Ware the Cats of War

By Chris Lowry

She thought she could escape...

 

Katherine made it all the way to Maine before the bounty hunters caught her.

 

Not even her magic was enough to keep them from taking her back to her mom.

 

The head of the most powerful coven in New Orleans is dead by the time they get there.

 

But before Kat can even grieve, her aunt kicks her out of the ancestral home and puts another bounty on her head.

 

This time, it's for keeps.

 

She would run away again, but they would never stop hunting her. Or, she could build a coven of her own, the group's magic a form of stronger protection while she searches for her mother's killer.

 

But first, she needs a familiar, and she can't go wrong with a classic cat, can she?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chris Lowry
• Release date: Aug 28, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223926320

Chris Lowry

Chris Lowry is an author and adventure seeker who has traveled the globe exploring new worlds and writing about his thrilling experiences. With over one hundred thrillers, science fiction, and urban fantasy novels to his name, as well as more than a thousand articles published across various publications, Chris has established himself as a master storyteller and a leading voice in the world of action and adventure. Whether he's fighting off hordes of undead in a post-apocalyptic wasteland or braving the depths of outer space, Chris is always ready for his next thrilling adventure. Follow his journey as he battles against impossible odds and becomes the hero that the world needs.

Book preview

Chris Lowry

Ware the Cats of War

Crescent City Coven One

First published by Grand Ozarks Media 2019

Copyright © 2019 by Chris Lowry

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

First edition

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Contents

1. WARE THE CATS OF WAR

2. CHAPTER TWO

3. CHAPTER THREE

4. CHAPTER FOUR

5. CHAPTER FIVE

6. CHAPTER SIX

7. CHAPTER SEVEN

8. CHAPTER EIGHT

9. CHAPTER NINE

10. CHAPTER TEN

11. CHAPTER ELEVEN

12. CHAPTER TWELVE

13. CHAPTER THIRTEEN

14. CHAPTER FOURTEEN

15. CHAPTER FIFTEEN

16. CHAPTER SIXTEEN

17. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

18. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

19. CHAPTER NINETEEN

20. CHAPTER TWENTY

21. CHAPTER TWENTY - ONE

22. CHAPTER TWENTY - TWO

23. CHAPTER TWENTY - THREE

24. CHAPTER TWENTY - FOUR

25. CHAPTER TWENTY - FIVE

26. CHAPTER TWENTY - SIX

1

WARE THE CATS OF WAR

So much about New Orleans is false. Call it bad marketing or bad luck or just a bad rap. NOLA suffers from an image problem. And Katherine Davenport hated it.

She had tried to escape by moving north first. The Big Easy wasn’t a big city, but it was large enough. Kat graduated high school and moved to Detroit.

Then Seattle.

Then Orlando.

Then Maine.

But she couldn’t escape.

How did you find me? she wiggled the ends of her fingers on one hand and gripped her willow wand in the other.

You’re kidding, right?

The man across from her in the diner was a bounty hunter. It sucked she had a bounty on her head, but if that’s the way her mother wanted to play it, then Kat was going to pay it right back.

It would mean having to move again.

Another name. Another identity.

But blowing him apart in the middle of the diner was worth it, if it hurt her mother.

She’s got a trace on your blood, kid, the man was tall, feral looking with long brown hair pulled into a clump at the base of his skull.

You are hers, right?

His teeth were straight and nicotine stained, the ends of his fingers yellow with the same. He looked like a biker gang reject, in his denim jacket and leather vest, face too rough from a life spent out in the elements.

Kat didn’t like him.

Didn’t like his attitude, or the fact that he found her.

He was one in a long line of bounty hunters employed by her mother on a hunt for Kat.

And she hated it.

Don’t do anything stupid, he warned her.

He tapped the rings on his hand on the Formica tabletop. Each finger had several rings on it, and Kat did a little search to see if they were magic.

They were, designed as shields, activated with thought.

She noted the bands were engraved, and not only did he have them on each finger, but bracelets ran up his wrists as well.

She sneered.

You think you’re a match for me? she challenged.

He wasn’t.

Not many were.

That was the reason her mother wanted her back so bad.

But she must have put a couple of extra zeroes in this jerk’s check because he was planning to chance it in full view of the non-magic using public.

She saw it in his eyes.

The tapping metal on the table was a distraction.

Kat felt a tingle on her leg and the numbness spread up her body, racing through her torso. She tried to lift her arms to cast him, but they wouldn’t respond. She uttered the words to a counter spell. It didn’t work.

Her lips wouldn’t move.

Kat slid down in the booth, hunched over to one side.

The Bounty Hunter laughed and stood as people in the diner started to stare.

Nothing to see folks, he said and scooped Kat over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. Federal officer apprehending a fugitive. Go about your business.

It was a line he liked to use often, because no one wanted to bother a federal agent in the execution of their duty. It bought him enough time to make it through the door, slap on a pair of handcuffs and settle Kat into the passenger side of his crew cab pick up truck.

The spell he used wouldn’t hold for too long, so he needed to get to a hotel and set up a ritual binding which would last all the way to New Orleans.

He climbed behind the wheel and fired up the truck.

It was two days drive back, plus the two days up and an overnight in a fleabag meant he could bill for a week’s worth of work. He counted the money in his head and smiled as he glanced over at the pretty little witch curled up on the seat.

His name was Roger Slade, but everyone called him Slade. He didn’t tell her that. Cute little witch didn’t know what she had coming for her, because her momma, in Slade’s eyes was one bad bitch of a witch.

And she was pissed at her daughter.

He pulled onto the freeway and headed south. He’d passed a couple of small coastal towns on the way up, and some fleabags barely operating in the off season. The second or third one would do. That would give him time to put some miles on the day, and still get the ritual performed in time to keep her quiet and compliant for the long ride home.

He wasn’t going to delay any longer though.

He didn’t want the momma witch pissed at him.

2

CHAPTER TWO

Kat woke up and could smell the humidity.

What the hell did he hit me with, she wondered as she sat up on the bench seat of the pickup truck. They were parked at a rest stop that overlooked a stagnant pond, water lilies chocking the water like a verdant carpet of green and yellow.

Her captor was nowhere to be seen.

She cracked open the door and stepped out, stretching sore unused muscles as she took in the rest of her surroundings.

There wasn’t much to see. Just a roadside rest stop with a simple brick building, toilets on either side divided by gender. Three picnic tables dotted the half acre plot, divided by two concrete lanes, one for big rigs and the other for cars.

A couple walked a dog at the far end of the rest area, but the rest of the spots were empty. No one was close to the battered pick up truck.

She felt in her pocket for the small wand she carried as a focus and panicked for a moment when she thought she lost it.

Finding and training a new one would take time and effort, plus the cost was too high. That kind of magic would pop her up on some paranormal radar and make her easy to find again.

The wand was in her other pocket, a mistake from this morning when she rushed out of the house she had rented under a false name.

Organization had never been her strong point, and now she figured it would help keep her safe.

Routine was the thing that caught most criminals, she thought as she pulled the