Voices and Rituals
By Taffy

Author's Comments: This is my second attempt at a fic, be kind. *g* Also, this is very angsty; I was crying as I wrote parts of the end. There's also the violence and profantity, so if I were to rate this story, it would be about PG to PG-13. Just so you know. Also, the spell near the end has no meaning or value. I just thought it would be neat to throw some Latin in there. It's not a real spell, to my knowledge. *g* Enjoy!


Rain pounded London with a vengeful force. The wind whipped soggy newspapers around poles, buildings, benches, and the legs of unfortunate animals that did not have or were on their way to shelter. Unnoticed by humans, and perhaps others of her species, a gray and orange cat scurried toward the abandoned factory at the end of the street.

She crept through a tiny hole in the brick and proceeded to dry herself off the best she could, which was not much. The factory building, left to years of negligence and delinquency, leaked terribly. Many areas were transformed into miniature lakes.

“Well?” a voice rang out. “Did you find someone?”

The gray and orange cat looked to her left with her unusually large green eyes. “Yes.”

“And?” The voice grew impatient.

“There were many in the location I scouted. Two cats seemed to sense my presence.”

“Were you discovered?”

“No. Before they could investigate, a small kitten leaped from a perch near my hiding place, thus distracting them. A shaded female, she may have either been a Siamese or a mix of that breed and another short–haired breed, then went up to the two and initiated a conversation. By the time the two cats were free to investigate, I was gone.”

“But did you find one?” the voice demanded.

“Yes. I was able to find the perfect one for our needs.”

"Excellent work, Asille. As soon as the storm passes, lead the cat here. I assume it is a tom, correct?”

The gray and orange queen, Asille, toyed absentmindedly with the brass tag on her leather collar. “A young tom, but a tom. Would the ritual work with a queen, Dersoun?”

“No. It must be a tom. A young one, you say?” Asille nodded. “Good,” Dersoun continued. “It will be easier for you to lure him here. Now, go home, before those humans you live with worry too much. When the storm passes, return here, so that we may carry out the ritual.”

Part 2
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