Chapter 14: Guess Who's Coming to Dinner

I'm sore when I wake up in the morning. Not just from the long run through cold muddy woods the day before, but also from the intimacy that you and I shared last night. I roll over with a happy sigh, but you're not in bed with me. I'm not worried. You come and go as you please, like a wild cat. There's a sunflower on the pillow beside me, and I smile when I see it. Who would have thought that you had such sweetness in you? And towards a 'food item', no less.

Sitting up and swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, I yawn and stretch. There are sounds coming from downstairs, and at first I can't place them. It's not the clinking of pots and pans that indicate breakfast, nor is it the click of your claws on the linoleum or hardwood as you walk barefoot about in the kitchen or living room. There are cracking sounds, like large branches being split.

I shut my eyes again and groan.

Please, please, please, please don't let it be what I think it is. I pull on my robe and slip out of the room and down the stairs, already feeling squeamish at the prospect of witnessing something utterly horrible. When I reach the kitchen…my face creases into a look of utmost disgust.

"Oh Deimos….."

You are still in your human form, covered in blood. Resolutely wrapping up chunks of bloody flesh in plastic film and tucking them into the roomy crisper drawers at the bottom of the refrigerator. Your orange eyes flick up to look at me, blood on your lips, you're chewing something. I lean against the doorway, just…stunned.

"I used to keep leftovers secreted away down in the sewers. But as I am attempting to be somewhat more civilized for your sake, I have decided to keep them in the kitchen. Where food is intended to be kept, by all accounts."

"How thoughtful." I feel like I'm about to throw up. "Are you going to want me to warm that up for you instead of chicken?"

"Would you? That is quite kind. I am fond of just slightly below body temperature. The flesh will warm more easily after the rigor mortis relaxes."

You lick your fingers and return to wrapping the chunk of flesh, a sickly off-white bone protruding from the end. There is marrow leaking onto the table. The smell is horrifying.

"Is that Greta?"

"What is left of her. I consumed a great deal already. These are simply the bits and pieces I was too full to eat. I'll want the rest soon enough. Did you sleep well, lover? I can call you that now. We are no longer virgins."

What a time to be having this discussion! Still, you seem happy. I'd hug you, but I don't even want to set foot inside the kitchen.

"I slept well, thank you. You were magnificent last night, Deimos."

"Yes well, my energies were much improved after our coupling. I waited until you were asleep, then returned to the basement to eat and think. And to tend to a small matter that you inspired."

"Me?" I try to think what it could be, but for the life of me I can't fathom anything I may have said or done that needed 'tending to'. You bite off a small chunk of meat and hold it in your palm. Then toss it to the floor near my feet.

Am I supposed to eat it? Is this a test? Some of the color drains from my face, but I start to kneel down….

….only to come face to face with a smallish dark colored cat with bright green eyes. He crouches over the meat, gnawing at it with his sharp little back teeth.

My heart is hammering in my chest. A buzzing is filling my ears. Oh my God. Can it really be?

"Cat? Is this….is this CAT?!"

"Yes. The very same. I followed the, I suppose there is no other word for it than 'scent', of his soul through many dark pathways and into the Brightness to which all things return when complete. There, I waited to see if he would recall any aspect of me. He did, and when I turned to leave the place he followed. The manifestation of his new body was a small matter. He's settled in well. I was able to do it, Beverly. I can return life to the dead."

Now there is no mistaking it. You look immensely proud of yourself. I reach out to pet the little feral's head, and he allows me this contact, warily, after sniffing my hand and finding your scent on me. Tears form in my eyes.

"You brought something back to life. You saved something, instead of killed it. Deimos….could you follow the scent of any soul?"

"If I cared to, I suppose I could." There is another resounding CRACK as you snap a bone in half to make it fit into the crisper. Wrapping it in plastic, you continue speaking. "You were right. It seems that there is nothing I cannot do. I am quite powerful."

"This is amazing! AMAZING! It's really him! You didn't just manifest a soul? Create the animating energy, or whatever it was you were talking about yesterday?"

"No. I attempted that first, and the little body merely toddled about and did not react to much. I knew I needed to fetch back what was lost. That is what I did, at three in the morning while you dreamed."

"He's beautiful!"

"Yes, I am very fond of him. Cat will live with us now. He prefers human meat. We will need a grinder, to make it softer for him. I could manifest one, of course. But I thought perhaps you would enjoy the errand of fetching one. It would give you a chance to go into town."

"You're alright if I just leave? Come and go as I like? Run errands and things?"

"I shall learn to accept it. Be back before sunset. And this time I very much mean it. I dislike having to hunt for you."

My whole chest is glowing. Then, despite the blood and the mess on the floor and the mess on your face, I step into the gory kitchen and throw myself into your arms, kissing a clean patch on your neck.

"I love you!"

The happy growl is adorable coming from your human form. I reach up and run my fingers through your sticky hair.

"I'm going to have a shower, and then run into town to get your grinder. We'll also need a litter box and a bed and toys and a little collar for him. And you need to pick out a name! You can't just call him 'Cat' all the time. It would be like calling me 'human'."

"You name him. It will serve as a way to bond the two of you."

"Alright! I'll think of something!" I kiss you again, lightly, then turn and trot out of the kitchen. Headed back upstairs to peel off my now-bloody robe and take a hot shower. My heart filled with joy.

An hour later, in my battered little car, I am driving into town to our one and only department store to fetch the necessary items. Only a few weeks ago, I was miserable and wanting to die at the hands of a monster. But now? Now I'm content. Happy, even. I'm in love, and nothing could ruin this. Nothing.

I pull into a parking spot and exit the car, humming a bit as I walk inside and grab a cart. So lost am I in the simple delight of picking out pet toys, eight or nine more steaks to feed you later, and just the perfect meat grinder that I barely notice when someone moves up behind me and puts their arms around my waist in a hug.

I freeze.

"Is….is that you?"

"If by 'you', you mean an old friend, then yes." A VERY familiar voice, slightly deeper than I remember it, comes from over my right shoulder. My heart both gives a huge leap and also sinks into my toes as I turn around to see him standing there. The last person I expected to see. The one person who could spell absolute trouble for my current situation.

It's Bill Denborough. Five years older now. Looking as handsome as ever, taller than I am now and more filled out. But his blue eyes are the same, and that slightly shy smile. I'm so shocked, I can't even form a smile of my own.

"Oh! Oh my God. Bill."

"Just got into town, taking a little break from my first year at college. I came home to visit my parents. I knew you were back in town already, Mike called and told me. But I went by your place and there was a note that said you were away." His eyes pass over the items in my cart, then move back to my face. "We should find someplace to sit down and talk. Mike's a little worried about you."

"Me?! Why would he be worried about me? I'm doing great! Like is terrific, no complaints."

"He overheard that Keene girl telling her friends about seeing you doing yardwork at the corner of Winston and Neibolt. And he put two and two together and drove by the Well House a few times. No lights on inside, and it still looks like a wreck. But the yard was spotless and your car was just down the street. What's going on?"

DAMMIT.

My chest is filled with ice, and suddenly my hands are shaking. Bill's voice is soft.

"Do you need anything else here? Want to check out and grab some lunch?"

"I….I have to get home…."

"Which home, Beverly? What are you doing at the Well House? It's not safe. That thing could still be there."

I can't stop shaking, and I feel like I'm about to throw up.

"He's not a THING, Bill! And I'm perfectly safe. I know what I'm doing."

The moment the words are out, I wish I could recall them. I wish I could instantly transport myself someplace far away, away from that blue stare that suddenly looks more bewildered than ever. Bill puts a hand on my arm.

"What are you talking about?"

I pull out of his grip, and I can tell that all the color is gone from my face.

"Listen, it's great to see you. Really great. But I have to get going. I….I'm busy. Nothing is going on at the Well House. I just wanted to see it one more time, that's all."

"What did you mean, 'he's not a thing'? Beverly, have you seen It again? Is It alive?"

"Nice seeing you, Bill. We'll talk later, ok? Ok great. Bye!"

I grab my cart and all but run from him, ignoring him when he calls after me. Racing through the self-checkout, teetering on the edge of panic, I throw everything into bags before dashing out of the store. When I'm finally in my car, that's when the horror really hits me.

They know. Or rather, they suspect. Two of the Losers suspect that I'm doing something at the Well House. They'll come to investigate, the stupid, brave fools. And when they do…you'll kill them. Or maybe they'll attack you again and another battle will be fought. I don't know what to do. Will Bill call Ben now? And Richie and Eddie? Will the Losers come together to fight something they don't understand and can't possibly defeat once more? I have no idea.

I race out of the parking lot, looking in the rear view mirror the whole way to make sure I'm not being followed. And this time, I park four streets over from Neibolt in an alleyway. I cross people's lawns and trot down side streets until I'm back at the Well House with my bags. Even now, I'm looking all around me just in case there are eyes marking my passage. I fumble the door open and fling myself in, shutting it behind me and turning the lock. I lean against it, sliding down to sit on the floor.

They can't come here. They can't burst in and investigate. All the changes will be CLEAR to them the moment they open that dilapidated looking door and discover that the inside doesn't match the illusion of the outside. I have a fridge full of Greta and a monster in my bed. There's going to be no easy way out of this. None.

You emerge from the kitchen with Cat in your arms, still in your human form. But at the sight of my face, you set him down and ripple up into the Clown.

"Tell me."

"It's Bill. He's back. He's back and Mike knows I'm here, I think! He told Bill, and Bill was asking all kinds of questions and he wanted to know what I was doing here and he called you a THING and I said you weren't and he's suspicious now and thinks you might be back! I don't know what to do!"

For a few moments, you blink those red-gold eyes and stare down at me. Then you huff out a growl-sigh.

"Is that all?"

"What do you mean, 'IS THAT ALL'?! Isn't that enough?!"

"It hardly concerns me. This place is a fortress now. They won't be getting in. If they try, I shall be waiting. I do have a score to settle, Dream. They will merely be hastening it. Now, did you bring a toilet pan for Cat? He made something of a mess on the floor in the kitchen. I mopped it up with what was left of your old enemy's clothing and disposed of it."

"Are you…Deimos! This is REALLY BAD!"

You lean down and pick up the bags with your clawed hands, carrying them into the kitchen to unpack, and you really do seem completely untroubled.

"More steak? I believe Cat will enjoy it as well. Ah good, you brought toys. He will like the toys. Come, Cat."

Obediently, the little creature who was dead not even twelve hours ago trots into the kitchen at your call. I can hear the rustling of plastic bags, then the tinkle of a belled toy.

I'm dumbfounded, numb and scared and panicking. But you're as calm as can be. Not bursting with rage, not whipping open the door to race out and hunt down Bill and Mike in a snarling, drooling frenzy. No. You're putting away groceries and playing with a housecat.

What parallel reality have I walked into?!

"Wear something attractive tonight, Dream. We will be having a guest."

"Huh?" Your words barely register.

"Yes, my dear."

"A…..a guest? Who?"

You appear around the door again, pouring kitty litter into the blue tray in your other hand, and you flash a toothy smile.

"My brother," you tell me, and what was left of my sanity drains away completely. "Phobos wishes to meet you."