A Very Meowy Christmas (Virtue Shifters Book 6) Read online

  A VERY MEOWY CHRISTMAS

  A VIRTUE SHIFTERS NOVELLA

  ZOE CHANT

  A VERY MEOWY CHRISTMAS

  Copyright © 2022 by Zoe Chant

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover Art: Ellen Million Graphics

  Created with Vellum

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  A Note from Zoe Chant

  Teaser: Gladiator Bear by Murphy Lawless

  CHAPTER 1

  Chrissy Sloan believed in stopping to smell the roses.

  Of course, it being December and there being two feet of snow on the ground in upstate New York, roses were in somewhat short supply.

  On the other hand, there was a bobcat kitten playing in a snowfield, and that was close enough. Chrissy pulled over—the drive home to Virtue could wait a while—and leaned on her Jeep's steering wheel, a smile pulled across her face. The kitten, like all babies, was ridiculous. It balanced on a log, slipped, and disappeared in a heap of snow before emerging with one giant pounce back up to the log.

  It fell off the other side, and Chrissy laughed out loud. The Jeep's windows were closed, so she didn't have to worry about scaring it off, but she did take out her phone to film a few seconds of it bouncing around with a puff of snow on top of its head. The late afternoon sun glowed gold across the snow, casting blue shadows beneath the fallen log and from the ragged-edged forests surrounding the field.

  It looked like there was only one baby-sized set of footprints in the snow. Probably nothing to be concerned about, but Chrissy sat in the Jeep, shivering occasionally as she watched the little cat play. She would feel better if it either headed into the woods, or if an adult appeared to take responsibility for the kitten. Bobcats weren't endangered in the area, but that didn't mean she wanted to leave a kitten out there on its own.

  She could just about hear her father's chuckle, like she'd voiced the thought aloud and he had responded. You're soft-hearted, Chrissy, he would say. Maybe even too soft-hearted to be a vet. Some parts of this job will break your heart.

  He'd been right about that, but she was just about done with her veterinary degree anyway, and would be volunteering at the Virtue clinic over the Christmas holidays, just like she'd done every year since she was old enough to hold a door open and comfort a scared animal. She'd been doing it her whole life, and loved every minute of it.

  The kitten was getting that wobbly-legged walk that tired babies did, and its adult still hadn't shown up to bring it home. It was getting dark, too: Chrissy had been there for a couple hours by now. The sensible thing to do was leave it alone so its parents could find it. Chrissy hadn't seen any indications of a bobcat being hit by a car, so its parent was probably fine.

  Probably.

  She got out of the Jeep and climbed on its hood, trying to see farther in the failing light. There really weren't any other footprints, even at the edge of the woods. Just the baby's, and it was meowing with increasing pathos. Chrissy said, "Shoot," aloud, and then, feeling like that wasn't strong enough language, muttered, "Heck. Darn," which satisfied her urge to swear, or at least amused her.

  The kitten looked like it was six months old or so. Big floppy paws, absurdly large ears, soft spots everywhere. Its parent should be around: bobcat kittens usually stayed with their mother for up to a year. Nothing good was suggested by a six-month-old baby out on its own. Chrissy said, "Heck," again, and went to get the TNR cage from the back of the Jeep. It was large enough for a medium-sized dog, if necessary, but lay flat unless assembled, so it wasn't inconvenient to have on hand. She didn't know how many feral cats she'd safely trapped for neutering and releasing over the years. Lots. And several foxes, and, in fact, a few dogs, which was why she'd upgraded to one big enough to trap them safely.

  She was probably over-reacting. The kitten was fine. Bobcats had to spend hours hunting, and left their kittens alone for all that time.

  But not usually out in the open. Safe in dens, yeah. But in a field big enough to grow crops in, not so much.

  She would leave it up to the kitten. If it went into the safe-catch cage, then she would take it to the clinic, check it out for injury, and release it back here in the morning. If it didn't, well, she would just assume it was okay. Mucking with nature more than that was irresponsible.

  It only took a few seconds to set the trap up, creep out into the snow near the edge of the field, and put it down. Chrissy had half a peanut butter and jelly sandwich left from lunch, which wasn't exactly the most cat-catching-friendly food she could have used, but beggars couldn't be choosers. She left the sandwich in the trap and backed off to the Jeep, realizing she was prepared to wait all night, if necessary. Either the kitten would get trapped, or its parent would arrive, and all would be well.

  Or she would nearly run out of gas and have to drive into Virtue after all. She was doing her best to conserve fuel by shutting the Jeep's engine off until she got cold, and only keeping it on long enough to warm up again, but it would help if the kitten's parent would put in an appearance. She texted the clinic with a warning that she might be coming by, and her family with a note that she was running late, and sat to see what would happen first.

  Two minutes later a bobcat kitten was in the trap, gnawing peanut butter and jelly. Chrissy laughed and went to get it, saying, "I guess PBJ is better for trapping cats than I thought," as she lifted the trap and carried it to the back of the Jeep. The kitten didn't even care that it swung around a little as she carried it, didn't mind her putting a blanket over the cage to keep it calm, and didn't bother to yowl when the vehicle started up. Chrissy said, "Don't worry, mellow kitty," anyway, and spent the rest of the drive home to Virtue murmuring reassurances to a kitten who didn't seem to need them.

  The Virtue Veterinary and Animal Rescue Clinic had been in the same place for more than thirty years, just west of the high school. The sign over its doors was faded, but had the air of love it had been hand-painted with all those years ago, and a placard in the window said if it's an emergency, always call, with her Dad's phone number listed on it. The lights were out right now—it was after eight, three days before Christmas—but Chrissy smiled at the quiet building anyway. That was her whole childhood, right there. Call if it's an emergency. Dr. Sloan had always been available, both for the pet-owners of Virtue, and for his youngest daughter.

  She unlocked the front door, calling, "Hello?" even though it was dark. No one answered, so she went to get the trap from the back of the Jeep. She was more tired than she'd thought, though, because the trap weighed a ton now. She left the blanket over the top, not wanting to wake a sleeping kitten if she didn't have to, and staggered inside to bring it to one of the examination rooms. She could, and did, navigate the place in the dark, although obviously actually checking the kitten over for injuries was going to take lights. "I'm good," she said under her breath, grinning at herself, "but I'm not that good."

  She wasn't good enough to find the leather gloves that were a must for handling wild animals in the dark, though. Chrissy flicked a light on, squinting at the sudden brightness, and called her Dad. He picked up with a, "Are you going to be later still? Your mother's getting agitated."

  "No, I'm at the clinic. I found a stray bobcat kitten in a field and there was no sign of an adult nearby." Chrissy put the phone on speaker, set it beside the trap and pulled the gloves on, then went to find a leather apron, too. She did not want to lose a fight with a wildcat tonight. "I'm going to check to make sure it's okay and then I'll come home."

  "You want me to come over?" Her father sounded hopeful.

  Chrissy grinned at the phone. She was fairly certain he liked animals better than people, but then, so did she, a lot of the time. And at Christmas the house was always extra full, not just of immediate family, but cousins, spouses, dating partners, children, and a higher-than-usual number of pets, too. Pure chaos. That was home at the Sloan household at the holidays. "No, I'm good," she promised. "I'll only be a few minutes."

  She tugged the cover off the trap as she spoke, then squeaked and lurched back a step, both hands covering her mouth.

  "Chrissy? Everything okay?"

  "Haaahnnn." The high sound tried to be a word, but she couldn't quite make it one.

  There was a baby in the trap, all right, but it wasn't a bobcat baby. It was a human toddler, sleeping soundly in a space just barely big enough for her. Peanut butter smeared from the corner of her mouth to her ear, and she appeared to be completely content snoozing in a trap meant for a large cat, not a two-year-old human.

  She was, thank goodness, dressed in sensible warm winter gear, from a fluffy bright red coat to snow pants and big boots. Chrissy couldn't imagine she would have been comfortable enough to sleep in anything less. Then again, Chrissy wouldn't have thought a TNR cage was comfortable enough to sleep in anyway. The little girl must have been awfully tired.

  "Chrissy?" Her father's v
oice over the phone was increasingly alarmed. "Chrissy, baby, is everything all right? I'm getting my shoes on."

  "Dad?" Chrissy put the phone to her ear as she stared down at the sleeping toddler in the trap cage. "Dad, who in Virtue is a bobcat shifter?"

  There was a brief pause before her father said, “I’ll find out,” and hung up, leaving Chrissy to gaze down at the sleeping little girl with quiet astonishment.

  She had always known about Virtue’s shifters, obviously. You couldn’t—in Chrissy’s opinion, anyway—be the veterinarian’s daughter and not know about them. Not if you wanted to be a vet yourself, at least. Chrissy wasn’t actually sure if her brothers did know about the local shifter population, because it wasn’t the kind of question you went around asking, not even of family. She’d understood that from a young age, when she’d still been so little that her ‘job’ at the clinic was sitting in the reception area, reassuring nervous animals, and, just as often, their nervous owners.

  She still remembered the day that Donna Arnesen's parents had come in with uncertain expressions and a small, fluffy owlet in their arms. The poor little creature had broken its wing, and Dr. Sloan had a reputation for working well with wild animals. Mr. & Mrs. Arnesen had let Chrissy draw a very careful picture of a healed-up, flying owl on the cast.

  Two days later, six-year-old Donna herself had come to school with the exact same cast, with Chrissy’s drawing on it and all.

  From then on, Chrissy had understood Virtue wasn’t just a nice little town. Virtue was magic. Bit by bit she’d come to learn about its secret history, mostly from Donna, who was still her best friend. She’d learned about how Virtue’s shifters had settled there, making a safe haven for themselves and their fated mates.

  That was the most magical thing of all, in Chrissy’s opinion. People who could shift into animals were obviously mind-bogglingly incredible, but instantly knowing they’d found their one true love? That sounded like a dream come true. Dating was hard and people were much less predictable than animals. Effortlessly finding the right person would be so much easier than struggling through awkward questions and terrible first dates, never mind the awful moments when it was clear chemistry just didn’t, couldn’t, and wouldn’t ever exist.

  Getting a toddler out of a cage meant for a cat was not, as it turned out, particularly easy. Chrissy worked on squirming the little girl out without waking her up, which involved trying to gently lift an arm up so she could tug her free. The exit was large enough, but getting her own hands inside to rearrange the girl was harder, and the little girl woke up in giggles. “Tickwy!”

  Chrissy wrinkled her nose, but smiled. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to tickle you. I don’t suppose you could turn into a kitty for a second and just walk out of there?”

  The child had enormous hazel-gold eyes and a momentarily uncertain expression. “I not posed to do dat in fwont of peepw.”

  A giggle of Chrissy’s own burst out. “I bet not, but do you remember me from the field? You were already a kitty then, so I already know you can shift. I won’t tell anybody.” She crossed her heart. “Promise.”

  She received two contemplative blinks in response before the girl apparently decided that her logic was sound. She shifted into the bobcat kitten Chrissy had met in the field, walked out of the cage, jumped to the floor, and turned back into a little girl. “Whewe’s my dada?”

  Chrissy smiled. “He’s on the way. I’m Chrissy. Do you want to tell me your name?”

  “Sandy.”

  “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Sandy. Are you hungry? I probably have some snacks around here.”

  “Yes pease!”

  The apple and cheese Chrissy got from her bag was clearly not the kind of snack Sandy was hoping for, but she sat in the spinning receptionist’s chair and ate them with enthusiasm anyway. Chrissy guessed hunger made the best sauce.

  A panicked knock at the door sent Chrissy to it, expecting to find a worried parent. Instead a tearful teenager fell through the door, cried, “Sandy!” in bone-shaking relief, and collapsed into Chrissy’s arms, sobbing. “I just went to the bathroom! She was in the house, I swear. We were all bundled up to go outside and play, and I had to pee and ran to the bathroom but I didn’t know she was tall enough to open the door and I couldn’t find any footprints and there were bobcat tracks and I was afraid she’d been eaten—!”

  Sandy yelled, “It’s otay, I gots an appwe!” and, as Chrissy turned toward her, held the fruit up with triumph. Then she yelled, “Dada!” and fell out of her chair to rush toward the door. Chrissy, feeling like she was on some kind of fast-spinning carnival ride, turned back the other way, following Sandy with her gaze, then lifting her eyes to see the worried, relieved face of the most absurdly handsome man she’d ever laid eyes on.

  He was tall, broad-shouldered, and lightly bearded in a woodsman kind of way, which up until this very moment had never been particularly Chrissy’s thing. It was suddenly very strongly, completely, and thoroughly her thing. He had the tanned look of a white guy who spent a lot of time outdoors, and who currently wore an unzipped winter jacket over a t-shirt and jeans that clung to his thighs in positively scandalous ways. His boots were big enough to make Chrissy decide very hastily that he must have big…feet, too….

  She felt a blush—or something—start somewhere around her bellybutton, and heat rushed through her entire self before some tiny part of her brain that still functioned reminded her that if he had a two-year-old, there was probably another woman in the picture already.

  She had never gone from so hopeful to so crushed so quickly. And that was ridiculous. Especially since the idea here was to return a lost child to her parents, not for Chrissy to suddenly lust over a hot young DILF. Sandy’s father bent to scoop her up and cradled her into a fierce but gentle hug, his head bent over hers a moment before he lifted his gaze to meet Chrissy’s.

  His eyes, like Sandy’s, were an astonishing hazel gold, and his whole soul seemed to be in them as he said, “Thank you.”

  CHAPTER 2

  Being a single parent was way harder than Mason Rutlidge had ever imagined, and he’d never thought it was going to be easy.

  He had not, however, anticipated his babysitter calling in a panic to say Sandy had somehow gotten out and couldn’t be found. The kid—Milo—had been sure she couldn’t reach the doorknob, and honestly, Mason thought Milo was right.

  What Milo didn’t know, though, was that Sandy could change into a kitten. Mason had tried so hard to kitten-proof the house, but he must have missed something somewhere. So instead of spending the afternoon buying furniture and groceries for his new house just outside of Virtue, New York, he’d spent it prowling the woods, yowling for a kitten who wouldn’t answer, or shifting back to human to see if someone had left a message about having found her.

  She’s fine, his own bobcat told him every time Mason started to panic. The big cat’s confidence was so overwhelming that Mason accepted it with each calm reminder. We got into lots of trouble when we were young, the bobcat said mellowly. Even when we were as little as Sandy. Bobcats are meant for woods and winter. She’s fine.

  The man who had eventually called had the most reassuring voice Mason had ever heard, and he was so grateful for that. Sandy was at the veterinarian’s office, safe and sound. Mason called Milo and the terrified kid promised to meet him there. It wasn’t necessary for Mason’s sake, but he thought Milo probably needed to see for himself that Sandy was okay.

  He hadn’t realized how worried he was, until he walked into the vet’s office and saw Sandy spinning herself sick on a chair. His stomach dropped through the floor and his knees wanted to stop working. All he could think, as he scooped his daughter up, was that it was one thing to be confident of a bobcat kitten’s resilience in the wild, and a whole ‘nother thing to see that she was, indeed, safe. Mason has been getting into those kind of scrapes his whole life and hadn’t, right until that very moment, realized how much he’d probably put his parents through. He made a note to apologize to them.