Chapter 4: The Chase

The Blood Moon CLowder and the Ephemeral Fence Between Worlds

Chapter 4 – The CHASE (Blood Moon Clowder Van Chase)

The van careened through the winding streets, its tires splashing through puddles left behind by the afternoon rain. Fog has rolled in, obscuring the old cobblestones. Desiree’s hands whitened as she gripped the wheel. She glanced into the rearview mirror toward the crate secured in the back, where Hush Puppy lay limp in the darkness. His body flops with each movement of the van. His breathing had been so shallow when she held him earlier that she wasn’t sure if he would survive the journey. 

The Van Chase

Overhead, Dracine fluttered desperately. The beating of her wings against the humid night air took all her strength as she struggled to keep up with the van. The humid breeze pushed her off course again and again, but she refused to let the van bump out of her sight. She knew the route by now—Desiree was headed back to the small white building, the one that smelled of chemicals and fear, where animals disappeared. But what if she was taking the cat somewhere else? Dracine couldn’t risk losing them. 

The van chase continued as Desiree made a sharp turn, tires squealing. The streets grew narrower, hemmed in by looming shadows of old buildings. The closer they got to the building, the tighter the tension grew in Dracine’s chest. What would they do to Hush Puppy this time? If he didn’t survive, how would the Chief react? The van chase felt like a pivotal moment, and the stakes were higher than ever. 

The van skidded to a stop in front of the building, the brakes groaning in protest. As the van chase ended, Desiree was out of the van before the engine quieted, wrenching open the back door and pulling the crate with swift, urgent motion. Hush Puppy didn’t stir—his breathing shallow and irregular. Desiree raced through the door as a woman opened it.

“Excellent time, Desi!” called the woman in the while coat. “You must have been in a van chase!” Desiree chuckled, then disappeared inside with the cage containing Hush Puppy. The other woman looked around outside before closing the door with a loud click.

Dracine flapped to the nearest window, her claws gripping the frame so she could hang upside down as she peered through the cracked glass. Inside, the bright, sterile lights buzzed overhead, casting a harsh glow over the steel tables and instruments laid out on trays. The inside air had rushed out the door as she flew to the window. It was thick with the acrid stench of disinfectant, sharp and bitter. Dracine felt her small body tremble, the terrible chemical smell making her wary. 

Desiree placed Hush Puppy’s crate on the table, her movements frantic but precise. The other woman—tall, with sharp features and wearing white like the City of the Dead’s clowder—approached swiftly, speaking softly to Desiree the whole time. Dracine’s eyes narrowed as the woman leaned over the crate, her hands moving with calm, practiced efficiency. As she pulled the weak cat from the crate, his body hung limp. Her fingers probed his unresisting body, checking his ears, eyes, and the scar under his tail. 

Desiree hovered near the examination table, her hands twitching at her sides, helpless as the other woman worked. Dracine watched as the tall one lifted Hush Puppy’s tail, her face inscrutable as she examined the gash. 

The woman reached for an object from a tray, her movements steady and unhurried. She lifted the scruff of thick skin over his shoulders and pressed the object into it. His body jerked ever so slightly, assuring Dracine, from her post outside the window, that he was still alive.  

Dracine shifted her position on the windowsill, her eyes scanning the room. Beyond the steel tables, the far wall was lined with cages—rows of cold, unforgiving metal, some empty and yawning like open mouths. But others held prisoners. Her heart shuddered as her gaze landed on a figure shrouded in fabrics and other restraints. A white face peered out of a great plastic cone. 

Patch. 

The white-and-tabby cat crouched stiff and silent, his body tense in one of the steel cages. His yellow eyes were wide, alert, watching the women as they leaned over the black cat. He didn’t move, didn’t make a sound. But there was something in his gaze—something cold. Dracine’s pulse quickened. 

Fluttering silently, Dracine moved to the opposite side of the building to get a clearer view. Beneath Patch, another cat huddled in the shadows of a cage. Blanca. The white-furred cat trembled violently, her wide eyes filled with terror as she pressed herself into the corner, trying to disappear. The only object in her cage was a small litter box, behind which she had compressed her small body. It offered no solace, no cover. She was exposed, vulnerable. 

Dracine knew her pity was wasted on cats, but she felt a twinge for Blanca’s pathetic state. The fear in the cat’s eyes was almost palpable. 

Minutes ticked by, each one stretching longer than the last. Desiree and the woman in white murmured nonstop, too soft to understand. Occasionally, they would look over at one of the captive cats, their expressions grim. Finally, after what felt like hours, the woman in white carried Hush Puppy to one of the steel cages near Patch and Blanca. He was more alert now, his fur bristling as he hissed at the other cats, his eyes wild with fear and confusion. 

The door of the cage clanged shut with a finality that sent a shiver through Dracine. Hush Puppy’s hissing and growling grew louder, echoing inside the steel cage.

— 

The lights flickered. One by one, the overhead bulbs dimmed, casting long, eerie shadows across the floor. Desiree and the woman exchanged a few more words before heading toward the door. Their footsteps echoed in the stillness, and with a soft click, the door locked behind them. 

Silence fell over the room, heavy and oppressive. Dracine lingered at the window, watching as the shadows swallowed the remaining light. Inside the cages, the cats were still—but their eyes glowed in the dark, like faint beacons of life amidst the cold metal. 

She had something to tell the Chief. She hoped it was enough to ensure that he kept his promise that his clowder would not hunt bats for an entire year. The only dilemma was that she couldn’t see a way to get the cats out of this prison. But that was the Chief’s problem. She had fulfilled her part of the agreement. 

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Books by Kellie Snider (aka Kellie Sisson Snider)