Previously on Cat Fight:
Joe scoured the house alone, convinced Damien’s cat form was hiding somewhere—and ready to kill it the second he found it. Yowls and ceiling-thumps led him to the attic, where a misstep sent him crashing to the floor. Stunned and helpless, Joe watched Asbeel manifest above him, Damien at his side, before the demon seized his arm and commanded him to kill Walt and Freda. Meanwhile, Olga’s dream-realm ballroom froze mid-motion, then dissolved into water, fire, and collapsing walls. As partygoers melted and chandeliers crashed, Sasha briefly reappeared, urging her to save Kendra before being buried in falling debris. In the darkness that followed, Olga glimpsed a doorway where Kendra lay helpless—only for the orange-haired demon to slam the door shut, trapping Olga in the void.
Chapter 98
Walt stepped into the walk-in closet in the master bedroom, holding his ivory crucifix in front of him. It was a large closet. Like walking into a black hole, the house was doused in darkness that grew a thicker pitch of black in the closet. The flashlight helped, but it was a smaller flashlight with a tiny round beam that did little to illuminate the closet.
His hand shook while holding the cross. His breathing shallow.
Walt had searched the girl’s bedroom before he came to the master bedroom. He’d searched the bathroom and even looked outside on the patio. For a brief moment, he wondered if Damien was among the cats in the yard, but he knew that wasn’t true. He thought about coaxing the cats inside, but it seemed as if they were waiting. Watching and waiting, although for the life of him he couldn’t fathom why. Why just sit there? There had to be some significance to why they were in the yard.
He craned his head, using the ivory cross to move some clothes aside while aiming the small beam and listening. Listening for a sign from Damien. He looked up at the shelves. The damn cat was hiding somewhere in the house.
He needs to be secure in his cat form while coaxing the mother and child to agree to his possession.
Which left the cat vulnerable to attack. Walt was certain that being in two places at once was a difficult task to accomplish.
He’ll want to remain hidden, but…
Walt’s thought trailed off. His eyes scrunched, and his brow knitted in confusion, thinking. If I were a possessed cat, where would I hide?
Walt shook his head then gritted his teeth, his light beam trolling across clothes, shoes, jackets and the top shelf that was littered with boxes, hats, and ties tossed on top of it.
No Damien though. Not a peep from the cat.
Where the hell is he? Think Walt. Think Goddmanit.
Damien’s killed at least three people already. Even more when you include Bobby, Mary and the girl from the city and who knows how many more. He’s trying to possess the little girl by mesmerizing the mother and the girl.
He also needs to hide while in the mesmerized state.
The thought hit him. He’d want to stay close in case the mesmerism doesn’t work.
Walt looked up when the thought dawned on him.
Which means he’s in the basement.
Walt snapped around to the closet door. Snapped around to see Joe standing in the doorway. Snapped around with a startle and almost dropped his cross.
“He’s in the basement.” Walt’s eyes narrowed. Joe didn’t look so good.
The kitchen knife slid into Walt’s belly with a pop. The pain arrived like a freight train a second later. His jaw hung open, looking down at Joe’s hand holding the knife and blood staining his shirt. Joe twisted the knife, and Walt’s entire body shuddered. Twisted and then yanked that knife from his belly when the floodgates opened. Blood rained across his shirt and pants. Walt dropped the cross and the flashlight, holding his stomach as blood coated his hands.
His gnashed his teeth. He tasted blood on the back of his tongue.
Joe slid the knife into his throat. And then Walt was no more.
Chapter 99
Cecil scanned across the congested highway. After his accident, the traffic had gotten worse. The highway looked like a parking lot instead of a parkway, but Cecil didn’t allow that to deter him. His need to be in Tarrytown grew stronger by the minute.
He gave the driver who hit him a good berating. The guy-Hector Alonzo according to his ID- apologized consistently. Unfortunately for Hector, his front end was crushed, and he wasn’t going anywhere. Cecil called in a tow truck and additional officer support to address the issue, which also meant the highway was about to become more congested.
Cecil didn’t have time for that either and ordered Hector to move his car away from Cecil’s. It took some time-the damn wheel was locked up-but Hector was able to accommodate after some time. Now Cecil’s got his light and siren on, honking at the cars in front of him to move out of his way. His current location on the highway did not have a shoulder he could ride to bypass the traffic, but there was a shoulder just past the entry ramp where the accident had occurred. The entry ramp was a parking lot too, but Cecil inched his car into the traffic.
“C’mon, people! Move, for Pete’s sake.” Sometimes Cecil wondered if humanity’s brain had devolved. It seemed like the driving IQ plummeted during rush hour.
He touched base with dispatch a few minutes ago looking for an update from the Tarrytown PD. There was none. Every indication so far was that there was no problem in Tarrytown.
So, why am I still going?
A part of him didn’t believe the family was safe. His gut instinct was that something was rotten in Tarrytown, and he needed to weed it out.
“C’mon. C’mon. C’mon. C’mon.” Cecil clucked his tongue, stepping on the gas when his car lurched around the traffic, inching between two cars closer to the shoulder.
He slammed on the gas the moment he rolled onto the shoulder.
Twenty minutes, thought Cecil.
“I’ll be there in twenty.”
