Perhaps, Someday

Chapter 3-1

Chapter 3

“Again?” Caiden sighed after receiving a call from Zander that he had another job for him. He loved what he did, and knew his skills, for lack of a better word, were necessary, but there were times when he wished he was a normal man working a normal job. Selling shoes, being an accountant, even flipping burgers. He had actually ‘become’ an accountant for a job a couple of years ago, and quickly scratched that off his list of jobs he might consider—were he just a regular person.

When he arrived at Zander’s office, Caiden found his boss staring at the computer screen. Zander acknowledged Caiden presence with a brief nod then returned to what he was doing.

Caiden took a seat by the desk, waiting. Finally Zander turned away from the screen and looked at him.

“This is one of those cases where you’re going to have to be a woman,” Zander said in preface.

Caiden didn’t exactly cheer, but he did reply, “I can handle that.”

“I know you can. The man you’ll be working on knows a great deal about the person we’re after, and is his sworn ally and friend. Getting those facts out of him will take all your skills—and you have only two days to do it.” He smiled—barely. “I know this is going to be hard, but you have to start on this like yesterday.”

Caiden chuckled. “Going back in time is not one of my skills.”

“Would that it were.” Zander handed him a packet of information then rotated the computer monitor so Caiden could watch some downloaded pictures and films of the woman he would become. The woman was the wife of the man Caiden needed to gather information from—not the subject of the investigation, but his friend.

He spent the next hour intently studying the films, memorizing how the woman moved and talked. Then, Caiden nodded and retrieved the dress, shoes, and underwear Zander had put in the closet. Zander said he had gotten them from the woman when he convinced her to go off on a trip to visit her family. Bribery or fear of prison could make almost anyone help the organization when necessary.

Taking the clothes, Caiden went into the lavatory down the hall, morphed into an exact replica of the woman, donned the dress, and returned. Then he went through the information in the packet, committing it to memory. “Okay,” he said when he finished, “I’m as ready as I can be, considering none of the photos show her totally naked. Although the ones in a bikini helped.”

Zander handed Caiden the keys to the woman’s home, and her car, telling Caiden where it was parked.

After Zander wished him “God speed”, Caiden took off.

Two mornings later, Caiden returned to Zander’s office—as the woman. He had gotten the needed information, but at a cost. His—well her—arm was in a cast.

“Someone,” Caiden said sourly, “neglected to tell me the man is an abuser, especially when it comes to s*x. Inflicting pain turns him on. Still…It did give me the key to getting the goods on his friend. The man you’re really after. When he broke my arm he went from abuser to bawling child, swearing he’d do anything to make it up to me so that I, his ‘darling’ wife, wouldn’t leave him again.” Caiden smiled sardonically. “So I asked. He didn’t want to but I insisted and in the end he gave up the information, papers, discs, the whole nine yards. After that, he took me to his personal doctor, who wasn’t that surprised to see me—well, me the wife. I think,” Caiden said tightly, “we need to do something about the man, as well as about our subject. For his wife’s sake.”

Zander agreed, and called the organization’s doctor to tell him they were on their way to his office. A necessity, since Caiden couldn’t morph back to himself until the cast had been removed. Caiden got his clothes, which he’d left behind two days earlier, and while they drove to the doctor’s, Zander debriefed Caiden.

As he was one of the very few who knew what Caiden was, the doctor cut the cast off the ‘woman’s’ arm then waited until Caiden had morphed back to himself and dressed before putting a fresh cast on it.

When they left, heading back to Zander’s home, Zander asked Caiden how long it would take for his arm to heal.

“According to the doctor who originally took care of it, about six weeks. Of course he said that because he thought I was a normal human. In actuality, I suspect a week at the most.”

“I’ll give you two weeks before bringing you in on another job,” Zander replied. “Just to be on safe side.”

“Thanks,” Caiden replied dryly. “I can use the time to finally do something about my unfinished basement.”

“Caiden…”

“Just kidding. I know it takes two hands to put up drywall and lay carpeting.”

“You could hire someone, you know,” Zander pointed out.

“Now where’s the fun in that?”

When they got to the house, Zander asked if Caiden wanted someone to drive him home. Since it was Caiden’s left arm that was broken, and his car wasn’t a stick-shift, he declined the offer. After Zander congratulated him again on a job well done, Caiden took off for home.

* * * *

For the first couple of days, Caiden actually did as ordered and took it easy. By day three, he was getting cabin fever so, remembering his idea about getting a pet—to wit, a cat—to keep him company, he went to the nearest animal shelter.

“Holy s**t,” Caiden muttered when one of the assistants at the shelter took him into the room holding the cats. It was large, with aisles and aisles of cages. “Why so many?”

“Because stupid people won’t spay or neuter their pets,” the woman replied with some asperity. “Since we’re a no-kill shelter…” She sighed.

Caiden understood her frustration as he wandered from cage to cage. There were cats of all sizes and ages, most of them looking at him with what, to him, seemed like yearning.

Then he turned the corner and saw a large black cat cowering at the back of its cage.

“What’s with him?” he asked the woman.

“He was feral when he was captured, and obviously had been abused. Physically, he’s healed, but mentally, emotionally, not yet. He’s very cautious about interacting with anyone, as you can see.”

Caiden knelt in front of the cage, sticking a finger through the bars while watching the cat. It eyed him, and the finger, dubiously. Then, very slowly, the cat got to his feet and crept forward, stopping just inches away from the bars.

“Good boy,” Caiden said softly, wiggling his finger. He glanced at the sign on the cage door. “Good boy, Blackie.” How mundane. If he was my cat he’d be…Panther? Because he looks like one. Or Stygian? Maybe.

Blackie finally got close enough that Caiden could touch him. He purred low for a moment, then much to the obvious surprise of the woman—as Caiden saw when he looked up at her—Blackie lay down. Caiden eased another finger through the bars, scratching behind Blackie’s ear. The cat’s purrs deepened.

“I think you have a friend,” the woman said hopefully.

“May I hold him?” Caiden asked. When she opened the door, Caiden cautiously reached inside to pick up Blackie. The cat tensed momentarily then allowed Caiden to hold him. Caiden stood, petting Blackie’s head, and the cat curled into his chest. “I’ll take him,” Caiden said. He almost laughed when the woman replied, “Thank God.”

Fifteen minutes later, Caiden had put two bags containing food, dishes, litter, and a litter box into the trunk of his car. Then he went back inside to get…“Yeah, I’m renaming you,” he said to the cat, who was peering warily at him from inside a carrying case. “How do you feel about Stygian?”

For a moment it seemed as if the cat was considering the name. Then he meowed softly.

“Okay, Stygian it is. Or Styge for short.” Caiden thanked the woman for all her help before taking Styge out to the car.