Cat & Moused: A Pierced Series Short Story

Cat & Moused

  A Pierced Series Short Story

  By

  J. C. Mells

  Text copyright © 2014 by Justine Mellows

  Cat and Moused: A Short Story, is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  For more information about the author or the series, please visit:

  www.jcmells.com

  THE PIERCED SERIES

  Pierced: Book 1

  Escaped: Book 2 (novella)

  Pinked: Book 3

  Perfect: Book 4

  Napoleon: Book 5 (novella)

  Cat & Moused: A Short Story

  Kidnapped: Book 6 (coming soon!)

  Cat & Moused

  Chapter 1

  Shopping at Macy’s, midtown Manhattan, on Christmas Eve, was probably not one of Moused Thurman’s better ideas. In fact, it was most definitely one of the worst ideas he’d ever had in his twenty-two years on the planet. Last-minute shoppers hustled, jabbed and jostled their way through the various departments of the iconic store on 34th Street; every one of them in a panic to get that item they forgot – or more likely – to get that gift for the ‘loved-one’ they forgot. Meanwhile, what Moused considered to be, the most hideous music ever written was pumped through the sound system on every single floor. We Wish You a Merry Christmas was currently making him bleed from the ears as he made his way over to Men’s Accessories.

  As he perused the TAG Heuer watch counter, Moused caught a flash of shiny black out of the corner of his eye for the third time tonight.

  It was her again.

  There were two things he was sure of. One, the dark-haired woman in the red coat and shiny black pants was definitely following him, and two, she was a vampire.

  Adjusting his glasses – or rather, pretending to – he used them to take a couple of quick photos, undetected, before bending down to look into the glass display case currently housing several hundred thousand dollars’ worth of Swiss chronograph watches. He pointed to the one he wanted and handed the store clerk his Black Amex Card. When Moused looked up again, his watcher was gone. Just like the last time.

  Twice was a coincidence, three times wasn’t. It might be time to call the higher-ups in Vegas.

  Damn it. He knew he shouldn’t have left the house today. He’d been forced to leave the familiar, cozy and secure space of his basement workshop where he was accustomed to spending the majority of his time. Unfortunately, he couldn’t ignore client demands and had just finished spending an exhausting afternoon making nice with Bertrand Wainwright – a big cheese to the big cheeses - at least in the human world. When Moused finally left - the job finished at last - he made the decision to grab that last Christmas present he needed for one of his House Masters. What a stupid, stupid decision to just ‘pop’ into Macy’s on Christmas Eve.

  Way to go Mousey. Just one more example of how book smart doesn’t always equal street smart.

  Moused was normally what he himself referred to as an ‘indoor guy;’ someone that sat in front of a computer for most of the day. These rare and unwelcome ventures into the ‘real world’ were just something he’d have to get through until Reyes was back. The Wainwright Museum on 55th Street, one of their top most demanding clients, had insisted someone in charge be there almost on a daily basis to oversee the upgrades they’d requested to their security system at the last minute. With Reyes, his immediate ‘supervisor,’ out of action for at least a few more months, that left Moused holding the reins.

  Developing and coming up with the software and technology needed to upgrade the system had been his pleasure. It’s what he did. Actually dealing with the clients one-on-one and personally having to oversee technicians as they installed the system wasn’t what he was used to doing. In all fairness to both his employer and his direct supervisor, he’d been warned the time would come when he’d eventually have to do this more personal relations part of the job. Now that Reyes wasn’t going to be a day walker anymore, it looked like that time was no longer fast approaching. It was already here.

  No sooner had he thought of the man – soon to be vamp - he worked under, than his phone gave the distinct vibration to alert Moused that Reyes was calling him.

  “Hey, Rey-Rey,” Moused said out into the empty space above the watch display. The right temple tip of his glasses had a built-in Bluetooth microphone and he didn’t need to do any more than press the answer button while keeping his phone in his pocket. “How are you feeling today?”

  “I haven’t tried to kill anyone in the last forty-eight, so I must be doing a little better,” Reyes laughed. “I can hear you perfectly. You really have improved the audio. How’s Prototype Three of the specs working out so far?”

  “You can hear me perfectly because you recently acquired some awesome yet unnatural upgrades in the hearing department, vamp. Although, not to toot my own horn too much, I can hear you pretty good from my end too.” As he spoke softly, making sure the people surrounding him were paying him no mind, Moused reached up and pressed the relevant letter from the word ‘SegherTech’ on the side of his glasses. “I’m sending you some shots I just took a few minutes ago. I’m pretty sure I’m being watched. You’d better get the boss-man. He’ll want a full report.”

  “Vampire?”

  “Yes.”

  “You know which House?”

  “If I knew which House, don’t you think I would’ve led with that information, numbskull?”

  “And I thought I was supposed to be the unstable and testy one,” Reyes replied with another short laugh. “Where are you, by the way?”

  There was a small pause as Moused debated whether or not he should tell the truth. In the end he just came clean, bracing himself for the ribbing that was sure to follow.

  “Macy’s.”

  “Ooo, someone’s doing some last minute shopping…”

  “Shut-it, Rey. Did you receive the photos yet?”

  “Just got them. Your first snaps using the glasses – how exciting. I feel like such a proud papa-bear,” Reyes chuckled, the sound of his fingers clicking over computer keys filling the pause. “Hubba, hubba, Mousey. Someone who looks like this is following you, and you’re complaining? She’s a knockout and obviously way too much woman for the likes of you, kid.”

  “There’s no ‘hubba hubba,’ Reyes. Young, impressionable, computer nerd here, with pints of fresh, and definitely delicious, human blood running through his fragile, and did I mention human, body? Being stalked by a predator that could bleed him dry in seconds…” As he spoke, Moused made his way over to a relatively crowd-free, side alcove where he felt he could talk without fear of being overheard – even by those with souped-up hearing.

  He rolled his eyes as White Christmas sounded from the speakers above. Maybe his aversion to Christmas music stemmed from being born and raised in the Nevada desert. His first white Christmas had been in New York. Only in big, busy cities like this one, ‘white’ turned to ‘slushy grey’ pretty fast.

  “Yeah, but don’t forget she might want to torture you first,” Reyes countered. “I would think it unlikely she’d only want your blood, kid. I mean, you are privy to all Segher House secrets and technological advances,” Reyes said in his faux-serious tone that Moused had expected. “By the way, I wouldn’t mind her torturing me for a bit either,” he added with an exaggeratedly wistful-sounding sigh.

  “Geez, thanks for that, kemosabe. Is the facial recognition software scoring any hits? I’d sure like to know who she is. If I’
m about to be tortured and eaten, I think I have a right to know by whom.”

  “Give me a couple of minutes, and I’ll have all the info you’ll need. In the meantime, Hendrick wants a word.”

  Moused subconsciously straightened his spine and stood to attention. Even after four years of being ‘Reyes’ guy,’ it was still a little intimidating talking to the head of the Segher House without having mentally prepared for it beforehand. Moused, like Reyes before him, was always going to be a smart-ass. That would never change. It was who he was – who they were. That didn’t mean he didn’t have the utmost respect for the Master of the Segher House. The same House that had paid for his fast-tracked year at Columbia, followed by his three years at M.I.T. – and who employed him now. At twenty-two, Moused had more or less taken over running all of the Segher House’s financial affairs while Reyes was out of commission these last seven months.

  “Moused.”

  “Hendrick, sir.”

  “Reyes has filled me in on your stalker. Let’s not rule out the possibility that another House is attempting to make contact with us. I very much doubt another Family would risk an all-out war with the Seghers by harming my Retinue and day walker. We’ve been all but shunned since we aligned with the Nowhere Pack, but even these older Houses, so set in their ways, have to finally realize the advantages of moving with the