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The Cat's Meow By Lykanos Wulfheart

The wooden door creaked open, black letters on the cloudy glass pane revealing its purpose: "Frank Dillen, Private Investigator". Aunt Maybell walked in, groaning at the sorry sight. "You've been drinking again, haven't you?" The lump of a man behind the desk didn't stir, sleeping off his morning indulgence. "Francis," came the sharp command, newspaper slamming down on the work surface.

With a start, Frank was up. His brown locks were smashed from his nap and a trickle of drool still clung to the side of his mouth. "Maybell? Wha-"

"You know I don't like you drinking, especially on the job. I took this position because my niece believed in you. You were the top of your class with a bright future, but look at you now. Put that bottle away and clean yourself up. There's a client here to see you."

Smoothing out his hair, he couldn't help but gaze at the picture frame, face down on the desk. The image was hidden, but the memories were still staring him in the face. Maybell tapped on a corner of the overturned picture as she talked. "It's been over a year. I'm not saying to forget her. Christ, we both know that's easier said than done. You do need to move past it, though. Our little Mary would not want this for you." Straightening back up, she took on a more professional tone as she removed the wrinkles from her monotone shirt and blouse. "Sober up. I'll send your client in in a few minutes." Turning to leave, she quickly shot back, "Oh, and Francis. Take the case. You need the work and we need the money."

The slam of the door emphasized her point as Frank was left alone to ready himself for the visitor. Scooping up the newspaper, he looked at the date before tossing it into the trash with the empty whisky bottle. "May 13, 1923. Just over a year," he mumbled to himself as the door opened again, the client sheepishly lingering as it closed behind her.

Frank didn't consider himself racist, but he had never had a black client before. The thought of it was a little bizarre to say the least, but her apparel was higher end, a nice white shirt and black blouse, similar to his secretary's. Beyond that, she had an elegant flat-topped hat, white with designs above the brim. It took her a moment to build up the courage to speak; playing with her delicate ebony hands as her eyes never left the floor.

"Mister Dillen," she said, eyes still low. "I've come to seek your aid in finding my mistress. She's been missing for almost a week now. Sally Burlow."

Leaning back in his chair, he tried to place the name. "Burlow... why is that name familiar?"

Glancing up briefly, the woman shifted her weight before answering. "Her daddy, Vince Burlow, owns the largest cotton plantation this side of Georgia."

Frank interlocked his fingers as he rocked forward, leaning his elbows on the desk. "Ah ha. There we go. Did he send you? Oh, where are my manners? Please, take a seat, miss... Sorry, I didn't catch your name."

Gliding through the room, she took a seat before responding. Hands in her lap, she continued to look as shy as she did by the door. "Debbie Highwater, sir. I work in his kitchen, but he didn't send me. Mister Burlow says there is nothing wrong, but the staff knows otherwise. Miss Sally has gone and disappeared."

"And why do you say that?" His question was genuine curiosity as he could see from her body language that she was concerned for the girl.

"Her things are still at the house, sir, but she's been absent for the last five days. She's a strong willed one, always doing what her daddy says not to, but she's, pardon my saying so, sir, but she's spoiled to the core. She'd never run off. Some of the others have said that they saw her get carried off by a farmhand, but no one knows where she went, not even her daddy. He's tried to deny it, but he gets red in the face when he's lying."

Trying his best not to sound offensive, the P.I. had to ask, "Did she, by chance, favor the boy? Do you know who he was, colored or white? Any information can help."

Shaking her head, Debbie was at a loss. "I can't rightly say. I know some of the boys fancied her, the daughter of such a large inheritance. Beyond that, it's all I know."

"Not a lot to go on." Frank's sigh seemed a bit discomforting, up until he cracked his smile. "Just makes it a challenge, right? If you can pay, I'll take the case. Maybell did cover costs with you, right?"

"She did, sir." Pulling a small envelope out of her handbag, she set it on the desk. As she stood, she replied, "Thank you, sir." Heading to the door, she turned back, one last thing on her mind. "Please be careful, Mister Dillen. Miss Sally isn't the only disappearance we've had. A few of the staff have gone missing. We'd assumed they just up and quit, but what with her being the latest, some of us aren't so sure any more."

Frank's "I'll keep that in mind" was answered with a farewell nod as Debbie left the man to think over his plan of attack. His first step was to look into the missing persons reports. If Debbie was right, the local precinct would have the information he needed. Fortunately for him, he still had friends there.

After hours of poking around, he had made little progress. It wasn't until he visited his old pal, Dan, down at the morgue that he finally found some answers. Dan was usually pretty keen on the gossip while dealing first hand with the bodies. He confirmed that there had been three victims from the Burlow plantation, all men of color, all within the last two weeks, and all by strange animal attacks. The weirdest part is that the chief had locked the records for the three bodies, ordering disposal without a proper autopsy. The curious mortician had heard rumors of payoffs from the landowner, but didn't have proof. If anything, he felt ripped off. Dan hadn't been paid for his silence despite all his work on the assumed cover-up, which made him more than chatty on the subject.

Frank had everything he needed for the day. He'd visit the plantation in the morning, so the rest of the evening was free to drown the sorrows of his past at the shady watering holes of prohibition era Savannah, Georgia. At that he was successful, staggering home in the early hours of the night and blacking out on his couch.

The morning brought him back to the harsh reality of his life. He was alone, out of shape, and a mess. He fixed the one thing he could, showering and dressing up for an official visit to the wealthy Burlow Plantation. It wasn't anything special, but his newish blue Model T took him down the dirt country roads and through the cotton fields with relative ease.

Arriving at the large, white, vine covered estate, Frank was met by a heavier set man in a traditional butler outfit. The bleach white gloves were a sharp contrast to the black overcoat that almost matched his skin. In a poised voice, the man asked, "How may I help you sir. Do you have an appointment?"

"Not yet. Frank Dillen. I'm a private investigator looking into the disappearance of one Sally Burlow."

The butler gave a knowing glance, but never broke his composure. "Follow me, sir. I'll take you to Mister Burlow." As Frank walked, he surveyed the area. A couple of curious farmhands were about it, nothing too suspicious. After entering the house, Frank was told to wait as the butler went to let the head of the household know he had a visitor.

As the P.I. sat, he noticed a suspicious onlooker. "Hello? Can I help you?" The young man just gawked through the open window, hesitant yet curious. An intrigued huff led Frank's question. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about Sally Burlow's disappearance, would you?"

The blue suspendered farmhand shook his head no before asking a question of his own. "Are you an officer? Here to look into all the stuff going on?"

Frank's smirk gave him away. "Sorta. Private investigator. I've heard that a lot of people have been vanishing from here, the latest being a young lady. You know anything about that?"

The boy gave another shake of denial as he was spotted by the butler. The big man gave a dirty look as he blurted out, "Beat it. Back to work. You're not getting paid to gossip." Turning his attention back to the guest, he bowed. "Mister Burlow will see you now. Follow me."

***

Bursting into the small shack, the man in blue suspenders looked spooked. "Grandma, there's a private investigator here looking for Sally. What are we gonna do?"

The wrinkled woman went about her work, unfazed. She looked at bones spread across a piece of colorful cloth while waving a hand back at her grandson. "Patience, Edwin. Patience." After a few minutes, she rose up, hunched dark frame holding a power beyond the frail form. Her voice was forceful and heavy with her African accent. "I did not come from our homeland to let you stay trapped in poverty. Our people are proud warriors, Edwin. We fight for what is ours. If you do not have the stomach..."

Her glare only fueled his resolve. "No, you're right. We've come so far. What must I do?"

Her cackle was ominous as she pulled out a small lion figure from the cabinetry. "Give this to their investigator. I'll deal with him just as I did that chatty washwoman." Edwin's grimace was hidden from her sight, but she could tell that he needed some prodding. "When this is finished, you'll be married to your pale sweetheart. We'll have their money. Their influence. No one will look down on you anymore."

It was just what he needed to hear. Looking over to the sleeping beauty on the floor mat, billowy sky blue nightgown making her seem a princess in waiting, he tucked the trinket into his pocket, puffed up his chest, and strode out of the small shack and back to the manor.

***

Vince Burlow was about what Frank expected. He had a gut much like the investigator, but had 15 more years on him. His high end, light brown business attire put the basic black and white suit under the grey trench coat to shame. Pulling out a gold pocket watch, Vince not only marked the time, he purposely flashed his wealth at the peasant before him. "And how can I help you... Dick? PI? Inspector doesn't quite seem to fit, now, does it?"

Frank nodded, knowing exactly how the tycoon was playing this. Vince was trying to belittle him, intimidate him. Frank had seen it before and it wasn't going to work. "Frank is fine. Mr. Dillen if you prefer. Either way, I'm here about your daughter."

The flinch spoke volumes as Vince went back to pouring himself a drink. "Can I offer you some scotch, Mr. Dillen. I know prohibition has been hard and all, but I won't tell if you won't." Offering the glass, he smiled as his guest gladly accepted. "From my personal reserve. It has a nice smokiness to it, if I do say so myself."

Holding the glass as if to say cheers, Frank took a sip before sitting and returning to the business at hand. "I was contacted by a Miss Debbie Highwater about your daughter's disappearance. I was hoping you could shed some light on the situation."

Having taken a seat himself, the man's cheeks grew red as he laughed. "I'm afraid you're wasting your time. My daughter is a willful one. She likely just ran off with her lover despite my orders forbidding it. There is no kidnapping. She'll likely be back in the next week or so."

Frank's eyebrow perked at the response. "Kidnapping? Who said anything about a kidnapping?"

Mr. Burlow cleared his throat as he adjusted his tie. "I assume that's why Miss Highwater went against my will and hired you. She was talking about disappearances and kidnappings. There has been nothing of the sort around here."

The lies were almost too obvious as the big man fidgeted and turned red, just like Debbie had said he would. "I've also heard that there have been several deaths on the property. Do those not count as disappearances?"

Vince's eyes darted around the room as if he was worried someone may see him. "Oh, those. Terrible business, that. We've had some animal attacks lately. Hired a trapper this morning to take care of it. It was a shame, really."

"Oh?"

The businessman rested his drink on his chair as he spoke, the words more worried than heartbroken. "You haven't heard? Miss Highwater was found dead last night. Probably the same animal that got the others." Getting up, he left the drink as he looked out the window. "I wish you hadn't made your trip out here in vain, but there's really nothing for you to concern yourself with. My Sally will be home soon enough. Call it a father's intuition." Turning back around, the conversation wore heavy on him. "Do you have any children, investigator?"

Chugging the rest of his drink, Frank left the glass behind as he stood. "I do not. My wife died in childbirth last year."

"A shame. Take my word for it. They can be trouble, but you never stop loving them."

Clenching his jaw, Frank was done. He knew what he needed and was ready to get back to work. He didn't want to waste any more time with the man trying to cover something up. "Do you have a telephone, Mr. Burlow?"

"Of course. What proper entrepreneur doesn't these days? William will show you to it." A tip of the hat signified Franks departure. Before he got too far, Vince added, "Oh, and do be careful." The tone was more skittish than it was a threat, the latter of which would have been more comforting.

Frank followed the butler to the rotary phone and spun the finger wheel to call the office. When his secretary picked up, he stated, "Maybell, it's Frank. I need you to call up Danny in the morgue. Have him start the autopsy for Miss Debbie Highwater. Tell him that I think he's right. Something is going down here."

On the way out, he bumped into the gawker from earlier. The young man held out a small, wooden sculpt of a lion, no bigger than a finger. "Sir, I was told to give this to you. It has something to do with all the disappearances."

Frank took the trinket and slowly moved it about his palm. "Any idea what it means?" The farmhand shook his head as he lowered his gaze. "Well," said the P.I., "thanks anyways. Mind if I hold onto this?"

The boy nodded and turned away, heading back to the fields. The silent awkwardness felt suspicious, but, like the wooden idol, it was another mystery to add to the pile. Frank pocketed it as he went back to his car, more questions than answers. "Here's hoping that dame can help me solve her own murder. I'm sure this is all linked somehow."

***

By the time Frank arrived, Dan was just finishing up. "What can you tell me," The private eye asked as soon as he entered the room.

"Well," said the mortician, still poised over the cadaver, "her personal effects are over there." As Frank headed to the pile on the desk, Dan kept talking. "Looks like an animal attack."

Rummaging through the stack, the only thing out of place was a small, painted figurine. Much like the one the boy gave him, it depicted a large predatory cat. Pulling his lion out, he compared the two as he spoke. "Cheetah... or maybe a jaguar?"

With a glance, Dan saw him playing with the items. "Oh, that. I'd like to think jaguar. They're at least native to the Americas. Plus, it's probably what got this one. Come over here and look for yourself."

Dropping the wooden figure and pocketing his own, Frank moved to the victim. He was sure the charms had been made by the same person, the craftsmanship too similar to be coincidence. "Alright, Danny. What am I looking at?"

The corpse had four large claw slashes running diagonally across her chest. Dan ran a finger along one of the gashes. "Looks like a single swipe from a large feline."

"Jesus," exclaimed Frank as he took in the brutality of the wound. "Poor dame."

"She bled out. From what I heard, it was in her own bedroom. It only gets stranger from there." Taking a pause to sigh, Dan went back to it. "If it was a cat, I'd expect to see more. More wounds, and maybe some bites. Just one single swipe doesn't make much sense. Plus..." Pushing at the jagged cut, he took a little pleasure in the other man's disgusted groan. "When a cat digs in, it's going to pull the flesh out, away from the body. These were... Well, it's almost like they were pulled into the victim."

Shaking his head, Frank was confused. "What does that even mean?"

"Either she ate a jaguar and it really wanted out," Dan joked, "or it's some kind of ritualistic killing. Not an animal at all."

"Thanks, Dan. I owe you one."

Frank was off as the coroner shouted after him. "Find me some proper whisky and we'll call it even. None of that bathtub hooch going around."

Peeking back into the room, the suave sleuth was grinning. "I'll save you a bottle. I promise."

***

Frank knew his next stop should have been for research, but the thought of whiskey weighed on him. Between the plantation owner bringing up his lost family and the gore of his client, he instead stopped by a local grocery store that happened to illegally sell alcohol out the back end. Dropping one bottle off to his friend at the morgue, he sampled his own whiskey on his way home.

Not even twenty minutes in his apartment and his bottle was done. It wasn't long after that he was passing out in his chair... that was until his heart started racing. He could feel the sweat pouring down his face. Wiping at his cheek revealed much more than expected. His normal stubble had grown soft, almost like fur. In a matter of seconds, he could see why. His face pushed out, golden fuzz carpeting his skin. The muzzle didn't stop until it was the full length of a lion's snout, whiskers shooting out the sides. The shock was short lived as his face seemed to move all by itself, his new fangs chomping down on his wrist. His scream sounded more a roar as the pain seared through his arm and his face. Another savage bite was all he could bare, the intensity of the wound blacking out the world around him.

***

Frank awoke in the hospital, arm wrapped yet still sore. The nurse said that he was lucky. Other tenants heard him scream and had the landlord not come to investigate, he very well may have bled out. The bites were fairly deep, but it could have been worse. A few inches up and he'd have died for sure.

When he was left alone, he couldn't help but check his face. "What the hell was that?" he said to himself, all signs pointing to him being perfectly human. On his pile of clothes sat his belongings, among them the totem. He couldn't help but look it over as he considered the possibility.

"Voodoo." It wasn't Frank that said it. No, it was one of the nurses, a darker skinned woman standing in the doorway.

She had Frank's full attention. "Excuse me? Did you say... 'voodoo'?"

"Yes, I most certainly did." She seemed a little spooked by the object, not moving any closer.

"How can you tell?"

The woman nodded at the figure before answering. "My sister deals with that kind of sorcery. She helps people get rid of it."

"Voodoo?" He still didn't quite believe it. He was pretty sure he'd been hallucinating, but that didn't explain the wounds.

"Yes sir. She's a voodoo priestess. Lives here in town. I could give you her address if you like."

"That'd be swell." Holding the figure in her direction got a flinch from the lady. "How can you tell it's black magic?"

As the nurse slowly shifted her weight, she replied, "My sister. She's shown me one before. Said it's for holding a beast's soul. I honestly don't know anything beyond that."

Moving off the bed and grabbing his clothes, he hid the wooden carving in his pants as they dangled over his arm. "If you're right, you may very well have just saved my life. If I could get that address, it'll be my next stop. I promise you that." He still didn't believe, but a voodoo practitioner would be the perfect person to ask about the source of such an object. For now, it seemed to be his best lead and he wasn't about to pass up an opportunity to follow up on it. After getting back into his clothes, he followed the woman to her desk where she wrote down the name and location of her sister's shop.

Stopping at his apartment just long enough to shower and change into a less damaged shirt, he was off to find himself a priestess. It didn't come as much of a surprise that he wound up in the slums. The house was easy to find, the outside a nice white compared to the more rundown buildings nearby. The inside seemed more chaotic to him. Herbs and trinkets hung everywhere. Jars of various powders and grains sat on the shelves. To an outsider, it looked like an organized mess. He was still taking in the room when a white clothed woman walked through the beaded doorway. "Hello and how may I help you? Love potion? Herbal remedy? Maybe a reading of your future?"

Frank wasn't convinced yet. He was sure this was all a show, something to part the superstitious from their hard earned cash. "Are you Chizaba? Your sister thought you could help me."

With a gracious nod, she talked in a mystic tone. "I will do what I can to help."

Reaching into his pocket, he said, "When she saw this, she said it was for voodoo." Producing the lion figure, he noticed her surprise. "I'm a private investigator. My client was killed a couple days ago and had a similar one on her. A jaguar, I think. I was given this one by a farmhand that said it had something to do with my case."

Her milk chocolate hand moved over his, hovering an inch above the totem. With closed eyes, she explained, "This is a powerful dark enchantment. It's used to bind the soul of an animal so that the invoker can unleash it on their victim later." Her eyes popped open, worry filling them as she stared at the man. "This one is empty. Who did you find it on?"

"Empty? What does that mean?"

"It means that someone has been or will be killed by the soul that was trapped within. From the looks of it, a lion."

Rolling up his sleeve, he showed the bandage. "I think I was the victim."

Checking at the injury, the priestess was amazed. "How did you survive? These things almost never fail."

"Well," he said as he rubbed his head. "Not entirely sure. I saw myself bite my arm, and then I blacked out. I was sure it was the booze until I woke up in the hospital."

"That alcohol saved your life. The way this works is that the spirit of the beast shares your body. They don't realize they're bound to the victim, trying to rip free. I'm pretty sure you intoxicated your lion friend."

Shaking his head, he didn't want to accept it. "So you're saying that I'm being possessed by a lion? There's no way."

"Well, since it hasn't killed you yet, that means it's still in there. Are you sure you want to take that risk? I can't get rid of it. Only the one who cursed you can. I can, however, commune with the spirit and keep you alive until then. I'll only charge you for the hour. What do you say?"

"You'll charge me for the hour? What kind of hocus pocus are you trying to rope me into?"

Looking a little insulted, she crossed her arms. "I run a stand-up business here. I use voodoo to help the afflicted and ease people's troubles. I have bills to pay, too, you know. Now do you want my help or not? That thing inside you will strike again. Do you want it on its terms or your own?"

Frank tapped a fist on the counter as he debated his options. "Alright. Fine. But I still don't believe in any of this."

"Oh, you will."

"And I could use your help with the case, so I'll pay for the hour."

Her grin seemed suspiciously snide as she pointed to the back room. "This way."

Taking a seat at the table behind the shroud, he felt like she was about to perform some gypsy smoke and mirrors bit. Chizaba moved around the room, lighting incense and grabbing a small vial. As she moved to put the blood on his forehead, the man flinched away. "Oh, don't worry. It's just chicken blood. I need it to form a link to the soul within you. You'll be able to see everything, but the lion will likely take control for a little while. Try to stay calm."

Drawing a symbol on his head, she told him to put his hands on the circular table as she made her way to the seat on the far side. As she started her chant in a language he didn't understand, he felt his stomach sink. Slowly, he could feel his control slipping, some invisible force locking up his body. As his form spasmed, his hands quickly changed, swelling and furring over. They slapped the wood, claws shooting from his lion paws. He wanted to scream in terror, but his mouth was not under his control. Instead, his head dipped down, then shot back to attention, fiery feline eyes staring down the woman. A rumbling growl parted his lips, defying his will.

The woman seemed unfazed by the change in the investigator. "Can you understand me?"

The voice came as a deep, throaty snarl, almost more lion than man, yet very well spoken. "I know your words, human."

"Good." She tried to keep her tone even and unthreatening. "Do you know why you're here?"

His eyes had been blue when he entered, but they now glared a savage green, bloodlust burning as he talked. "I was ripped from my home, my pride. I will get back... and this weak flesh will not stop me!" Digging his claws into the wood, the lion's hands lurched up, shredding open the shirt and raking across the skin. Small lines of crimson pooled in protest as the beast roared.

"That will not free you." Her tone was challenging, fierce. It gained the predator's attention. "You have been bound to that body. You no longer have one of your own. If it dies, so do you."

The lion's fingers flexed defiantly as he snarled, long and angry. "I will return to my pride. It matters not to me if I must take this body to do it. I will have my life back and this puny human will not stop me!"

The woman's stare was equally primal as she commanded. "You two will share the body until that man can free your trapped soul."

The rage shifted to a wicked glee as the beast had other plans. "Human, there will be no share. This body is mine. I will do with it as I please and I, alone, will have my life back. The human who had it before gave up on his life already. It will be mine soon enough."

Chanting again, Chizaba slammed the table and the lion was gone, fingers shrinking back to pink, long digits and Frank's eyes brightening back to blue. With a start, he shoved away from the table, knocking over the chair in his haste. "What in God's name was that?"

"The good news," she said in a false comforting tone, "is that the lion will no longer try to kill you." Her sigh was far from comforting as she continued. "The bad news is that he was a strong willed one. I've never seen one quite that determined."

Frank was still in shock, confused fear plastered to his face. "Wh-what does that even mean?"

The priestess closed her eyes as she rested her elbows on the wooden surface. "It means that you need to hurry and find the one who cursed you. The lion will only get stronger, and as he does, you'll lose your body to him."

Picking his chair back up, he asked, "And if it wins?"

Another sigh let him know it was bad. "If the lion wins, he'll change your body into his own. If you're lucky, you'll fade away. If you're not..." her disappointed head shake spoke volumes as she finished. "You'll be trapped in his body for the rest of his life."

"Well, we're not going to let that happen." Pulling out the carving, he tapped it on the table. "If I pay you for your time, do you think you could join me out at the Burlow plantation this evening?"

"I could. Is that where this dark practitioner is staying?"

Pocketing the lion trinket, he wore a sure smile. "I'm pretty sure of it. If not, I know Mr. Burlow knows. She must have him under some magic whammie, too."

"Pay for my time and my fare out and back and you have my word. I'll help you fight this evil with all of my power."

Pulling out his wallet, he shelled out enough for the visit, the cab, and two extra hours. "If it goes long, I'll compensate you for it. Here, if you have a pen, I'll give you the address. Just need to visit my office and let my secretary in on the details. I'll meet you there, let's say seven o'clock tonight?"

"I'll be there. I have pen and paper in front. Thank you for your business, mister..."

"Dillen. Frank Dillen. And thank you for your help. After all that voodoo in there, I'm sure you've already saved my life."

"Let's make sure to keep you alive, Mr. Dillen."

***

After yet another change of clothes, the shredded shirt tossed to the trash, Frank made his way back to the office. Filling Maybell in, he was very careful to skirt the part about being possessed by a lion. He did, however, tell her all about his leads, the ties into the occult, and what he planned to do. Tonight, he was going to rattle Vince Burlow's cage and force him to talk. Frank was sure that the plantation was the key. The girl was likely not far off, the hostage of some disgruntled worker.

Aunt Maybell could see how important this was to Frank, but, like always, she worried about him. "Make sure to take your revolver. And no drinking. You'll be no use to the girl if you can't keep your wits about you."

A quick scoff and smile only worried his secretary more. "No alcohol. Got it." Popping in and out of his office, he holstered his gun and headed for the bathroom.

On his way, Maybell glared him down. "No alcohol."

He saluted as he closed the door behind. Kicking the seat up, he tossed his coat across the sink and undid his fly. The gasp that followed was startled irritation. "Seriously?" He scowled, waiting for it to change back, but no such luck. The area below his britches remained defiantly feline.

He could hear the lion laughing in the back of his mind. "This body is mine, human. This change is the first of many. You can't stop it."

Suddenly, Frank's mind was overwhelmed by bestial need. He pushed his palms into his temples as he fought at the desperate desire, the scent of passion filling his senses. Closer and closer he was lured to the primitive lust, the animal winning out.

*Knock knock knock*

"Francis, are you okay in there?"

Snapped back to reality, he pulled up his drawers. "Y-yes. Just finishing up." The urges were gone, but the lion's anatomy remained, hidden by the grey fabric. Relieved to be back in control, he mumbled to himself, "Bless you, Maybell, you old bird." More determined than ever, he rushed off, ready to end this.

***

Frank made sure to beat Chizaba by a good half hour. As he stepped out of his car, he was itching for a fight. It took all his resolve not to attack the butler as he approached. "Mister Dillen, welcome back. More questions for Mister Burlow?"

The gruffness of his voice put the hired help on edge. "I know he's hiding something and I intend to find out just what that is."

Leading Frank inside, William asked him to have a seat, but the brute just shoved past, words more a snarl than a sentence. "I know my way."

The butler chased after, composure lost as the thug before him seemed more a monster than a man, savagery showing in how he carried himself. "I must insist you wait. Mister Burlow is a very busy man!"

As Frank burst into the room, it almost seemed that Vince had been battling demons of his own, sweat pouring down his worried face. Forcing himself to regain his lost composure, the plantation owner removed his handkerchief and dabbed at the beads of moisture. He could see the hostility in the other man, but when William stated, "He burst past me, sir. I-," Vince cut him short with a raised hand.

"Thank you, William. That will be all."

"But sir."

Waving off the help, he said flatly, "That will be all," as he turned his attention back to his visitor. "Investigator, how may I be of service this evening?"

Finally getting ahold of his temper, the P.I. fought back a snarl as he spoke, though he could feel his fingers changing, claws poking against his palms. "Cut the bullshit. You know more than you're letting on."

Pocketing his rag, Vince tried to bluff, face still rosy from his earlier dealings. "Mr. Dillen, I have no idea what you're talking about. I've told you all I know."

The lie did not go over well with Frank. His lion's rage peeked through, large, predatory fangs filling his mouth as his lips parted, the growl hungry for blood. His unsheathed claws begged for flesh, twitching in anticipation as the monster hunched forward, poised to attack.

"Mercy," stammered the businessman. "She did this, didn't she?"

Words rumbling with fury, the predator leered at the potbellied prey. "Who is ' she'?"

Vince glanced around, terror in his eyes, but not at the monstrosity before him. His attention bounced around the room as he whimpered, "I can't. She'll kill me if I do. Please..."

A bestial roar preceded his charge. Thick paw pads wrapped into the fancy shirt, holding the pathetic mass in place. "If you don't tell me everything right now , I will kill you. She put a creature inside me and it is taking all my strength not to bite your throat out... so I'd start talking."

"She has my daughter," came the sobbing response, desperate and terrified.

"WHO?"

"Folami! Folami! She came to visit her grandkid a couple weeks ago. Started cursing the workers and threatened me if I didn't give my daughter's hand to her boy!"

The menacing claws tightened into the fabric, pulling tighter as the animal spoke, stubble bristling into a half-formed mane as he boomed, "WHERE?"

"I don't know! Oh God, she knows! She knows I told you!"

Another vicious roar prompted Frank to lift the man off the ground, new muscles rippling with the ease of the task. "I said WHERE?"

"Mr. Dillen," came a commanding feminine voice from the doorway. "You're letting the beast win. It's still your body."

Vince pulled at the arm, not trying to break free, but to get away from the floor. "Keep them away! Please, for the love of God! Her spiders, they're everywhere!"

Frank turned his head and bared his fangs, fighting to regain control. He snapped himself out of the burning desire to kill, but was shocked that the changes remained. Beyond that, he couldn't see the spiders anywhere. "Chi... Chizaba?" Turning around, he kept his hostage dangling. "What is happening to me?"

The white clothed woman hustled in, checking at Vince first. "Your dark practitioner has him entranced."

Frank focused on the situation, "How do we save..." until he noticed the yellow tail tipped with brown dangling behind him and pushing down his pants. "... him?"

Still struggling for extra height, Vince was screaming as he tore at the imaginary arachnids. Chizaba produced a handful of power and after pushing Franks face away, blew the concoction into the wriggling man's face. In an instant he was unconscious.

"What did you do to him?"

The priestess clapped the rest of the powder away as she responded. "He was given an intense delusion. The only cure was to put him to sleep. Now, put him down. Did you learn what you needed?"

While setting the man to the floor, he put a massive paw over his face, which, to his surprise, was still slightly human. His nose was wider and beard had grown into his hair, but the rest was still skin. "The woman came to blackmail this guy. Probably after the inheritance. Her grandson must have been the one who gave me the lion figure."

A shuffle of brush alerted his heightened hearing to someone outside the office window. Looking over, he saw just the person he had been talking about, the blue overalls and all. As the man tried to run, it only fueled the predator in Frank, his body changing further. Tearing at his shirt and pants, the muscles rippled as they fuzzed over, tawny short fur carpeting his frame. His face pushed forward as he growled his displeasure, the need to overtake his quarry rushing his transformation. Joints morphed forcing his body into something savagely feline. He still had just enough of his humanity left to stand if he wanted, but his form was no longer his own, almost entirely lion. His chest barreled and arms ready to run, he dropped to all fours as he rushed through the open window.

It was only a matter of seconds before the lion had caught up, a vicious sweep of the claws snagging the suspenders and throwing the ebony ragdoll to the ground. As much as the farmhand fought, it did no good. One powerful paw pinned him to the dirt, crushing the wind from his lungs.

He'd have easily died if not for the priestess' intervention. From the open window, she yelled out, "Frank! You must make peace with the beast. If you don't, you're going to lose yourself!"

The green eyes turned blue and human as Frank dug deep inside himself, demanding a chat with his inner beast. "We can't kill this man. I need him to find the one who wronged us."

In his own head, the lion paced, dominating and robust. "What concern is this to me? You said so yourself, he forced the object that bound me upon you. He deserves death just as much as the other." The lion forced the paw harder against the victim, grinning at the labored gasps.

"Please, don't! He'll know where to find his grandmother."

Continuing his mental pace, the lion was finally willing to listen. "Go on."

"This kid is probably as much a victim as you or I. Likely just a pawn to be used to further that hag's greed. If we can get her location, we can take her down and maybe even return you to your own body."

"My body is dead, human. This one will serve me now. I will get my vengeance and return home."

The human's mental form crossed its arms as he tried his best to negotiate. "First off, my name is Frank. And what can I call you?"

"Do not stall, human. Besides, I have no name. I am simply lion and that is what I will be again."

"Fine, then I'll name you. Leo. Leo the Lion." The man seemed pleased when the cat glared death his way. "Now, you've been right this whole time. I really don't have much left to hold onto. My wife and child are dead. I let my body go. The only thing keeping me going is that missing girl. I have to save her."

"That is your concern, 'Frank', not mine."

A nod of agreement caught the lion off guard. "You're right. That is my concern, just as yours is returning to your pride. That's on the other side of the world."

"Your point," snarled the mass of muscle.

"My point is this. As a lion, you can't get there. As a human, you can..." Defeat washed over his frame as he finally pushed himself to accept the inevitable. "If you let me save this girl's life... I swear that you can have this body. No more fighting. Let it go back to human just long enough for me to get you to Africa. You can then do what you want with it. I'll give it over freely."

Leo considered the offer in earnest, a tempting trade. "And how do I know that you will not betray me?"

The man knew he was finally making headway. "You know me, trapped in my head. I'm a man of my word. Besides, you still have a family to return to, I do not. One of us should live a full and happy life. After this, I'm done. No more worry. No more pain. I'll leave you to your desires."

Sitting down in spirit, the lion let the scrawny, gasping human breathe. "I will leave you to finish this. If I don't like what I see, or suspect any treachery, I will take over. Are we clear, Frank?"

Frank's nod happened both in spirit and body as he said, "I understand." Shaking his big, feline face, the debate was over, the human in control of the mostly animal body. Turning his attention to the pinned coward, Frank roared, long and fierce. "Tell me where your grandmother is or you die, right here, right now. I will not ask again."

Edwin's fear washed into understanding as he stared into the humanly blue eyes. "You're that detective. So her spell did work. Ha! I won't tell you anything."

"So be it," the words barely English. The claws slowly raked across the chest, barely grazing the skin. Beads of blood pooled as the cat finished its first intimidating attack.

The black face wrinkled in pain, but Edwin held to his determination. "You won't break me, leeu. You'll just have to kill me." Spitting in the lion's face solidified his stance on the matter.

Using his furred wrist to wipe the slime away, he crinkled his nose in disgust. In that moment, he realized how he'd proceed. He could smell the boy. His scent filled the feline nostrils as Frank moved his muzzle in, inches from the face that turned away in terror.

"Frank, no!" Chizaba was running up beside him, trying to shove the mass of muscle away, barely even flinching the beast. "Don't kill him!"

The blue eyes turned to her as Frank spoke, trying to make his roaring voice as gentle as possible. "Hey, it's me. I talked it over with Leo and he's letting me do this if I let him have the body after."

She seemed saddened by the response. "I... I see. Sacrificing yourself to save the day. Noble. Foolish, but noble. I'll follow your lead, then."

The beast's smile was disturbingly toothy as he said, "First thing's first, knock this guy out. He's given me all I need."

Defiantly, Edwin tried to rise up. "I gave you nothing, you animal!"

"I have your scent, kid." As the prisoner gasped, the powder filled his lungs, blacking out the world around him.

The priestess stood back up as she clapped the powder away. "Alright, now what?"

Crinkling his nose, Frank sniffed at the ground. It took a few moments for him to figure out his enhanced sense of smell, but once he got the trail, he was unstoppable, moving as he yelled back, "Now you follow me."

The trail led behind the manor and past the fields. When it moved into the tree line, the big cat softly commanded, "Stay close," as he stepped through the brush. The further Frank went, the more natural the situation felt. Though his lion host was more at home in the flatlands of the savanna, the wilderness of Savannah, Georgia was an acceptable alternative. Twigs and plant life crunched under the mighty paws of the hunting predator, his muscles flexing with power during every step. "I could get used to this," he told himself as he came upon a small clearing with an old, rickety shack. The building looked like it was ready to topple, though it held together as he slammed into the door, forcing it open with a crash.

The woman inside, old and hunched, turned to face the beast, the rage in his human eyes almost as primal as if it were the lion, himself. Her voice was heavily accented with the tongue of her ancestors as she spoke. "Ahh, the leeu has returned, no longer bound by the totem. And what brings you to my hut, law man?" The laugh that followed was more a sinister cackle, devious and spiteful.

Though he wanted to rip the hag apart, he could smell his target off to the left of the door. Keeping the evil woman in his gaze, he could just make out the soft, white skin as it peeked from around the bed. "Sally!"

"You can't help her, leeu. She's under my spell. Kill me and she will sleep forever. I won't let her leave until my grandson is master of this plantation, so you have two choices. You can kill me and seal all your fates... or you can leave and let me be. If you do, I give my oath to remove your curse, after they marry."

Chizaba banged at the doorway as if a mime, hands hitting some form of invisible barrier behind the lion. "Frank. That line of dirt across the doorway. Break it and let me in!"

"NO!" The dark practitioner screamed as the huge, tawny cat swiped his back paws, kicking the sooty substance outside into the still night air. "My ward," she hissed as the priestess pushed past the yellow butt and made her way to the sky blue gowned hostage. When Folami tried to move to stop the invader, Frank stalked closer, barring her passage and forcing her back.

As he bared his fangs, the white gleaming in the candlelight, Chizaba called out with good news. "It's a simple sleeping spell. I can easily fix this." Pulling out ointments, she got to work as the beast moved in on his prey.

The old woman's glare was all the more satisfying as Frank could see she was beaten. In a desperate attempt to turn the tide, she lunged for some of her jars. As swift as death, the long teeth pierced her leg and yanked her to the cracked, wooden floor. Folami's scream turned to cackling as she squirmed. With a tug, her body was sprawled onto her back, a massive forepaw shoving down on her crooked frame. Though stunted, the wickedness was not stopped. "Are you going to kill me, law man? How will that sit on your soul?" The devious chuckle was tainted with glee. "I can see it in your eyes. You still war with the beast. Without me, you will lose."

Frank felt it fitting to let his partner get a word in. The eyes changed to predatory green, ready to kill. A bite at the air, inches from her face, let her know her place. The low rumble came as more a snarl than words. "You took my body, human. You did not take my life. Though... we will have yours. You've failed. This human, Frank, he has already promised the body to me. I get my life back and he gets his victory. I care not for you, though I have sworn to leave your fate to him. I just want you to know that we are in agreement. You WILL die tonight... and we will both savor in the bloodshed."

The eyes of the monster turned human and blue once more. "Well," hissed the bitter hag, "if you two have finally allied against me, then I have no choice left." In a swift movement, she swiped at the pooling blood and made a line down her lips. Speaking a quick chant, she grabbed the sides of Frank's muzzle, tugging at the whiskers and moving the huge nose next to her mouth. Her breath burned at their nostrils, the foul air feeling like embers as they invaded. With a roar, the catlike frame swiped at his own face, trying to get free of the fiery sensation, one paw flailing as the other held firm.

Chizaba's "No, Frank" was inconsequential as the eyes changed, catlike slits covering the blue of the orbs, both souls equally agreeing on the action. The witch's glee became a bloody wheeze as the mouth of the creature dug into her windpipe, crushing tight as if to kill caught prey. Crimson gushed past the evil lips as they tried to speak, not even a gurgle able to escape past the fierce biting power of the enraged victims. Even after Folami was dead, the teeth held, not taking any chances. Minutes of silence were ended when the limp frame was thrown into the table, broken and defeated.

Leo turned to the priestess, terror covering his rage. "What has she done to me? I can feel Frank, but I cannot let him come to the surface. How will he take our body to the pride lands if I can't bring his form back?"

Hesitantly, Chizaba placed a hand on the lion's face, softly stroking the fur at the bridge of his nose. Her eyes were closed yet darting back and forth. "No... No, she couldn't have..."

"What has that corpse done to us?"

"I am so sorry," said the woman as her hand slid down the worried cheek and back to the comfort of her lap. "She cursed you, more than what you already were. As far as I can tell, she divided you. The lion controlling the body at night, the human in the day. The vessel favoring the host, yet not fully theirs. You will never be whole by yourself, only a part. Even with Frank's blessing, I don't think you'll be able to become fully lion, just what you are now. Almost fully changed, but still not complete."

Standing on his back legs as if a man, he looked himself over. He appeared almost exactly like he was, a lion with just enough human left to roll his shoulders and use his hips to stand on two legs. However, he did notice that between his legs was far more human than it was before, the opposite of what he had done to Frank at the start of this ordeal. "Fix this, priestess! Now!"

Fear in her movements, she stammered out, "I can't. Only she could have."

The aggressive rumbling roar that followed made the woman cower as Leo picked up the table and threw it through the wall of the old house. Dropping back to all fours, he plowed through the opening and into the night, his fury quite vocal as he disappeared. Chizaba finished dispelling the magic placed on the daughter, helping her up and walking her back to the safety of the mansion.

***

When morning came, Frank's body slowly changed back to what it had been. The magic started in his face and fingers, moving over his being. Alone and naked in the brush, he could see all that was done to him. Although he looked mostly human, his digits were still swollen, the power of the lion lingering. His physique was no longer that of a potbellied drunk. Instead, he looked and felt better than he ever had. Muscles toned and trim, he looked like an athlete. Over the top of his new strength lingered a soft fuzz, almost seeming to be thick, blonde hair that carpeted his abs, chest, and speckled down his back. His beard remained thick and bristling like a mane, though it could easily be mistaken as a luscious hairstyle. This was not all the lion left behind. Frank's nose remained wider than usual, giving his face a thuggish presence. The main point of hesitation was that the lion's first change remained, proudly piquing in the breeze.

Making his way back to the plantation, he had a long chat with the lion held dormant. "I hate to say it, but I think she may have ruined our little pact."

The dissatisfied snarl rang through his mind. "We can't go back to my pride. Not like this. Aside from your useless biology, the species of the pride lands would easily kill a human in the daylight. We'd never be safe."

"And what about here in the States?" Frank tried to add as little bitterness to the situation as he could muster. Although relieved that he wasn't going to be lost to the lion, he was still hurt that he was forced to break a promise, even if it was to a murderous feline.

"These lands could hide me easy enough. There is enough prey to satisfy and I could smell the presence of smaller felines. You called them, what?"

"Bobcats."

"Yes, those. And your human activities. They might be a pleasing change. When you helped that female... the feelings you had, they were... pleasant. Oh, what do you call them? Joy, accomplishment. Justice. I liked that one. It made me feel like I did back when I protected my pride. If you would keep doing your pursuit of this justice, I would be willing to participate."

Frank's laugh was so hearty that it came out and echoed through the trees. "So let me get this straight. You'd be willing to be my partner in missing persons cases and upholding human laws?"

The growly huff was almost as amusing as the thought of a private investigator lion. "Watch it, Frank. I will not tolerate your joking at my expense. However, yes, I would like to take part in the human ritual of seeking justice. Though I would like credit as much as you. This is both our body. If you treat me as an equal in these pursuits, I will show you the same respect."

"Partners it is, then."

"Partners it is," said Leo, singing his approval. Frank mirrored the boldness as he bellowed out a fitting roar into the fields of cotton.

When in sight, Frank was surprised to see Chizaba, rags of his clothes in her hands as she approached. "I've been waiting for you, Frank Dillen."

Accepting the shredded clothed, he put on what he could, making sure to hide his feline bulge. "Thanks for hanging around. How's the girl?"

With a smile she said, "Good. I explained it all to the father. He's going to keep the details to himself. That boy is in custody, you getting full credit for it. Oh, and he offered us both a sizable sum as appreciation."

"Did you take it?"

Chiziba laughed at the question. "Of course! Aren't you?"

"Well of course. Have to pay the bills somehow." Taking on a kinder disposition, he added, "And thank you... for everything."

"Oh," she exclaimed, "what about your lion friend?"

"Leo? He enjoyed the adventure. Actually offered to be my partner, if you can believe that."

Shaking her head, the priestess seemed to understand. "Lions, when not full of anger and rage, can be very noble creatures. I think you'll be good for each other."

Frank rubbed the back of his neck, the torn fabric flapping as he moved. "Here's hoping. I'm sure he'll keep me on the straight and narrow. As for you, can I offer you a ride home?"

"I'd appreciate it."

***

Frank had a lot of explaining to do, but he managed to convince Maybell that what happened had actually happened. In the following days, the business was renamed. No longer his alone, it was now "Frank & Leo Dillen, Private Instigators". They quickly rose to be the top rated P.I.'s when it came to missing persons cases, having an unstoppable willingness to hunt the truth, day or night, tooth and claw.