Read Online Dark Ascension: A Generation V Novel by M.L. Brennan - Free Book Online
Authors: M.L. Brennan
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a nice kitty, and that was our only hint about what he was seeing. Suze had deliberately not influenced the way that Dan and I were seeing her, which she later admitted to me had been partially because Dan and I both had at least some expectation of seeing a fox in the apartment, and it would’ve therefore been harder to trick our minds. But mostly because Suze had gotten substantial thrills out of fucking with the two of us.
Thus had been born the fiction of Ninja Kitty, the stray cat who was mysteriously able to enter and exit our apartment at will. And, in the classic tradition of Superman and Clark Kent, the possibility that Suzume and Ninja Kitty could be one and the same was so unbelievably far-fetched that it never even crossed Jaison’s mind. Not even Ninja Kitty’s noted habit of “accidentally” knocking over Dan’s stacks of study flash cards and how often she seemed to find herself sitting on his open textbooks tipped Jaison off. Of course, Dan knew that she was doing it deliberately—but couldn’t even hint about it when Jaison was around, marveling at Ninja Kitty’s consistency.
“No, haven’t spotted her tonight,” I answered Jaison.
“I hope she’s okay,” he worried. “The temperature is supposed to drop below zero tonight.”
“I’m sure she’ll be fine.” Poor Jaison. He was a devoted cat lover, but couldn’t have one himself because he lived with his grandmother, who was allergic. The more often Jaison spent time with Suze’s alter ego, the more I could see the wheels turning in his head as he tried to figure out a way to convince Dan to adopt Ninja Kitty full-time for him.
“She knows how to get in, Jaison,” Suze said, with a blandness utterly at odds with the glee in her eyes. “I’m sure if it’s too cold for her outside, she’ll show up.”
“Given her level of socialization, I bet that she has her own home,” Dan said, giving Suze an icy look. “Maybe she’s spending more time there.”
Before Dan and Suze could fully engage, I plopped down on the sofa and redirected things. “What are we watching?”
“Parade’s End,”
Jaison said. “The British World War One masterpiece about a man who never gets laid. Portrayed by Benedict Cumberbatch.”
“Jeez, Fort. Before I broke your dry spell, that could’ve been the story of your life.” Suze grinned and settled herself down in the armchair. It was a recent addition to the living room, obtained after Dan and I agreed that a three-person sofa was not quite up to handling the seating demands of two couples. A few days spent cruising Craigslist, and the assistance of Jaison’s truck, and we had a new armchair, tastefully upholstered in acid green corduroy. We were even moderately confident that no one had died in it (the seller had sworn that the tenant whose apartment he was emptying had died in the bedroom, not the living room).
“You people have no appreciation of film,” Dan said. “Fort, support me.”
“The British cinematic tradition of people staring intently at each other in lieu of actually addressing story elements is a long and noble one, particularly in Masterpiece Theater,” I noted.
“Thank you.”
“Also, Dan is gay for Cumberbatch.”
That earned me a couch cushion thrown at my head by Dan while Jaison and Suzume hooted with laughter.
* * *
I woke up the next morning with a substantial crick in my neck, thanks to the black fox that was ensconced in the middle of my pillow. I rolled over to the side and began rubbing my abused neck, grumbling. I didn’t deny that my single-size mattress had been making for some tight quarters when Suze spent the night, and I had in fact been considering making the upgrade to a double or even a queen (plans that had now been firmly put on the back burner thanks to my financial support of the succubi), but we did have two pillows. It wasn’t exactly necessary for her to take hostile possession of my pillow every time she stayed
Thus had been born the fiction of Ninja Kitty, the stray cat who was mysteriously able to enter and exit our apartment at will. And, in the classic tradition of Superman and Clark Kent, the possibility that Suzume and Ninja Kitty could be one and the same was so unbelievably far-fetched that it never even crossed Jaison’s mind. Not even Ninja Kitty’s noted habit of “accidentally” knocking over Dan’s stacks of study flash cards and how often she seemed to find herself sitting on his open textbooks tipped Jaison off. Of course, Dan knew that she was doing it deliberately—but couldn’t even hint about it when Jaison was around, marveling at Ninja Kitty’s consistency.
“No, haven’t spotted her tonight,” I answered Jaison.
“I hope she’s okay,” he worried. “The temperature is supposed to drop below zero tonight.”
“I’m sure she’ll be fine.” Poor Jaison. He was a devoted cat lover, but couldn’t have one himself because he lived with his grandmother, who was allergic. The more often Jaison spent time with Suze’s alter ego, the more I could see the wheels turning in his head as he tried to figure out a way to convince Dan to adopt Ninja Kitty full-time for him.
“She knows how to get in, Jaison,” Suze said, with a blandness utterly at odds with the glee in her eyes. “I’m sure if it’s too cold for her outside, she’ll show up.”
“Given her level of socialization, I bet that she has her own home,” Dan said, giving Suze an icy look. “Maybe she’s spending more time there.”
Before Dan and Suze could fully engage, I plopped down on the sofa and redirected things. “What are we watching?”
“Parade’s End,”
Jaison said. “The British World War One masterpiece about a man who never gets laid. Portrayed by Benedict Cumberbatch.”
“Jeez, Fort. Before I broke your dry spell, that could’ve been the story of your life.” Suze grinned and settled herself down in the armchair. It was a recent addition to the living room, obtained after Dan and I agreed that a three-person sofa was not quite up to handling the seating demands of two couples. A few days spent cruising Craigslist, and the assistance of Jaison’s truck, and we had a new armchair, tastefully upholstered in acid green corduroy. We were even moderately confident that no one had died in it (the seller had sworn that the tenant whose apartment he was emptying had died in the bedroom, not the living room).
“You people have no appreciation of film,” Dan said. “Fort, support me.”
“The British cinematic tradition of people staring intently at each other in lieu of actually addressing story elements is a long and noble one, particularly in Masterpiece Theater,” I noted.
“Thank you.”
“Also, Dan is gay for Cumberbatch.”
That earned me a couch cushion thrown at my head by Dan while Jaison and Suzume hooted with laughter.
* * *
I woke up the next morning with a substantial crick in my neck, thanks to the black fox that was ensconced in the middle of my pillow. I rolled over to the side and began rubbing my abused neck, grumbling. I didn’t deny that my single-size mattress had been making for some tight quarters when Suze spent the night, and I had in fact been considering making the upgrade to a double or even a queen (plans that had now been firmly put on the back burner thanks to my financial support of the succubi), but we did have two pillows. It wasn’t exactly necessary for her to take hostile possession of my pillow every time she stayed
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