“Interesting conjecture,” the Aslan murmured. “Yes, that's possible, Zone Lord. Felinae are indeed overly sensitive people. As far as poison goes, we deal with it expediently, usually by expelling it. We have evolved to survive all manner of things and our evolution heightened all of our senses. So much so that some of us can even hear beyond life itself.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Binx muttered to Jago.
“It means, Lord Binx, that some Felinae can hear the dead speak and see them walking among us,” the Aslan said sternly; proving that Felinae did indeed have incredible hearing.
“Sorry, Your Majesty,” Binx offered lamely.
“I understand your unease,” the Aslan said generously. “But the point I'm trying to make is that this could be more than poison. If it had been a drug, the men would likely have vomited it before it was able to do any damage.”
“More than a drug,” I murmured and shared a heavy look with Slate.
“Thank you, Aslan,” Slate said abruptly. “You've been very generous and patient with us; we appreciate your help.”
“And I'd appreciate it if you would show the same generosity to the Felinae you currently imprison.”
“Of course,” Slate said. “No one is being mistreated, I assure you. I don't hurt innocents.”
“That's good to hear, Zone Lord. Please, keep me apprised.”
“I will. Good day to you, Aslan.”
“And to you.”
The line went dead.
“Care to share with the rest of the class?” Aaro asked, his stare going from Slate to me.
“Elaria and I were just speaking about Gargo this morning,” Slate confessed.
“Yeah, and?” Binx asked, his deep, thug voice grating on my nerves.
“And we released Gargo's soul from my great-grandfather but we didn't kill it or trap it,” I said in irritation. “When I conquered the Goddess in me, we trapped that part of my soul in magic. We didn't do that with Gargo. Or with Lucifer's Devil, for that matter.”
“Fuck.” Jago whistled. “Are you saying that Gargo could be floating around the Zone, fucking with Felinae for the fun of it?”
“That's a lot of F-words.” Binx chuckled then repeated, “Fucking with Felinae for the fun of it. Fucking with—oomph.”
Aaro—bless his heart—cut off the Binx banter by hitting his brother in the belly.
“What the fuck, Aaro?” Binx growled.
“Oh, sorry.” Aaro grinned. “I thought I heard you ask me to punch you in the belly.”
“What?” Binx gaped at his brother. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
It was almost too easy to confuse Binx.
“Enough,” Slate said wearily. “To answer your question, Jago, yes; it's a possibility but I'd like to rule out other options first. As Elaria said, she didn't trap Lucifer's Devil either and nothing like this has happened in Heaven. We may be overreacting.”
“Plus, this isn't Gargo's style,” I added. “If he was able to take control of people, he'd come for us directly; me especially. He wouldn't waste his time on the cats.”
“Unless the cats are the only ones he can mess with,” Aaro mused.
“Because of their sensitivity to the dead,” Slate murmured then made pensive sounds. “That's a possibility. For now, we keep an eye on the Felinae and investigate the events leading up to their aggression. We're jumping to conclusions, and I don't care for jumping. If you're not careful, you land somewhere dangerous. Like a pit of pikes.”
“We'll take care of it,” Binx said brashly. “Whether it's a God spirit or a Loup plot, we can handle it.”
Slate sighed. “I don't like tempting fate either, Brother. Just get me the information we need and get it fast.”
“We will,” Aaro promised and ushered Binx and Jago out of the office ahead of him.
“I knew a Simban seer in the Bazaar,” I mused softly. “She was a medium as well.”
“What are you getting at?” Slate lifted a brow at me.
“You probably have a few of them here.”
“Felinae seers?” Slate thought about it. “Actually, I think we do have one; an Inlonka. She reads fortunes down on Marble Street.”
“I don't normally like to hear about the future but I'm willing to make an exception today.”
Chapter Six
As mentioned, I'm not a fan of prophecies. They make me feel like a pawn in some kind of supernatural game. Now that I know I used to be a Goddess, I understand better why such a feeling would sting. However, a prophecy was responsible for bringing Torin and me together so I had to admit that they weren't entirely useless. That is if you could find someone to give you one.
Slate and I stood outside the darkened display window of a store without a name. The drapes were open but very little could be seen inside and it wasn't due to a lack of light. Someone had packed up and left, leaving only a bare table and a couple of sad chairs behind. Gold paint adorned the corners of the window but no words had been painted there to even hint at what went on beyond the glass. The proprietress must have been good enough at her job that she didn't need to advertise, not even in the most basic way.
And good enough to know when something bad was coming.
“Damn it!” Slate smacked the locked door then pulled out his radio. “Jago!”
“Yeah, Boss?” Jago's voice came through the receiver.
“Check with the gate guards. I want to know if any Inlonka have left the Zone recently.”
“On it!”
Inlonka are Cougar-Shifters. As a whole, Felinae make good spies; they can sneak around like no one's business. But the Inlonka are the most adept at subterfuge. Unlike their cousins, the Inlonka are more solitary. Not to say that they're loners—they do have communities—but those groups are more like a collection of allies than family. Their immediate families—parents and children—don't last beyond the age of maturity, inasmuch that the children leave the family unit as soon as possible to acquire homes of their own. Inlonka like their space.
They also have an impressive communication network but, again, it's in the way of allies; they share information for the good
