“Wait! Lacy, please. I-I’m sorry. I held on to you for longer than I should have. I was being selfish, you’re right. I didn’t tryhard enough to find another way to save you. If I would have known you were losing yourself…” He trails off.
“What? What would you have done differently?”
He doesn’t respond.
I’m still holding the door open, hand gripping the top, my eyes unable to look at him, as I say, “I truly have enjoyed getting to know you, but we shouldn’t see each other again. I can never be okay with the fact that you need someone else’s body to survive. In order for you to live, an innocent person dies, even if just for a short while. I’m sorry, Kit.”
I close the cab door and leave him, pieces of my heart tumbling away as I walk. I board my train at Grand Central and find a seat by the window. I don’t hear from him again. Despite my desperate desire to cry, I refrain, blinking the tears away as I stare out a window too dirty to see through.
The conductor soon comes by to scan my ticket, and after that, I lean my head on the window, tightly clutching my bag to my chest. I lightly tap my head on the window a few times before picking it up and pulling out one of the new charms. I secure it to my wrist. There. Double the protection. Double the pain.
That was dramatic. I’m wallowing. I know I am. I just…I don’t know how not to.
When I get off the train, I amble slowly back to my car. I keep checking over my shoulder for Kit, but he doesn’t seem to be there.
I’m glad he’s all right. I’m glad the exorcism didn’t confine him to Hell. That’s one less thing weighing on my guilty conscience.
When I climb into my car, I drop my bag on the concrete as I’m sitting with a swear. As I reach down to grab it, a black cat comes out of nowhere and hops up on my lap.
“Whoa there,” I say, reeling back. “Who are you?”
I half-expect the cat to reply, but she stays silent. She gazes up at me and,shit. No. No way. The eyes…no. That’s irrational. Kithas notpossessed this cat, has he?
“Kit…?” I ask cautiously.
The cat doesn’t respond.
Probably because I’m being senseless and demons do not possess animals. Nor do cats speak. I need a nap.
I feel around the cat’s neck. “You have an owner?” I don’t find a collar. The cat stares back at me with big eyes, pupils all black with a sliver of green surrounding them. She seems friendly, so shemustbelong to someone.
I scoop her up as I stand from my car to scan the parking lot for anyone obviously searching. Doesn’t look like it. Sigh. I sit back in my car, still clutching the surprisingly docile cat. I don’t want to leave her alone.
“Want to come home with me? I can take you to a vet tomorrow and see if you’re chipped. Do people chip cats, or is that just dogs? I’m sorry—I know literally nothing about cats.”
She doesn’t seem to mind. She rubs her head against my arm then curls up and settles on my lap. Cool.
On my way home from the station, I stop by the store to pick up cat food, a litterbox, and litter. She may only be with me one night, but hey, I could decide to get a cat one day. This could come in handy. I should probably become a cat person.
When I open the door to my apartment, I break the saltline, as I always do. I make a note to fix it later. I bring the cat inside, dropping her to the ground once the door is securely shut behind me. I expect her to do something cat-like, like immediately run and hide under my couch or behind the toilet, but she just sits in the middle of my living room and stares at me.
“You’re very strange, you know that?”
She continues to stare.
I sigh. “Well, I should check you for fleas. Since you’re an outdoor cat, probably. Come here.” Considering how much she has cuddled up against me, if she has them, I wouldn’t be surprised if I caught fleas as well.
I snatch her, sitting down and placing her on my lap. She settles in the pocket created by my crisscrossed legs. I turn on the flashlight on my phone and comb my fingers over her fur, pulling it back to search for any sign of fleas. Luckily, I see nothing.
“All right, ma’am. You seem fine. We’re still going to the vet tomorrow.” I scratch her head and nudge her off my lap.
She climbs off, stationing herself before me and stretching upward into a stiff seated position to stare at me with those big eyes.
“What, you don’t want to go? We can make sure you’re healthy and see if you have an owner. Maybe they’ll give you some catnip.” I chew my bottom lip. “And maybe if you have no obvious owner, I can take care of you.”
She looks satisfied with this and curls up again, laying a head on my ankle.
“Comfortable?” I ask.
