Page 16 of Nightshade

“Quit playing games!” He jumped toward me, and I tumbled backward out of my chair.

The kitchen floor smashed into my tailbone, my head hitting the wall with a hard thunk. A rush of adrenaline coursed through me, my fight or flight quickly evolving into push or punch.

Over the turbulent thump of my heart, the sound of Camael growling caught my attention, and I diverted my intense eye contact to see her standing behind Detective Hines. The baring of teeth and arched curve of her back showed a hostile side of her I’d rarely seen before. She’d always been relatively aloof and disinterested around visitors.

Detective Hines backed away from me, away from Camael, eyes directed toward the cat as he edged his way toward the foyer.

Scared?

Granted, the cat could sound downright evil when she wanted to, and look like something spawned from the underworld, but it certainly didn’t warrant the trembles I could see wracking the detective’s body all of a sudden.

“I didn’t realize you had a cat,” he said.

I didn’t have to ask him to leave, as he disappeared into the foyer without saying a word.

My heart raced inside my chest, as I listened to his retreating footsteps, and at the click of my front door, I let out a shaky exhale. I padded quickly toward the door and locked all three deadbolts, teeth grinding with the frustration of his unannounced visit and my now-rattled nerves.

When I turned back around, Camael sat licking her front paw, as if nothing unusual had just gone down .

“I take it you don’t like him.” I lifted her up into my arms, cradling her like a baby, while my body still shook with the lingering rush from earlier. “Well, that settles that. I’m definitely not telling him about Xhiphias.”

* * *

A noise roused me from sleep, and I opened my eyes to the darkness of my room.

Clang, clang, clang.

As if someone were inside the walls, whacking a hammer against the metal pipes, the sound echoed through the room.

Clang, clang, clang.

Exhaustion still claimed my eyes, after hours of reading my father’s journal, and I blinked to find Camael at the foot of my bed, her back to me, facing the wall.

Nothing appeared to be there.

Clang, clang, clang.

My thoughts turned back to earlier. My dream. The nuns in the wall.

Camael hissed and growled a long creepy sound, like something out of a horror movie.

The hairs on my neck stood on end, and I sat up in bed. “Camael.” The sound of my voice failed to distract her from whatever had captured her attention. “Come here, you crazy cat.” The lightness of my tone betrayed the unsettling feeling in my gut, but still, she didn’t move. Instead, she kept on with her hissing and growling.

“Ca’ligo an a tua,” I whispered. Even if it was silly, it brought some small measure of comfort to say the words.

Only when I flicked on the lamp beside me did she finally turn around, and the growl from before turned into a soft meowing.

She sauntered across the bed toward me and curled up on one of the pillows next to me.

The banging sound disappeared.

With a frown, I sent one more glance toward the wall before flicking the light back off.

Not once did I take my eyes off the foot of the bed.

8

Lustina