The Devil's Cat

by William W. Johnstone

  And she became one of Them.

  Brother Lester whooped his fright and took off running, holding his robes up high. That angel hadn't said a damned thing about this.

  Brother Johnny ran into an alley and straight into a pack of cats. The cats rode him down, scratching and clawing and biting. Brother Johnny howled his death cry.

  The line of social reformers broke into a mass of panic and confusion. White-robed men and woman ran in all directions.

  Sister Millie ran into an open doorway. Too late, she realized she had stepped into a honky-tonk. Rough hands grabbed her, stripped the robe from her. The nightmare was just beginning.

  Sister Bertha was holding her own. After whacking several smelly men over the head with a stick of wood found in the gutter, the large lady was wisely left alone by those that prowled the darkness. Sister Bertha went off in search of Brother Lester.

  Brothers Luther, Ira, and Eb, and Sisters Estelle, Helen, and Rose had taken refuge in the office of a service station, after Brother Eb, very unChristianlike, broke the lock on the front door and illegally entered.

  The six of them huddled together on the floor, behind a desk and a cigarette machine they had pulled together They were confused and very frightened. And closer to death than they realized.

  Xaviere was in a blue rage, storming around her quarters, throwing vases and cups and anything else she could get her dirty hands on.

  Guy had failed, Bess had failed, those called from the dark waters of the bayous had failed. The Beasts and the cats were at war with each other; Jackson and Bonnie had gone off on their own—as had Mary—and so far, at least, that damned old woman and her shotgun had managed to remain alive and openly taunting the Master's followers.

  Goddammit!

  If she failed here, in this hick town in the backwaters of Louisiana …

  … Xaviere did not like to think about that.

  But why did she think of it? Failure had not entered her mind before now.

  Her hands, clawlike in her rage, gripped the sides of a table. She concentrated, her mind sending out messages to the Beasts to attack the strongholds of the little bands of Christians. But the Beasts ignored her calling. The jealousy of the Beasts had overwhelmed all else in the tiny brains of the creatures. Theirs was one single thought: Kill the cats.

  And that they were doing, killing and feasting and enjoying every second of it.

  The Princess of Darkness picked up a brush and hurled it through a window.

  Leave! The voice entered her head. Get out!

  Xaviere spun around, her face mirroring her rage. "No!" she screamed. "No. There is still this night before us."

  No good! the heavy voice told her. Another time, another place. For us, it is over here.

  Xaviere held her head high. "I am staying here, Master."

  There was a long pause. Then the voice once more entered the brain of the Princess. You are that certain, Daughter?

  "Yes."

  I will give you a few more hours. But you must leave before daylight. Is that understood?

  "Yes, Father."

  She felt the Dark One's presence leave. And Xaviere knew that unless the force of Darkness held the victory in their unwashed hands, the Master would not return.

  She drew a cloak around her bare shoulders. "Janet!" she called.

  "Yes, Princess," the girl said, stepping into the darkened room.

  "I shall lead. Inform the others." The young woman hesitated. Her child had been killed that night, and she was experiencing something totally new: sorrow. She wanted to tell the Princess that while she did not feel Sam Balon to be unbeatable … they had lost this fight.

  But Janet had been born to serve the Princess.

  "Yes, Princess. Right away."

  Javotte's head jerked up, his eyes holding a strange light. "What did I just experience … just a few moments ago?"

  Sam stood in the center of the study at the Dorgenois mansion; he was listening to his wife's voice. The projection ended.

  "The Dark One is gone," Sam said. "But his minions remain. The fight is not over."

  "But the odds have swung in our favor," Colter said.

  Sam thought of the many still lurking out in the darkness. He thought of the Beasts and the cats. He thought of the walking dead. The total Godless that lay in wait for any sign of carelessness.

  "Yes," Sam said. "I believe the odds have swung in our favor. But don't get careless. It's far from over."

  A wild shrieking ripped the outside darkness. A woman's insane laughter followed. Colter walked to a window and looked out. It was to be her last gazing at this world. A huge black shape crashed through the window, showering the old woman with deadly shards of glass. Dripping fangs and flashing claws ripped the old woman, drenching the floor with her blood. The panther tore out her throat and leaped for Romy just as Trooper Norris lifted his shotgun and began pulling and pumping.

  The buckshot tore into the black panther, the force of the buckshot knocking it off its leaping path and flinging it to one side.

  A naked woman, pale and dark haired and evil-eyed grabbed Rita Dantin from behind. The patrolwoman reacted as taught. She flipped Bonnie over her shoulder, sending the naked woman sprawling and squalling to the floor. Remembering what Sam and Father Javotte had told her, she turned and grabbed an umbrella out of its stand. Before Bonnie could recover, Rita drove the point of the umbrella into the woman's chest.

  The small round rib shield stopped the point just before entering Bonnie's heart. The naked woman kicked out with her bare feet, bruising Rita's legs. Sonny Passon ran up and emptied his .357 into Bonnie's head. The Ruger Security-Six cracked in one long roll of thunder. Bonnie's head was shattered, bone and bits of brain bouncing on the floor.

  The head was ruined.

  The heart beat on.

  The great black panther rose from the floor, the hide and hair dripping blood. It shook its head and leaped back out the window, disappearing into the night.

  Sam and Javotte rushed into the wide hallway just as Bonnie was getting to her feet. Bent over, trying to gain balance, Bonnie lifted her head and hissed at the small band. She spat at them, snarling like a human cat.

  Sam drove a stake through her back. Using all his massive strength, Sam drove the stake clear through the woman, the point rupturing the heart and exiting out between the woman's breasts.

  Bonnie Rogers, a victim without initially being a villainess, died on the floor of the lovely home.

  "Drag her body outside and dump it," Sam said.

  Julie Dorgenois, her face pale but her hands holding a shotgun, said, "I've heard of Bonnie Rogers all my life. But this is the first time I have ever laid eyes on her."

  "Let's hope it will be the last time," Sam said.

  23

  Those at the clinic had answered the frantic calling and pounding at the emergency door entrance. Brother Malcolm leaped inside and slammed and locked the door behind him.

  Despite the terror and awfulness and hideousness that the night held tightly around those besieged and barricaded Christians, Tony had to smile at the man's attire.

  "Love your outfit," the doctor said.

  Brother Malcolm muttered something that did not contain a single word that could be found in the Bible.

  Mary Claverie led her staggering, stumbling and lurching brothers toward town. She was having a high ol' time that evening. Most fun she'd had since she was a little girl and held that boy's head under the water down at the swimming hole. Drowned him deader than Hell. Said it was an accident and everybody believed her.

  Voices had told her to do that, too. Mary had always obeyed the voices. But the voices had changed during and after her time in the old Dorgenois home. And Mary had changed, too.

  "Hey, Brothers!" Mary shouted. "Isn't this fun?"

  "I've been a fool," Lester said.

  "Now, now, Brother Lester," Sister Bertha soothed him.

  "No, let me finish. I have been a fool. For God's s
ake, Bertha! Do you realize we actually burned three human beings to death!"

  "They were wicked, evil men, Brother Lester," Sister Bertha held on.

  "That's not for us to decide, Bertha. Neither of us are judges of men. That was no angel who spoke to me. That was Satan!"

  Sister Bertha paled. "But those men were sellers and readers of filth!"

  Lester was silent for a time. Silent for so long that Sister Bertha shook his shoulder to see if he was still conscious.

  "Yes, yes, Bertha. I'm here. Bertha, if we get out of this alive, I have a suggestion."

  "Yes, Brother Lester?"

  "If we make it out of this, let's worship the Lord, sing our praises to Him, have socials and eat lots of good food, and …"

  Sister Bertha waited breathlessly for a revelation from her pastor. "Yes, Brother Lester!" she blurted.

  "… And do our best to mind our own damn business!"

  Sister Bertha fainted.

  "A woman coming up the walk, Sam!" Matt called from upstairs.

  "I've been expecting her," Sam called. "Is she alone?"

  "Yes. Who is she?"

  "The daughter of Satan."

  Sam walked to the front door and opened it. Xaviere stepped inside.

  "Don't you ever take a bath?" Sam asked.

  "Terribly sorry if I offend you, Daddy dear. But I have business to discuss with you."

  Sam smiled. "Yeah. I just bet you do." He turned to the crowd gathered on both sides of the hallway. "May I present Xaviere Flaubert, Grand Princess of Filth, Daughter of Satan, Princess of the Smoking Pits …" He looked at Xaviere. "Have I left anything out?"

  "Your sarcasm is not amusing," Xaviere said shortly.

  Trooper Norris held a sharpened stake in his hand. He locked eyes with the daughter of Satan. She smiled at him. "Don't be a fool, whoever you are. Only two Beings can destroy me. Satan, and … that other thing."

  "God," Sam finished it.

  Xaviere spat on the floor at the mention of His name. She glanced into the study, seeing Colter's dead body. She smiled with satisfaction and again looked at Sam. "Deal, Sam?"

  "No deals, Xaviere. Just like upstate New York. I don't deal."

  "I had to ask. You know as well as I it's all part of the game."

  "I know. Satan gave you a few more hours, right?"

  The dark-haired, black-robed young woman shrugged her shoulders. Her body odor was nearly overwhelming. "Put that hidden thought out of your mind, Sam. You can't kill me."

  "I know. Finally. I know."

  He also knew Nydia was listening.

  "You're a confusing man, Sam," Xaviere said. "And I don't understand you. Your God is not promising you anything except a place in …" She lifted her eyes upward. "… up there. My Master would give you eternal life here on earth. Riches, women, fame, whatever you wanted. Slaves to do your every bidding. Yet you refuse it. I'll make a bet with you, Sam. I'll bet you I can tempt at least one man and one woman here to join me. Wager?"

  "What are we wagering, Xaviere?"

  "You know," she said coyly.

  Sam shook his head. "The answer remains the same as always, no."

  Her eyes narrowed and her cheeks flushed with anger, but that was her only sign of her hatred for Sam Balon. She glanced at Trooper Norris. "Join me. Name your pleasures. I guarantee them for all time."

  "Naw, lady," James said. "I'll take my chances come Judgment Day. Thanks just the same."

  The stake in his hand exploded in flames. James dropped the burning stake and stomped it out with his boots.

  "Guess she can't take a joke," James muttered.

  Xaviere polled the men and women. She had no takers.

  Xaviere's shoulders slumped. She shook her head; her matted and filthy hair hardly bounced with the movement. "The night is not over, Sam," she said, glaring at him. "Nor," she smiled, "that part of the day that belongs to my Master. I shall not say good-bye, Earth-Father, for we shall meet again. Another time, another town. And … I think you know that eventually I'll kill you. Yet you keep on. Why, Sam, why?"

  "Because my God tells me to do so, Xaviere."

  "And I do because my Master tells me to do so, Sam."

  "And therein lies the difference, Xaviere. My God is not my Master. He is my Maker, but not my Master."

  Xaviere waved her hand. She vanished.

  Only her odor remained.

  From somewhere, Xaviere laughed. "Tricked you again, Sam."

  The house filled with cats.

  Clarence Claverie and his wife sat on the couch in their living room. They were both too frightened to utter a sound.

  Will and Jack stood over them, the rotting grave scent of them filled the room.

  "Uh … uh … uh!" Clarence finally managed to gasp.

  Mary laughed and clapped her hands. "Give your brother and his wife a great big kiss, boys!"

  The walking dead leaned forward.

  Preacher Earl Morris and Mayor Will Jolevare and Funeral Director Art Authement and Ex-patrolman Louis Black and a few others lurched and staggered toward the clinic. They surrounded the building and began beating at the windows with sticks and clubs, shattering the glass. Those inside jabbed at them with stakes and sharpened broom handles.

  "Die, die, die!" the Undead called, their voices as dead as their souls.

  Those inside responded with gunfire. The slugs and buckshot ripped the dead flesh and knocked them spinning …

  … only to rise and charge again and again.

  The side door of the clinic shattered. A Beast filled the doorway with his obscene bulk. It roared and screamed its hatred and lumbered up the hallway.

  But Sam had told those few allies that the Beasts were not immortal and Don Lenoir and Bid Grenier and Mike Laborne and Brother Malcolm met them with gunfire. Soon the stinking bodies of the Beasts had piled up. blocking the shattered entrance.

  At the old Dorgenois house, Xaviere was near exhaustion, standing trembling in her quarters, in her mind, seeing and hearing all. It had taken nearly all her powers to force the Beasts and the cats to cease their personal war and do her bidding.

  But even after all that, the little bands of Christians were holding their own. More than that … they were winning!

  "Walk!" she silently screamed, projecting the orders through the darkness of night. "Walk and attack. Kill them all!" She vocally screamed the last. Exhausted, she collapsed on the floor.

  Janet ran to her side, knelt, and took the young woman's hand. She called for Jimmy and for Jon Le Moyne.

  "We're leaving," Janet told them. "Make ready. We must be out of this area by first light. We don't have much time. Move very fast."

  "Close the study doors!" Sam yelled. "Trap the cats in there."

  The heavy oak doors were closed and locked. Anything that could be piled against the doors to secure them was dragged out of the hall and foyer and stacked against the doors.

  The cats almost completely covered the mansion. Those inside could hear their hissing and snarling and spitting on the walls and roof. They could hear their claws digging and scratching, seeking entrance. The mansion seemed to breathe with the cats.

  Sam had prepared as wisely as he could, with what materials he had on hand. He had tried to cover every window that could not be guarded, nailing boards and anything else that could be found over the windows.

  For the moment, everything seemed to be holding. But he knew it was only a matter of time before the sheer numbers of cats overwhelmed them all.

  A cat managed to work its way through two hastily nailed boards. The head, then the clawed paws. It snarled and spat and ripped the air with claws. Several hundred more were pressing close behind it.

  James Norris stuck his shotgun into the cat-filled cavity and pulled the trigger, for the moment clearing that hole of cats.

  "Water!" Tess panted the words. "Hot water—boiling water."

  Several rushed to the kitchen and began boiling water on the stove. Hot water taps were turned
on full blast and containers filled and handed out. The scalding water was tossed onto the cats. They howled and ran, some blindly, into the heated night.

  A new sound was heard coming out of the hot night. The sounds of barking and hissing.

  Those in the house stopped their frantic work to stare through the cracks in the windows. They stared in wonder and shock and disbelief.

  Dogs and cats had appeared behind the attacking cats; the newly arrived dogs and cats seemed to be cooperating with each other in their assault on the devil's cats. It was a dog and cat fight to end them all … literally.

  The snarling and barking and hissing and yowling filled the night around the mansion. The blood odor grew thick.

  It was impossible for those in the house to determine what side any cat was on—they all looked alike. But one thing was certain, the cats that attacked the mansion seemed to be losing … and pulling away from the house and grounds.

  A crashing sound came from the back of the house. Sonny Passon whirled around, his face paling at the sight before him.

  "That's Bob Savoie!" he whispered, his words barely audible above the yowling and barking and hissing and screeching outside the mansion.

  His clothing hanging in stinking rags from him, his white, seemingly sightless eyes staring, the soles of his shoes flopping, Bob Savoie lurched and staggered toward Sonny. Matt Comeaux darted past the chief, a stake in his hand. The schoolteacher drove the sharpened stake deep into the chest of the walking dead, the point penetrating the darkly beating heart. Bob's cold hands closed around the neck of Matt Comeaux and clamped down in a death grip.

  Sonny and C. D. and Tess beat at Bob's arms, attempting to break the hold. They could not. James Norris ran out of the kitchen, a heavy butcher knife in his hand. "Get out of the way!" he shouted.

  Raising the knife above his head, the trooper brought the heavy blade down, completely severing one arm, slicing just above the elbow. Still the dead fingers held fast.

  James sliced off the other arm and Bob Savoie fell back, finally dead.