Page 31 of Of Socialites and Prizefights

She nodded enthusiastically in response.

“Is that mostly you in there, or mostly cat?”

Sitting upright, Deepa pressed her front paws together like a prayer, which apparently looked ridiculous enough for Roz to relax and take her hand off the door.

“I reckon that’s the magic I smelled earlier, then,” she said, taking a cautious step towards the bed. “Some manner of curse, is it?”

With a garbled wail, Deepa agreed.

“Do you know how to break it?”

A nod.

“But you can’t,” Roz guessed.

Miserably, Deepa shook her head.

“How long have you had it? Must be recent, or you'd have been more careful about the time. How long does it last?”

Unable to communicate or even mime the concept of dawn, Deepa could only give a frustrated yowl.

“Right, right. I guess I’ll find out. Do you…” Roz hesitated. “Do you want me to stay the night? Or should I go?”

Leaping off the bed, Deepa streaked across the room to butt her head against Roz’s thighs, pushing the whole weight of her body against the other woman until Roz stepped back, her shoulders pressed to the door for balance, as Deepa dragged the length of her body from cheek to tail-tip across her legs. With a careful laugh, Roz dropped both hands to Deepa’s back, lightly stroking along her spine.

“That's a yes, stay?” Roz interpreted.

With a rumbling growl, Deepa rubbed the side of her face against Roz’s hip before butting into her hand, encouraging her to pet her.

“Alright, I can stay. Do you need anything? Food, or water?”

Deepa had drunk water during her previous transformations — the kitchen sink was easy enough to manipulate even without thumbs — but she’d yet to try eating anything. The refrigerator was difficult to open, but, more importantly, she suspected that leopards really ought to eat fresh, raw meat, and she wasn’t ready to cross that particular boundary. She’d been raised on vegetarian Gujarati cuisine; even the English dishes she chose were meatless. Personal preferences aside, she worried at what a sudden change for the carnivorous would do to her stomach the next day.

Thus far, she’d stayed indoors, expending relatively little energy, so found it easy enough to fast until daybreak. So, she nudged Roz across the room to the bed until the woman sat down on the mattress, at which point Deepa climbed up beside her to settle in for the next six hours.

She hadn’t got much sleep since being cursed. Mostly, she spent her nights pacing the flat, or curled up in a ball of misery fretting about things outside her control. When she tried to sleep, her semi-lucid thoughts were anxious, and she met thedawn overtired and restless, with that particularly heavy ache in her bones that came from too many consecutive nights with too little sleep. With Roz by her side, she hoped to put an end to that.

“Alright,” Roz said softly, settling on the bed with her back to the wall.

When Deepa snuggled into her lap like an overgrown housecat, Roz carefully put one hand on her head, scratching behind her ears. Deepa sighed in response, rubbing her face against Roz’s outstretched leg as she made herself comfortable. It seemed she didn’t need words to explain her intent; Roz stayed still like she was content to spend the night serving as Deepa’s pillow.

“I always liked cats,” Roz told her, slowly petting down the back of her neck and around her cheeks. “My mum used to take in strays, growing up. Had an awful soft spot for them. Never met any cat with fur as soft or dense as yours, though.”

As Roz spoke in a low, soothing tone about her childhood pets, Deepa drifted to sleep in her lap under the steady pressure of her hands. For the first time since falling victim to the curse, she felt safe and secure.

She dreamt she was on stage at The Songbird. Though she could feel Phillip watching her from somewhere in the crowd, she couldn't place him. With every song she sang, the air of malevolence emanating from the audience grew stronger, until it seemed that every man watching her was Phillip in a hundred different guises, and her nerves stretched thinner and tighter, fraying at the edges until she was afraid they would snap entirely.

When her voice broke on the last note, one of the hidden Phillips in the crowd booed, and all the others broke into jeers, throwing things at her microphone stand. When a bottle shattered across the stage, she flinched back with a startled cry, and the jeering grew louder in response. Men hurled insults atas easily as drinks and cigarette butts, each projectile landing closer and closer until her last nerve snapped.

With a furious snarl, the leopard leapt out from her skin. Crouching low against the stage, with her ears pinned flat and her eyes flashing, Deepa bared her teeth and roared at her antagonists, desperate to drive them back.

“You see!” The real Phillip stepped forward, sweeping out his arm as a ringmaster presenting his next circus act. “Now you can see her for what she really is. A wild beast, undeserving of love.” He gave a theatrical shudder that did nothing to hide his self-satisfied expression. “Truly a loathsome creature.”

As the crowd swelled with derogatory laughter, Deepa turned tail and fled backstage, through the heavy merlot-red drapes. Pounding footsteps chased after her, and she threw herself into her dressing room, but instead of the expected vanity table and racks of costumes lit by the dim yellow glow of bare bulbs, she found herself in a forest.

She had only the faintest memories of Gujarat, but this was Sasan Gir, unquestionably. Birds called from the acacia trees, out of sight above her head, and insects chirped and whirred from between fragrant blooms. Ducking low, Deepa raced through the ferns, fronds trailing dewdrops against her fur as she made her way deeper into the greenery, letting the forest shelter her from her pursuants. Eventually, they gave up the chase, dismissing the jungle as a messy, savage situation and a waste of time. Only then did she slow her pace, tail twitching and paws digging into the soft black soil as she slunk onward, trying to get her bearings.

When the sounds of the last men fell away, night-time silence blanketed her. Climbing over a great ridge of tangled roots, Deepa’s next steps took her into a garden. The teak trees opened into a sprawling estate where cobblestone footpaths wound between flowerbeds and enormous stone walls of climbing roses.The abrupt shift in scenery stole her breath away. Perfume buffeted her from all sides, the delicate scents of jasmine and lavender and night-blooming flowers the names of which she didn't know. Their leaves looked navy blue and violet in the moonlight, the ground painted in soft shades of grey. Above, the stars twinkled like a million tiny diamonds scattered over a black velvet cloth.

---