Cat Kin Read Online Free

corridor. Ben blinked and she was gone.
    Minutes passed. Just as he was thinking he had made a mistake (what mistake, he wasn’t sure) the woman reappeared with several kids shuffling ahead of her. None wore martial arts gear and
only two looked dressed for sports. A couple of them exchanged hesitant glances as if they already knew each other, if not to talk to. A girl in a blue gym suit had a newspaper tucked under one
arm, and one boy, round-faced and wearing an anorak, was carrying a flat case like an artist’s portfolio. By the time they reached the hall he looked deeply confused.
    ‘Welcome to my class. My name is Felicity. You can call me Mrs Powell.’ The woman did not smile. The group edged closer together.
    ‘There’s been a mix-up,’ said Mrs Powell. ‘This hall has been double-booked. We’re going to move elsewhere.’
    Without another word she led them down to the lobby. Feeling something wasn’t right, Ben glanced back up at the balcony. A line of youths clad in white tunics were filing into the free
hall. It was the Tae Kwon Do class.
    Before he could blurt out that he had joined the wrong group, he was stepping through the glass doors into the evening light. Why had they come outside? The girl in the black coat trotted to
keep up with Mrs Powell.
    ‘Excuse me. Where are we going?’
    ‘To my studio, Tiffany. I live just here.’
    Ben was sure he’d misheard. Not Theobald Mansions? Uh-oh, she was. She was heading for the flats that lurked next to the leisure centre. These blocks were long overdue for the
wrecking-ball. Brown as old blood, broken-windowed, painted with pigeon muck; the idea that they might harbour life would be beyond the wildest dreams of NASA’s scientists.
    Mrs Powell unlocked the main door and went in. Ben followed the girl into a hall webbed with graffiti. He climbed a staircase that reeked of cigarettes and urine. The others were drawn along
behind him, their footsteps resounding off the walls.
    Where was Mrs Powell taking them? Who
was
she? And why in the name of sanity were they still following her? Fear rose in Ben’s throat. This was not normal. Not normal at all. He
tried to relax. One old lady had to be fairly harmless. Whoever she was, she couldn’t abduct seven kids. Not alone.
    It was only when Mrs Powell had opened the door to the top-floor flat and was ushering them inside, and Ben was actually
stepping
inside, into this stranger’s home, that the
thought struck him like a thunderbolt: maybe she
wasn’t
alone.
    Even as he woke up to what he’d done, he heard the door lock behind them.

    Cobwebs, queasy smells, the mouldering skeletons of small animals underfoot—these were just some of the things he expected to find and did not. Fright gave way to
surprise. Mrs Powell’s flat was bright and spacious and spotlessly clean. She led them into a room that could have swallowed the lounge at home twice over. It was one big wooden floor with
not a carpet, chair or speck of dust to be seen.
    ‘This is my studio. Find a space and sit down.’
    Something about her voice made obedience automatic. Ben sat cross-legged.
    ‘Not like that. Kneel. Sit on your heels. That’s it. Hands on the floor in front of you. Don’t slouch. Good. From now on, this is what
sit
means.’
    Mrs Powell sat likewise. She surveyed them, moving her head not her eyes.
    ‘You may be wondering—ah. Jim has decided to join us. You are honoured.’
    A cat trotted into the room, bead curtains rustling in its wake. It had the sort of coat rich women used to kill for: lush, smoky grey, dappled black in a leopardish pattern. It clocked the
group with one crystalline glance before settling near Tiffany like one of the group. That was when Ben realised. The strange way they were kneeling was just how the grey cat sat.
    The round-faced boy scrambled to his feet.
    ‘Sorry, Miss. I think I’m in the wrong class–’
    ‘Sit down.’
    The boy folded up again.
    ‘Do you know what I teach