Part Two: The Exile

Chapter Fourteen

The next few months were a flurry of activity. Under Macavity's insistence, I gave up my usual nightly parties, staying instead under the watchful eye of my human, who was apparently furious about the fact that I was pregnant. As if she didn't think it would happen eventually! Humans are such ignorant creatures.

Still, her evident anger could not dispel my gaiety. I awoke with a smile on my face every morning; and when I laid my head down at night, that same smile was still there. Everyone commented on how happy I looked—even Fergus, who was still heartbroken that I had chosen a mixed-breed to be my mate.

Nefertiti visited me every day, delighted at my growing belly. Apparently her humans had "fixed" her—preventing her from ever having kittens. Still, this did not quell the maternal instincts within; she hovered over me like a protective hen. I could not so much as walk down the street without Nefertiti at my side, saving me from a thousand unseen dangers, most of which existed only in Nefertiti's mind.

Macavity seemed to change as well. He, too, adopted Nefertiti's motherly mentality. He visited me at my human's house every day, making sure that I had eaten properly and that I was in good health. Some days we would lie out in the garden, under the warm summer sun, and imagine our future. We would discuss names for the kits, and joke about which one would inherit Macavity's vast empire of crime. He would place his paw on my round belly in wonder; his face would soften like a kit's.

"Just a few more weeks," he would whisper softly to my abdomen. "A few more weeks and we'll finally get to meet you guys."

I would smile in loving amusement and playfully ruffle the fur on his head. Even in our most intimate moments, I could not help but tease him.

It took me awhile to realize that during the months we had known each other, this was the first time we were ever truly filled with joy. It was the first time we laughed that we did not laugh out of spite or cruelty. It was a novel feeling, this intoxicating delight. It seemed during those rosy summer months that nothing could harm us; nothing could stop our upward spiral. We seemed destined for a life of happiness and contentment. Oh, how sad it all seems now.

~*~

The kits came in an excruciatingly glorious way—something called the miracle of childbirth. Painful, but rewarding. Nefertiti, although she had never done this sort of thing before, coached me through it very well. Mac almost passed out from fear and worry. My pains produced three females and one male, and soon I was resting peacefully, four beautiful kittens nursing and nestling close to me for warmth.

Mac looked at them with a soft wonder written on his handsome features. In the softest voice I have ever heard, he asked, "What shall we name them?"

I was thoughtful. We had discussed names many times, but now that the actual moment was here, I was uncertain. Mac took his place beside me, taking my paw in his with the tenderness of butterfly wings. I kissed his paw, my mind deep in thought, "The tabby shall be Rubicaia. And the grey shall be Larkspur."

"Ronli," Mac gently stroked the little red that looked just like me. "Let's name this one Ronli."

I nodded. I looked up to him with expectant eyes, "And the son? What shall we name our son?"

"Macsimius," he replied, directing his attention to the small black and white kit. I nuzzled Mac, purring in contentment, "Macsimius it is."

He kissed my forehead lightly, "Get some sleep, Red. You deserve it."

I smiled lazily; I had been fighting the urge to close my eyes ever since the trauma was over. Even as I slept, I could hear Mac cooing to our newborn kits. It is the closest memory of Heaven I shall ever have.

~*~

It was another three weeks before I even thought about leaving the house, even for a short walk or a moment in the garden. My kits consumed every moment of my life; nothing else seemed to matter. Perhaps it was because I had not experience much love in my life, but I was overwhelmed with the love that I felt for these tiny beings. These helpless, mewing kits depended entirely on me, and I adored the oddly-wonderful sensation of being needed. Never in my life had anyone needed me. Sure, Mac loved me, but he could survive without me. He wanted me, but he didn't need me.

I would spend hours on end, nuzzling and cooing to my kits. Late at night, when my human had gone upstairs for the evening, Mac would appear at the windowsill. I would let him in and he would stay until daybreak, spending every second he could with his offspring. I would often sit back, watching in affectionate amusement as Mac would gently rock the kits to sleep or whisper little love words in their ears. Once their eyes opened, they would light up at his presence, mewing for him to pick them up or cuddle them.

Eventually, I would take a few minutes each day to go out to the garden, leaving the kits under the watchful eyes of Nefertiti, who loved my kits as if they were her own. The look of joy on my babies' faces when I returned was enough to bring tears to my eyes. Such love! It was like a tidal wave, pulling me deeper in and taking over me completely. But with extreme joy comes extreme pain. Had I only known that, I would never have left my kits or that house for the rest of my life.

~*~

It had been almost two months since the birth of our kittens. Mac came by much earlier than usual, with Nefertiti at his side. He wore a mischievous grin which signaled that he had something up his sleeve.

"Come," Mac said, extending his paw to me. He led me to the mirror and commanded, "Now close your eyes."

I looked at him, a mix of suspicion and playfulness in my voice, "Why?"

His mouth curled into its usual crooked grin, "Just do it, Red."

I held his gaze a little longer, a smile slowly creeping onto my face. Finally, I gave in and dutifully turned to face the mirror, closing my eyes. I felt the weight of a necklace slide across my collar bone. Mac's fingers quickly fastened it, but his paws lingered. He softly traced his claw down my spine. The memory of the night we met and the first time he touched me flashed like heat lightning upon my brain, causing white-hot sparks to fly throughout my body.

He nuzzled my ear affectionately before whispering, "Now, open them."

I opened my eyes to see a large diamond necklace glittering on my reflection. I gasped, lightly touching it with my paw, my eyes never leaving my mirror image, "Oh, Mac, it's beautiful."

"A perfect match for my beautiful queen," he kissed me lightly. I smiled at him, "What's the occasion?"

"You gave me four beautiful healthy kittens," he gave a crooked smile. "Can't a tom buy his lady a trinket?"

"This is more than a mere trinket," I replied, turning my face to admire my reflection. I felt a playful smirk creep onto my face, "And I seriously doubt you bought this."

Mac chuckled softly, "I didn't. I just happened to…stumble upon it as I was out walking last night."

I grinned seductively and pulled him into me, keeping my mouth just a breath away from his, "Well, aren't you just a lucky cat."

"Yes I am," he agreed in a low tone. This time he really kissed me—not just a light peck, but long and deep, the type of kiss that makes your stomach plummet and your heart skip a beat.

"Let's go show off those jewels," he said, gently rubbing my cheek.

"What about the babies?"

"Nefertiti's here. She can keep them for a few hours."

I nodded, "Let's go."

~*~

The Underground was packed, as usual. But the crowd seemed to part like the Red Sea when Mac and I walked in. The flashing lights hit my diamonds perfectly, sending a splash of glittering white dots around the room. The whole club seemed to stop and stare as Mac and I made our way through the crowd. I could hear the whispers of my name and his, along with our aliases—The Hidden Paw and The Red Queen. Oh, yes, darlings, I thought, Bombalurina is back.

Occasionally, Mac would stop to shake someone's paw. I would stand beside him, forcing a smile. I could see the faces of the other queens in the room—there were no warm smiles nor kind words of welcome for me. Some looked at me with envy, others with distaste, a few with pure hatred. I don't blame them; I would be insanely jealous of myself as well—I had caught the Hidden Paw, provided heirs to the Napoleon of Crime's empire, and had become a celebrity fixture while doing it. And I was wearing the most extravagant set of jewels in all of London! When you add this to my natural good looks and rather alluring figure (which I luckily regained after the birth of the kits), you realize that there was much to be envious of.

~*~

Eventually the other cats stopped staring and went back to their usual partying. Mac had stationed himself at the card table, his shoulders hunched over his cards. Occasionally he would steal a glance at his artfully positioned mirrors, which none of the other players noticed, much to my amusement.

I soon grew tired of the game. I gently patted Mac's back, trailing my paw across his shoulder blade, signaling that I was headed for the bar. He gave a quick nod of acknowledgement, focusing his golden eyes on the cards before him.

A young tom bumped into me as I made my way to the bar. I spun around defensively and snapped, "Hey, watch it!"

A year with Mac had taught me the skills necessary to survive in the inner city—tough talk and even tougher walk. The kit turned to look at me, his eyes wide with innocence, "Sorry, Miss! Oi di'int mean to jostle ya!"

I didn't reply. I merely turned around, a slight look of disgust on my features. It wasn't until I reached the bar that I realized my diamonds were missing.

I quickly scanned the crowd for that young tom. I was irate with myself for my foolishness. How had I fallen for the oldest trick in the pickpocket's book? The quick bump, followed by momentary confusion, allows for the thief to remove valuables without the victim's knowledge. I was the consort of the Napoleon of Crime—how on earth had I fallen for this schoolyard trick?

I found the kit on the dance floor, bobbing his head to the music. I dug my claws into his shoulder and whirled him around to face me.

"Oi! Wotsa big oidea?" His face was a mix of anger and pain. I always prided myself on the sharpness of my talons.

"Cough it up, Skippy," I held out my paw expectantly.

"Wot?"

"My necklace."

"Y'ain't wearin one, luv," he replied, a confused look on his kittenish features. I shook my head with a wry smile. Oh, he was good at this game. He was a white cat with orange and black tabby stripes and a face that exuded innocence.

I smiled patronizingly, "Darling, I've spent some time around concats. Don't try to sell me that sweet and innocent face."

The innocent look dropped. He grinned mischievously, "Ya cain't prove it, luv."

"Give me the necklace," I replied in a grave tone. He held up his front paws, "Ain't go'it."

That's when I noticed something extraordinary, "Hey—you've got seven fingers on each paw!"

The kit seemed to look at his paws with renewed interest, "Oiy, so oi do."

Then he turned that baby face back to me and smiled, "You've go' nice legs."

"You're not my type, Munchkin," I smiled as I tweaked his cheek. My tone returned to business once more, "Now, give me the necklace."

"No can do, Swee'art."

"Fine," I stood a little straighter, fully towering over this half-grown kit. "We'll do this the hard way, Swee'art."

"Wot?" He looked at me in surprise as I grabbed him and dragged him through the crowd. He cried out indignantly, "You cain't make me givit back!"

"I can't," I replied, throwing the kit before Macavity. "But he can."

Mac looked at the kit in surprise.

"Mungojerrie, what the hell are you doing?"