“Goddamn it!” West shook the cat off.
“What the hell has gotten into you?”
Wft Brazil lay back in the sleeping bag on the floor of his new, one-bedroom, unfurnished apartment. He had a headache and couldn’t seem to get enough water. He’d been drinking beer for two days, and this frightened him. His mother had probably started exactly the same way, and here he was following her path. He knew enough from all the interest in genetics these days to deduce that he might have inherited his mother’s proclivity for self-destruction. Brazil was deeply depressed by this realization, and he was ashamed of his behavior and knew for a fact that West had only humored a drunk kid, and the performance would never be repeated.
He lay still, hands beneath the back of his head, staring up at the ceiling, lights out, music on. Beyond his window he could see the top of the US Bank Corporate Center almost touching the slivered moon, a red light blinking at the top of the crown. Brazil stared, zoning out again, an unsettling realization coming over him. Tomorrow would be two weeks since the last Black Widow slaying.
“Christ.” He sat up, sweating, and breathing hard. He kicked off sheets and stood. He began pacing, with nothing on but gym shorts. He drank more water and stood in his bare kitchen, staring out at US Bank thinking, worrying. Out there somewhere was another businessman about to become a victim! If only there were some way to prevent it. Where was the killer now? What was the bastard thinking as he loaded his gun, and thought his evil thoughts, waiting on the web of Five Points for the next rental car to innocently creep into the city?
Wft Niles was following West all over the house. She was certain the cat had gone haywire, and knew this was a danger with Siamese, Abyssinians, and all over bred cross-eyed creatures that had been around for thousands of years. Niles wound through her moving legs, almost tripping her twice, and she had no choice but to boot him across the room.
Niles cried out, but persisted, then he got angry. One more boot, he thought, and you’ve had it. West gave him the side of her foot, sending him under the bed, scoring another point.
Niles watched from his dark space between the box spring and hardwood floor, his tail twitching. Niles waited until his owner had taken off shoes and socks, then he shot out and bit the soft spot at the back of her heel, right behind the ankle bone. He knew this hurt, because he’d tested it before. His owner chased him around the house for ten minutes, and he ran with sincerity, because he recognized true homicidal rage when he saw it.
Niles returned to the bed and stayed under it until his owner got tired and wanted to sleep. Sneaking out, Niles returned to the kitchen. He curled up on the sill, where his kind and loving King kept watch over him during dark, lonely nights.
Morning came and brought rain. The unfriendly alarm clock buzzed loudly and stung West awake. She groaned, lying in bed, refusing to get up as heavy drops of water drummed the roof. This was perfect sleeping weather. Why should she get up? Memories of Brazil and his stranded BMW, of Niles and his outrageous behavior last night, depressed and excited her at the same time. This made no sense. She pulled the covers up around her chin, and images came, disturbing ones somehow relating to whatever she had dreamt. When she was absolutely still, she could almost feel Brazil’s hands and mouth all over her.
She was horrified and stayed in bed for quite some time.
Niles, having free rein of the house for a bit, had crept into the laundry room. He was interested in the big white box with wet clothes in it. On top were several folded bills and some change. He jumped up, having yet another idea of how to pass along King Usbeecee’s message to Niles’s owner. Of course, Niles knew with joy that his owner could do something about the King’s endangerment. She could act on it, roar in wearing her important suit with all its leather and metal and dangerous toys. That’s what this was all about, Niles was convinced.