Karin blinked muzzily. Kittul lay right where she left her, napping on her owner's bed. She yawned, needle sharp teeth flashing. She rose to her feet, all four paws pushing at the blankets so she could stretch. Her claws slipped their sheathes and left pinprick rips in the thick down comforter. A quick shake completed her stretch. Her bladder chose that moment to remind her it had been hours since she used the facilities. Kittul's box wasn't in the bedroom, but that wasn't really a concern. After a single use more for the novelty than anything else, Karin decided she would tend to her character's needs in one of her humanoid forms.

With little more effort than it took to slip her claws, Karin shifted forms. Her limbs stretched, her hips twisted, and her face contorted. Shifting wasn't actively painful, at least for a Neko like Kittul. Instead, it felt like stretching just a touch past the point of comfort. She'd done it once cold, and her muscles punished her for the few seconds they took to heal. Warmed as she was by her nap, the transformation happened before she had time to consciously register any discomfort.

Partway through, she felt the catch that heralded her midpoint form. The half human, half cat form of a Neko was remarkably good at getting into or out of places it shouldn't be, but it had one big disadvantage when it came to attending to calls of nature. Fur covered her from the tips of her tufted black ears to the paws of her digitigrade feet. Karin let herself slide the rest of the way to her human form, stood, stretched once more for good measure, and slipped off the bed to the floor.

Zed's journal beckoned, but she really needed to go. Naked, she padded down the hall to the apartment's tiny bathroom. While taking care of business, she contemplated the awful little box crammed into a corner of the room. After fastidiously washing her hands, she picked up the little glass Kittul's owner kept for rinsing his mouth out. She ran herself a drink of water from the sink, took a sip, then dumped the rest into the box. If the litter didn't have any clumps in, Zed would gently 'remind' Kittul where the box was.

A quick check of the hall clock told Karin Zed wouldn't be back for at least a few hours. She tiptoed to the kitchenette, pulled out a can of tuna, and shifted into her Neko form. Her claws made short work of the can's lid. She could have used an opener, but breaking the meat free with her claws gave her a visceral satisfaction that she knew the tool would not. She took her time with the tuna, reveling in how intense the flavors were on her not-quite-human tongue.

All too soon, the tuna was gone. She licked the sticky oils from the rough pads on her fingertips, savoring every drop. Physical needs taken care of, she returned to the bedroom to sate her curiosity. She shifted back to her human form, flipped open the journal and began to read.

***

I just went back and read my last entry. I’m not sure if I’m supposed to do that or not. The therapist that set me to journal writing got attacked by a Shifter gang before we got to meet again. The official story the press ran with was that she was visiting a pro bono client when a drug deal went bad.

The Others are such an open secret. I can't believe the bullshit stories the Agency spreads about them hold water. Then again, I suppose people believe what they want to believe. Shifters are just gangs with exotic pets. Mages use smoke and mirrors. Undead are victims of one horrible disease or another. Eighty eight percent of the people in a recent poll didn't believe the Others exist. The same poll said a record sixty nine percent thought evolution was 'just a theory'. Most of the people in the world lived with their eyes closed.

I never was one of them, so I don't have much sympathy. My mom was a Special Agent for the Agency. Dad was one of the Agency's tame mages. I've got a couple sisters who inherited Mom's athleticism and dad's magical talents. Guess which combination I got? I mean, neither of my parents is stupid. Mom is a little closed minded. Dad is a little prone to taking things on faith rather than knowing the math. I'm guessing every first generation academic eventually has that moment with their family when they say, "They're bright, but why can't they use it?"

I'm avoiding again. I went over what I said about Al. Then I read what I said about not being gay. Yeah. I sound like I'm being honest with my journal, don't I? At any rate, there's another way my sisters and I differ. Agnes is straight as an arrow, with all the fidelity of an alley cat. Melissa we're not sure on. She's never actually shown interest in either gender. I’m bi. Bisexual, since the therapist told me to make things clear. Dennis Miller quotes notwithstanding, I'm not greedy. I'm actually celibate. I'm not sure how much longer that's going to apply, but for now I am.

Anyhow, I decided a while back, right around when Fred and I were breaking up, that I wasn't going to be finding anyone. I'm bisexual, and I've got a monogamous streak about a mile wide, but when I’m with someone, I get a horrible Jones for, well… someone of the opposite gender to who I’m with. Yeah. God was having a joke, apparently. Worse, while I've always tried to maintain a professional distance, Al apparently never heard of the idea that a teacher isn't supposed to get romantically involved with his students.

Every single day after that first one, he was waiting when I pulled into the lot. Usually, he'd have the previous session's assignment completed, the answers written down on a few pieces of ragged loose leaf snagged in a ratty old clipboard. Since I wasn't worried about him being some kind of spy, I let him tag along during breakfast and we'd talk topology.

I swear, if he hadn't been so hot or so obviously focused on the mathematics of shape, I would have thought of him as a stalker. Frankly, though, he was hot, and he was so totally focused on the class that I didn't think he noticed me at all. It was exquisite torture for me. I knew that once the semester ended, I would never see Al again, and I couldn't help but look forward to the end of the semester with dread. Even if he was interested, I couldn't let anything happen. We went on that way for nearly two months. Every aspect of him etched itself into my memory. The way his eyes lit up when he finally understood some new detail. The smell of him, soap, smoky cologne, and a faint hint of motor oil. The way he smiled, teeth just a little too big for his mouth, perfectly straight and even. He smiled a lot during those early morning tutoring sessions.

Then, just last week, it happened.

Al waited for me after class. Normally he watches from the last row of seats, avoiding the rest of the students, and then he leaves as soon as I dismiss the class. Last Tuesday, though, he waited. I knew something was different the moment I saw him waiting at the back of the after-class crowd. Without apparent effort he fended off the advances of two of the girls. Finally, after an agonizing hour of after-class questions, we were alone. In an effort to keep things casual, I sat down at the table by the podium and sipped my coffee. He sat down across from me.

"Hello, Al. Did you need something?"

He looked down at his feet, hair falling into his eyes. "Ah, yeah. No. Maybe."

I put on my best noncommittal professorial smile, "It's Okay, Al. I've got nothing but time today."

His next words were a muttered rush, but I heard just enough to understand them, "Do you have the time for me?"

My gut clenched and the taste of copper filled my mouth as adrenaline surged through me. This was perfect and terrible. I played stupid, hoping he would think I hadn't heard. "What was that, Al?"

"I don't do this… I've never done this… Not with anybody. Shit. Just spit it out, dipshit. Do you want to get coffee some time?"

I blinked, surprised by the sudden question, even though I'd been half expecting it. "Al, are you asking what I think you're asking?"

I think my expression must have slipped into something less noncommittal, because his smile, broad and white and stunning as always, was suddenly prominent on his face. "Yeah. Yeah I am."

"I'd love to, but" when the last word left my mouth, his face fell. He interrupted before I could explain.

"Shit. You're not into guys." He turned away as he spoke. He was almost out of reach before my hand touched his arm. He froze, suddenly as motionless as the first day I'd met him.

"I didn't say that."

His perfect lips twisted in a sneer, "It’s because I'm Arab. A Muslim"

"No, Al. It's not that. Um, you’re Muslim?"

“No, but everyone I meet assumes the former means the latter.”

“Try being Jewish and not being an observant Jew some time.”

The sneer melted into a melancholy grin. “Will you stop doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“Making me fall for you. If you don’t like me,” Al paused, then slapped himself on the forehead, “Christ, you just don’t like me that way. I’m such an arrogant ass. I mean, I know I look good; I get hit on a lot. Until I found you, I took folks up on it, too. I just…” He went quiet, as if he’d run out of words.

After a few moments, the silence was too much for me, “You just what?”

“This sounds really bad.”

I tossed my head, exasperated. “Look, if you didn’t understand this by now, I really would like to be your friend. Friends tell each other bad things.”

“Yeah, well. I never thought I’d meet someone who didn’t like the way I look. See? I’m a total narcissist.”

I looked away. I could say it, but I couldn’t say it looking at him and keep control of myself. “I never said I didn’t like the way you look.”

The table bounced as he collapsed face first onto it. Once the echoes of the initial impact faded, he started gently tapping his forehead against the smooth linoleum, repeating “Why?” over and over again. I took heart from the fact that he sounded more frustrated and amused than upset. I reached out, slid a hand between his forehead and the table. He froze, less than an inch between his head and my hand. I spoke quickly, before he could say anything.

“Will you let me explain?”

He levered himself up, a self-deprecating grin plastered to his face. “Yeah, I really ought to do that, huh?”

I watched him for a moment to be sure he woulnd’t interrupt again. He lifted an eyebrow and, without speaking, waved a hand for me to speak.

“I’m your professor, Al. I have an ethical obligation to avoid any kind of romantic attachment to my students. If something were to happen between us, it would cast doubt on every grade I’ve ever given, as well as every grade you’ve ever gotten. I’m not going to do that to you,” I had to force the next words out. I didn’t want to say them, no matter how true they were, but I sensed Al needed to hear them, “no matter how much I want to.”

With those last words, Al’s smile exploded back onto his face. It twisted at one end, adding just a touch of smirk to it, but it was still close kin to that gorgeous expression of joy I had come to know and love. Slowly, the smirk grew, and the smile faded, but he spoke before I could ask him why.

“I understand. I don’t like it, but I understand.” He hesitated, like there was something he wanted to say, but couldn’t find the words. “My… sister is going to laugh at me.”

“You’ve got a sister?”

“Yeah. Why, are you interested?”

“If she’s anything like you, I don’t see how I couldn't be.” What can I say? I’m a bit of an ass at times.

***

Karin stared at the journal, a little appalled at Zed, but mostly intrigued by the level of detail. Somehow the developers had found a way to write in an entire subplot for her to find. She found herself curious how far she could chase it. Of course, that was part of the game; finding out how deep the rabbit hole went.

She thought about reading the next entry but decided against it. There weren't too many more entries to read, and she was loathe to finish them all just yet. As long as there were more entries, she could convince herself she really was Kittul the Neko, rather than Karin Padgett. For a while, she could be a homeless shapeshifter pretending to be a stray cat rather than a world-class genetic engineer pretending she wasn't a world-famous porn star.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Kittul stood, folding the journal shut as she did so. She wasn't hungry, but she wasn't sleepy either. Her curiosity goaded her to reopen the book, but she held herself back. She needed another outlet. The Agency Zed talked about seemed just the thing. Before she could give in to the temptation of the journal, she started a careful investigation of Zed's desk. Drawer by drawer, book by book, paper by paper, she read each one, committing any interesting tidbits to memory.

She completely lost track of time. When she finally worked her way through the final drawer, she knew more than she ever wanted to about mathematics, Rowan University, and Zed's finances. She still had no idea where the Agency was even located. Either the developers had messed up, or she was chasing a trail that hadn't been laid yet.

Frustrated, she blew her hair back out of her face. Briefly, she considered logging out and researching the thread online, but a stubborn streak wouldn't let her give up yet. Idly, she reached over and turned on the big, clunky desktop computer taking up a corner of Zed's desk. She wondered if it would connect to the Wider World, or if there was an in-game net that pretended to be the real thing.

After an interminable wait, the login screen finally blinked onto the monitor. Kittul had already checked the desk, there were no little sticky notes with passwords. For a few moments, she stared in mute frustration at the screen, but then inspiration struck.

Stretching herself, she slipped into her Neko form. Her skin rippled, her bones shifted, and every sense sharpened. She got bigger, too. Where Zed's chair left her feet dangling in her human form, as a Neko it fit her comfortably. It was the senses that she shifted for, though. First, she looked carefully at each key. Some of them, like the number pad, showed subtle signs of use. Zed didn't have much use for letters. The bulk of the keys were nearly untouched. Closing her eyes, she sniffed, and then delicately tasted each key. Seven of them were coated with scents; they were the ones he used every time he sat down. A, S, D, W, P, R, O.

Shaking her head, she remembered one of Kent's repeated rants. Computer security kept advancing, but the hardware and software were never the weak points hackers exploited. No matter how many bits of encryption, no matter how good the firewalls, users were still the weak link. Kittul slipped back into her human form and tapped the word 'password' on the keyboard. The login disappeared and a standard desktop popped up. Step by careful step, she examined Zed's files as closely as she'd examined his desk. Again, Kittul lost track of time. After hours of searching, she concluded that her putative owner wasn't as careless with security as she thought. There was nothing personal on the computer but some half-completed papers Zed was working on, a few game files for an old RPG, and an address book with family and school contacts.

For a moment, Karin was surprised that the Cat's Paw developers had gotten permission to use the old game. Then again, given how much money they were making from subscriptions, they could easily afford to pay for it. Then the game drew her back in.

She heard the click and scrape of a key in the apartment lock. Adrenaline rushed through her veins at the thought of discovery. Her mind went into overdrive, and inspiration struck. If Zed's sisters were the talented ones, they probably still worked for the Agency. As whoever was at the door struggled with the recalcitrant lock on the cheap apartment's door, Kittul pulled up Agnes' entry in the address book. Before she could do more than memorize the work address, the outer door creaked open.

She didn't have time to shut the machine down properly. She lashed out with one foot, kicking the power cable free of the wall socket. Before the screen went blank, she was shifting. Zed's footsteps got louder as Kittul's viewpoint sank down to the floor. Colors faded even as sounds and smells sharpened to near painful clarity. Zed stepped into the room, his eyes immediately tracking to where she was stretching.

Kittul looked up at him, questioning him with her eyes. "Mrroww?"

Zed looked down at her, and a fond smile curved his lips. "How has your day been, Kitty?"

He reached down, one hand curling under her belly and chest to scoop her up. He had big, strong, warm hands. She purred her contentment as his fingertips found the eternally itchy spot between her ears. Her eyes slipped shut and a purr rumbled through her, echoing through her head. He pulled his chair out and settled into it, then clicked the power button on his PC. He stiffened as the machine failed to turn on.

"Dammit. I hope the power supply hasn't gone again."

Zed's hands stopped their blissful scratching, and Kittul found herself gently tumbled onto the bed. Her eyes slid open, and she meowed a quiet complaint, but even batting at his hands as he took them away wasn't enough. He returned to his computer and began troubleshooting. Kittul realized she'd never really taken the time to look at him before; if he was in the room she was usually resting in his lap, purring contentedly as he idly stroked her fur or scratched at her ears or belly.

Her first impression was that her owner was the image of an Old Testament prophet. His hair formed a messy halo around his head, covering him from his receding hairline to his hidden chin. His eyes were a little close set, and his overlarge nose made them seem even closer. Laugh lines decorated chocolate brown eyes, and when he smiled or growled his teeth showed even and white. Overall, she decided, he wasn't handsome, but he wasn't ugly. His face had character, and his emotions showed through despite the concealing beard.

Suddenly contrite, she leapt off the bed, curled once around his ankles, and wandered over to the electric outlet. When he didn't look, she meowed for his attention. His eyes flicked to her and then back to his computer. She hissed and thwapped the cord with a paw. Her hiss made his eyes flick to her. She hit the cord again, and sudden comprehension filled his eyes, followed by suspicion.

"Clever, clever kitty."

Zed leaned over, plugged the computer in, and started it back up. He let out a relieved sigh when it came up normally, then reached down to scoop her up once more. When she settled in his lap, purring contentedly, his fingers tickling her belly, he spoke. His words came slowly, half a thought at a time, his gentle contemplative tone lulling her into a sense of security.

"So, Kittul. I was just thinking. When I lived in Philly, when I was an adjunct at Drexel and commuting down to the Agency every few months, there used to be a little girl on the street corner a few blocks away. She would put out a sign and a paper coffee cup. She would sing. No lyrics, just pure notes. The melody haunted me, and she never sang the same twice. I always suspected she made it up on the spot. The sign simply said 'feed me?' I don't see how anyone could have resisted; she always looked half a step from starvation. Her clothes were always the same, no matter the weather, a tattered black hoodie and black sweatpants. I don't think she had anything else.

"I always dropped whatever change I had into that cup. I like to think I helped her out. One day I didn’t have any change on me. I went into the coffee shop and got some cash from the ATM. I picked up some pastry and brought it back out, still in the bag. I set the bag in front of her, put a twenty in her cup, and asked her what her name was. I'm still not sure why I did it. Maybe I thought I could…"

He broke off with a sigh that rocked his whole frame. Kittul slid one eye open the tiniest bit to see his expression. He stared at the monitor like he was trying to forget he was talking. "It doesn't matter what I thought, really. When I spoke to her, she looked at me with pure terror in her eyes. I never want to see that look from another living thing. I can't exactly remember what I did next; I was too shocked by the idea that someone would be that scared of me. I think I reached out to try and calm her. She bolted, leaving her pastry, her cup, and her sign behind.

"I folded up her sign, put the cup in the pastry bag, and set all of it a few feet away in the alley she'd darted into." Zed stopped talking again, staring at his computer screen. Kittul risked a glance at it; he idly clicked and dragged, random groups of icons highlighting as he selected them. When he started talking, she heard long unshed tears in his voice.

"I came back every day. Nobody ever picked up her sign or her cup. A week or so later it rained, and the whole thing became a sloppy cardboard and paper mess. I went hunting around in the alleyway. I didn't know what I thought I'd find. It didn’t take me long; the alley came to a dead end halfway down the block. Back in a corner I found a ratty pair of sweats and a hoodie, both soaked by the rain and starting to mildew. There was no sign of the singing girl, but you know what else I found back there?"

Zed stopped scratching. Kittul looked up at him, frustration clear in her petulant "Mrrowwl?"

A grin spread across Zed's face, and the laugh lines around his eyes crinkled. "I found you! Little kitten, mostly starved, terrified, but too sick to run away. I brought you to a vet. When he said you were going to live, you just needed some tender loving care, I brought you home. I think that was what finally broke Fred and me up. He wasn't allergic to cats so much as he was allergic to the implied commitment of sharing a pet."

Zed's grin faded away, replaced by a long-suffering frown. Kittul saw the sorrow in his eyes as he stared and clicked. "Ah, well. You've stayed with me, haven't you, kitten? I wish you'd come to trust me, but at least you're not starving. Part of me thinks you get frustrated being penned up in this dinky apartment, though." He stopped; speculation clear in his eyes as his gaze dropped to the computer's power cable.

"So, Kitten, what do you think? Should I put in a kitty door so my Kitten can wander free if she chooses?"

Sensing he was waiting for a reply, she meowed an affirmative. Not that it was much different from any other meow, but he continued, a smile returning to his face.

"Okay, Kitten. I'd best take you for your shots, first. God knows what you'll catch if I let you go out without them." Kittul wasn't sure she liked the impish glee that flashed through his eyes with his next words, "I've even got some ideas how we can keep Animal Control from bothering you."

With that enigmatic statement, he stopped talking to her, picked her up, and carried her to the kitchen, where the apartment's only phone hung from a wall. He called someone, talking about some kind of appointment, but she couldn't care less. His fingers found the itchy spot under her chin, and she draped herself over his forearm in feline bliss.

***

Karin decided whoever programmed the interface must have been some kind of insane genius. Objectively, she was completely fine with the idea of riding to the Vet in Zed's little Nissan Leaf. Subjectively, her pulse raced with fear. First came the fear of being trapped in a tiny space with a primate that outweighed every form at her disposal. Next, the fear of rocketing along a street between vehicles that outweighed their little electric car by even greater factors. Finally, her fear of needles, probes and pain from the Vet overlaid everything else.

She found herself balanced on the back seat, leaning into the swerves and turns like a surfer, eyes tracking each vehicle they passed, flickering to each one that passed them in turn. So slowly she didn’t notice it happening, her fear transmuted itself into excitement. When they passed a car, she meowed her contempt. When a truck rumbled past them, she hissed her defiance. Through it all, Zed ignored her, smiling faintly as he sang quietly along with the radio. By the time they pulled into the Veterinarian's parking lot, she was upset that the ride was over. She leapt onto Zed's lap in a single bound, put her paws on his chest, and meowed her request up at him.

He smiled, rumpled her ears, and said, "Sorry, Kitten. We have to get you your vaccination. If you're a good girl, I'll take the long way home, Okay?"

Not content with compromise but seeing little she could do other than run away, she stropped his chest for a bit. Once satisfied she’d sufficiently marked him, she curled down into his lap. He took the opportunity to sweep her up into his arms and exit the car. On the walk in, a host of unpleasant smells assaulted her nose. Dominant Toms. Dogs of both genders. Even a few reptiles and predator birds added their stink to the mix.

She wrinkled her nose and twisted to look up at Zed. "Mrowwl?"

He looked down at her without slowing, "Can I trust you, little Kittul?"

She met his gaze, giving him her best innocent look.

Without another word, he lifted her to his shoulder. She sank her claws into the fabric of his shirt, balancing much as she had on the back seat of the car. From the vantage of that perch, she could see the whole lot, and even into the windows of the office. There were dogs too big to be carried inside. Desperately she tried to think of a way out of this that wouldn't involve running away.

When Zed walked through the door, every dog in the room looked at her. Two, who weren't leashed, got up and sauntered over to sniff at Zed, and by extension to threaten her. Forcing down her instinctive desire to hiss and spit, she turned her back, refusing to engage them. Miracle of miracles, it worked. Zed continued to the counter and checked in.

As he walked, Kittul noticed three men wearing thick blue police padding situated around the large waiting room. Each had several weapon holsters along his belt. She wasn't sure why they were there, but assumed they had some good reason. By the way he scanned the room, Zed noticed them too, but he declined to comment.

The vet tech behind the counter bubbled. "Thank you, Mr. Silver. You're bringing Kittul Silver in for her yearly boosters, I take it?" Kittul hated bubbly, but she held her hiss in check once more. She didn’t want to embarrass Zed.

"Actually, I scheduled for a bit more than that. Could you double check the appointment, please?"

The vet tech consulted her computer. After a few moments reading, she turned back to Zed with an abashed grin. "I'm sorry, Mr. Silver. You're absolutely right. The doctor has everything prepared. If you could go into room three?"

"Thanks."

As Zed turned to go, the tech called out. "By the way, how did you train her to do that?"

"Oh, she just decided to do it herself. She's a very bright little kitty."

***

The wait in the examination room dragged on. Kittul endured it by curling up on Zed's surprisingly wide shoulder and drifting off into a light sleep. By his light snores, he fell asleep too. Kittul perked up when the door opened. Before the vet could say anything, she licked Zed's ear, waking him.

"Hallo, doc. Everything ready?"

"Are you certain about this, Mr. Silver? We have some excellent tattooing options if you're worried about identification."

Zed stiffened. Even if there was no sign of it in his voice, he didn't like that suggestion at all. "No. Are the shots ready?"

The vet lifted a syringe, "right here. Is she ready?"

"Ready. Not sure how willing she'll…"

Kittul had nothing to fear from a vitamin shot or an inoculation. She interrupted Zed by leaping from his shoulder to the examination table. She took one look at the vet, sniffed her disdain, and turned away. He gripped her leg, his fingers stretched her skin taut, and she felt the pinch of the needle sinking in. Cold seeped out from the point of contact. Once the vet removed the needle, she twisted around to lick the injection, keeping her eye on both men when she did.

"You have an incredibly well-behaved cat, Mr. Silver."

Zed made a noncommittal grunt, followed by an interrogative hum. "Hey, doc, why do you have three K9 officers loitering around your waiting room?"

The vet made a face. "We've had some incidents in the past few weeks. Some gangbangers brought their pit bulls in to get some fighting injuries taken care of. When we tried to report them, they got violent."

Zed's eyebrows lifted in shocked surprise, "That's terrible. I can't believe they'd be that bold."

The vet winced. "We're not the only place it's happened. Lately the gang problem has been getting worse."

Zed's face wavered. In fact, the whole room wobbled, getting just a little unreal. When Zed replied to the doctor, his voice warbled like his batteries were running down. "Really? I'm glad I'm getting this done now, then. If they know there's a reward for returning her, they're less likely to feed her to their dogs."

Kittul shook her head to clear it and tried to stand up. She didn't make it. She was falling, falling to the stainless steel of the table, falling to the tile of the floor, falling into blackness as deep as betrayal.