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Archibald licked his front right paw and smoothed it over his long, ginger fur, luxuriating in his silky softness. He longed for a mirror at the moment, but no matter. He looked fabulous, as always.
After a few more minutes of careful grooming, he had to admit to himself that he was stalling. He was no better than a human at this point. Part of the job of the First’s Guide was delivering uncomfortable truths. He must have been playing hooky the day they covered how to approach the subject if the difficult conversation was about oneself, though.
“Might as well get it over with,” he muttered. He stood, stretched, and ambled towards the barrier, each step slower than the last.
When he was fewer than two feet away, something wrapped around his rear left ankle and tightened too quickly for him to register what was happening, much less evade the trap. In seconds, he dangled upside down, caught in a simple snare no doubt set by some unethical hunters trespassing on Frankie’s land.
Archibald closed his eyes. This was ridiculous, and cats hated to look ridiculous. He’d rather wear a Halloween costume and parade up and down the street than be found hanging upside down due to carelessness.
“What have we here?” a voice crooned. “It looks like a pretty little kitty.”
The voice sounded vaguely familiar, but Archibald couldn’t place it. It must belong to one of the newer Valkyries he hadn’t yet gotten to know. Being found like this was mortifying, but at least it wasn’t by someone he knew.
“I would appreciate it if you’d cut me down,” he said. “This is terribly undignified.”
“Of course, pretty kitty.” The voice of the unseen speaker was higher pitched and lilting.
A couple seconds later, the rope stringing him up stretched tightly and a sawing noise grated on his ears.
The rope gave way, but just before it snapped, his rescuer put their arms under him to support him.
“Thank you so much,” he said. “Now, if you’ll just set me down, I’ll head in to see Frankie. I’m hoping you can forget this ever happened, and the next time we meet, we’ll meet as strangers.”
“Not a chance,” the person hissed. “This will be the last time we meet, and we are definitely not strangers.”
The support under him disappeared, and for a moment, he floundered to turn over before he hit the ground. But he needn’t have bothered. He landed with a soft whump much more quickly than he’d anticipated. The ground was also not as hard and definitely rougher than he’d expected. He was in a bag.
Archibald squirmed and thrashed, aiming for the opening at the top of the bag where he could see blue sky and freedom. “Let me out. Do you know who I am?”
A face appeared in the opening of the bag, blocking the light and the possibility of escape.
“Oh, I know who you are, traitor, and I know exactly what you did. And now, I’m taking you back to the Heart, where you will stand trial for your crimes and be judged and sentenced by Frigg herself.” The woman smiled down at him, but there was no mirth evident on her face.
“I’m not a traitor,” Archibald protested. “Frankie needed someone right away. She needed me! She couldn’t wait for whatever other tests and trials we all needed to pass to help her!”
“Do you know who I am, traitor?” Her grin was feral now, and her mouth was full of what looked more like feline fangs than human teeth.
Her voice was so familiar, but he’d never seen her before. He shook his head. “No. Just please, please let me go. I’ll take you to meet Frankie—” It dawned on him that that was a terrible idea. He didn’t know who this person was, and it was entirely possible that they were an agent of Loki’s or Hel’s and not someone searching him out to take him to task for his crimes.
No! Not crimes. Maybe he’d broken a couple rules and circumvented a few processes that had been in place for centuries, but he hadn’t actually crossed the line into illegality, had he?
“Oh, I’ll be seeing Frankie, and when I do, I’ll tell her everything. I’ll tell her that you failed out of the Guide training program, stole the information that was set aside for the first in class, and chased her down, pretending to be something you’re not. I’ll let her know you took the place of the true Guide, someone who has the knowledge and the skills to help her on her way. And I will make sure she knows you killed for this, and because of that, you have been apprehended by the one whose position you stole.”
“Pixie? Pixie Sunshine?” Archibald’s jaw dropped as he stared up at the human—well, human-ish—face in the bag's mouth. “But you’re…” There was no polite way to accuse her of not being a cat, and even though he was being arrested for some very minor crimes, that was no reason to not be polite to her. Wait a minute… “Did you say I killed someone? Who on the nine realms did I kill?”
“Don’t play innocent. It doesn’t suit you,” she snarled. “You’ve left a trail of bodies, presumably to hide what you’ve done, although that will be for Frigg to determine once you stand before her in chains.” She closed the bag. A zipper slid shut, and after that, the click of a padlock held it in place.
Archibald sagged inside and resigned himself to this ignominious end. He might be able to teleport, but he needed line of sight to do it. He should’ve told Frankie, or at least not stopped outside the barrier like an ignorant animal. He’d stand in front of Frigg and confess every last misdeed, and maybe she could tell him who he was supposed to have killed, because for all his faults, murder wasn’t one of them.
The gentle bouncing of the sack against Pixie’s back lulled him, and he gave up trying to figure out why she looked human and who she thought he’d slain. Instead, he closed his eyes and let himself drift off, thanking the gods that he was a cat and never suffered from insomnia.
Chapter Two
“Well, well, well… What do we have here?” A man’s voice woke Archibald. For a moment, he thought he’d fallen asleep on Frankie’s couch, and it was one of her brothers-in-law talking to him, but then the memories rushed back.
He arched his back, raising his hackles, and hissed at the man who’d spoken.
The man, tall, whipcord thin, and scarred on his face and hands, walked around Archibald, an appraising look in his eyes. When the man bent to take a closer look, lank, greasy black hair flopped into his pale blue eyes that did nothing to stand out on his equally pale, white skin.
