Ugh…back in school again…BUT! I'm not too busy with the work, yet, so yay! :) Anyway, have fun with this chapter. I have to say, it is pre-tty intense…at the end. ;)

Chapter 4

Christabelle sighed, skimming her fingers through her fiery locks. She examined the tendrils for split ends, ignoring Luth's dark eyes watching her, waiting for her to answer his question. After a few more minutes, he growled and jumped up from the empty barrel he'd been sitting on. They were all anxious, and it was making them jumpy. He whirled to slam his hands on the arms of her chair. She did not flinch. "Luth, I'm thinking," Christabelle muttered, her voice dangerously soft. But as she spoke more, her volume began to rise. "But if you keep staring at me and annoying me I won't tell you my idea for getting Amyr back even if I come up with one!" Her blue eyes, the color of the sky on a sunny day, glared at him with a blazing fury.

He straightened up, looking down his nose at her. "I just don't understand how you could have lost her. You can fly; you even had Moxie to help you! She's a better tracker than me."

She rolled her eyes, sneering in exasperation. "Oh, please! Luth, you are so arrogant! Seriously, where does all that hot air that flies from your mouth come from?"

His face reddened—probably more from anger than embarrassment. But at that moment, Deredon and Moxie walked in. "Lovers' spat again, guys? Come on, kiss and make up," Deredon's loud, deep tone chuckled. Christabelle scowled and turned her back to Luth. She couldn't see him, but she had a feeling he was sticking his tongue out at her.

"Any luck?" she asked, trying to keep the desperation out of her tone.

Moxie spat on the concrete floor of the warehouse, making Christabelle grimace. "Not a bit. I can hardly pick up her scent with all the weird ones hanging around. Those creepy non-humans smell vaguely like rotting flesh or something. It's gross," Moxie said, flopping onto a ragged sofa they'd pulled off the side of the road.

"But you could find a scent?" Christabelle encouraged. It was taking too long for them to find Amyr. If they didn't report back soon—BOOM!

Moxie sat up, startled, but Deredon threw himself over her, protecting her from the force of the explosion, and Christabelle screamed just before Lutharathzmas wrenched her wrist down to the floor and covered her body with his.

As she heard the usual hissing sound of the knock-out gas filling up the warehouse, Christabelle laced her fingers through Luth's, and, after a moment, he gave her hand a comforting squeeze before the darkness swallowed them up.

O.o.O

Nearly blinded by the sunlight streaming through the thin curtains over the windows across from her, Amyr wiggled around so that her back faced the light, trying so hard to go back to sleep. But she suddenly became aware of a soft snoring beside her bed. Oh-so-discreetly, she looked in the direction of the snoring.

There she was, all messy black hair and pale skin. A young, human woman had fallen asleep sitting up next to Amyr's bed. She stifled a rasp of laughter at the sight of a little stream of drool dripping from the girl's mouth.

Amyr glanced around, taking in her surroundings. It was a plain enough living room with a TV, couch, and coffee table. Stretching her stiff limbs, Amyr hopped from her sleeping place to explore. She dug her claws into the soft wood under-paw as she quietly padded around the living room. Then she stared up the stairs, listening for sounds of people waking up. When she found no sign of it, she started to climb up the steps. At the landing, she glanced down the dark hallway—though it was not so dark with her excellent night vision. There were several doors, all of which were closed, on either side of the hall. All except one that had been left slightly cracked open. Curiously, she approached it and carefully nudged the door open wider so she could slither through. Inside, it was dimmer than the hallway, but she easily made out the form of a large person asleep on the bed, buried beneath a fluffy comforter. She watched the person breathe for a moment, her tail twitching; then she ventured further into the room. When she came up to edge of the bed, she bunched the muscles in her hind legs and sprang up to get a better look at the slumbering person. As she landed softly nearly his shoulders, she noticed the mop of messy, black hair and the hard muscles of his shoulders.

Her head tilted to the side as he mumbled something in his sleep and rubbed a hand over his face. Then his eyes cracked open ever so slightly. She leaned forward, curious. When those sleepy, dark eyes under those dark, silky lashes registered her, he shoved himself up with an alarmed yelp.

She blinked, gazing back at him calmly. She noticed the sturdy look of his bare chest and the rustic tones of his skin and his strong, square jaw. He was handsome she thought.

"W-What are you doing in here? How'd you get in?" he asked as if expecting an answer from the cat. But she just flicked her tail. She saw that he needed to shave, his five o'clock shadow making him look coarse and tough. Yet, curiously, she would have rather he'd leave it. It seemed…endearing. After a moment, he visibly relaxed slightly and made a shooing motion at her. "Well, go on. Go do…catty things."

Cats do not smile, but she managed a laughter-filled twitch of the ears.

They stared at each other unmoving for a while. Then a creak sounded outside the door. The girl that had slept beside Amyr was standing in the doorway.

"Good," said the newly-awakened boy, "you can get your pesky little cat out of my room."

The girl scrunched her nose at him in indignation and moved to cuddle Amyr in her arms. "Her name is Blair, Shane. And she's not causing any trouble, so what's your deal?"

Shane glared back at the girl holding Amyr as he struggled out of his sheets. Amyr watched, fascinated as the exposed muscles of his abdomen stretched and contracted. Something about him just seemed so enchanting. As the girl left the room, Amyr craned out of her arms as far as she dared to watch the guy begin his morning routine. She liked the way his plaid pajama pants rode low on his hips and the way the thick muscles in his back moved with smooth strength as he went about his business.

Then he was gone.

She felt a twinge of disappointment but set it aside. She was being silly, after all. Why was she staring after a boy anyway? There were much more important things to worry about than a boy, escaping for example.

She doubted it would be difficult. After all, none of them knew what she really was, nor were they intent on keeping her hostage. As the girl carried her down the hall, Amyr started forming a plan, but she was soon distracted as they entered a bathroom and she was placed in a bathtub. Gazing around at the porcelain, she realized how small she was. Even though with her jumping skills she'd be able to reach the lip of the tub, she still would be trapped since she'd have nothing to sink her claws into and pull herself up by.

Then the water started running, and the girl chirped happily, "I'm going to give you a nice bath so your fur won't be all gunky and matted. Then we'll go shopping for a cute bed and food and water bowls and toys and…"

Amyr stopped listening as she let the water run over her paws. It was warm—not too cold, not too hot—and had a soothing effect on the pads of her paws. Seeing the water made her think of Deredon. She wondered how the others were doing. They might have tried to capture her for the Facility, but they were still her friends, and she hoped they were okay.

O.o.O

Agonized whines of a dog roused Christabelle. She forced her glued-together eyes apart only to close them again when they were met with a blinding light. That sound, she knew, was Luth. Something had happened to him. She tried to move, but something constricted around her wrists and ankles. Frustrated, she growled and struggled against the restraints. When they didn't give, she sighed and, turning her head to the side, cracked her eyes open a bit.

What she saw before her almost made her vomit. Lutharathzmas, in his canine form, was on his side, strapped down to a metal table.

A giant shard of glass protruded from his flank. Blood oozed around the wound, dyeing his rusty fur a frightening, dark red. His blood was smeared across the glass, too, and the light shown through it making it a horrible, morbid stain glass window.

O.o.O

Drip, drip, drip.

Oliver stared at the ceiling of his bedroom, listening to the leaky faucet of his bathroom sink. But that wasn't what was keeping him awake, despite the insanely loud nature of it. His slumber was inhibited by his mind. It was refusing to shut up!

He flopped over onto his side and caught sight of the clock. It read 5:03 p.m. It was almost dark, and he hadn't gotten a wink of sleep.

Groaning, he whipped his sheets off himself and slunk out of bed to get dressed. He changed into black pants, a tie-dye shirt, and tied back his hair. Shuffling down the steps, feeling as if he'd been dragged all over town by Myrnin the night before searching for a cat/girl—oh wait, he had—Oliver absently wondered where Amyr had ended up.

Feeling as if he even wanted to yawn, he stepped into the kitchen and headed for the refrigerator where he kept his supply of blood. Perhaps if he hadn't felt so drained or so hungry, he would have noticed the person in his kitchen, poised to ambush him.

Again, I apologize for the short length! I hope you enjoyed it! :)