His eyes opened to the flat darkness of his unlit room. Did he feel a breeze skim over his hands, the only uncovered part of his skin? No, it was probably only the blood rushing through his cramped finger. He shifted in his sleeping place, moving his stiff limbs to a more comfortable position. He became dimly aware of a weight on his right leg.
"Oh, little Ayesha, did you get in through the door again?" he murmured softly into the dark. He stretched out a hand to pet the cat's silky fur. Instead his palm made contact with warm flesh. With a violent start he swung himself to the floor, and lit a candle with trembling hands. By its faint light, he glared at the stretched out form in his coffin.
"Who are you?" he snarled.
The creature sat up, cocking its head, and stared back at Erik expressionlessly.
Curbing his shock, he took a step backwards and drew a shaky breath. In his coffin was a woman—a nude one, no less—with her body folded so ridiculously, that at first he couldn't understand what it reminded him of.
"Who are you?" he asked again, calmer this time, for there was something about the woman's face and position that was familiar to him.
"What is wrong?" the woman asked, her voice surprisingly high.
"What is—What—What right do you have to ask anything of me? You're trespassing in my house!" Erik found that it was harder to threaten and yell at a calm naked woman in his bed than it was at others who have annoyed him.
The woman's head moved in a rapid, brisk movement as it bent over her left shoulder. "Trespassing?" she asked slowly. Her hands, Erik noted with some discomfort, were beginning to slowly claw at the lining of his coffin.
"Ye—Well, yes." He sputtered, concentrating on the vague familiarity of the woman's mannerisms, "How did you get in here?"
"You didn't close your door."
"I—of course I did! And where are you clothes? Dear God, have some decency, madam!"
The woman's eyes narrowed to dreamy slits. "I don't wear clothes," she said, and yawned widely, baring her teeth. As she did, she stretched out her neck, and Erik found himself looking at Ayesha's diamond collar, now fastened securely around the woman's delicate neck.
"What have you done with my cat, madam?" He roared. If the tart had laid even a finger on his precious little Ayesha…
"I am your cat, master."