Dark Reflection

Chapter 41

"Bête Noire"

by Lilyjack

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"Stay here," Matt whispered urgently in Kitty's ear, fumbling blindly on the dirt floor for his boots. Hastily he abandoned the notion and stood, grunting with the effort while holding a hand to his side.

Kitty gripped his arm insistently. "No, Matt, I wanna go with you."

"Shh…" Placing his finger over her lips, Matt latched onto her hand and led her slowly and carefully a few paces through the pitch-black room. Standing motionless, backs pressed against the door, Matt and Kitty listened intently to the sounds drifting down from upstairs, from the very top of the steps it seemed. Were Blackthorne's men standing right over the cellar trapdoor? The muffled voices of Charlie Fitz and others-some familiar, some not—reverberated above their heads. An argument of some kind was taking place, angry shouting—were those Mr. Botkin's sharp protests? Kitty prayed they did not hurt the old gentleman again. As booted feet dispersed to all corners of the house overhead, gooseflesh prickled over Kitty's skin.

Matt urgently whispered, "Kitty, I think if they discover the trapdoor and start to come down here…we should make a run for it. There are enough turns and forks in the tunnels…that we might be able to lose them and escape. You with me?"

Too horrified at the thought of being discovered to answer, she simply nodded at first. Realizing again that Matt couldn't see her, she squeezed his hand in agreement. Both their palms were damp with sweat.

"Just hang tight, Kitty. We'll listen…and wait…."

Kitty briefly panicked when Matt dropped her hand to search in the dark for his boots again. After only a few seconds, she heard him slipping them quickly on his feet. She was relieved when he returned to stand next to her, his bare arm pressing reassuringly against her sleeve.

Her breath came shallow and quick as she apprehensively listened to the chaos above. The tumultuous commotion of doors slamming, cupboards banging, furniture thumping on the floor, men shouting—Kitty's heart pounded in tandem with it all. Her nostrils were unexpectedly assaulted by the odor of the packed-earth floor beneath their feet—it had never bothered her before, but now it smelled damp and moldy and funereal, weighting her chest with intense dread. She clutched Matt's hand again tightly, holding on, waiting…

There was a sudden stillness. For several terrible seconds, Kitty was afraid the intruders could detect her gasping breaths. But then she made out a single pair of heavy, booted feet pacing slowly, deliberately, directly overhead in the kitchen. An unnervingly familiar voice, raspy and ruined, drifted down to where they were concealed, and a shiver ran down Kitty's spine. Could she truly smell the acrid, choking stench of cigar smoke through the infinitesimal cracks in the floor? A sheen of sweat broke out on her forehead, while the blood in her veins sluiced ice water. She felt helpless, trapped here beneath the earth. Images of that nightmarishly scarred face and body, the milk-white blind eye beneath the mask, reared up unbidden in a waking dream-looming over her, speaking serpentine words in her ear, poisoning, touching and taking….

Desperately, she whispered, "He's up there, Matt." She leaned heavily against his arm. "I can hear him…smell him. I can feel him." Could that monster feel her as well, hiding beneath his feet?

Matt squeezed her hand in comfort but said nothing, holding his pistol at the ready.

Kitty couldn't make out what Botkin was saying, but his voice sounded indignant. Charlie Fitz began urgently speaking as well. And then she heard it. She heard Silas Blackthorne speak her name aloud. There was no mistaking it. She felt the blood drain from her face.

Bleakly, she whispered, "Don't let him take me…"

Matt turned and pulled her against him. "Shh…" he murmured in her hair. His strong arms embraced her securely. "I won't let him."

Kitty's head lay against Matt's bare chest. With her ear pressed against his warm skin, she could hear his heart beating, she could feel it in her bones. The sound grounded her, pulled her head out of that awful place where Silas Blackthorne controlled her, mind and body. Matt Dillon's steady, pumping heart reminded her of the here and now. That she was safe in the arms of a good, decent man. But for how long…?

They stood holding on to one another, waiting with bated breath while the seconds ticked by with agonizing slowness. Finally, Matt sighed, "I think they're gone."

Kitty suddenly felt nauseous and dizzy, and she swayed against him as her head spun. "Matt," she whispered. "I don't feel so good."

He reacted quickly, scooping her up in his arms as her body went limp. She had fainted dead away.

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Kitty opened her eyes and panicked, gasping. Suffocating darkness still enveloped her. But a warm palm cupped her cheek and a deep, anxious voice entreated, "Kitty, can you hear me?"

She stirred and realized she was lying on her cot. Matt kneeled on the dirt floor beside her, his breath brushing her face. "Hey…you okay?"

"I think so," she answered, dragging a sleeve over her perspiring forehead. "Oh, Matt, I'm so sorry. I…"

"Kitty, don't apologize." His voice was firm, and his hand sought to hold hers in the darkness again. "You've been through a lot. You've got…nothing to be sorry for."

"But you've got enough to worry about without having to worry about me, too," she insisted.

"Kitty, I'll let you know when I think I've got more than I can stand." His resolute tone essentially ended the discussion.

"Alright, Matt," she quietly agreed. "But, honestly, I just don't know what came over me. I'm not usually the type to…"

He gently interrupted, "Honey, I know what came over you. But now Silas Blackthorne is gone. They're all gone. You're safe now."

"Yeah, but for how long?" she asked earnestly. "Matt, sit up here with me. Are you hurting?"

"Nah…" he dismissed her concern for him, but he did comply, gingerly perching beside her. He sat wordlessly for a moment, pensive. At last he spoke up, proposing, "Kitty, we can leave town. You won't be in danger…if I get you the hell outta Dodge."

She caught her breath. "You'd do that for me?"

"Sure, Kitty, I'd do…anything to keep you safe."

Soberly, she reasoned, "But if we leave, I lose everything I ever worked for."

"You can't take the Long Branch…with you, that's for sure."

After a long pause, Kitty declared determinedly, "I wanna stay, Matt. The Long Branch is mine, and I want it back."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure."

"That's what I figured you'd say, Kitty."

"You think you know me pretty well, huh?" Kitty realized he couldn't see her playful smirk.

But she could hear the smile on his face when he shot back, "I'm a pretty good judge a' character."

"I bet you are…" she commented drily. "But…you need to lie down, Matt, and get some rest. You've been through a lot yourself this evening."

"I won't argue with that," he agreed. "You, uh, you okay now? You'll be able…to go to sleep?"

"I think so."

Matt reluctantly pressed her hand in his one last time and rose to find his way in the darkness to the other side of the room. Banging his knee on the table, he softly swore, then began to feel his way more carefully. He lowered his battered body to his cramped cot, lying back with a sigh.

Kitty rested quietly for a moment, then spoke up from her side of the room, "Matt, I want you to teach me to shoot."

"What?"

Kitty elaborated, "Oh, I can manage to shoot a pistol if I hafta, but I wanna learn t' shoot proper, and I know you can teach me, Matt." She took a fortifying breath and revealed, "I don't ever wanna be caught in a hole in the ground again, like a rat in a trap, waitin' for those bastards to kill me. I wanna learn to shoot and defend myself."

"Alright, Kitty. I can teach you to shoot."

"Good. When can we start?"

tbc

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