by Anna Leonard
“He thinks I know what he’s doing wrong.” It wasn’t a question, but Jon treated it that way.
“Probably. He seems to have a fixation on cats, so you’re an authority figure in his eyes. ‘She knows’ he said—he thinks that you know what this goddess wants. It makes sense—your skills with cats, and a female cat-headed god….”
Lily, frustrated, shook her head hard enough that her hair came out of her barrette. He was so close, but there was no way he could make the leap to the truth. Not without her telling him, and she couldn’t. Not without coming across as a total crazy herself.
“Except that it sounds like he’s claiming that she—Bast—is giving him information, that she told him to find me. That doesn’t make any sense. She’s associated with cats in a positive way, and he’s killing them.”
“I don’t think he sees it that way,” Jon said. “He was taking good care of them before they died. Food, shelter. None of them were abused or injured. And they trusted him enough to rest quietly while he cut their throats, without any kind of drugs or restraints.”
Lily shivered, suddenly cold despite the heat coming up through the vents. That connection thing again that Jon had mentioned. They must think that this guy, the Night Serpent, was a cat talker, too. Connected to Bast, somehow. That was why the cats hadn’t fought him, but laid down to die.
A connection. Another connection between them. The cats should be fighting him, not giving way. What had he done?
She stood and went into the kitchen to check on the coffee. It was ready, so she loaded up a tray with mugs, sugar, milk and the coffeepot, and—balancing it all carefully—went back into the living room. Petrosian stood and took it from her, obviously worried she was going to pass out again and drop his coffee on the floor.
Jon had gotten up and was pacing, thinking out loud and waving his hand as though lecturing. “He’s not harming the cats, in his eyes. He’s sacrificing them. Sending them on to…this cat-headed goddess—Bast? He wants something from her, her and this other god, Anubis or Osiris or whatever. But it’s not working. He’s starting to get desperate. And that’s when we’ve got him. The moment he stops thinking and starts reacting.”
“Patrick. No.” Petrosian saw where that was heading.
“What?” Lily put her coffee down and stared at Jon. “What are you thinking?”
“You aren’t gonna like it,” Petrosian warned her. He clearly didn’t, anyway.
Agent Patrick stopped in front of Lily, crouching in front of her. His dark eyes were shadowed; he hadn’t been sleeping much, either. Not all of that was her fault. They had slept, after. For a little while.
“There weren’t any cats at his last hiding spot,” he said as though trying to convince her of something. “No cages, even. Just the setup, more elaborate than before. Larger. Like it was a taunt.” His eyes met her, and she read the knowledge in them: they both knew that the call-in had been fake, that they had been meant to find that lair. Meant to have the knowledge. But only Lily knew why.
“He may still have his breeding queens, but the way his sacrifices have sped up, he thinks that he’s running out of time. Or he’s got a deadline of some kind,” Patrick went on. “If so, he’s screwed. The Serpent believes that he needs the cats to be of a certain age, and a specific color and pattern. He tried to steal some that fit the requirements, he’s tried to adopt some, and he’s been blocked at every end. That run at the zoo—he might have been crazy enough to try for a leopard or something, before the rent-a-cops showed up.”
“If it was him,” Petrosian objected. “We don’t know that for certain.”
“It was him,” Lily said, not liking the cold feeling of certainty in her gut. “If he really thinks that he’s reaching Bast, or touched by her, or whatever crazies believe, maybe he also believed that he could get his hands on a leopard or something without getting turned into dinner?”
“Or he wanted you to do it,” Jon said, putting into words exactly what she didn’t want to hear.
“Are you crazy?” Lily shook her head, denying it. “I’m just, okay, yeah, the cat lady.” She hated the title even more now. “Those things? The great cats? They weigh more than I do, and have claws like dinner knifes, and—”
“They’re cats,” Petrosian said, reluctantly agreeing with Patrick. “Like that one you dealt with in the apartment complex.”
“And I had half a dozen cops with guns backing me up. Anyway, an ocelot is not a tiger.”
“And a house cat isn’t an ocelot. But you did it. If this guy knows that…Maybe he didn’t want you to do it, just to show him how. That could have been what he meant. He’s stronger than you are, being a guy….” Agent Patrick was back in control, thinking out loud.
Lily felt ill. “They got them all back though, right? The cats?”
“What? Oh, yeah, all safe and sound, and they only lost a few antelope in the process.” He tried for a reassuring smile. She didn’t buy it, but appreciated the effort.
“Whatever he’s been trying, it’s not enough,” she said. “You think that he went after a big cat, maybe thinking more would be more effective? He’s afraid that he’s not doing the right thing….”
“Or the sacrifice wasn’t the right kind. Oh God, I hope he hasn’t made that jump.”
“Jump? What jump? Jump to what?” Lily wasn’t quite sure she was following his thoughts, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to, either, not with the look on his face.
“He thinks this guy’s going to go after the cat lady next,” Aggie said bluntly, his hound dog face looking even more mournful than usual. “Not just a person of interest—a part of his whacked out plan. Cat-headed goddess. Cat-talking woman. Guy said it himself; he thinks you know what he’s supposed to be doing. Maybe if you can’t explain it to him, you get to graduate to being the sacrifice.”
She had been following him, then. She’d been afraid of that.
“To the Night Serpent, to his internal logic, it would make sense,” Patrick said in his cool FBI-guy voice, as if it was all theory and happening to someone else.
It made sense to Lily, too. But for reasons other than Jon’s crazy-person-thinks-like-that logic. If he knew what she…had been, then how much more useful a sacrifice she would be than cats, degraded over centuries from their temple origins.
He had already killed her at least once. What was one more?
“Either way, his fascination with you might be to our benefit.” Patrick was still talking. “Especially if he’s starting to speed up and panic.”
“You want to use her as bait.” Aggie was working up a good pissed-off.
“You used her already,” Patrick retorted, not denying the accusation. “You brought her into this, not me. You’re the one who got her into the media’s eye!” The FBI voice was gone, stripped down to…fear?
“Hey!” Lily’s shout cut into whatever Aggie was going to respond. “I’m here. I’m not a chunk of meat to be fought over by two chest-thumping male apes. Okay?”
“She’s already bait,” Jon said more quietly, almost under control again. “The media made sure of that. Or have you forgotten why your men are patrolling the area?”
Petrosian glared, but had no comeback.
“Your food’s getting cold, Aggie,” Lily said quietly. “Eat.”
He picked up his fork, and then pointed it at her. “You don’t have to agree to his schemes, Lily. I’m not going to carry around guilt for bringing him in if you do anything stupid.”
“I’m not going to agree to anything stupid,” she told him. “But he’s right. The Night Serpent wants to talk to me. If we can use that to catch him…I have a responsibility to do it.” It was her way out; she could do what she needed to do, and not have to risk telling them anything. She didn’t have to risk Jon looking at her, not with sexual interest, but professional curiosity: one of the crazy people. Something to use.
Or, if he was going to use her, let it be on her terms. This time she would get something out of it,
for herself. No more being a tool to be discarded the moment the job was done.
Not that she really believed she had lived previous lives. That was…insane. But something was happening. And she had a responsibility because of it. Or despite it. She could stop any more cats from being killed if they caught this guy. And if Jon’s theory was right, maybe stop any people from ever getting killed.
Including herself. Again.
“Not without backup,” Aggie was saying, having accepted that she was serious. “I’ll have the department—”
“And I’ll be able to call an official backup for this. Plus, we can use the media…” Jon started to say.
She held up a hand to stop their words. “I don’t care. You figure something out. I’ll do it. For now, I’ve had a really long day, the painkillers are wearing off, and I’m going to bed. Aggie, I’ll see you tomorrow. Jon, either lock up before or after yourself, your call. Good night.”
She woke up three times to darkness, her breath gasping, and cold sweat pooling between her shoulder blades and the backs of her knees.
The third time there was a warm presence next to her, solid and reassuring, even as he hogged most of the blankets. She had heard him in the living room, talking on his cell to someone back in D.C., when exhaustion finally claimed her. Apparently even Fibbie endurance had its limits. She curled on her side, facing her lover, and reached out to touch the shadowed skin of his shoulder.
Shadows. So many shadows, inside and out. Her mind was not letting her rest, unable to let go of the questions there were no answers for. As usual, she did not remember her nightmares, but the shadows remained, along with the image of a cat watching her. Asking the impossible of her. She woke each time asking the same things, over and over again.
Who was the Night Serpent? A deranged man playing out some sick fantasy of power that made sense only to himself? Or was he…
She skirted around the thought, but was unable to avoid it entirely.
Or was he the reincarnation of an ancient Egyptian, a man of high status, who used and cast aside people on his quest for more and more power? A murderer, without conscience or guilt?
Or…her mind skittered further from the thought, until she held it down firmly and faced it. The fact that the man in her visions, the man she saw outside the hospital, looked nothing at all like the man suspected of being the Night Serpent. And everything like one Special Agent Jon T. Patrick. A man of passion and conviction…and self-admitted ambition. A man who, though regretful, would use his lover to achieve his goal.
She let her hand rest on his shoulder, fingers curling into his neck until her claws cut gently into the flesh, and he stirred in sleepy protest.
Could she trust him? Even if she was wrong, and he was an innocent bystander…could she trust him?
Only as she was drifting off to sleep did she suddenly realize that, although the room had been cast in darkness, she had been able to see perfectly in the faint moonlight.
Cat’s eyes.
Finally, she thought, too tired and worn-down to be alarmed. Something useful.
Chapter 16
“The moon’s almost gone,” she said, looking up into the early-morning sky. The sun was still below the horizon, and the sliver of moon still held on to the pale blue expanse. Jon came behind her, wrapping his arms around her and looking out the window over her shoulder.
“The full moon is traditionally a time of higher activity for abnormal behaviors,” he said, his voice muffled by the tangle of her hair.
“Not this time,” she said. “The dark of the moon is what he’s waiting for.”
Jon’s arms tightened around her slightly. “How do you know?”
“I don’t know. Maybe you’re right, and there is a connection between us. I…” She wanted to tell him. She truly did. But the resemblance between him and the man in her visions was too close, too unnerving. He was fond of her, he maybe even had real feelings for her. But the woman in her not-memories had thought her lover was true, too, and had been wrong.
Lily wasn’t brave enough to risk it. She only had so much courage, and what she was about to do was using every drop of it.
“I just feel that we don’t have a lot of time,” she said finally.
“We don’t. It’s been a week since his last scene. He’s been escalating, building up steam, and a week is about as long as he can do without erupting now. Especially since he’s refocusing on you. If he’s running to pattern, he’s working himself up to something, something major. Are you sure you’re ready for this?”
“No. But I’m going to do it anyway.”
They hadn’t come up with a plan so much as a plan had come up and slapped them in the face. The day after agreeing to let her play bait, Aggie came over for dinner, and they had a brainstorming session. The TV was playing in the other room, and Lily’s attention was caught by the tail end of a follow-up to the break-in at the zoo.
“The break-in was, according to officials, a professional job, and not the work, as was previously suggested, of teenagers, similar to the rash of break-ins last summer. Last night a privately owned animal park was also hit and several animals were stolen. Officials speculate that they were taken by black marketers, to be sold to so-called big-game hunters to become ‘easy’ trophies. From the Newfield Zoo, this is Alissa Kent, for Channel 3 News.”
“Thank you, Alissa. Terrible news, just terrible. And now for the weather…”
“I never knew we had that many animal parks in town. I—” Lily stopped, looking suddenly at Jon. He had the same expression she was probably wearing: dawning, horrified suspicion. Jumping. Escalating. The killer was escalating.
Petrosian was already dialing by the time Jon reached for his cell phone.
“What do you mean you don’t know what was taken? Get the damn report and check!”
“It was him. He took their cats. At least one, probably more.”
“We don’t know for certain….” Petrosian began, then held up a finger as whomever he had been yelling at came back with the report. “Shit. Yeah. All right, yeah. Thanks. You do that.”
He closed the phone and looked at them, his heavy eyes mournful. “They had a breeding pair of cheetahs. The male’s missing.”
A day later, Lily had found herself in the overly warm studio of the local news show, being interviewed by a perky reporter trying for her best serious face while clearly thinking that this was nothing more than a publicity puff piece. The segment had aired this morning. They had been waiting ever since.
“Anyone want another donut?” The feds had shown up at the crack of dawn, bearing cases of electronics and serious expressions. Aggie had arrived an hour later bearing a box from Dunkin’ Donuts. So far, all Lily had been able to stomach was a strawberry-filled donut and three cups of coffee. A bowl of vegetable soup sat in front of her, cooling, but she hadn’t done more than poke the spoon at it.
The phone rang.
Lily froze, looking at the machine as though she had never seen it before. It was him. She knew it, the way she had known him outside the hospital. It was him, and she had no idea what to do. She wanted to run, hide, pretend that she had never come to this town, never walked into the shelter….
“Lily-kit, it’s okay. We’re here.”
“We” in this case was Patrick, Aggie, a very young-looking woman named Abigail who was handling the tech and an older Asian man they called Abraham, although she wasn’t sure if that was his first name, last name or nickname. The FBI had come through, although she got the feeling that Abraham at least thought it was all a waste of time.
“Lily. Showtime.”
She nodded, picked up the phone. “Hello?”
“You know.”
The reporter was wearing a dark pink sweater that made her complexion look sallow. They should have put her in something with more blue. “Do you think that the person who stole the cheetah intends to keep it as a pet, the way the ocelot you rescued last year was?”
“Oh, I
hope not.” Lily had done her best wide-eyed expression at the camera. “Big cats aren’t the same at all as these little fellows,” and she had cuddled a small spotted cat on her lap. Jon had told her to pick a tabby, but she knew what would push the Night Serpent’s buttons. The temple cats were spotted, but not tabbies. She had specifically requested a Mau, an Egyptian breed. They had to bring one in from a breeder in New Hampshire. Had there been one closer…Had there been one closer, they would all be dead now. “No more than, oh, a fighter jet is the same as a Cessna two-seater. One’s fun and dangerous if you’re not careful—the other…well, I’ve never flown a fighter jet, but I can imagine there are a lot more ways you can kill yourself faster than in a little passenger plane.”
Jon and Abraham had put together a script for her to follow when the Night Serpent called. But it didn’t feel right in her mouth.
She could hear him breathing on the other end of the line. The sounds in the room around her hushed the moment she picked up the phone, faded into nothingness. “I know a lot of things,” she said, instead of what the script in front of her suggested. “What do you need from me?”
“The key. I need to know how to turn the key. Everything is ready, but it has to be tonight. It’s my last chance. You know how to make everything go right.”
Selfish, she thought. Always selfish. Why hadn’t she seen that before? Then: Tonight. The new moon. She had been right.
“Why should I help you? What’s in it for me?”
There was silence, as though he had never considered the question before. She was off-script in oh so many ways, but the men in the room couldn’t interrupt her, not without giving the game away. She was in control here. She was the one calling the shots, directing the action.
“She says…” The Night Serpent’s voice faded out, then came back more strongly. He had a nice voice, if a little too…narrow for her taste. His vowels were thin, not rounded. Odd, the things you noticed.
