"It doesn't really look like a haunted house to me," Napoleon remarked. "Abandoned and dilapidated, yes, but not haunted. He and Illya stood at the entrance of the dwelling they'd been sent to investigate. There was an overhead arch with a curved design inside, and the door frames looked as if they'd come completely loose from the wall at some point and had been very sloppily glued back into place with spackling paste. The wooden doors, which had been painted white and light blue and were in a similar state of disrepair, were slightly open. Residents of the area had complained of high-pitched inhuman wailing noises coming from inside the building.
"I tell them that we are investigators, not exorcists, but they will not listen," Illya complained as his partner pushed the door open.
The inside of the old house was indeed creepy, with spiderwebs and layers of dust everywhere. It was obvious that no living person had been on the premises in a very long time. One section of the interior had, at one time, been blocked off by a brick enclosure, behind which had been stored God-only-knew what. A few of the bricks had fallen away, leaving an opening that a petite human could possibly barely squeeze through.
Once inside the long-deserted building, the two agents suddenly heard the inhuman wailing sound they'd been told of, and it was evident to both men that it came from behind the brick enclosure.
"I'm too big to fit through that hole, so it looks like it's up to you to solve this one, partner mine," Napoleon said, the relief he felt obvious in his voice.
Illya scowled but obediently approached the opening. By twisting his limbs into seemingly impossible angles, he was barely able to make it through the opening.
All was silent for a moment, and then Napoleon heard movement, a slight scuffle, from behind the wall.
"Here is your 'ghost'." A tiny orange cat appeared at the opening. Its fur was filthy, and it was very skinny. Napoleon took the animal from his partner's hands, and a moment later, Illya reappeared, covered in dust and grime.
"Her paw was caught in a crack in the wall, and she could not get it out," the Russian explained. "There was a puddle of water on the floor from which she had been drinking, but if I had not found her, she would have starved to death soon."
"Looks like it's your lucky day, kitty," Napoleon said to the tiny creature, who mewed hungrily. "Now that our 'mystery' is solved, we can go find you some nice warm milk. How does that sound?"
The cat jumped out of his hands and began to weave in circles around Illya's legs.
"She certainly seems to prefer you," Napoleon remarked. "It's as if she knows you're the one who rescued her."
Illya grinned and picked the cat up. "I shall call you Malinka," he decided. "That means 'little berry.'" The cat purred and rubbed the top of her head against his shirt.
