Keeping Promises to Lynx

It had been a few years, and I walked out of the Cabal's base of operations in Sainf; I made my way to the bus stop. The car was there, and so were the few others who had volunteered to join me for this errand.

My ex-fiancé had moved on with her life: She now had a new husband: The same bastard that had moved in after my unceremonious departure. I didn't give a damn about either of them, to be honest. I was only going back there for someone else.

They'd moved out of the small apartment in Montchoisis into a lovely three-bedroom, ground-floor apartment with a massive fenced-in backyard, complete with a two-car garage. The American Dream was bought and brought to life in Switzerland. The only thing missing was the white picket fence of suburbia.

I'd spent a year making the necessary arrangements, including bribery where necessary. But the Cabal was not going to object, and Lukas had made clear that as long as the "small furry cable-chewing spawn of Satan" was kept out of his quarters and operational areas, then Lynx could stay.

That is a fair deal in my book.

I felt that Lukas doth protest too much, and time would prove me right. Lukas was the one who would sit and cuddle Lynx, take her to the vet, and arrange her trips to the groomers in times ahead. All that is in between hunting heretics and interrogating mutants, mind you.

It was a 45-minute drive. I didn't mind. I'd rented a lovely convertible for the trip, and I kept the top down, letting the wind whisk through my hair. I was going to enjoy every moment of this.

They were both at home when I knocked, and there was some hesitation on their side of the door. I could hear them whispering to each other. He was as big as ever, with the twin weight and height advantage. I could smell his nerves and fear. I just smirked at him.

No doubt he was wondering what I wanted, and I decided to fill them both in, standing in the doorway of their apartment, "I'm here to collect."

People say dogs are the most loyal of pets, trained not only to be well-behaved but also to be protective, friendly, and attentive. That is all true, but it's also got a lot to do with the nature of dogs and their history, having been living and hunting at man's side thousands of years ago.

On the other hand, the cat is considered by many to be a pet of convenience, one that adopts humans and treats them as its slave. The cat is, however, far more than that. Cats are loyal in their way, and Lynx was closer to me than most people because I always had time to give her attention and look after her general well-being.

I also had an unhealthy habit of breaking into my ex-wife's apartment when they were both at work to spend time with Lynx.

Whenever I did need someone to listen to or spend time with, I would "visit." Lynx was there for me whenever I was feeling down; she was often the first to comfort and reassure me, even if all she did was sit on the sofa next to me. I couldn't forgive myself for abandoning her the way I did, and I had to do the right thing with my closest friend.

Lynx was the type of friend you could turn to no matter what kind of trouble or hell you faced. Sometimes, animals are better friends than humans. But then again, I wasn't precisely fully human either.

Being what I am has continued to strengthen our relationship. Simply put, we had more in common with each other than we had with the rest of humanity. I envy her in some ways – Lynx doesn't have to relate and integrate with humans. She has to meow and, when necessary, howl and, on the rarest of occasions, extend her claws and scratch the furniture.

I crouched and patted my shoulder, and Lynx clambered up, her claws sinking into the rough leather of my jacket until she was sitting in my arms. She meowed at me, looking up at me with her emerald eyes, purring contently as she did so.

I meowed softly back, and she stretched, rubbing my forehead with hers. I hadn't called her name. I didn't need to. She recognized a fellow feline when she smelt one on the wind.

"I told you I'd be back for Lynx," I scratched my cat behind the ears, and she arched her head, purring as she did, "So I am taking her." I held out one hand to forestall whatever protests they could make, "Everything has been taken care of in my favour. Check whatever records you want, and you'll find that all of her documentation bears my name."

That had been the most challenging part of the whole thing, getting a Legion hacker to do the necessary with everything from the animal shelter to the vet records. That had taken a week of negotiating, chocolate-related bribery, and begging. But it took Kirsten a few minutes to do it. I was doing the right thing.

I turned away; Lynx nestled in my arms as they stood in the doorway of their fancy apartment, watching me go with disbelief written on their faces with a hint of anger in their eyes. He foolishly reached out to stop me and was suitably punished with matching scratches down one hand.

She wanted to say something but stopped at seeing the open-topped cherry red corvette convertible with the roof down and two other Legionnaires in the back seat, with a third one - Russell - driving.

Lynx was balanced on my shoulder, fur raised along her spine, and her tail puffed up like a pipe cleaner as she gave an unmistakable warning hiss, "I don't think that she has ever liked you very much." I commented, "And that hand… looks like it needs stitches."

Reading a cat's emotional state is partly about body language and the chemical scents and pheromones they give off. My enhanced sense of smell quickly picks up on all these subtle chemical messages.

I decided to relay the message, "And Cynthia, I don't think Lynx has ever forgiven you, not just for kicking me out of the apartment, but also for how you did it."

I didn't glare; I kept my expression as neutral as possible while contemplating what to do next. I could go full-on nuclear revenge here, but what purpose would it serve? None. I have more significant issues than petty revenge that needs my attention.

Demons, heretics, and the like are more imposition on my time than these two. They were not worth it. But there was one thing, though. I pulled the envelope from my jacket pocket and thrust it into Cynthia's face.

"I would like the rings back. Mail them to me, and please don't make me come back here to get them. I would be most displeased." She nodded mutely and took the envelope from my outstretched hand.

"Good. Farewell. Hopefully, our paths will never cross again."

I turned and walked out the door; Lynx nestled comfortably in my arms as she licked my hand and nibbled affectionately. I can't lie about it, but out of everything I had given up and lost and gained, she was the only thing from my past that I wanted. She had missed me as much as I had missed her.

"Come on, girl," I whispered, "Let's get you home. You have a new army of humans to win over and enslave." Hopefully, she could start with Lukas.