I Was An Alien Cat Toy (9 page)

Kirin’s slack mouth as much as he could tolerate. They could do little more than that until he woke properly

—Jilen managed to rouse him long enough to make him swallow one of her potent tonics, but he passed out

again.

“I need to talk to your son,” Gredar growled as they stepped back from the bed—Kirin needed rest

now, but he would not be left alone, Gredar swore it. “I want to wring his neck.”

“You will not harm my kit,” Jilen said, eyes flashing.

“He harmed....”

She raised her hand. “He’ll answer to it. But his punishment won’t be at your hands, brother, or I will

no longer recognise your scent.”

Gredar fought to get his anger under control, but the sound of Kirin’s breathing, catching and

struggling, inflamed it with every exhalation. “He damaged what is mine, and worse. Find him. I want to

know why.”

“I’ll find him. Now clean out this room, and he’ll need water and more of my salve.”

“Will he live?”

Her expression softened. “I don’t know, Gredar. He’s very ill and jopa physicking is not something

I’ve done a lot of. He’s not strong like the wild ones.”

“He’s not a jopa. I don’t know what he is, but he’s not one of them. He has a
name
.”

She gave him a sympathetic look. “Perhaps, but I can only do what I can for him.”

He begged her to stay while he attended to the mess—there was food strewn everywhere, as if it had

been used as missiles, but all of it was old and the litter tray had not been emptied for at least a week. Gredar

wondered how long it had been since Kirin had had fresh food or water and his anger rose again. Jopa or not,

this was torgu, very torgu.

It took him some time to clean to his satisfaction, and though Jilen had other demands on her time,

she stayed until he returned with more water and a pot of her wound salve. “Will you explain to Mother?” he

asked her as he took her place on the bed.

“Yes, and I’ll find Buhi. If he comes up here first...I warn you, don’t you dare—”

“I won’t harm him,” Gredar swore. “But I demand reparation.”

“You shall have it.” She bent and touched Kirin’s forehead, sniffed at his nose and waited a moment

to assess the strength and quality of his breathing. “Keep him cool, keep him quiet.”

Gredar would do whatever was needed, however long it took. Kirin should not have been harmed by

anyone, let alone his nephew.

Jilen had suggested keeping Kirin’s face, and as much of his undamaged skin as possible, damp, so

Gredar was using a wet cleaning leather to carefully wipe it. There was little enough to dampen—he was

scratched virtually everywhere, deeply in places, and it was those which had become infected. His wrists and

ankles were badly bruised, as were his hips and buttocks—Jilen said it looked like rough handling over

several days, not a single act, but Buhi wasn’t prone to tormenting things. He was more likely to ignore Kirin

than harm him. Why had he done this?

Not long after Jilen had left them, Kirin stirred, eyes opening a slit. As he saw Gredar, he flinched and

tried to move back on the bed, but he cried out weakly as his bruises and other pains caught. “Shhh, Kirin.

You’re safe. Shhh.”

But Kirin would not be soothed, pushing back at Gredar’s hand and kicking feebly until exhaustion

won and he passed out again. Gredar cursed. Trust had been broken, and even if that trust was based on a

false premise, its loss pained him. How could he make this up to this creature, whatever he was?

He had arrived home mid-day, and he was conscious that he could not remain secluded in his room

forever. Yet the idea of leaving Kirin unattended and so helpless, repelled him. He needed someone he could

trust to help him—Filwui, perhaps? Wilna’s twin, Lerin? He would give it two more strikes and then slip out

to see who was around, report to his mother and make arrangements for his absence until Kirin was well. But

for now, he would work to keep Kirin cool, and hope this fever broke before it killed him.

But it was not even half a strike before his sister returned—with her oldest son behind her. Gredar’s

anger flared again and he would have confronted Buhi then and there, except Jilen stood squarely in front of

him. “I can’t spend too much time here, brother—I have other patients. You’ll speak to Buhi outside, and

calmly, or not at all. Buhi—you will be truthful and meek or you’ll feel my claws. I have spoken.”

“Yes, Mother,” Buhi mumbled, glancing nervously at Gredar, his tail curled unhappily.

“Outside. And quietly, brother.”

She closed the door behind them, and Gredar faced his nephew on the landing. He forced himself to

keep his voice even and free of emotion, though he hardly felt calm. “Kirin’s injured, without water, food or

clean facilities. I left him in your charge. You’ve failed in your duty. Explain.”

Buhi did so, haltingly and with many attempts to cover his guilt. When he was done, despite Gredar’s

promise, he was close to violence, though he was aware that Buhi was simply more a convenient target than

the real offender. Buhi cringed back against the wall as he saw Gredar’s expression and his clenching claws.

“You...will find him,” Gredar said, trying to keep his voice down, “and tell him to come to me. Then

you will contemplate how you will make reparation, nephew. You’ve damaged my possession, and you’ve

harmed a creature who knows its own name. A creature who’s aware and intelligent.” Buhi’s head snapped

up in shock. “Yes, it’s true.”

“But he’s just a jopa,” Buhi said, then flinched back as Gredar leaned in.

“He’s not. He knows his
name
.” Even if Gredar didn’t know what that was yet. “Go. You and I are no

longer friends, nephew.”

“I’m sorry, Uncle.”

Gredar turned away from Buhi with a snarl, aware he was being harsh, but the tale he’d been told was

disgusting even if Kirin had been the dumb animal they’d thought him. Filwui had gone too far, his appetite

and greed overriding his common sense.

He waited for Buhi to retreat down the hallway, before opening his bedroom door and entering. Jilen

was feeling Kirin’s pulse—she didn’t look happy at what it was telling her. She turned to Gredar as he sat

down. “Buhi said Kirin started to attack him, throwing food and emptying the water dishes on the floor.

Filwui told him to leave him alone for a couple of days to teach him a lesson.” She wasn’t trying to defend

her son, merely stating what he had told her.

“Untrue, or only partly true,” Gredar said. “It’s Filwui’s doing. He involved Buhi, and though I can’t

blame the boy for following his master, I do blame him for not telling you or Mother what was going on.”

Jilen cocked an ear, encouraging him to continue, still holding Kirin’s small wrist carefully in her hand.

“Kirin’s kala...produces a scent which makes a male crazy with desire. It’s quite....” Gredar paused, remembering that afternoon’s crazed fucking. “Filwui thought it was worth exploiting, being so potent. I

forbade it, he decided to ignore me and go behind my back.”

Jilen frowned, and he knew why—their rank in the clan made this a serious offence even without the

rest of it, but Filwui had clearly decided his privileged position as grooming mate overrode that. “At first,

they were just trying to get Kirin to produce more of...whatever it is, his seed, perhaps scent residue...but

what they captured went off very quickly, making it useless for trade. So Filwui decided to just enjoy the

benefits, with Buhi’s help.”

“That doesn’t explain the scratches, or his condition.” She laid Kirin’s arm down on the bed. Kirin

stirred a little, face contorting, before he fell still again.

“No, but Buhi said Filwui got bored. He decided that fucking Kirin would be more amusing—Jilen,

he has no taeng. Kirin had to be forced...the other way.”

Jilen growled sharply. “Paznitl! Gredar—help me turn him. I need to check something.”

She had already examined his back, but had concentrated on the deep scratches and bruises. Now she

parted Kirin’s tailless buttocks, and swore again as she saw the damage and bruising to Kirin’s anus she’d

missed. “Pass me that salve. It’ll get all over the furs....”

“I don’t care about the furs!” Gredar snapped, revolted. “Is it infected?”

She finished applying the salve, then wiped her hands carefully before turning Kirin again so he could

lie flat. “Not seriously, but it’ll be painful. No creature is meant to be taken that way.”

“Not by force, at least,” Gredar said. “See? Even jopas have taengs. He can’t be one if he doesn’t.”

“Perhaps not,” she said thoughtfully. “So Filwui caused these injuries?” she said, pointing to the claw

marks.

“Some, Buhi said. Most were caused by the female jopas they brought in to mate with him.”

Jilen wrinkled her nose. “Even if the rest of it were explicable, to do such a thing in your bedroom is

disrespectful and torgu. Mother will....”

The door opened, and a very subdued Buhi appeared in the doorway. “Uncle, I’m sorry, but Filwui

says he won’t come. He says if Kadit—I mean, Grandmother—wants him, she can bid him attend.”

Despite himself, Gredar’s claws started to come out. Jilen laid a hand on his arm. “Then you and I

will speak to her, my son. I’m very angry with you. You’ve dishonoured this house and your uncle, and so

you’ve dishonoured me.”

Buhi knelt, bent down and placed his forehead on the ground, rump in the air, tail submissively down.

“I offer apologies, Mother, Uncle. Punish me as you see fit.”

Gredar looked at Jilen. “I’m too angry to deal with this, and Kirin is the most important thing right

now.”

“Then leave it to me and Mother, Gredar. Filwui won’t be allowed in here again until you order it.”

Buhi, still submissive, asked meekly, “Uncle, will he be all right?”

Gredar’s ears twitched in annoyance—did the boy think he was a fool to be placated in this way?

Jilen rubbed her head against him soothingly, then got to her feet. “Kirin is no longer your concern, Buhi. Get

up, and get out. Wait for me outside.”

The door closed behind him and she turned to him. “Gredar...this passion isn’t like you.”

“I know...I just feel betrayed, and Kirin...I feel as if a kit in my charge had been harmed. I am

shamed.”

She raked her claws gently across his shoulder. “Perhaps he’s your kit,” she teased, before becoming

sombre. “This is a serious matter. Filwui’s disobedience and disrespect can’t go unpunished. Mother won’t

be happy that it’s over a worthless jopa.”

“He’s not a—”

“To her, he is.”

“I’ll prove he’s not,” Gredar insisted. “But Filwui must pay regardless.”

“Yes. I have to go, Gredar. I’ll send Karwa up to help you. You can’t neglect your duties but I think

we can spare you two or three sun passes while you attend to this. In that time, he’ll either recover or...he

won’t.” Gredar stared into her eyes, willing her to give him better news, but she was too practical for that.

“I’m sorry for this, brother. I am shamed too.”

He twined his tail with hers. “Forgiven, sister. Thank you.”

As she left, Kirin stirred, whimpering faintly. Gredar propped him up on one arm and fed him sips of

water until he fell asleep again. He looked a little better, surely? But it was too soon for optimism.

Fight hard, little one. Give me a chance to mend this offence.

~~~~~~~~

Temin felt like he’d been trying to wake up forever. Memories of straining to open his eyes,

disorienting pain and cold in all his limbs and his head, confusion and fear and exhaustion, of liquid being

forced into his mouth, sometimes bitter, sometimes cold and fresh, stretched in his mind for years. He wasn’t

really expecting to succeed in getting his eyes to open this time, so he was surprised when he did. He raised a

hand to protect himself against a hazy bright light off to his left—it was dimmed quickly but not before his

eyes had begun to water. He squeezed his eyelids shut to clear them, but pain tears still ran down the side of

his face. He tried to wipe them away, but his arm stopped cooperating.

Where was he? The room smelled strange...oh. Recollection of his situation crashed in on him, and he

kept his eyes closed. Now he remembered why he hadn’t wanted to wake up.

A sound to his left, and he froze. He wasn’t alone in the room. A chirrup—one of
them
. He clutched

at the fur covering him, pulling it tight against him. He had no other protection.

Something touched his face—a finger. He lashed out, bashing it with a feeble arm, and the finger was

withdrawn. Huh—that hadn’t worked before. He cracked open one eyelid—a big cat person sat near him.

Xexe? It chirruped again, great green eyes shadowed in the candlelight. “Go away,” Temin whispered. His

voice was still broken from all the screaming, and his throat ached.

Another chirrup. It had to be Xexe—none of the others bothered to ‘talk’ to him. Temin supposed he

should respond like a good pet but he just...couldn’t do that any more. Another memory, cloudy, distorted, of

him yelling at Xexe...waving a knife at him. He should be dead, Temin thought tiredly. Why hadn’t Xexe put

him out of his shefting misery?

Xexe chirruped again. “What the sheft do you
want
?” Temin opened his eyes so he could glare at his

owner. “Haven’t you done enough, you and your thugs?” He shuddered as more memories hit him, physical

memories. A shiver ran along his skin, catching on...he forced his mind off those thoughts. He wasn’t strong