Redemption's Song and other short stories

Staples and Pins

"Missing Cat."

"Last seen on Sunday..."

"Missing Cat."

Gasping, she steadied herself with her gloved hand and looked at the scratched palm of her other hand. "What the hell was that?" she muttered.

~

The old man pulled out a half-finished bottle of coke from the bin and grinned as it fizzed when he twisted the cap. He took a swig and glanced over to the pale-faced girl standing by the notices. She'd been crying again and seemed to have injured herself as one hand was bare and bloody. He shook his head, pulling his coat tighter around his frame as the wind bit into him, popped the remains of the drink into a pocket and walked slowly over to her.

"Um, miss, are you okay?" he asked as he approached.

She turned to look at him, a curious expression of puzzlement, pain and anger on her face.

"Miss, your hand," said the old man pointing at the blood standing stark against her pale skin. "Perhaps put a bit of snow on it?" he suggested.

"Um, yes, thank you."

"You lost your cat miss?" As soon as he said it, he wished he hadn't as her eyes once more filled with tears. "Ah damn, I'm sorry."

"It's okay, it's not your fault," the girl looked at him. "You look cold."

"I'm usually cold miss, I'm used to it. But so do you if you don't mind me saying, you oughta be inside after sitting there for so long."

"Yes, I will." She glanced back at the picture of her cat. "But there's something I've got to sort out first." She reached into her pocket and pulled out her purse. "May I buy you a hot drink and a meal, sir?"

"Thank you miss, that would be most welcome. Do you need a hand putting up any more of your posters?"

"No, thank you. I think I know what I need to do now." The girl was studying the post, a curious expression on her face.

The old man clasped his hand around the twenty-dollar bill she had placed carefully on his palm, then watched as she turned back to the pole.

~

Fermat's dark eyes stared at her from the picture.

She raised her naked hand and placed it firmly on the noticeboard, blood running freely from her palm as she closed her eyes.

Information pounded into her mind and she groaned in pain: so much loss, anger and suffering, but the streets remembered, and underneath all the panic and loss was a thread...

... many long seconds later, she staggered back from the post, her face pale, and eyes wide. Her expression hardened, and she turned a full circle, putting her glove back on over her frozen fingers.

"Where is Paris Street?" she growled at the old man. He staggered back a couple of paces, his eyes wide as his gaze met the slit pupils of a cat, then wordlessly pointed to the south, other hand clenched white-knuckled around the twenty dollar bill in fear.

~

Fermat was hungry and afraid. The place he was in was not home, and the man who had taken him smelled wrong. But worst of all, 'she' was not there.

The cage he was in was small, and the room stank of fear, blood and loss. Skeletons of various creatures hung all around him in the dank cellar, and he shrank back against the bars of the cage, his fur bristling.

The man was singing softly to himself, his arms bloody to the elbow as he butchered the carcass of an Alsatian. The paring knife made quick work of the dog, and he paused only to slice a thin sliver of the animal's liver. The gobbling noise he made as he ate it raw made Fermat's skin crawl and the cat hissed in distress. Pale blue eyes turned on him.

"I'll get to you shortly puss, don't worry." Pasty white skin gleamed sickly in the anaemic light of the single bulb in the ceiling, and the man's powerful upper body worked under a thin vest as the dog was stripped to its bones.

"Now then," he said as he walked over, wiping his bloody hands on a filthy towel. "Shall we do you before or after lunch?"

Fermat hissed again, then paused, his head tilting to one side as he heard something outside.

Steps sounded, and a shadow passed the window. There was a knock at the door, and the man frowned, moving to the spyhole to see who was there.

As he leaned forward to peer through the lens at his visitor, the door exploded inwards, and Fermat curled into a protective ball as splinters flew across the room. The man, standing immediately behind it was thrown across the room, and an inhuman shriek filled the air, a keening sound of loss and agony, animalistic and primal.

And then 'she' was there.

Her diminutive figure stalked into the room, and Fermat recognised the stance of a hunter. She had found her prey. He watched, cowering away from her as she sped across the room. Gloved hands shaped like claws, she repeatedly struck the man, hands slamming into his face, his chest and his arms, all the while keening like a wounded lion.

~

She came back to herself when she heard the cat meow.

Blood dripped from her gloved hands and the sodden pulp of what had once been a human being sagged indistinctly on the floor at her feet.

In the far corner of the room was a small cage, and dark eyes looked back at her from the shadows.

"Ferm?" she whispered, and ran across the room, ignoring the wreckage around her. "Oh God, Ferm. You're alive." Crying, she opened the cage and hugged the cat tight as he purred into her neck, closing her eyes as tears soaked the cat's fur. "I don't know what I would've done if I'd lost you. I was so scared."

The cat rubbed against her face and she opened her eyes, taking in the horror of the room she found herself in: the blood, the jars of disembodied organs and body parts, the skeletons, the unconscious, bloody, and grossly misshapen figure, the wreck of what had once been a powerfully built man.

"Time to go Ferm." The cat purred and nuzzled her neck.

She walked out of the basement, her hood raised, and made a call at the phone booth on the corner.

~

"Hello, Control, this is Officer Pierce. I've just arrived at the property reported in from the pay phone. I've... I've never seen so much blood. Can I have some backup please? You're not going to believe this one..."