Page 60 of Caged Kitten

Rafe

Brilliant sapphires glittered down at me as I lay flat as a board on my cot. Eyes I had studied for months now, the blue so expressive, so deep, so full of mystery and wonder and the promise of a brighter future—

I had imagined meeting these eyes in the shadowy recess of my cell for ages, pictured them heavy-lidded and blazing with desire. Sometimes I saw them in my dreams, haunting me until morning when an obnoxious siren would rouse me—and I’d suddenly remember that I was here, in prison, not out in the free world where I could see those eyes sparkle with genuine wonder…

But they were here now, so big and blue.

Only they belonged to a fucking cat.

“So…” I winced as Tully adjusted himself on my chest, shifting from the seated position where he’d been lording over me since I’d returned from breakfast to standing, all four paws digging into my bones. He then blinked slowly, those sapphires flashing, and started to pulse his claws in and out of me, massive front paws kneading my jumpsuit, my body, like I was a bit of raw dough. “Oh… Okay. So… Yes, ouch.” I grimaced when the familiar really sunk in on the next knead. “That’s… Okay. Right. Whatever you need to… do.”

Was this a good thing? My only experience with cats were the feral ones who roamed the property back home, mousers who hissed if you got too close and snarled if you dared reach out to touch. Tully, meanwhile, had broken every preconception I possessed about the standoffish feline, and had spent half of last night pressed up against the mousehole, chittering softly for Katja, and then the rest on my cot, curled up in the most awkward of places.

Behind my crooked knees.

Nestled against my lower back.

Across my neck like a damn lead scarf.

I’d woken up this morning to the fat fuck on my face, snoozing away. Had I needed to breathe, he probably would have smothered me in my sleep.

Unfortunately for my favorite witch, Cellblock F had decided to have a riot on the way to the dining hall during yesterday’s supper. The entire prison went into immediate lockdown, leaving the rest of us to scarf down whatever food we could—wasn’t exactly difficult to chug a test tube of cold blood on my end—before being hauled back to the cellblock and thrown into our cells. No one in or out. No post-meal socializing in the common area before bed. The rioting idiots had assured the rest of us a security-heavy night, all the lights kept on, patrols marching in and out of the block for hours. My fellow inmates had emerged from their cells this morning bleary-eyed and cranky.

Tully, however, must have thought it best to continue hiding in my cell. After all, the infinite shadows offered the best hiding spots. Unfortunately for him and his witch, there simply hadn’t been the chance for him to slink back into her cell.

So, he had spent the night here.

And was now clawing up my chest while purring and slow-blinking down at me.

Fucking sadist.

Actually… It sort of felt good. Like a prickly massage from a huge black cloud that in another life could have easily passed for a sidhe, although Tully lacked the telltale white mark on his chest. So. Definitely not a witch or a tricky fairy in hiding, pretending to be Katja’s familiar all these years. Just a standard, run-of-the-mill familiar—who loved his mistress so ardently that he’d scoured the globe to find her.

“You’re a good lad, Tully,” I muttered, risking a quick stroke of his sides, then a tentative scratch behind his ears. The feline perked up, arching into my cautious fingers, and closed his eyes. An unfamiliar calm settled over us, and I sank into the strangely soothing act of petting a cat, of listening to his constant purr and enduring the rhythmic clenching of his paws, claws poking through the jumpsuit and into my cold flesh in even beats.

But of course, peace never lasted in Xargi Penitentiary.

My cell door whizzed open, bolting in place along the wall with the usual clang, and Tully leapt off me with a hiss, fluffed up and furious, the force of his jump landing like a fucking crowbar to the chest. Knuckling at the dull ache, I sat up and exhaled softly at the same old sights and sounds of guards dragging Cellblock C’s inmates away for work duty. They had a blessed half hour after breakfast to collect themselves before the workday began, and what I wouldn’t do for a fucking job in here.

Everyone moaned about it, but little did any of them realize that sitting around in a vacant cellblock—occasionally with a friend, usually a foe—for nine grueling hours with very little to occupy oneself with was far worse than the aches and pains of labor. Boring as fuck, it felt akin to solitary if I didn’t have Katja or Elijah to keep me company. Hell, for all his posturing and absurdity, even Fintan sufficed to pass the time.

With my literary background, I should have been an obvious candidate for library duty, but no one would block out the windows for me. I’d excel amongst our underwhelming collection of books, and yet Deimos had been granted the opportunity to sit in a cool room surrounded by tomes and do absolutely nothing while the other inmates assigned to the same shift kept the catalogue organized.

Really, he didn’t deserve the library.

“Please…” Katja’s pleading tone rose above the standard hubbub, and I frowned as I crept to the end of my cot, on high alert should she need assistance. “It’s really bad this morning.”

Really bad? She hadn’t mentioned anything at breakfast about—

“Look, if it’s that bad, go to the infirmary.” Fucking Williams. Cellblock C’s dimmest guard came with an extreme prejudice of vampires not uncommon in the supernatural community; the other night he’d had the nerve to ram his elbow into me at just the right moment in the cafeteria. So engrossed in my evening fix of glorious type O, I’d actually stumbled, then fumbled, and my test tube crashed to the ground before I could catch it. Blood had splashed everywhere—and then the cunt stepped in it while lecturing me about clumsiness. Elijah had nearly ripped his massive caterpillar eyebrows off, but Katja kept the peace, urging us on to our usual table while I went without for a night.

Fucker.

“You’re assigned to the greenhouse today,” he carried on, and while I couldn’t see him, I could hear his smarmy expression. “So you can’t just—”

“I’ll take over her shift.” Ah, Fintan to the rescue. The fae had continued to sniff around Katja like he had every right to, despite referencing mine and Elijah’s interest in her anytime the urge struck. Quite shocking now that he had suddenly offered to do a lick of work; usually he spent his time in the greenhouse haunting Katja’s shadow—from what I’d heard, anyway—and only did the bare minimum to get through the day. “It seems like cruel and unusual punishment to force a female to work under such conditions.”

A beat of silence followed as other inmates were escorted out the main door, and I rolled my eyes. Another classic Fintan move: annoying his audience into an uncomfortable quiet.

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