Kisses for Blows

There was a noise outside my human house in the early morning hours, long before the sun rose. I sat up groggily, expecting to see Bombie dragging herself in after another exhausting night of fun and games, her coat tousled and her face content.

No one came in.

Again, a noise outside. Followed by the cry of a small kit. What in Heaviside?

Silently, I slipped off the couch and crept to the door. Again, I heard the soft plaintive mew of a kitten. I peered cautiously out the door. I saw nothing in the pale moonlight.

The kitten mewed again. I left the house cautiously, gliding down the steps and into the bushes, where the cry seemed to originate.

"Ello, Dollface," a strange tabby cat smiled back at me. He was far from being a defenseless kit—he was a tall, gangly tom, caught between kitten and adulthood.

"What in Heaviside is going on?" I demanded. That's when I noticed we were not alone—several large black wharf rats stood, eyeing me suspiciously. I shifted back in sudden realization, but it was too late. A burlap sack ducked over my head, I felt the rough paws of several rats shoving me into the sack.

"Easy does it, now!" The cat reminded them. I kicked about wildly, but I did not cry out. I was too terrified.

"A regular fighter, this one!" grunted one of the rats. I could feel them dragging me down the pavement, even through the thick burlap I could feel every bump and pebble in the road. Realizing that fighting was now useless, I concentrated on keeping the friction between the heavy burlap and the rough pavement from burning my skin.

I heard the sound of waves—we were near the docks. I took a fearful breath—were they going to drown me?

The movement stopped. I was pulled out of the bag. I looked about wildly, trying to get my bearings. The tom kit grabbed me roughly, holding a rag over my mouth and nose. A strong, sickly scent filled my nostrils, burning my lungs. My world went black.

~*~

I remember waking up in a room, hearing the hum of machines beneath me. The stranger who had kissed me was sitting beside me on the bed, watching me as I slept. I sat up, giving a small self conscious smile, "Hello."

"Hello," he smiled back at me.

"What happened?" I asked, looking around the room. I did not remember this place. He just smiled and leaned forward, kissing me again. I felt electricity shoot through me once more; I forgot my question. I could think about was him—touching me, tasting me, pulling me toward him with an amazing mixture of strength and tenderness.

~*~

I feel a hot rush of blood to my face as I blush at the memory of this stranger's touch. I realize I do not know his name. That's the least of my worries right now.

"Where am I?"

"You are in a warehouse," he replies smoothly. I nod. That is too vague of an answer, but I am too afraid to question him further. I can tell by the way he paces the room that he is angry about something.

He turns to me, his eyes blazing with an odd resentment, "Do you know who I am?"

I shake my head, which is still throbbing from an unexplained injury. He rises to his full height, "The name is Macavity."

My blood runs cold. My whole body seems to freeze in fear.

He leans forward, his face now visible. His voice is low and taunting, "Did you have fun last night, betraying your tribe?"

I give a small gasp of surprise. "You…"

"I know," he gives me a knowing grin. "Although, I must admit, you put up quite a fight."

~*~

We had fallen back, exhausted yet elated. I took in a deep breath, sighing in contentment. I knew why Bombie stayed out all hours of the night. With the right tom, and the right amount of chemistry, this could be quite a rewarding experience.

The stranger suddenly sat up, an odd look in his eyes, "I want you to fight me."

"What?" I asked, half laughing at this odd request. He leaned forward, "C'mon, hit me."

"No," I said, forcing a smile. Surely he was joking, or maybe just testing me. He pulled me to him, "C'mon."

"No."

He dug his claws into my back. I gave a cry of pain, pushing away from him. He grinned wickedly, "See? It's not so hard to fight back."

I had rolled away from him, to the corner of the bed. He moved towards me slowly.

"Don't," I said weakly. His hungry smile just grew. "C'mon, Demeter. I know there's something stronger than that inside of you."

He reached for me. I pushed his paw away weakly, "Please, don't."

He reached again. I felt a surge of strength boil inside of me—that instinct that pushes you to fight, to survive. I lashed out angrily, my voice suddenly very strong and serious, "Don't touch me."

He sat back, a look of mild surprise on his face. He grinned wickedly again, "I knew you were a fighter."

He advanced again. I pushed him away. He grabbed me roughly, chuckling to himself. I dug my claws into his chest. He gave a yell of pain and threw me against the wall. My head began to throb. He came at me again. This time I did not fight. When he pulled me towards him, I crumpled into his chest like a flimsy sheet of paper.

He looked down at me, "What's the matter?"

"I don't want to play this game," I replied meekly, tears forming in my eyes from the pain. I was quite certain that the gash in the back of my head was bleeding, already my shoulder blades were aching from the impact.

He pushed me to the ground with a disgusted look, "You disappoint me."

~*~

The black rats had appeared once more, I stiffened and instinctively moved toward the gingercat for protection. The rats grinned wickedly at this, their black eyes shining with evil intent. He did not stop them. They grabbed my legs viciously, but I did not feel the pain. I was too busy reaching for the stranger, clawing for any form of refuge from their cruel hands. They dragged me from the room without a word. I remember looking back at his face, seeing the smug smile and thinking, What hell have I entered?

They threw me into the cellar room, laughing viciously amongst themselves as my head hit the concrete with a resounding thud. I looked up at them through pain-seared eyes; they hovered over me like dark angels of doom.

"Time to go nighty-night, kitty cat," snarled the largest of the rats, landing a hard kick to my stomach. I felt my lungs collapse as the air left them; I felt sick and unable to move. The rats continued hitting me, kicking my torso, and scratching me with their sharp claws. I curled up in a ball, unable to breath, much less cry out in pain. I tried to shield my face from the worst of the blows. I could not defend myself, but at least I could try to survive.

"Enough!"

I heard the voice of the young tom cat. I could not see anything; everything seemed to be going black; colors swirled behind my eyes and I felt the dizzying sensation of being sick to my stomach. The tom continued, "Mac wants 'er alive, ya twits. Ya've had yore fun, now leav'er be."

The rats left, grumbling amongst themselves. I heard the young cat crouch down beside me. His voice took on a softer side, "Y'alroight?"

I could not speak through the searing bursts of pain that radiated through my lungs, but I gave a slight nod. I felt him leave the room, the door slamming ominously behind him, followed by the dark finality of a lock clicking.

~*~

A shiver of fear races down my spine as I remember this. I take a breath to steady myself, but the ragged sound gives away my fear. Macavity smiles again, "How's your head, Demeter?"

"Why…?" I cannot even begin to form the questions that bounce about my brain. He grins wickedly. "Revenge, dear one, revenge."

I look up at him with wide eyes. What have I ever done to him?

He can obviously read the question on my face, for he quickly adds, "Not against you, of course. You're just too sweet to be mean to someone—even someone like me. I'm after that charming friend of yours, Bombalurina."

My eyes fall to the ground in understanding. It's always about Bombalurina. Of course it is. Why else would he have chosen me? Surely not because of my looks or my personality. No, he merely needed me because I am Bombie's closest friend. This makes the betrayal even more intimate. I want to cry with shame, but I hold back the floodgate of tears that threaten my eyes.

"You see," Macavity takes on a patronizing tone. "She is mine. She does not realize this, but still, it is true—she belongs to me. She ran away a while back…and well, you—unsuspecting and kindhearted little kitty that you are—took her in. Gave her a place to stay. Kept her from returning to me."

I look up at him in confusion, but I do not reply. He continues, "Still, that did not bother me. I knew I could still win her back. But then…"

His face contorts into an ugly mixture of hurt and hatred, "Then, she has to go off and sleep with that deplorable, puny little wuss Munkustrap."

I catch my breath at this. Munku slept with Bombie? Surely she knows how I feel about him—how could she?!

Macavity is now watching me with a look of mild disinterest.

"You envy her, don't you?"

I am beginning to wonder if Macavity can read minds as well. I do not respond. He crouches down beside me, his body moving dangerously close to mine, "You wish you had her tenacity, her courage. Do you know who made her that way? I did."

I look up at him with surprised eyes. After last night, I can see how such a thing could be true. He is touching me now, his paw running up my thigh, "I can give you that power, too. I can make you just like her…"

Despite my fear, I find myself tingling at his touch. I lean against the wall, catching my breath in surprise. He leans forward, "When I'm through with you, you will have such confidence—you can have any tom you want."

I instantly think of Munkustrap. Could it be possible? If he's been with Bombie, he certainly won't go for a timid queen like me. Macavity traces the white patch of fur on my chest with his claw. All thoughts of Munku disappear.

I lean forward, wanting to taste him so badly that all my reservations go out the window.