Cat In An Alien X-Ray

That triggered some hesitancy. She licked her lips. Lifted her other palm to expose a dark slash, a long scab.

The fourth black cat was shambling down the hall, limping but silent. Temple glimpsed ragged fur. It circled the chair directly behind Kathleen and leaped atop the opposite arm to stare balefully at the woman. Temple held her breath.

She kept her eyes firmly away, but had an impression of a “cat from alley cat hell” expression. This was the nerviest cat present, and it was not Midnight Louie. Yet.

“Why did you really come here?” Matt was asking. “It wasn’t for us. What did you want from Max, because you will never get it now, whether he’s dead or alive. You can kill everyone you ever thought took something from you because they tried to have a good life, and then what will you do? You destroy your oldest enemy, you’re alone.”

A fifth black shadow from the hall took a hard right turn and walked right between Matt and Temple and Kitty the Cutter. Midnight Louie sat right down in front of her and stared straight up at her, as if expecting a treat.

He got it sooner than expected as a gunshot exploded in the room … just as Max’s hand shot out from the floor and jerked Kathleen’s ankle out from under her … as Matt pushed Temple behind him and rushed the falling woman, grabbing her flailing wrist … as Midnight Louie leaped for the gun-toting hand and sank his one-inch fangs into it … as the cat on the chair arm leaped straight for Kathleen’s face with a Viking battle cry, and as the other three cats pooled on the floor around Kathleen, attacking anything black spandex or white flesh they could claim.

Matt grunted and fell back in front of Temple. She had gone down on her knees beside him before he had completely landed.

“Matt, my God! Matt! Did she shoot you?”

Temple heard another curdling scream and looked up to see Midnight Louie leaping at the half-fallen Kathleen and leaving four deep claw marks across her ivory-white cheek.

Max was crawling across the floor, one hand slamming the gun it held down like a peg leg as he came, blood pouring down his determined face. “Where?” he demanded.

Matt had fallen back, one hand waving over his chest, searching a source for the pain. Blood blossomed when he pressed the shirt down over his left side. Temple was using her cell phone to call 911.

Max hefted himself up on his hands and leaned over Matt. “Left side.”

“The heart,” Temple gasped.

“Way down.” Max shook his head and shed blood drops like a wet dog. “Sweet spot. Okay.” He patted Matt’s arm and rolled over on his back beside him.

“Max?” Temple asked through the shakes and her soundless tears.

“Too hardheaded to kill.”

Sirens were already screaming in the distance.

Temple looked up. The cats were gone, and so was Kitty the Cutter, only some spots of blood on the hardwood floor showing where she’d been.

Chapter 52

Astral Protection

The sirens of the ambulances and cop cars have faded for good.

The front door is shut, the neighborhood peaceful again.

A sliver of light halos the rooftops.

Dawn is on the way but the streetlamps are still lit.

It is the magic time between dusk and dawn, night and day, hunting and resting from the hunt.

One by one, the Cat Pack reassembles on the front doorstep.

I was first to arrive, and am tending my right mitt, where several nail sheaths have been yanked out untimely. Miss Kitty the Cutter will bear my brand for life.

“Quite a right cross, Pops.” Midnight Louise has sat down beside me.

“Not bad boxing,” says Ma Barker, coming up on the other side, “for a domestic layabout.”

“I keep telling you, Ma, I am no domestic slave, but a roommate with rights to come and go as I please.”

“Your roommate is lucky to have you,” adds Blackula, who has reappeared too. “But did we not do good? Pitch and I, we slip into that risky joint like Persians fresh from fancy manicure jobs at the groomer’s.”