry on a three-way conversation for him.

How are you, kitten? I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed that nickname, bestowed upon me by Poppy shortly after Mike and I moved in as small children. Poppy and Granny soon learned how I could go from sweet and soft to yowling and prickly in no time flat. That led to the nickname ‘Little Big Cat’ when my rebellious streak showed more often. Poppy sometimes referred to me as ‘Little Polecat’ when I was being especially difficult and he was especially exasperated.

Okay, I guess. Mostly tired.

I hope that’s all. That thing tore you up pretty bad. It’s a good thing y’all kicked him out when you did. He almost had you.

He destroyed Tony’s mind, Poppy. The poor guy is back to practicing his letters and learning to color inside the lines.

Poppy’s expression was grim. Well, what do you expect, playing host to that foul thing?

Poppy! That’s not very nice. Tony wasn’t in control, and he wasn’t happy with what it did with him. I could see it. And if he hadn’t helped me, we’d probably both be dead now.

Poppy was skeptical. Well, excuse me if I don’t go out and buy him flowers. It was his hand that did me in, and almost you, three times.

Third time’s the charm. It didn’t get me and we kicked it to the curb.

Glad to hear it. And I’m glad you’re feeling better. Just be careful, little girl, okay? Don’t try to get going too fast. I’m afraid that thing hurt you bad and you just don’t know it yet.

Poppy, I’ll be fine. Of course, it was hard to tell if I was psychotic when I couldn’t stay awake. Fatigue set leaden pennies on my eyelids again and I fought the urge to close them.

Rest easy, kitten, I’ll be here.

My scant moments of undisturbed consciousness were filled with speculation about what to do from here. Hanging out a shingle as a psychic seemed absurd. I made a decent living selling books, refurbished furniture, antiques, and whatever else caught my fancy, so I didn’t need or want a supplemental income. I didn’t fancy the idea of becoming known as a psychic, beyond the circle of people who already knew. I knew what I saw and could do was real, but a ‘professional’ psychic seemed to smack a little of exploitation and charlatanism. People who believed in psychics were relatively enthusiastic about it, and would probably believe anything you told them under the guise of a message from the other side, because they couldn’t see it for themselves. Since there was no scientific way to quantify, and therefore legitimize psychic ability, to claim such powers openly seemed wrong to me. Maybe Barrett has been a bad influence on me. An unscrupulous person, psychic or not, would tell people what they wanted to hear, enough of that sort already existed and I wanted no part of being associated with them. And I sure wasn’t about to go the whole Madame Gemini route and burn incense, hang beads or gaze into a crystal ball just to satisfy some acquisitive weirdo that wanted to know where Great Aunt Martha buried the family silver. Taking money for it seemed wrong too, not only because I didn’t really need it, but, as the gift I was begrudgingly beginning to consider it as, it felt unethical to charge someone for telling them what my abilities revealed. I can’t really explain it better than that.

~~~

The following day I still hadn’t had my head turn all the way around or spewed pea soup on anyone, so my doctor decided to release me.

Barrett helped me dress in some loose clothes he’d brought from my apartment, the rest of my things crammed in a duffle bag. My brother strolled into the room just then. Ready to go?

Born ready, I replied. The tech held a wheelchair for me and I actually didn’t mind hitching a ride. I was still worn out and fervently hoping for a nice, quiet few days rest in the solitude of my own apartment.

Mike scurried to open the door as we rolled toward the elevators. Karen’s got your room set up and we’re both off work until after Christmas, so we’ll be around to help you out.

Mike, I’m taking her home. Barrett pushed the button for the down elevator and, when the doors opened, we crowded in.

Didn’t I just say that? My brother is dumb as a brick sometimes.

No, to her apartment, I’m off for the holidays too, so I’ll be with her.

Mike fixed Barrett with a gimlet glare. She needs to be with her family.

And you can come visit, after all, it is Christmas.

I heard the tech sigh; I looked up at him and rolled my eyes, then heard a very soft chuckle. Neither of my men heard it, they were too busy deciding my fate for me. While I understood they both had my best interests at heart, it was decidedly not in my best interests to listen to my country-boy mechanic brother and my former Army medic boyfriend wrangle over possession of me like a couple of toddlers over a pacifier. They certainly were behaving like children.

I don’t need an invitation to see my own sister.

Yeah you do, I muttered and heard quiet, muffled laughter from behind the wheelchair.

Do you have any kind of medical training?

What does that have to do with anything?

It means I’m—

I sighed and raised my voice, even though it made my ribs hurt. Children, SHUT UP.

I think they’d forgotten I was there. I narrowed my eyes at Barrett. I don’t appreciate you haggling over me like the price of a used car. I’m sitting right here and there’s nothing wrong with my hearing or my ability to decide where I will go from here.

Mike looked smug until I turned on him. Mike, I’m going home, to my apartment, to my store. Tell Karen I appreciate her being willing to put up with me yet again, but I will be just fine.

You’re choosing your boyfriend over your family?

I’m choosing my home and some peace and quiet over displacing your kids and wife again when it isn’t necessary, especially at Christmas. Now, if I have to fucking walk home while the two of you duke it out, so be it. Both of them fell silent and stared into opposite corners of the elevator car for the duration of the ride.

Thank God, the elevator dinged and opened onto a quiet side lobby. I saw Mike’s truck and Barrett’s Mini parked under the porte-cochère; I looked up at the tech. Driver, the blue Mini, please.

Very well, Madame, he chuckled.

My brother threw up his hands and huffed off like a teenage girl. Well, that’s just fine, ungrateful—

Michael! Don’t you dare.

He whipped around to stare at me. I think I may have channeled Granny for a second because he had the same guilty look on his face he’d get when she scolded him. He dropped his arms to his sides, came back to me, kissed me on the cheek, gave Barrett another glare, and huffed away to his truck again.

I’m glad we got that straightened out, I said as Barrett helped me into the car. That thirty-mile walk would have taken me about a year.

Three

Once home, Barrett insisted on carrying me up the stairs, nearly dropping me when the pocket of my sweatpants got hung on the doorknob at the bottom of the stairwell. Despite my protests and nearly ending up on the floor, I was secretly glad he was so adamant. I was still dog-tired, with a weariness that pulled me relentlessly downward into sleep only for me to soon gasp awake after seeing the unwelcome images that lurked just behind my closed eyelids. So much for the exhausted unconsciousness of my hospital stay. My body was healing, which allowed my brain to start taking inventory. Poppy’s worries were well founded. I had no idea how big a mess I was in, but the contents of my nightmares gave me some ugly-ass hints.

A decorated Christmas tree stood by the stair landing, presents piled underneath. The kitchen was full of food, compliments of Carrie and the staff at the Yellow Submarine, and the coffee table groaned under the weight of well-wishes, small gifts, and Christmas cards from what looked like everyone in town. I picked up the one on the very top and smiled to see the inscription inside:

Biting my lips, I laid the card carefully back on the stack. Barrett sat beside me, legs and shoulders touching mine. His warm strength eased the knot in my throat. My fingers still rested on the card and I could feel Deanna’s soft hand touch mine through it. Hmm, that was new too. So close, we came so close to losing her.

His arm slid around me. We did lose you.

This observation hit me and jarred loose a rueful chuckle as well as a few tears. I turned my head to hide them. Sorry about that.

He turned me back to face him, brushed the hair off my face and gently wiped the wet trails dry. I would appreciate it if you didn’t do anything like that again anytime soon. Or ever. Never again is good with me.

It’s a deal.

He sat back and gave me a long, searching look. I was too tired to do anything other than stare back. His expression mixed relief and wonder into a tiny incredulous smile. Welcome home.

I tucked myself against his side, enjoying the quiet, warm strength of the man that, against all odds, had become my partner in life. You know I love you, right? Even though I’m bad at saying it sometimes?

His arm tightened round me and a kiss warmed the top of my head. I know. I love you too. He got up, headed for the bedroom and returned with a pillow, a blanket and put the remote to the TV within my reach.

What more could a girl ask for? He chuckled and bent to kiss me.

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