There was no dial tone.
She jiggled the receiver-cradle buttons.
Nothing.
She put the receiver down and followed the cord around the side of the desk to the wall, to see if it had come unplugged. It wasn’t unplugged; it was chewed.
Bitten in two.
Aristophanes.
She remembered other things that Palmer Wainwright had said in the garden: There are certain forces, dark and powerful forces, that want to see this played out the wrong way. Dark forces that thrive on tragedy. They want to see it end in senseless violence and blood. … There are forces aligned. … good and evil, right and wrong. You’re on the right side, Grace. But the cat—ah, the cat’s a different story. At all times, you must be wary of the cat.
She also remembered when the series of paranormal events had begun, and she realized that the cat had been an integral part of it all, from the very start. Wednesday of last week. When she had suddenly awakened from her afternoon nap that day—catapulted out of a nightmare about Carol—there had been an incredibly brilliant and violent barrage of Lightening beyond the study windows. She had staggered to the nearest window, and while she had stood there on unsteady, arthritic legs, half-awake and half-asleep, she’d had the eerie feeling that something monstrous had followed her up from the world of her nightmare, something demonic with a hungry grin on its face. For a few seconds that feeling had been so strong, so real, that she had been afraid to turn around and look into the shadowy room behind her. But then she had dismissed that weird thought as nothing more than the cold residue of the nightmare. Now, of course, she knew she shouldn’t have dismissed it so quickly. Something strange had been in the room with her—a spirit; a presence; call it what you will. It had been there. And now it was in the cat.
She left the study and hurried down the hall.
In the kitchen, she found that phone cord also chewed apart.
There was no sign of Aristophanes.
Nevertheless, Grace knew he was nearby, perhaps even close enough to be watching her. She sensed his—or its—presence.
She listened. The house was too silent.
She wanted to cross the few feet of open floor to the kitchen door, open it boldly, and walk away from the house. But she strongly suspected that any attempt to leave would trigger an immediate and vicious attack.
She thought about the cat’s claws, teeth, fangs. It wasn’t merely a house pet, not just an amusing Siamese with a cute, furry face. It was actually a tough little killing machine, too; its feral impulses lay beneath a thin veneer of domestication. It was both respected and dreaded by mice and birds and squirrels. But could it kill a grown woman?
Yes, she thought uneasily. Yes, Aristophanes could kill me if he caught me by surprise and if he went for either my throat or my eyes.
The best thing she could do was stay within the house and not antagonize the cat until she had armed herself and could feel confident of winning any battle.
The only other telephone was in the second-floor bedroom. Wary, she went upstairs, even though she knew the third extension would be out of order, too.
It was.
But there was something in the bedroom that made the journey up the stairs worthwhile. The gun. She pulled open the top drawer of her nightstand and took out the loaded pistol she kept there. She had a hunch she would need it.
A hiss. A rustle.
Behind her.
Before she could swing around and confront her adversary, he was on her. He vaulted from the floor to the bed, sprang from the bed to her back, landing with nearly enough force to knock her off balance. She tottered for a moment and almost fell forward into the bedside lamp.
Aristophanes hissed and spat and scrambled for purchase on her back.
Fortunately, she kept her feet under her. She spun around and shook herself, frantically attempting to throw him off before he could do any damage.
His claws were hooked in her clothes. Although she was wearing both a blouse and a sweater, she felt a couple of his razor-tipped nails puncturing her skin—hot little points of pain. He wouldn’t let go.