ENTANGLED (38 page)

Flopping over on her stomach Jenna tried to get her arms under her. Her first attempt was dismal, muscles flaccid and uncooperative, nearly landing her on her face. The second attempt was more successful as she levered herself up onto her elbows, raising her head far enough to look around.

On the ground, directly in front of her lay a cat. A beautiful cat. She was a huge calico, her tri-colored fur long and luxurious.

She was also unconscious. A breath escaped Jenna. This wasn’t the feline she envisioned when she was constructing the spell. She’d pictured a sleek black cat, yet here lay something entirely different.

“Jessica?” she whispered, reaching out a tentative hand. She touched the thick fur, dug her fingers into it, feeling the warmth beneath her fingertips. With relief she realized the cat was breathing, its side rising and falling with a steady rhythm.

“What the hell just happened?”

The words were hoarse, nearly incoherent. Jenna turned her head to see Judge Warren picking herself up from the floor. Her clothes looked scorched and her hair fell in wild waves around her shoulders. She didn’t appear injured, just shaken.

Jenna gave the cat one last swipe of her hand and then managed to push herself to her feet. She swayed for a minute before regaining her balance, pushing her own hair out of her face as she looked around. Donaldson was sitting on the floor, a dazed look on his fleshy face. His suit was a mess and there appeared to be a wet stain on the front of his trousers. The court reporter was also on her feet, but her face was pale and there was a scratch across one cheek. Jenna noticed that the video camera was on its side, but the light blinked red, indicating it was still operating.

The chairs she and Jessica had been sitting on were destroyed, two piles of kindling heaped on the carpet. Other than that and the mess of papers blown around, the office looked almost untouched.

The guy! The one Jessica called Floyd. He was the one who’d burst in waving a gun. Where the hell was he?

Jenna looked around, not seeing him. He’d been big enough. Sorta hard to miss.

A gun lay on the ground near the door.

Clothes were scattered everywhere.

A foot away from the gun lay the ugliest dog Jenna had ever seen. It was an abnormally large pug, enormous, its pale fur so short that it appeared nearly shorn. It lay on the ground, its sides heaving as it breathed with an audible sound. As Jenna watched, its eyes opened and it struggled to roll over onto its side.
He
, her mind supplied as she noticed the animal’s male package. He looked around in a dazed manner, its bug eyes seeming to see nothing.

“
That’s Floyd
.”

The voice sounded in her head, making Jenna grasp her head as a fresh wave of pain bombarded her. It took her a moment to recognize the voice. Jessica.

Jenna looked at the calico. The cat was lying on the carpet, but she had her paws under her, still looking shaken.

“What?”

'
The dog. That’s Floyd. When the magic finished with me, it spun around the room until it found him. I could feel my transformation into a cat and my one thought was that Floyd had always been a dog
.'

“You mean I just changed you into a cat and your what? Pimp? Into a dog?”

Jenna felt anger rising up in her, chasing out any lingering weakness. Christ! Had she just gone through all of this because Jessica Mansfield wanted to get away from her pimp? The woman was a prostitute? How the hell had she managed to conceal that throughout the legal wrangling that went on? She knew the investigator with the District Attorney’s office had done a thorough background check on Jessica, yet nothing had emerged to indicate she’d been anything but a regular, everyday clerk at a coffee shop.

'
Yeah
,' Jessica said, dropping her head between her front paws. If it were possible for a cat to look dejected, she did it. '
I’m sorry, Jenna. I couldn’t think of any other way to escape him. I really am a cat in a woman’s body. I didn’t lie about that. But I didn’t tell you about Floyd or about how he forced me to turn tricks for him at night
.'

Jenna closed her eyes. What an unmitigated cluster-fuck.

“How the hell did he get in here?”

“Christ. You did it!”

The new voice had Jenna swiveling around and going into a defensive crouch. Desmond Lazlo stood inside the door, his gaze roaming over the chaos of the room, stopping at Jessica before moving onto the dog. “You transformed both of them.”

“This is not a good thing, Des,” Jenna said as she struggled to keep her feet. She swayed as a new bout of weakness swept over her. God, she’d overtaxed herself. Right now she probably couldn’t raise any magic if her life depended on it. Going on past experience when she’d overdone it, she probably had all of five minutes before she hit the floor again.

“But it is a good thing,” he shot back, sweeping his hand toward the pug. The animal... Floyd had gotten his feet under him, his bug eyes going from one human to the next, incomprehension in them. “At least now he can’t go to the press and reveal Jessica’s background. As far as they’re concerned, she’s a coffee clerk.”

“You knew about that? You are such an asshole.” It also explained how Floyd had gotten into the Judge’s chambers. Jenna turned to Judge Warren who had come to stand next to Jenna. She had to get this out fast. She could feel the dizziness beginning to sweep over her. “We need to contact one of the Masters to fix this, Judge. I’m not sure what the magic did to that man. He may not be able to communicate as Jessica can.”

“Do something?” District Attorney Donaldson stepped forward, straightening his suit. There was little he could do about the wet stain on the front of his trousers and Jenna carefully avoided looking there. “That was Floyd Brannigan. He’s one of the biggest flesh traffickers in the city. But he’s always been careful. We’ve never been able to pin anything on him. As far as I’m concerned, justice has finally been served.”

“This transformation was without his consent, Mr. Donaldson,” the judge said, her tone mild, and Jenna glanced at her, not sure where this was going.

“However,” Judge Warner continued, “as Ms. Carmichael indicated earlier, it may be impossible to reverse the process. I will contact Practitioner Master Drake and consult with him. If he feels he could change Mr. Brannigan back to a man, then he will. If not...”

She stepped over to the court reporter and bent down. With a flick of her finger, she flipped off the camera. “We now have evidence that we discussed the option of restoring Mr. Brannigan to his original form. If Master Drake feels he is unable to make the transformation, then Mr. Brannigan remains a dog and no longer a threat to society.”

She gave the pug a sweeping gesture with her hand, a look of satisfaction on her face. Jenna frowned, uncertain. Before she could question the judge further, dark specks began to dance in front of her eyes and she grasped the side of the conference table to keep upright.

“…looks like you just inherited a dog, Mr. District Attorney.”

“What?!?”

The words made little sense to Jenna as she sank to her knees, darkness closing in. Her breathing erratic, she struggled to hang onto consciousness.

“Ms. Carmichael. Are you all right?” The judge’s voice came from far away. Fuzzy. Floating. “Melanie. Call 911.”

Jenna fell onto her side, her head hitting the carpeted floor. Her eyes closed for a moment, but then she felt a soft paw on her cheek. It gently patted her face until, with an effort, she forced her lids upward and found a pair of beautiful green eyes before her. Very familiar green eyes.

‘
I’ll take care of you, Jenna. You saved me in more ways than you’ll ever know.
’ Another gentle pat on her cheek.

“Wha— What can you do, Jessica?” Speaking psychically was beyond her now. She wheezed the words out. “Where will you go?”

‘
Call me Jezebel. I’m going to live with you. I belong to you and you belong to me now
.’ The words were the last thing Jenna heard before darkness overtook her.

I was thrilled when I was asked to participate in this anthology. As a fifteen-year breast cancer survivor, I have a personal stake in its success and in the success of Breast Cancer Research Foundation (BCRF). Every year more and more women are being diagnosed, but with the ongoing research, those women will have a fighting chance of beating this insidious disease. Despite being clean for nearly seven years, my cancer returned and for the past eight years I’ve been undergoing active treatment. I attribute my continued victory over this bastard to research facilities like BCRF and the development of newer and more tolerable chemo.

FEEL THE MAGIC is Jessica/Jezebel’s story from my (hopefully) soon to be sold book, DRAGON MAGIC—a contemporary paranormal novel in which magic is possible and love is magical.

Liz Kreger is not only a stubborn breast cancer survivor, but also the author of two books. FORGET ABOUT TOMORROW and PROMISE FOR TOMORROW are romantic space operas published by Samhain Publishing.

More information about Liz Kreger can be found at
www.lizkreger.com
.

Kel came awake suddenly, heart pounding, and hauled herself to her feet, the words that had woken her still echoing in her head.

“
I just want to tell you something
.”

She swayed, eyes wide, shuddering.

She was alone in the room.

Of course she was alone in the room. This was her prison cell.

But those words had been as clear as a direct whisper in her ear, ripping her out of sleep just as she was about to go under—and not for the first time.

She sat, slowly lowering herself back on the bed, her legs trembling as if she'd been sick and was getting up for the first time in a couple of days.

She dug her fingers deep into her hair, and tugged.

A heavy metal door slammed, and footsteps echoed down the hall, coming towards her cell. She froze, rabbit still.

“What you doing tonight?” Harvey’s voice echoed down the passage. Kel rose and walked to the door, pressed herself against it to hear better.

“Party. You?” Morris always spoke softly, and Kel just made it out.

“Yeah, same. Halloween always cracks me up.” Harvey chuckled, clinking the coins in his pocket. They were almost level with her door, but Kel stayed were she was, listening, even though they would probably open up. Check on her.

She was fast enough to be at her desk with a book if they did. Faster than they knew.

Morris made a sound in the back of his throat. “Seeing all those people in fancy dress… They’d mess their pants if they knew how real the monsters are.”

They were both silent a moment, as if contemplating it themselves.

She strained to hear if they were going to keep walking, and then realized they’d been quiet too long.

She launched herself across the room, contorting her body as she flew so she landed sitting down on the wide window sill, her back against one side of the wall, her feet propped against the other. She lifted the book off her desk five meters away, opening it to the bookmark as it sailed across to her into her waiting hands.

The door slammed open.

She turned her head towards it slowly, as if savoring a particularly riveting sentence, and only reluctantly giving them her attention.

“Good evening, gentlemen.”

Harvey did not respond. He never did. He thought it intimidated her, but in truth, she wasn't that scared of him.

Morris, now. He made her nervous.

The doc was in his own league.

“Afternoon, you mean.” Morris stepped in behind Harvey. Tweedledum and Tweedledee.

Kel gave both their watches a gentle nudge forward. “Evening, afternoon, whatever.”

Harvey looked down at his wrist and his eyes widened. “Shit. It’s later than I thought.”

Morris looked at his own watch. Looked up at her.

Kel stared innocently back. She’d never changed their watch times before. Morris might suspect, but he had nothing to go on, yet.

Hopefully when he worked out what she’d done, it would be too much bother to come back and call her on it.

Harvey made a quick surveillance of her room, while Morris kept his gaze on her. It was what they always did. One to look around, one to make sure she didn’t try any funny business. Only, Morris wanted her to try some funny business. He probably dreamed about it.

As always, she watched the way he held his syringe gun, his finger gliding up and down the smooth silver casing. She felt his hunger to use it like a palpable odor rising off his skin, hot and sour.

He noticed her looking and gave her a smile that dropped an icy rock into the pit of her stomach.

Harvey had finished up and his hand was on the door when the shouting started.