Scratch (Feral Aliens) Read online

  “There is no going home, Pixie,” she says, breaking the news gently to me, almost as if she’s announcing a death. “But there is a new home for you here.”

  “Thank you, but I’m going home. I know how to get home, and I’m going to get back. Scratch told me I just need to go to the city and walk through the right door.”

  Shanti’s eyes narrow slightly. “I am sure you want to go home, but you have injuries which will take time to heal. Even if you were to go to the city with Scratch, which is a choice I suppose you are free to make, I would not recommend it.”

  “That’s what he said. He said we both need to rest up and heal.”

  “Is it?” Shanti turns and looks at him and there’s a change in the energy of the room, almost like it got real cold, real quick.

  “That’s sensible advice, isn’t it?” He smiles at her broadly, like he thinks he’s going to charm her. But it’s not working. I can feel the look she’s giving him even through the back of her head. Goddamn.

  “It’s best not to fill the heads of the young with hope for things they may never have,” Shanti says. “We are a very long way from the city, and we are at war. It has only been a matter of days since you and your forces attempted to kill us. I delivered a baby in the middle of the battle. I do not think we will be surrendering innocents to the city any time soon.”

  “But I want to go home,” I pipe up, sounding kind of pathetic in a Dorothy in wonderland kind of way. That’s the girl, right? No. I’m thinking of Alice.

  “There is no guarantee that going to the city would mean that you would go home,” Shanti says, turning back to me, her expression softening as she does. “The city is not a safe place for an innocent.”

  “I’m not very innocent.”

  “You are to the ways of our world, no matter what you may have done on your planet.”

  Well, I know what she thinks of me. She thinks I’m useless and helpless. Fine by me. I don’t want her to think I’m worth watching. That’s the first rule of shoplifting. Not that I intend to steal anything, but the rules of the game are the same. Shanti is loss prevention, and I am the sixteen lipsticks stuck in my backpack. I gotta get out of here.

  “What ever you do, make sure your wounds are well healed before you risk any kind of journey,” she says, almost as if she is reading my mind. I guess it doesn’t take a psychic hotline worker to figure out that I’m probably planning on running away. Anybody would want to run away from this.

  “I guess that depends on you.”

  “It does?”

  “Whether I get tied down and treated like a criminal prisoner. Because so far your hospitality has been lacking.”

  I can hear Scratch laugh from across the room.

  “They fix you, feed you, and you complain?”

  “Excuse me, asshole. I’m on the wrong planet. What’s your deal? You’re some kinda war criminal?”

  I’m not sure if he’s being serious, if we’re really fighting or not, but I respond as if we are because even if we’re not, it’s gotta be convincing.

  “Hardly.”

  “Welll….” Shanti says to him. “You are most certainly a prisoner of war.”

  “What war?” He has the nerve to sound offended. “There was but a single attack which did not go well.”

  “We consider that warlike behavior. You came to kill, and you almost slaughtered the only other human on the planet. Your sins are far greater than those of any other.”

  “Sounds like warlike behavior to me,” I pipe up.

  “Be quiet,” they both say. This synchronized shushing does not please me. I’m right and they’re wrong. I don’t know what I’m right about specifically, but that doesn’t stop me from being right anyway.

  “Matriarch, I will leave you in peace,” he says. “Do not waste your resources on me.”

  “Bitch, they are not going to let you leave. They’re going to set you on fire.” I don’t know where I’m getting the fire part from, but it sounds dramatic, and I am feeling dramatic.

  “Quiet,” Shanti says again, her tone becoming frankly terse. “We do not set other grimalkin on fire.”

  “Well, they’re not going to give you cotton candy,” I tell Scratch. Fucking with him makes me feel good. It distracts me from how scared I am in this fucking weird world which I am still not 100% certain is real.

  Shanti stands up and leaves without another word. I’m not sure if she has something to do, or if being in our presence is just too maddening to tolerate. Whatever it is, we’ve managed to get her out of here.

  “Any reason you’re trying to fuck with me?”

  Scratch is standing over me, looking down at me with hungry eyes.

  “I figured it’s what we were doing. We don’t want her to know what we did, right? You’re lying about who you are, so I figured you wanted to lie about everything.”

  “What makes you say I’m lying about who I am?”

  “The way you talk about your body like it’s not yours?”

  “Ah,” he says. “I need to watch that.”

  “Yes. You do. It’s super weird. Weirder than all the rest of this place put together.”

  “Thanks for the tip,” he smirks.

  “No problem. Here’s a question. How am I speaking your language?”

  “I don't know. Something to do with the door maybe? Usually it takes a linguistic implant for a human to understand our speech. Your arrival here is strange.”

  He’s right about that.

  “I guess we’re both weird.”

  “I’m weirder to you than you are to me. I spent three years on your planet. I understand you in a way the rest of these cats don’t.”

  Oh, he’s cocky.

  “What do you understand?”

  He just smiles in a way that makes me want to wipe that smirk off his face, if he didn't have massive fangs which makes smacking him in the head an obviously poor choice.

  “I know what kind of human you are. And so does Shanti. You’re in trouble, Pixie. Take my advice. Start behaving more politely when you’re speaking to her, or you're not going to like the consequences.”

  His words send a tingle through me. I’ve never been spoken to this way before. I’ve been yelled at by cops, and one time a youth pastor tried to convert me, but I brushed that off because I was high. I’m not high now. I’m more aggressively sober than I have ever been. I don’t like it.

  “Leave the human alone,” Shanti says as she walks back in from whatever it was she was doing.

  God, there’s literally no privacy in this place at all.

  Scratch

  “You are supposed to be in bed,” Shanti says, gesturing to Pixie. “Lie down, please.”

  “Nah. I’m not tired.”

  “I wasn’t asking, Pixie. Do as you’re told.”

  “I’m not a child, lady,” Pixie snaps. “You can’t just tell me to go to bed and expect me to obey. Besides, I am in bed. I’m just sitting up. I think I can decide whether I sit or lie.”

  I see Shanti’s eyes narrow. She rarely has to deal with anybody harshly, but that’s because everybody here, from Falkri down, usually knows better. Even Kitty, my old owner, knew better.

  Pixie doesn’t know better. Even if she did know better, I don't think she would pay any attention.

  Shanti does not give her another warning. I suppose she believes that the dozens of warnings she has given so far are sufficient, and I’m sure Pixie’s attitude since she woke up has been fraying her patience.

  Whatever injuries Pixie has, they're not serious enough to stop her from being a pain in the ass, and apparently they’re not going to stop Shanti from giving her a pain in the ass.

  She sits down on the bed beside Pixie and puts her arm around the young woman. Pixie pulls away, but Shanti’s hand has already curled around her waist and is pulling her down and over her thighs.

  “What the fuck are you doing!?” Pixie screams.

  It’s pretty obvious to me what is happening.
I guess she’s going to have to catch up in a second or two.

  Her skirt barely covers her ass, and once Shanti flips it up, it covers none of her ass. I see that sweet pussy again, the one I want to be inside badly. Then the whole scene is covered by Shanti’s palm coming down hard across Pixie’s disobedient ass.

  I warned her.

  I really did.

  But she looks good with those full caramel cheeks turning a deep red with every slap. Shanti has a very firm grip on her new human ward, and she clearly intends to impart a serious disciplinary lesson.

  I get to sit back and watch Pixie have her ass spanked, the bare rounds of her cheeks exposed to Shanti’s palm. It’s a satisfying sight, but it’s also making me fucking hard. I can see the soft lips of her sex from time to time, flashing when she kicks her legs.

  Should I pity her? No. She’s an utter brat. She must have been hell on Earth, when she was on Earth, but Shanti is not going to allow that to happen here. This is her tribe, and everybody follows her word. Or they at least don’t defy her to her face.

  Shanti does not show any mercy. She clearly intends to make an impression.

  “Ow! Fucking ow! What the hell!” Pixie shrieks and squalls, her outrage clear. “I’m dying! I’m wounded!”

  “Not too wounded to spank,” Shanti declares. She would know.

  Pixie

  This fucking hurts.

  I have gotten some beat downs in my time, but this isn't like getting your ass kicked behind the 7-11. This is much worse. Nobody’s ripping my hair out or kicking my teeth in, but my ass is on literal fire. Well, not literal fire, but it feels like it could be.

  Every time Shanti’s paw meets my rear, I regret my words, deeds, and even the thoughts that led me to this place. I thought I’d get by the same way I did back home, by just giving everyone shit until they got out of my way.

  This is not working out that way.

  Finally, at a time of her choosing and certainly not of mine, she stops. My ass is pulsing and throbbing with heat and I’m not sure I’m going to be able to sit in a very long time.

  “Fucking hell,” I curse to myself under my breath. Part of me wants to reach back to soothe my skin. The other half wants to sink into the ground.

  “You are in my care,” Shanti says. “And I will make sure you are well taken care of. Even if it means spanking you soundly.”

  I can feel Scratch’s eyes on me. I know what he’s looking at. My hot ass, all red and spanked and he’s probably seeing more than that too. It’s kind of hot. But it’s also as embarrassing as hell.

  “In bed,” she orders, pointing to it as she helps me up off her knees.

  I have never been so humiliated in my life. I don't know what to do. I want to tell her to go fuck herself, but I don’t feel like risking whatever comes next in her escalation. There’s also no way I’m doing as she says. So I’m just stuck here, rubbing my butt and wondering what the fuck to do.

  Shanti’s expression softens. “You’ve never been told what to do before, have you? Are all humans so poorly parented?”

  “Hey, fuck you. I was parented just fine.” Goddammit. I can’t be even halfway polite for more than a minute.

  “I ask, because the other human here grew up in what she calls foster care, which seems to have amounted to no care. And you show all the signs of being neglected as well. I have seen the signs before. Usually in the city cats, who are taken from their mothers at a few weeks old and never bond.”

  “What are you, some kind of developmental psychologist?” As snappy comebacks go, it’s not great. But I’m off my game. I’m also off my ass. It hurts.

  “I’m a mother,” she says. “The matriarch of this tribe. I have thirteen cubs. The oldest of them acts as chief. Many of my girls have become mothers in their own right.”

  “Thirteen! Lady, it’s a vagina, not a clown car.”

  Behind me, I hear a burst of laughter coming from Scratch.

  “I don’t know what that means, but it sounds disrespectful,” Shanti says. She’s not mad at me, though she probably should be. “You need rest, Pixie. Lie down and get some.”

  She’s so fucking nice. She’s also super fucking mean. I don’t know how to resolve those two things being true at exactly the same time. So I sit down. I lie down on my stomach, actually.

  Shanti leaves, but my fellow patient does not.

  “Stop looking at me,” I growl, feeling his eyes on me. God, that was embarrassing. That was fucking humiliating. That was the worst. That was worse than all the other things that have happened up until this point.

  “You look cute getting spanked,” he smiles. “I might have to do that to you myself.”

  “I do not look cute,” I pout. “And also shut up.”

  “You’re right. You look completely adorable. And also no.”

  “You’re the worst,” I growl, pulling the blanket up over me. I don’t like the way he looks at me with those green eyes. He’s all intense and mysterious. I also think he is a liar.

  “I’m not the one getting in trouble with the matriarch.”

  “That’s because you’re doing your best to stay completely under the radar. I’ve watched you. I’ve heard you. I know you’re lying.”

  “You do, huh?”

  “Yes. I do. I don’t know about what because this is the weirdest world I’ve ever found myself in. Actually, the only other world I’ve ever been in. But I’ve known hundreds of liars, and you’re the lyingest liar I’ve encountered yet.”

  He smiles. “I hope I’m doing a better job of fooling the others than fooling you.”

  “I think you are,” I say, surprised that he basically just admitted he’s been lying. A truthful liar. What are the odds of that? “So what’s your secret?”

  “If you think waking up on another planet full of aliens is weird, which it is, then this is even weirder.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Not here, and not now, but when we’re both recovered enough to walk, I promise I will.”

  “A promise from a liar, how much is that worth?”

  “I guess you’ll have to wait and see,” he smiles.

  “Time for food!”

  Shanti’s back, and she has stew. She’s like every archetypal mom, forever bringing homemade deliciousness to her brood. I guess that includes me now. Not sure how I feel about that. The food here is amazing, as long as you like meat. I avoid meeting her eyes as she hands me the bowl. There’s no cutlery. You eat with your fingers which is fine by me. I’m starving again.

  Scratch has closed his eyes and is pretending to be asleep. I wonder if he's actually fooling Shanti. She doesn’t seem like the sort of woman who is easily fooled. My guess is she’s letting him act his way into revealing who he really is. That’s what I’d be doing if I were her. There’s something about him that’s just not trustworthy, no matter how hot he is. Or in my twisted brain, it’s half of what makes him hot. I could never resist a criminal.

  “Thanks,” I mumble to Shanti, trying not to squirm too much as I get into a position that both allows me to eat stew, and saves my ass from being pressed against the firm bed beneath the furs.

  “You’re welcome,” she says.

  I don't think she’s angry at me. She doesn’t seem to be. She just wants things her own way. She wants control. I guess I can respect that.

  “So what are you? The chief or something?”

  “As I said, I am the matriarch. My son is the chief.”

  “What’s the difference?”

  “A chief handles the day to day matters of the tribe. Hunting. Housing. Protecting the physical spaces. I tend to the spirit of our people, to the women and their babies.”

  That actually makes a surprising amount of sense. “We just have like, one dude,” I tell her. “Well, we have a lot of dudes and some ladies, but overall, there’s one dude, though I guess he doesn't really have a lot of power because there are millions of us.”

  “Like the city,” Shanti says.
“When tribes grow too big, conflict is inevitable, as is corruption and greed. When you do not know your neighbor, and when you share no blood, you cannot care for them the way you should.”

  She’s probably right. She seems wise for a half-cat, half-woman living in a remote jungle. My ass reminds me that she doesn’t share values with a modern society when it comes to not hitting others, but then, I guess, neither do I.

  “I don’t want you to do that to me again.”

  “I won’t if you don’t deserve it.”

  “Well, that’s not fair. How do I know if I deserve it by your standards? I’m a human lost in an alien world, being beaten for cultural misunderstandings.”

  “You’re a rude little cub being treated as such,” Shanti replies in a tone which makes me feel almost as warm in my stomach as my ass feels.

  I don't know how to deal with a matriarch. In my family, we show affection by not talking to each other and developing drug problems. It’s not traditional, but it works for us. I am guessing that’s not how Shanti runs things.

  I fall silent, not knowing what to say, and very much aware that Scratch is listening to all of this. He doesn’t think I’m a naughty little anything. He used my mouth like he knew what it was made for, and I loved it. He’s familiar in a strange way; dark, dangerous, kinda broken on the inside. He feels like my people in a way Shanti doesn’t. I don’t know if I can get on board with her wholesomeness, but I have the feeling I’m not going to have a choice.

  4 Enemy Lovers

  Several very long weeks later…

  Pixie

  “You snore,” I tell Scratch.

  “Yeah? You fart in your sleep,” he says right back.

  This is the level we’re at now, basically roommates who rag on each other all day long.

  “I do not!”

  “Yeah, you do. And it always smells like cabbages.”

  “You don’t even know what cabbages smell like.”

  “I do.”

  “Bet you don’t.”