CHAPTER SEVEN
Pete and Claudia, the early risers in the group, were already at breakfast with Leena fussing around them when Helena reached the dining table. Prying the cat's claws from her pyjamas, Helena dropped the cat gently but decidedly onto the table, paws landing between plates of pancakes and jars of jam. "Care to explain this?" she asked.
Pete looked at her blankly as Leena rushed in to scoop the cat up off the table, giving Helena a dark look as she did so. "No pets on the table!" she declared firmly.
The cat had not taken kindly to being gathered up by Leena. Leena had, despite her ire, done so with care, and was cradling the creature gently against her chest – and yet the cat had fixed it's green eyes on her and issued a displeased mewl. Struggling with the cat's scrambling limbs, she was forced to drop the cat – who, after a quick swipe at Pete's calf as she passed, settled herself comfortably at Helena's feet. Looking up from her strange new visitor, Helena again directed her attention at Pete. "Well?" She prompted.
"It's a cat," Pete supplied, a little confused - and more than a little distracted by Helena's pyjamas. He had seen Myka's in her pyjamas plenty of times, but while she tended to favour the oversized or the flannel, HG's preference was decidedly different.
Claudia's face had broken out in a grin at the cat's appearance earlier and it showed no sign of leaving. "You decided to get a cat after all, HG? That's awesome, you should have said something!"
"I did not acquire this feline," Helena said in an affronted voice. "I believe I made my thoughts on the subject quite clear."
But Claudia wasn't listening, having already dropped from her chair to the ground, coaxing the cat forward with an outstretched hand and a kind smile. "Are you sure? Cause I gotta say, HG, the two of adopting a kitty? So cute."
Helena bristled again. This conversation was not going to plan – she had not adopted this cat, and she was most certainly not cute. Myka maybe, but not her. She sighed and went looking for the voice of sanity. "Where is Myka?"
Pete looked at her with renewed confusion. "She's with you. You know as well as I that she can't be budged until you're up and about."
He was speaking the truth; it was, in fact, the only thing that irritated him about his partner's relationship with HG Wells. Before her inclusion in their little band of agents, Myka had always been up and out at first light, now there were days he had to literally drag her from the bed – dragging Helena was more effective, he had learned, as Myka would always follow, but Pete did not have the courage to try this a second time. Myka may hit, but Helena was downright scary.
Helena turned to Leena, hoping that they were just mistaken and Myka had slipped down unnoticed, but she too shook her head. This was not right, where was she?
Picking up on her worry, the cat left off playing with Claudia and returned to Helena. It meowed softly and lowly, but Helena paid it no heed, refusing to be drawn into anything regarding this ball of fur. Where could she be? The cat raised itself on its hindquarters, forepaws resting o n Helena's bare knees.
Still unconcerned, Claudia slipped her Farnsworth from her pocket, "She probably just couldn't sleep and went to the Warehouse to do some inventory."
But Helena knew this wasn't true, knew that Myka would never have left without leaving her a note. She had been reluctant to leave her side at all since Helena's return, so this was completely unimaginable. No, Helena thought as the cat started rubbing her face against her legs, Myka would never...
As Artie's voice, cranky at being disturbed so early, filtered through Claudia's Farnsworth, Helena's eyes slowly dropped to the cat who was now nibbling at her toes to get her attention. Her stomach felt hot and heavy as the impossible knowledge came to settle in the forefront of her mind. She bent to gather the ball of fur into her arms, lifting it so that it's green eyes stared directly at her. "...Myka?"
