‘I have spoilt it, haven’t I?’ She looks down at the ground, avoiding my eyes. ‘I trusted you,’ I say. ‘And without trust, there’s nothing.’
‘Can you ever trust me again?’ she asks softly and I don’t answer and she looks up sharply and she sees the answer in my eyes.
I get to my feet and walk behind the chair and she knows for sure then what’s in my mind. She gets up too and walks over to the edge of the room and then follows the steel plate along to the corner and turns and faces me. The fur on her spine is standing upright as if loaded with static electricity. She’s about fifteen feet away from me and I know she could reach me with one leap and I keep the gun pointed down but ready to raise it if I have to. It’s heavy but I know I’ll make it. ‘You’re going to, aren’t you?’ she whispers. She doesn’t say the word ‘shoot,’ she leaves the word unspoken between us.
There’s so much I want to tell her, but I don’t know how to. She’s allowed my subconscious to run riot, to populate my world with characters, characters like the figure in red and Helen Gwynne. Ruth allowed the door to the black parts of my mind to swing open and now I don’t think it can be closed. She’s right, she has spoilt it. I was so close, so close to getting through my contract with my sanity and now I’ve stepped over the edge. She’s screwed up my mind so much that I’m sure I’ll never get it straight again. But there’s more to it than that. I want to tell her that I’m worried that she’ll grow to hate me and that one day, maybe in my dreams, she’ll come after me with her claws out and her fangs bared, ripping at my throat and slashing my chest. I’m worried that she might turn on me. And I want to tell her that I’m sorry, so very sorry, and that it had all been for nothing because I’d never have left her, I’d never have deserted her.
‘Now you’re the one who’s not telling the truth,’ she says. Her back legs tense as if she’s ready to spring and I bring the gun up to waist level, but still with the barrel pointing to the side.
‘Without trust there is nothing, Ruth,’ I repeat.
‘I’ll be good. I promise.’
‘You can’t promise. You’ve already killed five people, you’re too independent now. You’ve a mind of your own. And you’re dangerous.’
‘Not to you, I’m not.’
I smile. ‘I know. But you might be eventually. Maybe not to me, but to people I know. Maybe subconsciously I might wish someone dead and you might act thinking you were helping me. Or you might get jealous of someone who gets too close to me. I can’t take the responsibility Ruth. You’re wild now. I can’t control you. I can’t control anything anymore.’
‘Then I’ll go away. I can survive on my own. Let me go, Leif.’
‘You know I can’t. You know you’re part of my mind, a product of my imagination. There’s only one thing to do. Only one way out.’
She crouches down, legs tense, claws scratching on the steel floor, her muscles like spring-loaded pistons ready to burst into action. Fifteen feet. One leap. I raise the gun.
‘Please Leif, don’t. I love you.’
I increase the pressure on the trigger as I lift the gun until I feel it meet resistance and I know that one more squeeze and it will fire.
There are tears in her eyes and as I steady the gun her mouth opens and she screams ‘No!’ and begins to leap but before her front paws leave the floor the end of the barrel is against my right temple, a cold circle of metal against my skin, and then I pull the trigger and it’s…………
THE END
If you enjoyed Dreamer’s Cat, why not try my new novel Bangkok Bob and The Missing Mormon?
Long-term Bangkok resident and former New Orleans cop Bob Turtledove has the knack of getting people out of difficult situations.
So when a young man from Utah goes missing in Bangkok, his parents are soon knocking on Bob’s door asking for help.
But what starts out as a simple missing person case takes a deadly turn as Bangkok Bob’s search for the missing Mormon brings him up against Russian gangsters, hired killers, corrupt cops and kickboxing thugs.
And he learns that even in the Land of Smiles, people can have murder on their minds.
Bangkok Bob and The Missing Mormon is about 63,000 words, equivalent to about 250 pages.
You can get it get it at
http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B004AM5MV6
Copyright 2010 Stephen Leather
The right of Stephen Leather to be identified as the author of the work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
See more of my work at www.stephenleather.com
Dreamer's Cat: a sci-fi murder mystery with a killer twist Page 20