Read Online Catnip by J.S. Frankel - Free Book Online

obstacle.
    Anastasia—she had to be Russian, he thought.
Yet she spoke perfect English with no trace of an accent. Well, she
could have been born in the States and someone could have given her
that name. “Do you know where you’re from?”
    Her smile disappeared and she slowly shook
her head. “No.” She bit her lip as she struggled to get the details
out. “All I remember is wooden walls, bright lights, and something
in the room.”
    Her answer confused him. “You mean
someone , don’t you?”
    “No,” she answered sharply. “I mean
some thing .”
    Anastasia fell silent and he edged in a
little closer to the bars. She came over and slowly reached out to
touch him on his arm. It was a curious gesture on her part, her
fingers surprisingly soft with a hint of iron under the skin and
fur. Once again, he felt a tiny thrill run up and down his
spine.
    “I am sorry I hit you, okay?” Her
voice sounded contrite. “I got scared when I didn’t know who you
were and then I saw the equipment. It…reminded me of…”
    She blinked as if trying to retrieve the
information, and then shook her head. “I can’t remember.” She
withdrew her arm, groomed her face and shoulders, and then flipped
her hair back.
    “Did you say before that you were a
scientist? You’re sort of young.” A quick laugh followed and her
tone became a little warmer. “I guess I’m pretty young, too.”
    Her touch flustered him. This was about the
longest he’d ever spoken with a girl without either sweating
buckets or saying something stupid. “I, uh, I’m studying
transgenes. I’m not a scientist, but my father was…”
    Anastasia stiffened and her gaze went to the
door. Harry turned around and saw Farrell standing there, his
eyebrows arched in a gesture of mild surprise. He wondered how long
the agent had been watching. “I see she can talk,” Farrell said in
a slightly condescending manner. “Maybe having you around here is a
good thing, kid.”
    I’m not a kid, Harry thought angrily, but
held it all in. “Did you find out anything?”
    The agent shook his head. “No, we don’t have
any leads. This is our only lead.” He regarded Anastasia with a
certain amount of wariness. “If I let you out, are you going to be
nice?” He tapped the Taser on his belt with one hand, and with the
other he indicated his pistol.
    “That depends,” she answered in a cool
voice.
    “It depends on what?”
    She stared hard at the agent, and for a
change he blinked first. “On whether you tell me what you know. Oh, and my name is Anastasia, not Miss Kitty. Do we have that
straight?”
    Farrell nodded. “We do.”
    It all seemed fair enough.
     
    Anastasia came out of the cell slowly,
sniffed the air cautiously as if testing it for contaminants or
other dangers, and after finding none, settled down and took a seat
on the cot. “So, your name is Anastasia?” Farrell asked.
    “It seems like it is. I can’t remember my
last name.”
    She offered nothing else. Farrell took a deep
breath and told her how the authorities had found her two days ago.
He related all the facts as he knew them, and after he’d finished,
she shook her head and said, “I don’t remember how I got here. I
remember the homeless guys in the alley, I remember the police
jumping me and holding me down, and when I woke up, the first thing
I saw was the cell.”
    He eyed her curiously. “Do you think like a
cat?”
    Anastasia glared at him and her voice rose in
anger. “That’s a pretty dumb question. I may have fur, but just
because I look like this doesn’t mean I have the overwhelming
desire to climb a tree or chase mice. I also can’t communicate with
other cats, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she added.
    “Well, it had crossed my mind,” Farrell said
in a mild tone.
    “Let it cross out,” she snapped back. “I’m a
girl…just a furry one.”
    She fell silent after her outburst and
withdrew into a tiny ball on the cot, her legs tucked up under her.
The