Latitudes & Cattitudes Page 3

  Chapter Three / The Puget Sound

  Awareness returned when he landed stomach first on something hard and water spewed out his mouth and nose. Alternately gasping for air and spitting up water, Xander was certain fate had thrown him into the Styx, river of the dead.

  But shouldn't death feel less suffocating? Less wet?

  From above, Merlin whooped with delight.

  Using force of will, Xander opened an eye and saw nothing but water. He quickly closed his eye and tried to focus his other senses.

  Someone was humming. Water was splashing. His fur felt saturated. It was difficult to breath and coughing up water was worse than having a fur-ball. Hathor, but he was cold.

  Was that wind against his nose?

  If he ever wanted to become a Purrtector, he needed to get past thinking and get to doing. Finding Cha-Cha was his first viable chance to show that he had skills he could use outside the arena. Using force of will, he opened both eyes and looked up.

  A white specter was standing on its hind legs, head tilted back to laugh at the thin crescent moon. It took several blinks to recognize Merlin, whose fur was so saturated that he appeared half his normal size. Xander glanced at his own fur and realized his impeccable sable fur was just as soaked. He hadn’t been this wet since birth – an experience he felt fortunate not to recall. He looked to the side.

  He had never been at eye level with whitecaps before, but he was, now. Worse, he couldn't move away, because if he moved backward, he'd fall off the narrow board.

  Was he alive or dead?

  How had he gotten onto a piece of broken plank in the middle of all this horrid water?

  He looked behind. Why did the dock seemed to be getting farther and farther away?

  Again, Merlin whooped with glee.

  Xander cringed. The tom was obviously demented and it was his bad luck not to have noticed the defect before he’d followed him onto that rotten dock. Assuming he was alive, they were balanced on flotsam and within a whisker of death. And now, he was moving away from land and at the mercy of a potentially homicidal tom.

  Had the guy killed his sister?

  If... or when Merlin attacked him, would he be able to win the fight before he drowned?

  For the first time, since his decision to purrsue a Purrtectorate post, Xander realized he might have met someone he couldn't beat.

  “Hathor but I love water!” Merlin said.

  The tom was definitely insane, or perhaps this was some horrible after-death-nightmare. “Are we dead?”

  “Nope, just having fun!”

  Mad beyond any doubt. “We’re getting farther from shore.”

  “Cool, huh?” Merlin looked down, catching his look. “Can’t you swim?”

  “Of course not.” He’d never imagined hearing such a ridiculous question. Was this really the same prissy, purrfectly groomed tom from Elegant Eats posters? It hardly seemed possible. Yet, even when he'd acted like he was posing for unseen cameras, Merlin had talked about watery things. He should have picked up on that before going onto that rotten dock and ignoring what his senses were telling him.

  “You’d better hold on tight so I don’t have to fish you out, again,” Merlin said.

  Speechless, Xander stared at the tom, whom had apparently saved him from the clutches of water, and didn’t seem to realize how imperative it was for them to get back to land.

  It felt like a year passed, as the board skimmed over the water, Merlin standing on his hind legs, holding the kite with his front paws. If his worst suspicions were correct, Merlin was actually using the kite like the sail on a boat and moving the flimsy plank away from shore on purpose.

  Had there ever been such a crazy cat?

  Xander quickly learned that keeping his eyes closed kept his stomach happy, so he sank his claws in the board, tried to remember to breath and prayed to Hathor.

  After what felt like a lifetime, he sensed a drop in speed and realized the wind wasn't as cold. "Ahoy!" Merlin called. Xander opened one eye. Merlin had somehow guided the rotten piece of wood out into the Puget Sound and they were floating next to a small boat.

  Oh, thank Hathor! He could get on something more substantial!

  As they came closer, Merlin said, “How many times have I told you not to sharpen your claws on painters?”

  The face of a fluffy white cat, who looked a lot like Merlin, appeared from inside the small boat. Blinking as if she had just woken, she yowled, “I only sharpened them on old rope.” Xander swallowed and began calculating what he needed to do to get from the horrible board to the improved safety of the boat.

  “What do you think a painter is?” Merlin meowed in exasperation. “The only dumber thing to do was go to sleep in the dingy after you weakened the line.”

  “Whatever,” she said. “Is that tom with you alive?”

  “No,” Xander responded, “I’ve passed on to live in my nightmares.”

  Cha-Cha’s laughter skipped over the waves. The whole litter was crazy!

  “Cut the chit-chat,” Merlin ordered, “and hop aboard. We need to get back to shore while it’s still too dark for any humans to see us.” Xander tried to get to his paws. "Quit moving, Pal, or you'll fall back in."

  A moment later, the board bucked like a bronco. "Sorry about that," Cha-Cha said. A peak confirmed that she had jumped onto the board and was calmly sitting on the other side of Merlin. Merlin, himself, was doing something with the kite. So, his guess was correct and the crazy cat was actually using the thing as a paw-held sail to move the board. Unfortunately, now, he was using it to move away from the one somewhat stable, dry place within sight.

  Could things get worse?

  Xander squeezed his eyes closed, focused on his breathing and tried not to wonder if insanity ran in families.

  "What's wrong with him?" Cha-Cha asked.

  "East-coaster and apparent land-lubber."

  "Seriously?"

  "Yep." The board jerked and Merlin muttered a cuss word. "Sorry about that, Pal." The rhythm stabilized into something like a car with a flat tire. "Poor tom doesn't even know how to swim."

  "How'd you meet him?"

  "He just won the Emerald City Kick-boxing match."

  "HE beat Bruiser?"

  "Yep."

  "But he can't swim?"

  "Yep... Oh, and Caruthers asked him to find you, so when we get back, not a word about my involvement. Okay?"

  "When are you going to start being yourself, instead of Mr. Elegant Eats?"

  "When the contract is done."

  Cha-Cha snorted, then, apparently bored with chatting with her brother, tapped him. "You okay?"

  His stomach was trying to turn his whole body inside out, he was wetter than he could ever remember and he was freezing. "No."

  She chuckled. "Well, you'd better get a grip, because when we get back to the pier, you need to look like my rescuer, not a drowned rat."

  A what? A surge of heat and energy poured through him, and though he kept his claws firmly in the board, he lifted his head to glare at her.

  She was sitting on the dratted board, as if posing and obviously as crazy as her brother. "That's more like it." She smiled down at him. "Mer-man can't afford to meet any catarazzi when he's being himself instead of the idiot he pretends to be for Elegant Eats, so you are my official rescuer." She snickered for a moment, then got serious. "How did you beat Bruiser?"

  "He was slow."

  She looked at Merlin for confirmation. He nodded. "I taped it for you. I don't even think he broke a sweat."

  "Well then!" Cha-Cha said, as she looked at him with a new cattitude.

  "What is a cat-are-ozzie?" Xander asked.

  They both laughed. "Catarazzi are the awful cats who are sneak photographers for The Daily Mews," Cha-Cha said.

  "And you don't like them," Xander said. They both were quick to say no. "Why not?"

  "Because they are always snooping and spying and some even try blackmail." She growled. "They take pictures of
private things and put them on the front page."

  "If Merlin doesn't want to have a photo of him soaked on the front page," Xander said, "how come you think it's okay for my photo to end up there – assuming we encounter a catarazzi, that is?"

  "Isn't it obvious?"

  "No."

  "He has to pretend to be a brainless snob for his work, so he can't appear as himself and do NOT let anyone know how good a sailor he is. Got that?" Xander nodded. "In fact, let me do all the talking and you'll get hailed as a hero for rescuing me. That plus beating Bruiser should give you a lot of good attention."

  "But it would be bad attention for your brother?"

  "I'm right here and yes. I try not to look like a jock or a beach-bum. You're a jock, which is totally different." Merlin adjusted the kite and the board moved in a different direction. "Now, Pal, I want you to think about the fact that this world of ours is seventy-five-percent water, then ask yourself why you have never learned any water skills. They come in handy all the time and if you're going to be at our latitude for a few days, I'd be willing to start teaching you."

  "Why?" Xander asked, unsure if he was asking why Merlin would want to teach him or if he was asking why he imagined any cat would want such a lesson.

  Merlin snorted. "So your story about rescuing the idiot is believable."

  "Hey, I'm not an idiot!"

  "I saw the line. You're an idiot. Now we need to be quiet." Merlin dropped his voice. "We're getting close to shore and you know how sound travels over water. I don't want to attract the attention of any catarazzi when we're in a situation where we can't do anything to avoid them." Then, he turned his blazing green gaze on him. "And if you don't show up at my place, tomorrow, for your first swimming lesson, you're a pussy!"

  Xander gulped.

  Merlin lowered the kite and the board slowed. "Agree, or I'll toss you back in."

  "Fine. I agree," Xander meowed.

  "Good." Merlin fiddled with the kite. "If you don't show up, I will find you and -"

  "I said I would!" Xander spat. His word had been given. Even though it might be the death of him, and he'd given it due to blackmail, he would do his best to fulfill it. If he didn't, he would lose his honor.

  With a satisfied nod, Merlin raised the kite and piloted the rotten plank right back to where they’d fallen in, and while he and Cha-Cha made plenty of noise climbing onto the old dock, Merlin disappeared into the shadows.

  Xander didn’t understand how any cat could love water or know what had motivated Merlin to learn to swim, much less hold onto a kite, while he sank his rear claws into a board so he could surf it across the harbor. But, he realized anything related to water sports would be good skills to learn and they were correct that getting the credit for helping Cha-Cha would boost his reputation. So, no matter how much it disgusted him, he’d make every effort to become as proficient on the water as he was on land so he could hold up his head and know his word meant something.

  However, unlike Merlin, he doubted that he would ever learn to love anything about being wet.

  THE END

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  Though Jeanne began her career technical writing, her love of romantic-suspense, whether it be present, future or in an unknown galaxy inspired her to write the novels she wanted to find in bookstores. Since marrying, Jeanne and her husband have lived from the arctic to the tropics, as well as from yacht to off-grid mountain home. She loves using vivid colors and flowing shapes in her oil paintings as well as creating edible landscapes. She recently finished preparing previously-published novels for their digital debut, and is now working on new stories.

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