The Magical Christmas Cat

"What did it look like?"



She tried to remember, but that part of the dream was unclear. "I don't know. It was fairly small, and I think there was a crescent-moon-shaped thingie attached to it." Moons again. She shuddered.



"Anything else?"



Ruby shook her head. "What do these dreams mean? And what the hell is going on with that damn cat knickknack?"



Zane didn't answer for a while. "You don't believe in my field of study."



"If my walls keep purring, that's going to change pretty quickly," she muttered. "First things first. How do I get rid of the cat?"



"I'm sorry to say, I don't think you can. Not easily, at least," he added. "I'm going to have to study this a bit before I have any definite answers for you."



"Study tomorrow," she said, burrowing into his side. "If you leave I'll . . . I'll . . ." Go mad, eat every bite of the leftover cake, cry, scream—maybe all four.



"I'm not leaving," he assured her.



Ruby took a deep breath and sighed. On her television screen, men in top hats were dancing in black and white. A woman in a flowing white dress drifted across the screen. It was an odd scene to fall asleep to, but she did, falling hard.



Olwen stopped fighting. She was tired, and she was frightened, and she now knew that there was no escape from this. Her beloved husband Arlin had tied her to her own bed when she'd told him about the dreams. At first she had been afraid he thought her a witch, but now she knew that was not true. He simply didn't want her telling anyone else about the warning dreams.



She'd been here for two days, now. Arlin had seen that she was fed, and he had even given her a washing and dressed her in her best linen shift. The man she loved, the father of her child, made sure she could not escape, but he also cared for her. And then, when he said the time and the stars and the moon were aligned, he offered her soul to the demon he worshipped.



The dark cat stood on her chest and placed its snout close to her nose. It purred, deep and rumbling, so that it



'Seemed the entire world shook. When she had first seen the feline rise from the pretty stone cat her husband had given her, it had been made of nothing. It had been a hole where there should've been none, darkness where there should've been light, but now it was solid, heavy on her chest. It was real. She could see the fur on its skin and the burning red of its evil eyes. Using the power of its mind, the cat forced her mouth to open, and it inhaled, stealing her breath, sucking her life and her soul from her body. She could see her life escaping, white and blue streaks flowing from her mouth into his until there was nothing left of her but what lived inside the darkness.



Olwen, devoted mother and wife, saw her betrayer husband through the eyes of the demon who had killed her.



She did not wish to gaze long upon her own lifeless body.



She looked so scared in death, so horribly empty.



Arlin dropped to his knees and praised this demon who had taken his wife's soul. The large cat who had once been nothing but a dark hole now had a beating heart and a deep hunger for flesh. He would not be like this for very long, she knew, as she was now inside the demon in all ways and shared his thoughts. A part of this night was all the time he had to feed his hunger of almost three centuries.



The curse that kept the demon trapped in stone for all but a few hours out of nearly two hundred and ninety years was not unbreakable. When he woke the demon took souls, and when the ninth soul was his, he would live again. He would be whole and he would make the world pay.



Arlin looked up, a love and admiration in his eyes.



Olwen had once thought such expressions were reserved for her, but apparently his love for the demon was greater than his love for his wife. "I have been promised much for my great sacrifice." Arlin opened his arms wide. "I am your humble servant, II Gatto Nero."



A great black paw swiped out and sliced open the betrayer's throat. A cat's scream filled the small hut, and the baby began to cry. The demon who had taken Olwen's soul could not take another, not until he was whole again, but while he lived he craved flesh, and he started with his most humble servant. . .



Not my baby! Olwen screamed.



The gruesome scene went black, and a soft voice, the voice of the woman who had been sacrificed, whispered in Ruby's ear, "While his heart beats, he can be taken. Do not hesitate, or he will take your soul.



"Trust no one."



Ruby awoke with a cry and all but threw herself at the man who shared the couch with her. Zane, too, had slept, and when he came awake his arms instinctively wrapped around her.



"Are you okay?" he asked.



"Not even a little," she confessed.



"Another dream?"



She nodded, then she pressed her face to Zane's chest and closed her eyes. Another movie was on the television in front of them, this one more somber than the musical that had been on when she'd fallen asleep.



There was no singing, no dancing. Lots of angst, judging by the expressions on the faces on her television.



If she believed in curses and living statuettes and telepathy and all that other nonsense, she might be able to make herself believe that the dreams were a kind of warning. Whatever had killed the women who visited her as she slept was coming for her.



She shook off that thought; it made no sense. No more sense than a piece of jade that seemed to move on its own and make the walls of her once-peaceful home purr like a satisfied panther. No more sense than the urge to lose it all in the earthy and pleasurable distraction of sex with a man who was willing to sleep on her couch so she wouldn't have to be alone. Ruby was tempted to lift her head and kiss Zane Benedict and see where that kiss took them. She hadn't been attracted to a man this way in a very long time, and it would be nice, very nice, to enjoy something real and solid and reasonable, like sex. He could make her forget, she knew he could, and right now she very much wanted to forget.



After being alone for much too rong, she wanted someone to hold. She wanted the complete connection that would come with Zane inside her, when pleasure would wipe away the fear. She had told him so fiercely that she was not looking for a man, but having him here, feeling his skin against hers, it was wonderful. She wanted more.



Ruby didn't consider herself a brave person, but she lifted her head and very slowly moved her mouth toward Zane's. She didn't attack him; she moved so slowly he had plenty of opportunity to move away or turn his head. He didn't. Instead, his lips parted slightly right before hers touched them.



Eyes closed, they let their mouths linger against one another. Immediately a riot of sensations was set into motion. What she felt was strong enough to wipe away the fear of her dreams, to allow her to forget the impossibilities of purring walls and figurines that moved on their own.



Her hand rested on his side, and she allowed her fingers to stroke there, learning the unexpected muscles and strength he usually hid beneath baggy Tshirts. They moved a bit, adjusting arms and legs, getting more comfortable and closer on the couch. She was oddly twisted but didn't care. The kiss took her beyond the terror of inexplicable sounds and terrifying dreams, and she wallowed in it.



Ruby was so hot she didn't mind at all when Zane loosened the belt of her robe and parted it. She enjoyed the rush of cool air, the extra bit of freedom, the feel of his hand slipping up her pajama top and finding one welcoming breast. They kissed and touched, caressed and learned one another, until Ruby found herself lying on her back with Zane Benedict cradled between her legs.



Reality intruded. She didn't have any sort of birth control in the house. Hadn't needed any for about two years, sad to say. Zane had come running to her house wearing elastic-waisted flannel pants. Unless there were hidden pockets with condoms in those sleep pants, they were out of luck.



"We have to stop," she said, then she kissed him again, unable to help herself.



"Why?" Zane asked gruffly.



She could use a lack of birth control as an excuse, but more than that concern stopped her. There were ways they could offer one another pleasure that wouldn't risk pregnancy, and there was a twenty-four-hour drugstore five minutes from her house. No, she had to tell him the truth. "This is happening too fast for me," she whispered.



"It is rather unexpected," he agreed without anger or even a hint of frustration. There wasn't going to be any sex on her couch—not tonight—so she half expected Zane to pull away and sit up straight, putting an end to the comfort. Too bad. But he didn't go away. He held her. He stayed.



"You are perfectly symmetrical," he whispered.



Ruby had not thought it possible to laugh tonight, but she did. "What?"



"Symmetrical. True beauty is in symmetry, and you have it."



"I'm not beautiful," she said. Cute, maybe, when she worked at it, but not beautiful.



"You are." He demonstrated, first with both hands on her face, slowly tracing and measuring in between kisses, then lower, hands on her breasts. Thumbs rocked gently against sensitive nipples beneath the thin fabric of her pajamas, as he weighed and tested shape. Then lower, to her hips, where his hands gripped and held her, thumbs rocking against her pelvic bone.



If she had one iota less control, she'd strip him naked in a heartbeat and he'd be inside her and it would be so good. It would be symmetry; it would be true beauty. They were so close. She was lying on the couch, and he was on top of her. There wasn't much in the way of clothing between them. A shift, a push, and she could so easily dismiss all her reservations.



Without warning, Ruby twitched as the final words of her latest dream came back to her. Trust no one.



"We should sit up, I suppose," she said.



"Yes." Zane slowly and reluctantly moved up, taking her arm and pulling her with him until they sat side by side. Her head rested on his shoulder, and he didn't make any juvenile attempt to hide the fact that he was aroused. "So, tell me about your latest dream?"



It was still too clear, too vivid and horrible, and those final words haunted her. What had happened to the baby that had been in the next room as his father offered his mother to a demon? It was only a dream, and yet the child seemed so real. It had been a little boy, she knew. How did she know?