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Chapter XXIII - The Cat Stalks the Dragon

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Athena did not recognize her own face. It was long and gaunt, not plump and fresh. Where were the strawberry cheeks of her girlhood? All deep and pink with freckly seeds dispersed throughout. They were replaced with high cheekbones, pale and bleak. She looked more like her cousin Margie instead of herself. She looked like the women traveling around London or Dublin, strolling along the streets. If she stuck her nose in the air and shut her eyelids, no one could tell a difference.

Her pupils dilated as she focused on every inch of her face. She stared into the vanity mirror, pinched her icy cheeks, ruffled her golden tresses, and pursed her lips. Even her eyes had lost their shimmer, their distinct shades of blue—like the ocean water. Now they were as gray as the fog laying over London.

In Dublin, she blended in with the white façades of each man and woman and child, and therefore, thought nothing of it. But in her own small village, she was the lone raw fish in a pile of steaming salmon. Everyone else had red necks and faces, freckles, and tousled hair. But Athena, she fit in as much as her name allowed. Her hair laid in immaculate ringlets along her curved back. Her face was like a new slate of snow, untouched by boots and animal tracks. Her appearance was so unlike that of her people… so unlike who she used to be.

But these are only halfway your people, echoing voices whispered in her mind—ghosts of the truth.

The young girl shook her head, beating the voices away. Instead, she latched onto the vanity and glared deep into her clouded eyes. Intense. Red. Blood veins intermixing with white. She flared her nostrils and sunk her nails into the wood of the vanity. Veins burgeoned out of her high forehead as she trembled with newfound rage. Not childish annoyance and selfishness, but rage. The expression she made was not hers—it was the expression of a woman. And though some part of her knew this, she continued to drop her chin and elongate her face, attempting to understand her new appearance, deciding if it would remain.

I went to Dublin to find who I was, and the whole time I thought I was finding a new side of myself—and perhaps I did—but being in the village makes me feel as lost as ever. She wrinkled her brows and her eyes quivered with tears threatening to explode out of the sockets. Perhaps I am no one. Perhaps I am only what Father and Aunt Helena tell me to be. Nothing more….

Athena's arms wavered, trembling. Her grip only tightened around the snow-white vanity; her nails only sunk deeper into the strong wood.

I don't know who I am, I don't know who I am, I don't know who I am, I don't know who—

"Annie?"

Athena lurched, hitting her forehead on the mirror, but not breaking it. "Ach!" she yelled.

"Annie! Are you alright?" The small girl sprinted to her sister's side, tugging at Athena's skirts.

"Yes, little one, I'm fine." She rubbed her head with blood-red palms.

"Do you need a wet rag?"

"No, thank you." Athena brushed her hair with her other hand, pinning down the few out-of-place hairs. "What do you need, little one?"

"Um, um, um," Athena leaned down onto her knees, waiting, "Father is gonna read us a bedtime story!" Her high-pitched squeals and claps filled the entire room.

"How wonderful!" Athena smiled a thin smile, lifting only one side of her mouth. "Well, you go on then and enjoy it. I'm heading to bed."

The little girl ended her dancing and clapping at once, and her eyes grew three times larger while her lips extended outward. "But, Annie…"

"Yes?" Athena lifted herself from the ground, stretching her arms and walking toward her expansive canopy bed.

"I thought you might wanna come listen too."

The older sister stood stiff in her tracks, her arms hanging in mid-air. She asked, "What story is it?"

"It's about dragons!" The little one jumped up-and-down, holding out hope that her sister would join her.

Athena's arms sank. She laid her hands on one of the canopy bed's posts, leaning her head against it. Tension built up into her face again: her thin brows furrowed and her lips twisted into a tight ball. She opened her mouth several times, breathing in air, then huffing it back out. Her chest rose and fell in short spurts.

"Little one, I'm sorry, but not tonight."

"Aww…. Why not?!"

"Because—" She faltered, her eyes growing wide. "Dragons aren't real."

The little one put her hands on her hips, balling her fists up. "What do you mean they aren't real? Of course, they are!"

"No, no, they aren't real. You'll find out soon enough."

"But Ann—"

"That's enough for tonight. Go on and listen to Father's story. I'll join another night when I'm not so sleepy." She faked a yawn.

The little girl stuck her tongue out, crying, "You're no fun!" as she marched away down the hall. "I miss the ole Annie, who told me dragons were real!"

Athena choked, spinning about on her heels. She strutted toward the door and watched as the little girl made her way to the family room. After the little one disappeared around the corner, Athena closed the door and slid down it, onto her knees.

The little one had always been so gullible. Whatever Athena told her, she believed, without a doubt. She always did what Athena told her to do, even if the older sister was using her to get what she wanted. Athena always adored her smiling face and bright eyes, her chubby cheeks and double chin. But now, after several months, the little one had begun to grow up; she no longer believed every word Athena said, and certainly didn't agree with every word Athena said. The little one had never talked back before. Ever.

Athena cupped her face in her hands.

If only I could tell her that dragons are real... If only I could calm her little whirling mind… If only I could have the sisterhood with her I once had….

And, though the girl could not conceive why, Athena whispered aloud: "If only I had never met Sir Claudius…."

If the girl had not met Sir Claudius, she would not have to grip her stomach every single time her insides lurched in fear. If she had not met Sir Claudius, she would not have to clamp her tongue down every time it was brought up in conversation that she worked as a housekeeper. If she had not met Sir Claudius, she would not have to battle her own curiosity when speaking to him.

But then again…

If she had not met Sir Claudius, no one in the world would look at her and accept her both as a cat and a girl—an Irish lass and an English miss. If she had not met Sir Claudius, she would not have been able to confide in anyone about her dilemma with her family. If she had not met Sir Claudius, she would never have known that there were other live shapeshifters besides herself.

Athena allowed a small smile to grace her lips as she slid into bed. She stared at the intricate designs of the canopy before drifting off to sleep.

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Nothing stirred late that October night—not a breeze, not a mouse scurrying across the ground, not a tree limb knocking on the window. All the children as well as Mr. and Mrs. Everleigh remained sound asleep in their beds.

Except for Athena.

She fell asleep for a few minutes, then woke back up almost immediately after laying her head down to rest. She stared at the walls, out the window, into her mirror, turning every now and then to face a different corner of the room.

Athena groaned, burying herself under the covers. "It's the cat in me," she uttered, the sound bouncing off the white walls. The girl threw her hands up into the air, slipping out of bed and donning her shoes and coat.

After pacing the room for several minutes, Athena hastened to her dresser drawer, pulled out a sheet of paper and a pen, and commenced writing:

Mother and Father,

I have gone to the market early this morning, as the baker promised me that if I got there before the bakery opened, I would receive a special treat. I forgot to tell you both yesterday and did not want to wake either of you.

Love, Athena

"Haven't lost me touch." Athena giggled to herself for the first time in months. She placed the piece of paper onto her bed. The girl then skipped over to the window, unlatched it, and hopped out, careful to close it back once outside.

Athena sprinted to the forest. Upon reaching it, she kicked her shoes off and pulled off all of her clothes. The moonlight on her bare skin invigorated her. She felt alive again. Color returned to her face again, even at night when the world was bathed in black, silver, and white. She huffed, quick breaths moving in and out of her lungs. It was time.

Athena leaped off the cold, stiff leaves, launching herself into the air. She contorted her body into that old familiar shape.

And after so long, too long, she landed not as Athena, but as Milly. She sifted the freezing dirt between her claws, spiked her tail into the air, and felt the air with her whiskers. The land belonged to her. No predators were around for as far as she could sense. The moonlight and the rushing waters of the nearby brook and all the sleeping critters in the trees and in holes in the ground were completely hers. Milly surveyed her surroundings, noticing every beam of moonlight as they hit the bark of the evergreens. Once she felt it was safe, Milly moved forward at a brisk trot, her paws making no sound, unlike her human feet which would have crushed hundreds of leaves, alerting all the inhabitants of the forest.

She stretched every now and then, giving her limbs a rest. But for the most part, energy coursed through every fiber of her being. Her forelimbs pulled across the freezing ground. Athena had denied Milly for far too long; she was overdue for a release.

Twenty minutes passed under the blue and purple galaxy until Milly picked up a scent on the trail. It was Athena's from earlier the previous day when she had trekked back from Beochaoineadh Castle. Milly faltered, digging her claws into the leaves and listening to them crunch under the pressure. She curled and uncurled her tail, deciding.

Finally, Milly made her choice. She did not turn back around to grab her clothes and transform into Athena. There was enough time to do something she had longed to do for months.

The cat bolted, her four feet lifting all the way into the air before landing again one at a time. The magnificent world above her shone blue, purple, black, and silver, reflecting the Milkyway. She had never traveled this path at night before, but it was an exhilarating experience. Her lungs worked the hardest they ever had. She felt the world spinning around her but she continued to balance her tail and poke her chest straight out, sprinting like the wild cheetahs she had only read about in books. Milly yearned to throw her head back in laughter—the human still in her heart and mind—but knew it would throw her off balance.

Passing through thickets and thorns, leaping over rocks across a brook, and trudging through frosted leaves, Milly reached Beochaoineadh Castle. Its stone walls rose high above her. She lifted her tiny round head, in awe at its grand stature. She had never beheld it as a cat before, only a human.

Milly avoided the pebbled driveway entirely, and instead tiptoed through the overgrown gardens. I must tend to these later, she made a mental note for Athena to remember.

She sniffed, picking up his scent from inside the stone walls. Scouting the perimeter of the castle, Milly sought the entrance to the dungeons. There must be a window or a crack I could slip through perhaps?

And a crack there was, at the back of the castle, likely split apart from many years of harsh winters. Her cat ears perked, as what she thought to be the boom of ocean waves splashing against the shore, was instead a snore.

She found him, at last.

Milly's pupils dilated, a hunter stalking its prey. She swiveled in through the cracks, her limbs turning to liquid. Easy as walking in through an open gate.

So close. So close. Heard his deep breaths, felt the heat from his breath, his great dragon lungs. Almost there. Almost there.

Milly crouched down low as she trotted across the floor. Her body scraped the stone.

And then, there was a shadow. Enormous. Covering the entire dungeon, draping over like a tree five-hundred-years-old, blocking the sun. She paused, staying low, so low, then picked up speed again. She did it several times in a row: running all across the room, stopping, then zig-zagging while getting closer and closer all the while.

So close. So close. So close. So close to uncovering the mystery.

And then, a noise. Shifting between her feet. Papers.

Milly hissed and shrieked, clawing the air. Once calm, she turned to face the dragon, who was still snoring.

But the papers intrigued her. The ink was fresh. What could he have possibly been writing?

She tried to read with her cat eyes, but the entire page was blurry. Picking it up gently with her mouth, she carried it as a mother cat would carry her kitten, taking it back outside. She slithered through the crack, making not a sound.

Outside, the moonlight enraptured her. She transformed, and her bare back reflected the night's light once again. Athena sat down upon the ground, tucking one leg under the other. She yanked the page off of the dead grass and lifted it up to her eyes. It was a glimmering silver beneath the moon.

Her eyes raked across the letter. A pool of emotions splashed all over her face—from adoration to immense hatred. And, nearing the end, she announced: "Henri… banished?!"