Part Four: The Temptress

Chapter Nineteen

*Author's Note: Ok, guys, this is the final part (but not the final chapter!!) of this work...I know it's taken a long time to reach this point, but please bear with me! The roller coaster is about to pick back up!

Oh, and thanks for all your wonderful reviews and helpful comments. I don't think I would have continued writing this if you hadn't been so encouraging!*

Once Demeter and I returned home, I began to seriously consider the role I would play in the Tribe. Jennyanydots was the smart one; Dem was obviously the shy-but-sweet one; Munkustrap was the responsible one; Tugger by all accounts was the flamboyant one; Plato was the serious one; Skimbleshanks was the humorous one. Even Coricopat and Tantomile had their own place—they were the strange ones.

No one knew of my past; I had a fresh slate. I was no longer a former lover or forsaken mother; I was simply Bombalurina. My scar had healed nicely and my fur had grown back, covering the mark entirely, leaving no trace of my ugly secret. None of the toms knew that I was not whole, that I could not give them kittens—although from the light in their eyes, I seriously doubt their thoughts were really on settling down and starting a family. I suddenly realized that I had been given a second chance, a chance to erase the hurt and live my life as it should have been—here, with the Jellicles. I had a chance at the life that I would have lived, had Tyro not opened her big mouth. I am always perplexed and slightly amused how one little scratch had the power to alter my destiny.

~*~

Demeter was always quiet. But lately, she had become even quieter than usual—even when it was just the two of us. Finally, I decided to confront her about it.

"Ok," I jumped onto the windowsill beside her, where she sat watching the cars drive by with little interest. "Fess up. What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she said softly, her light green eyes never leaving the traffic. She was avoiding me.

"Was it something I said? Or did?" I asked. "Or didn't say? Or didn't do?"

She smiled at this and shook her head, "No, Bombie. It's just…I've been thinking."

"Uh-oh."

"Yeah," she said quietly. "Uh-oh."

She said it with such a heartbreakingly sad voice that I couldn't help but wrap my arm around her comfortingly, "C'mon, Dem, something's bothering you. And if it bothers you, then it bothers me. How can I help?"

"Well," she took a deep breath. "As you know, Pappa is not getting any better. Every winter gets harder and harder for him."

I nodded. Gus had certainly taken a turn for the worst in the last two years. Dem continued, still refusing to look at me, "And I can't help but think that he won't be around much longer. I want him to be able to see my first litter of kittens, Bombie. I want my kits to know their grandfather. But how can I have kits if I can't find a mate?"

I tried not to laugh at this, because I could see the pain in Dem's face. As gently as I could, I said, "Uh, Dem, you do realize that you don't necessarily have to find a mate to get pregnant—"

"I'm not talking about a one night stand," she retorted. "Been there, done that. I'm talking about choosing one tom and building a life together. No way could I be a single mom. I want a mate and kits and I want my father to be able to see that and be happy. That's all he has ever wanted for me—to be happy. He always wanted grandkits—he so good with all the little ones!—and I feel awful because I am getting to that age—"

"What age?" I interrupted. She looked at me, "You know, the age that queens get to when they need to start settling down and having kits. The age we are now. I should have had a mate years ago at my first Ball, when I had the chance."

She turned her imploring eyes up at me, "Don't you ever wish that, Bombie? Don't you ever wish for a family—a tom who loves you and kits to raise?"

"Not really my thing," I replied coolly, successfully keeping the pain in my soul in check. Dem shook her head, "One day you're going to wake up and realize you've missed it all. I feel that way already. I had my chance; now it's gone."

"Oh, don't be so dramatic," I said gently. "Surely there's a tom who's caught your eye at the junkyard."

"Well," Dem smiled softly. "There is one."

"See?" I pointed an accusing paw at her grin. "There's hope for you yet. Please tell me he doesn't already have a mate."

"Bombie!" Dem was shocked that I would even think such a thing. I shrugged, "You never know. I thought maybe that was why you were so down in the dumps—cuz you knew you could never have him. But if he's single, he's fair game. So what's keeping you from talking to this cat?"

"I don't know if he likes me," she said meekly.

"Only one way to find out."

"Oh, I-I-I couldn't," she looked at me, her eyes wide with terror. "What would I say? What would I do? No, Bombie, I don't have your ferocity."

I laughed at this. "Me? Fierce? Whatever gave you that idea?"

"You are," she countered. "You just seem so fearless. The way you move, the way you talk—you don't care what others think."

I smiled, silently thinking how wrong she was. I still cared greatly what others thought; I had simply learned not to show it. Still, let little Dem think what she will.

"I can help you," I patted her back reassuringly. "All you need is a little lesson in fierceness."

~*~

Once we reached the Junkyard, I began my tutorial in Bomba-basics.

"OK, first step," I said, looking over my shoulder to make sure Dem was listening. She was—intently. "You have to walk the walk. You have to…saunter. Move your hips a little. Show the toms what they're missing."

Dem attempted to follow my lead, blushing in embarrassment, "I can't believe I let you talk me into this. I feel like a total dork."

"Well you don't look like one," I replied smoothly. And honestly, she didn't. Dem didn't have my long legs, but she certainly had the hips—and she used them quite well. I continued, "Step two: focus only on one tom at a time. At least until you get your strength built up. Give them one look—one look is all it takes. Just a quick flash of the eyes and a small smile. Be inviting."

I demonstrated this effect on Admetus, who quickly perked up from his place atop the tyre. Dem giggled, "OK, OK, I'll try."

Her first victim was Coricopat, who sat up uneasily and slunk away—not the desired effect.

"Oh, bast, Bombie!" Dem whispered hysterically. "I'm awful at this."

"No you're not," I assured her. "You just picked the weird one. You shouldn't have picked Corico; you know he doesn't know how to act around queens."

"I guess you're right," Dem admitted. She let out another giggle, "I guess he thinks I'm crazy now!"

We both laughed at this, imagining poor Corico's confusion at Dem's sudden coquettish turn.

"What are you two up to?" A strong voice behind us caused us to stop our twittering and whirl around. Such a strong voice should belong to an equally strong cat—and it did. It was Munkustrap.

"Just testing out Demeter's new seduction skills on the locals," I purred, flashing my eyes at Munkustrap.

"Sounds rather frivolous, don't you think?" Munkustrap turned his gaze to Dem, who lowered her head and stammered, "I-I-I gotta go."

With that, the black and gold queen fled the premises. I turned hotly back to the silver tabby, "What is wrong with you? She's not hurting anybody."

"Perhaps I don't think it's right to toy with someone's emotions," he said stolidly, obviously aiming the barb in my direction. I took the hint, "And who are you to decide what's right and wrong, Mister High and Mighty? I don't see you sitting on the Council of the Elders."

His temper flared at this, but he quickly checked it. He said in a grave voice, "Surely you could find something more fun to do than encourage Demeter to flirt."

Suddenly, I knew the best way to win this little war with Munkustrap. I smiled coquettishly, slinking up to him, my voice suddenly becoming breathy and light, "Oh, but don't you know, Munku? It's all a game. And cats just love to play."

I circled him, my body dangerously close to his. I stood behind him, leaning in to whisper in his ear, "Don't you like to play, Munku? Surely a cat wound as tightly as you are has to blow some steam once in awhile."

"I don't waste my time with frivolous things," he replied, although he made no move to step away from me.

"Oh, it wouldn't be a waste," I said in a low tone, tracing a black stripe across his broad shoulders. He didn't even flinch. This would be a tough cat to crack.

"Still not interested?" I sighed in my sex-kitten voice. "What a shame."

I turned to leave. On second thought, I turned back to add, my voice dropping back to its usual tone, "Oh, and Munku? If you didn't like to play, you wouldn't have stayed through all of this."

Having made my final point for the day, I sauntered back into the streets in search of Demeter. I knew the role I had chosen to fulfill: I would be the Temptress.