Chapter Text
The first time Kylo saw her, she was challenging a murder of crows for rights to a trash heap. He leaned into a red brick wall as he gazed down the narrow alleyway in interest. She hissed and swatted at the birds with distended claws, narrowly avoiding their pecking beaks. Instantly, he sensed she was no ordinary tabby, and it had nothing to do with her daring, albeit foolhardy, fight with the crows.
For a moment he assumed she was someone’s familiar, but there were few witches in the area. Kylo sincerely doubted any of them would be so cruel as to have their companion fend for themselves in the streets, especially when considering how small she was. Still, there was something undeniably clever about her.
He sighed; either way, it was of no consequence to him. Kylo turned to leave the gray cat to her futile fight, pushing himself off the wall to return to the sidewalk, when a fat drop of rainwater burst on the round of his cheek, then another. He looked up to the overcast, Portland sky, frowning as he opened his umbrella. The clouds split open a moment later, dousing the earth with sudden, torrential rain.
The murder took off, defeated by the weather more than the cat now sulking, drenched in the alleyway with little but the eaves high above to offer cover.
He had things to do, places to be, but…
Cursing to himself, he marched towards the cat. She growled when he approached too closely, but Kylo paid no heed and picked her up by the scruff of her neck. Dirty and now wet, she still was a pretty cat; attractive, bold stripes curling around her body. Unsurprisingly, she made a swipe at him, whining loudly as he brought her to eye level, and finally, she met his gaze, pupils drawn to thin, furious slits.
Her irises were a vibrant, stunning hazel, and for a moment he couldn’t breathe.
Put down. Put down. Put down! roared in his head as the tabby continued to struggle.
She wasn’t a cat at all. She was a human--or at least she used to be.
“What was your name before?” he asked, and at last she froze.
Rey. Rey. Rey. Rey. Rey. Rey. Rey.
Her mind was fragmented, intelligent but flushed with animal instinct. She had been a cat for a long while, and he doubted there was much he could do to turn her back.
He nearly kicked himself as he told her, “Rey, I’m going to try to help you.”
Her gaze was untrusting but she didn’t resist as he carefully tucked her shaking form into the warmth of his peacoat.
Kylo went directly into the bathroom once he reached home, shutting the door behind him to prevent any escape before releasing his coat. She leaped from his chest, frantically observing her surroundings and wailing at him when he knelt in front of the tub to draw a shallow bath.
“Don’t complain,” he muttered in response, “you’re absolutely filthy. I’m not letting you track dirt all over my house.”
Thankfully, she was reasonable enough to not scratch at him when he scooped her up off the floor. She trembled, angry and pathetic as she stood in the tub, warm water lapping at the fur of her belly.
Kylo huffed, scooping water with the palms of his hands to trickle it down her back. She arched at the sensation, her eyes narrowed in what could only be a glare.
“And don’t look at me like that,” he said.
She tipped her face away from him, and Kylo resisted the urge to laugh. She probably wouldn’t appreciate that.
Much to his satisfaction, she was smart enough to not hassle him as he gently rubbed her down with shampoo, nor when he rinsed the suds off and wiped her face with a washcloth. Ultimately, he was larger than she was and he’d win. The water was a murky brown when he yanked out the rubber stopper, and she jumped at the gurgling sound as it drained.
He was prepared for it and had a towel stretched open to catch her with.
“Nice try,” he said, patting her with the towel.
Though she sat relatively still, she grumbled through the whole ordeal. When he finally lifted the towel away, she shook her muscles and shot him a resentful glance.
MEAN.
Kylo couldn’t help the small laugh that bubbled from his chest. Still, he opened the bathroom door and she darted out, paws quietly padding on hardwood floors as she rushed for freedom. He staggered to his feet, wondering what he should feed her. He didn’t have cat food, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to leave her unattended quite yet, but she was human, right? Even if she was used to picking through garbage, would she be offended if he got her kibble?
He grimaced, looking at his reflection in the mirror. Doing this was probably a mistake, but it wasn’t as if he could have left her on the street. The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth.
His home was a one-story cottage with large windows and a spacious garden in the back. Even if he couldn’t return her to her original form, it would be a nicer place to live than on the streets. He didn’t want to admit that he could use the company as well, and she...she was interesting.
Kylo ran his fingers through his hair--now frizzy from the rain--as he followed the hall back into the living room. He found her standing in the middle of the floor, haunches raised in panic. She turned her head sharply at the sound of his footsteps, hissing and crouching away from him as he blinked in surprise.
Witch bad! Witch bad! Witch bad! Witch bad!
“Not all witches are bad,” he said, unable to keep himself from sounding affronted.
She snarled at him with her teeth bared when he squatted next to her. Discombobulated flashes of someone else’s shelves of jarred herbs and dripping candles and dusty tomes surged in the forefront of his mind, and it occurred to him at last how she had come to be a cat in the first place. Another witch had done this to her; it was no wonder she didn’t trust him.
Kylo tried to assure her as best as he could. “I’m not going to hurt you, Rey.”
Hesitantly, he reached a hand towards her, only for Rey to strike at him with the hot sting of her sharp claws. Parallel stripes of crimson crossed his palm, blood beading along the thin cuts.
Kylo grit his teeth. He knew yelling at her would only exasperate the situation but damn it all, he was just trying to help.
“If I wanted to harm you, all I would have needed to do was leave you on the street!”
She cowered at the volume of his voice, ducking behind the nearest piece of furniture, an aged leather armchair nearly as old as he was. His father had had it made only a few years after Kylo’s birth, and he’s been buried for nearly a century.
“Don’t you dare scratch up that chair,” he warned, tone thick with anger.
More images tumbled into his head - of skinny, child limbs curling up behind another armchair, someone else roaring at her. The fear she felt, then and now, was palpable in the air. He deflated slightly, realizing the images were memories. He was only confirming her belief that he wasn’t to be trusted.
He knew he shouldn’t have done this. Kylo didn’t have the patience to care for wounded creatures. He should have brought her to someone who could control their temper. Maybe he could bring Rey to his mother...though the thought of facing her after decades of silence wasn’t exactly appealing.
He stood, exhaling. She still needed to eat, and if she was willing to dig through garbage, Kylo was certain she wouldn’t refuse whatever he had to offer, witch or not. He walked through the doorway into a narrow kitchen, absentmindedly filing through his pantry full of various grains and flours before opening the refrigerator to stare blankly inside.
Kylo had gone to the fish market only that morning, and so a set of fat salmon steaks wrapped in brown parchment paper rested next to the carton of eggs on his top-shelf. He had bought them to have with Hux and Phasma, who were supposed to be over in the evening, but Kylo knew she would likely appreciate the fresh fish more. He should probably call them to let them know tonight wasn’t going to work, not with Rey in the house, not yet.
He snatched the salmon, then grabbed the half-empty bottle of Chardonnay from the bottom shelf, tearing out the cork with his teeth and taking a swift swig.
When he returned with a plate of seared salmon, he found Rey balanced on the edge of the corner table, working to open the vivarium that housed a now visibly stressed bearded dragon. He clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth, setting down the plate to grab Rey--whether she liked it or not. She growled at him, squirming as he lifted her away.
“Leave Leviathan alone,” he chided. “You can’t eat him, and I doubt he’d taste very good anyway.”
She slipped through his hold, tail swishing against his chest as she smoothly hurtled towards the ground, bouncing away to hide behind the chair once more. Kylo sighed, grabbing the salmon and kneeling in front of the leather armchair. From what he could tell, she hadn’t scratched it at all, so that was a plus.
He set the plate onto the floor then left the room, and she crept out from her hiding place moments later. Kylo tilted into the door jamb, arms crossed as he watched with some satisfaction as she sniffed at the plate, then took a skeptical nibble. Evidently, she was pleased by the taste, because she scarfed the rest without taking a breath.
Kylo wasn’t going to fully win her over with just food, but with some luck, it would help.
He approached slowly and kneeled even slower, but she didn’t run off this time. For a moment they simply stared at each other, neither knowing what to expect, before she mewled softly. Kylo took the small sound for what it was--a thank you.
“I’m glad you liked it,” he murmured.
She turned away from him with a loose sashay, pouncing onto a sofa with lumpy cushions and a bold, striped pattern, an unfortunate relic from the eighties that he couldn’t resolve to throw away. Kylo smiled as she crawled atop the back cushions and settled in, still eyeing him with a prickly gaze.
“I really do just want to help,” he said, picking up the plate she had licked clean. “No harm will come to you under my roof.”
She made a low, rumbling sound of disbelief but tucked her paws under her head as she lowered it to rest.
Kylo was a bit surprised if he was honest with himself. He wondered when she had last had a proper meal if that had been enough for her to drop her guard. After placing the plate in the kitchen sink he went to sift through his books. He kept the books he used most frequently in the living room, but the second bedroom had been morphed into a small study, and that was where he stored the bulk of his reading material.
Kylo had whole bookshelves that stretched to the ceiling stuffed with rare manuscripts and research notes and grimoires, as well as literature written by fellow magic-users. He was a bit of a scholar, and he reveled in collecting knowledge from many sources. The power to morph a human being into another species was undoubtedly dark; it involved subjugation and sacrifice, no doubt. Though his mother certainly didn’t approve, Kylo was glad to have dabbled long enough in all sorts of magic to be knowledgable of even those dangerous, darker magics.
He turned to his desk with a whole stack of spellbooks, gentle as he pried through parchment so old it threatened to crumble under his fingertips.
It was difficult to tell exactly how long he spent at his desk, especially considering how dark the sky had been throughout the afternoon, but the view was black outside his window when he took off his glasses to take a break. Kylo leaned back in his chair, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck as he exhaled. When he shifted away to stand, he found Rey sitting upright in the doorway, silently observing with those perceptive, hazel eyes of hers.
“You look well-rested,” Kylo commented.
She tilted her head at him.
“It might help if you could tell me how you were turned,” he said, propping an elbow up on the back of his chair, chin resting on his open palm.
She gave him a short meow.
Scary.
Kylo had no doubt of that.
“I understand,” he replied, “but the witch that did this could have used any number of curses on you. It would narrow down the search a bit.”
She deliberated quietly, glancing both at him and at his cluttered study. Besides the content of his books, there wasn’t much that could be considered out of place for anyone to have in their study. Determining that it was safe enough to enter, she stalked closer, glancing up at his desk and then back at him, as if to ask permission.
He scooted his reading materials over and she jumped, all lithe grace as her body stretched through the air.
Rey didn’t shy away from his gaze, her round eyes bright and consuming. He felt drawn to them, just as he had felt drawn to her in the alley. Kylo pondered the possibility that she was touched by magic, not merely cursed. He showed her his hand, allowed her to sniff at it, and when she darted her little, rough tongue against his fingertips, he smoothed his palm down the soft fur of her back.
His lips tilted upward when she purred at him, giving her time to relax.
New visions flooded his mind, stronger than the ones he had seen previously. She was showing him rather than leaking out her memories. The same child that had hidden behind furniture for fear of the other witch’s fury lay bound in the center of a circle comprised of bones and thorn-apples and flickering brown candles. The bones were feline, the brown wax hot as it dripped onto stark white.
Near the crook of the child’s elbow was a long slash carved by a knife; bloodletting had been used. He watched as fat, grubby hands forced her chin up and pried open her lips, a bowl of mixed blood--hers, the witch’s, that of a cat--and crushed berries from the belladonna plant. The skinny girl sputtered as the poisonous mixture was poured down her throat.
Kylo’s hand fell away from her. He recognized that ritual. It had been outlawed for at least half a century.
She must have been touched by magic, after all. Otherwise, there was no way she could have survived the ritualized transformation.
Rey was a therian.