A Lost Kitten Read online

  Last night’s foul mood had grown worse because of the dream he’d had. One dream, all evening, filled with Jasira’s incredible hands and fervent kisses. John inhaled deeply as he buttoned his third shirt. He smelled food and manure in the air. Nothing else.

  A sharp pain stabbed his chest. His brows drew closer together. Was he crazy? Why would he want to smell vanilla? He did not want Jasira near him. She was a ghost not a real woman. He hated ghosts. He had to remember that. Jasira touched him when he did not want to be touched. He had to remember that, too. He stormed out of his room bundled up like an Eskimo.

  John entered the dining hall. The usual people who resided in the castle were scattered about the room, eating their evening meal. The temperature in the room felt like several degrees below zero. John sensed a multitude of invisible beings in the large room. Were they actually there? He felt better blaming the intense cold on his haywire senses.

  He glanced toward the king’s table and saw Yudit talking to himself. The young king noticed him and gestured to an empty seat. John walked in his direction, unsure if he wanted to speak to Yudit. He resented the man for forbidding him to return to Jasira’s house.

  “I didn’t want to interrupt your prayer.”

  “I was not praying.” Yudit motioned to the chair on his left. “I was talking to an old fend of my fahder’s.”

  John saw no one in the chair. He was not about to believe what he felt.

  “Please, have a seat.” The king nodded to the chair in front of John.

  “Is it empty?”

  “It is.”

  John detected it was. “Good.” He pulled out the chair. “I didn’t want to sit on anyone.”

  John noticed the pitcher of wine in the middle of the table to his right. He did not drink wine that was not made from Aanari. Aanari wine was made by extracting the red fluid of a giant plant that was native to Oceana called Aatar. This liquid could get an individual drunk—even kill him—if large quantities were consumed. However, if mixed with the sweet nectar from an Engari tree, it served as a relaxing agent, without fear of intoxication.

  It was against Sea-anan law for Seacats and Sea Rangers to be under the influence of any substance. They had to be prepared for battle at all times. Therefore, Aanari wine was the only alcoholic beverage for warriors.

  After everything he had endured—from being attacked on Sea Base Ten, to crash-landing on Cerko, and now, to meeting Jasira—hot tea was the last thing John needed or wanted. He reached for the pitcher. He yanked back his hand as the pitcher rose in the air and floated toward his goblet. It poured its red contents into John’s cup, then floated back to its place on the table. John’s heart pounded at what he had witnessed.

  “What just happened?”

  The king swallowed his food, unaffected by the moving pitcher. “Malinda poured you some wine.”

  John’s eyes grew bigger at spotting a plate heaped with food sail across the room in his direction. He jumped from his seat and took several steps away from the approaching meal.

  “Relax. Celia is only bringing you your dinner.”

  John was unsure if he wanted to sit back down. “This didn’t happen before.” He stared at the plate, expecting it to do something else.

  “You did not know about us before. Now that you do, they will no longer pause in their chores when you are around.”

  John inched his way to the seat. “Pause in their chores?”

  Yudit set his goblet down and nodded while he wiped his lips. “They did not want to scare you.”

  Scare? His mind repeated. John quickly switched his attention from the plate to the king. “Scare me?” Anger flared in his chest. His eyes grew cold. “I don’t scare easily.”

  Yudit’s expression turned doubtful. “Of course not. Have a seat.”

  John plopped in the chair.

  “Rodin, this is Seacat John McCall. This is Rodin. The two of you met last night.”

  “Last night?”

  “In my office. Rodin and I were engaged in a private discussion when you barged in and decided to sit on him.”

  John’s eyes rounded. They landed on the chair.

  “His suhd, Rau, owns the stables.”

  John tried to read the king’s features for the truth. “I sat on him?” He remembered when he initially sat in the chair; it felt like he had dived into a frozen lake.

  The king swallowed his meat. “Yes, you did. He was quite offended by that.”

  John looked at the empty chair. Should he apologize? Was the man actually there? Was this real? Or was he in a hospital somewhere trapped in a coma?

  “I’m…sorry.” He waited. Nothing happened. What was he expecting? Of course nothing happened. There was no one there. Yudit was playing a joke on him. It had to be.

  “He said he accepts your apology.”

  John studied the king’s youthful features.

  “He said that next time, make certain no one is occupying the seat before sitting down.”

  There was no hint of laughter on his face or in his eyes. He was serious. John stared down at his plate of food. The chair beside him suddenly scooted backward, surprising John. He watched it reposition itself. John looked at Yudit.

  “He’s going to bed,” he answered between sips of his wine.

  “This isn’t happening,” mumbled John. A basket of fresh bread landed gently in front of him. He stared at it. “This isn’t happening. You’re a dream.”

  Yudit watched him while he chewed.

  John’s voice rose with a hint of hysteria ringing clear. “This is all a dream.” Those who were in the room paused in what they were doing to look at him. “My ship was shot out of the sky by the Dominion ship that followed me. I lost all power and crash-landed on that planet I found. I must have sent out a beacon and a White Star found me and placed me in med lab. That’s where I’m at now, having this nightmare about ghosts. I hate ghosts. That’s why I’m here. My mind is tormenting me, trying to make me crazy.”

  “Is that what you think?”

  John looked up from the basket. “What else can it be? None of this can be real.”

  Yudit studied his face. “And if it is? Can you accept it?”

  “No!” John did not mean to yell, but the situation was stretching already taut nerves to the brink.

  “Why?”

  “Because living peacefully with spirits is not possible. It’s not an everyday occurrence.”

  “It is on Surreal.”

  John saw the pitcher of wine float to the opposite end of the table and pour the new arrivals a drink. “Ghosts don’t pour drinks for people. They don’t try to make you comfortable and be your friend.”

  Yudit’s eyes narrowed in thought. “What do they do?”

  John glared at him. “They throw things at you. They break things. Torment you. Physically harm you. They create enough destruction to run you out of your home, your land.” He smoothed back his hair with his right hand. “I’ve dealt with them before. And they’re not our friends!”

  “Relax, Seacat. Drink your wine and eat your dinner. A full stomach will help you think more clearly. Perhaps then you will see that the mist ones and ghosts are not the same.”

  “I doubt it.” John watched the invisible Celia carry several plates of food to the newcomers. That was when he realized she had help from other spirits serving food and cleaning up the four tables.

  “Seacat.” Yudit called his attention. “Eat.” He pointed to John’s food.

  John reached for the goblet of wine first. After gulping down four full glasses on an empty stomach, he was able to eat his meal. His eyes suspiciously followed every moving object during dinner. He made certain Malinda kept his goblet full with wine.

  Once dinner was over, Yudit asked several guards to help John back to his room. The guards half-carried, half-dragged a babbling John along the corridors. They happily dropped him into bed, fully dressed. He was left to sleep off his drunken stupor.

  Jasira exited the fo
rest onto a clearing. Finally, she could see her parents’ home. A two-room log cabin, similar to her own. Her parents were sitting in their rocking chairs on the front deck, enjoying the warm day. She knew it was all pretend.

  Aside from emotions, the people of the mist could not experience sensations. Cold, heat, hunger, and pain were distant memories. The sense of taste, smell, and touch were gone as well.

  The mist ones carried out their familiar routines to keep their minds active, but mostly to keep from losing faith. The faith that one day Surreal would be restored to her glory days.

  At night, the people of the mist rested but did not sleep. Instead, they slipped into a meditative state so the planet could recharge their auras.

  Those who were unwed hoped that one day their kindred spirit would restore them to their former selves. Those already joined, like Jasira’s parents, were content to live out their lives as mists until it was time to sever their connection to the planet’s core energy.

  Jasira’s parents had vowed to remain linked to Surreal until their only daughter was restored and happily joined with children. Only then, would they disconnect from Surreal’s core and enter the afterlife.

  When her parents spotted her rushing up to the house, they stood to greet her with hugs and kisses. They did not need to see tears to know that something was not right with their beloved daughter. They ushered Jasira inside their modest home.

  All three sat at the dining table. “Jasira, huhnee, what’s wrong?” her mother began. She covered Jasira’s hands with her own.

  Jasira immediately broke down into tears. Her mother quickly embraced her. While she held Jasira close, Jasira told them about John’s arrival.

  “I was right,” said her mother, Avarice. She passed her hand gently over Jasira’s hair. “I’m glad you listened to us and went to the celebration. Your kindred spirit has come for you.”

  “But he does not want me,” cried Jasira.

  “Why do you say that?” asked Jasira’s father, Brodi.

  In a painful voice, Jasira explained what happened.

  “Be strong, dahrling,” said Brodi. “He’s an outlander. You must be patient with him.”

  “Your fahder is right, huhnee,” said Avarice. “He will return and apologize.”

  Jasira sniffed. “Why do you say that?”

  “He is your kindred spirit. He will not be able to bear your absence for too long,” answered Brodi. “He will return to your side.”

  Avarice smoothed back Jasira’s hair to see her face better. “Be patient, huhnee. Your kindred soul will come back to you.”

  “And his love will restore your body,” continued Brodi with a smile. “And Avarice and I will have little ones in our hohm again.”

  Avarice’s smile mimicked his.

  Jasira wiped her tears away. She could not think that far into the future. Not when she continued to see John’s angry, glowing eyes aimed at her. “Can I stay here for a while? I do not want to go back and see him right now.”

  Brodi and Avarice shared a worried glance. “Of course,” they jointly answered.

  Days turned into a week. John no longer cared about floating plates of food or suspended buckets filling his tub. He no longer knew what it meant to be warm or at peace with his surroundings. He developed a terrible cold that made him miserable above and below water. As a result, John stopped his daily runs. Trusting no one, especially the ghosts, he did not leave his room unless it was for meals he barely ate.

  After his terrible hangover, John steered clear of the wine. Sadly, the hot teas and the hot water with lemon juice could not make him forget like the wine did—even if it was because he passed out.

  Even Dena failed to cheer him up as she tried to nurse him back to health. The one time John did allow Dena to bathe him, he felt like a cheating dog, even though it went no further than a back rub. John felt crazy and depressed.

  Not feeling hungry, John decided to skip lunch and go for a walk. Perhaps some sunlight would help lift his spirits. After exiting the castle, he lifted his face to the noon sun. He waited. He sneezed. He felt disappointed. What did he expect would happen? Did he really think the sun would make his troubles go away? John blew his nose, then took a deep breath. The same familiar scents. Food. Manure. Nothing else. He coughed, then started walking.

  John had not been outside the castle for ten days. He passed the farmer’s produce, walked by the stables. He felt there was no reason to go outdoors. Everything he needed was inside the castle. John stopped in his tracks. He was standing in front of the school. His gaze froze on the two-room house. Yes, he had everything he needed—everything but her.

  Jasira’s disappearance had left him feeling bereft. He could not explain it, but his soul felt like it was grieving. It worried him. How could he miss a ghost? How could he want to be around a ghost? It was insane. Yet John found himself moving closer to that house.

  Halting before the window, he looked inside. Did he expect to see her? He had to keep reminding himself that Jasira was a spirit. It was so hard to believe when Jasira’s touch felt so real. John went to the door and knocked. No one answered. He knocked louder. Was Jasira at home, make-believing she was out?

  John tried the knob. The door was locked. “Jasira?” he called. His knocking turned desperate. “Jasira!” Still, no answer.

  John stared at the door. He concentrated and willed it to open. Alas, he was not his cousin Mike. He did not have telekinetic powers. He moved back to the window. Nothing moved inside. If Jasira was inside, she obviously did not want visitors. A determine glint entered his eyes. Too bad. He had to speak to her. John again concentrated. This time, he walked through the wall.

  “Jasira, are you home?” He sniffed the air as he searched the house. “Jasira?” Jasira’s scent was nowhere.

  He used his supernatural senses to detect her presence. He only picked up the energy forces outside. Jasira was not home. John’s worries intensified. Ten days had passed since the incident. Where could she be?

  John left the house and went to the front gate. He hollered up to the guards stationed in the towers that flanked the massive double doors. “You there.” Guards from both towers turned to look down at him. “Please open the gate so I can go out.”

  “We cannot do that, outlander,” answered a guard. “It’s unsafe to wander alone beyond the wall.”

  John immediately thought of Jasira and the many times she visited her parents without an escort. His worries turned into anger. If it was dangerous, then why did they allow her to go off alone? Then he remembered. Jasira could not be killed twice. The thought further depressed him. Disregarding the guards’ warnings, John walked through the wall.

  “Hey you! Come back!” yelled several guards in turn. “You will get hurt, outlander! Come back!”

  John headed to the distant trees, hoping they would bring him some inner peace. He stopped at the base of a tall, ancient tree. The base was six feet in diameter. John extended his claws, dug them into the bark, and carefully climbed. He chose a high branch to sit on. He stared out at the terrain, listing to the sounds of soft whistles, chirping, and hissing. Wanting a distraction, he tried to locate the creatures that made the noises within the dense foliage. The creatures he found were small and weird looking.

  The ones that chirped were gray and brown, covered in short fur with a round head, two large blue eyes, six legs, and a stubby tail. Two other creatures had small heads with protruding jaws, beady black eyes, scaly, green skin, four legs, and long skinny tails. Three golden feathers graced the tops of their heads. They made the hissing noises. A few creatures were covered in dark blue feathers. They had six legs, no tail, a long neck, and four eyes—either two brown and two black, or two blue and two black. They were responsible for the soft whistles. John had to shoo the scaly ones away; they were more daring.

  John leaned against the tree and closed his eyes. He tried to clear all troublesome thoughts from his mind. It worked for about twenty minutes, until he detecte
d vibrations. At first, John thought it was his imagination. Slowly, the vibrations intensified. He then believed it was a mild earthquake, but the tremors continued to grow in strength with a slight pause in between. John extended his claws and anchored them to the bark, securing his place in the tree.

  The small creatures around him scattered. The hairs on the back of John’s neck stood on end. Something was not right. He heard a loud, low-pitched roar. His head jerked to the left. Through the foliage he saw a creature that looked similar to the small scaly ones he had shooed away, only bigger. Much, much bigger. As it neared, John saw it was almost as big as the tree he was in.

  Not good, considering it was sticking its huge head into the dense foliage and eating the leaves. That was his cue to leave. John jumped down from his spot and landed on the ground in a crouched position. Using the tree trunks as cover, he raced to the edge of the forest, across the dry terrain, and back to the city. He phased through the wall, now knowing the reason for their existence.

  Jasira slowly rocked back and forth on her father’s chair while gazing out at the forest from the porch. Her thoughts were on John and the future they could have had if she had not chased him away. Why did she have to be so eager to touch him? Why did she have to be weak and incapable of restraining her desires for him? She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Why did John have to be so darn attractive?

  John’s image formed behind her lowered eyelids. He was tall, powerfully built, and extremely good-looking. He was more appealing without his clothes on. Jasira’s features turned dreamy as she remembered the silky feel of every muscle. The feminine feelings he awoke in her with his bold, proud root burned steadily hotter the longer she went without caressing his steely rod. It had felt perfect in her hands. She longed to touch it, to kiss it, to rub it along her body.

  Jasira wished John had begged her to stay, had begged her to continue pleasuring him instead of ordering her to stop and never return. It did not matter if John could not touch her. What Jasira desperately wanted was for that magnificent warrior to desire her in return—and only her.