The damn cat hisses in my face like he’s laughing at me. I swear in the darkness and reach for him. His tiny claws grip both sides of my neck like he’s trying to strangle me.
Lovely.
“Reaper, get off!” I prize his paws away, but he holds me tighter. When he drops with a thud onto my chest, I realize. Something is wrong with him. His entire body is trembling, and he grips me tight enough to draw blood. A low, anxious howl begins at the back of his throat. It’s that hideous shriek-howl cats give right before they attack each other. It’s creepy, unnerving, and I wish to hell he’d stop.
With shaking hands, I reach for the lamp beside my bed and flick it on. He howls again and tries to bolt off my bed. I lunge for him and grip him in the crook of my left arm. I can’t see any signs of trauma. His eyes are clear and bright, and there’s no blood. I force his mouth open and swipe inside with a fingertip to make sure he’s not choking on something. Clear. I roll him over onto his back, and he hisses and spits while I examine his chest and stomach. Nothing there either. I run my fingers through his tangled fur. I don’t know what I’m looking for. A tick, maybe? A snakebite, even?
But I find nothing.
I pull him gently upright again and hold him against my chest. “It’s okay,” I say softly, patting him from ear to tail. “It’s okay.”
This time he doesn’t struggle, but little tremors ripple through his body. I stroke his back and scratch behind his ear where I know he likesit. After a little while, the trembling stops, and so does the howling. It’s the stress of the move, I tell myself. There’s nothing wrong with him.
I wonder if I should take him to the vet tomorrow to make sure, but it’s always an embarrassing disaster when I drag him in. “He’s a bit highly strung, isn’t he?” the last vet murmured, cradling her bloodied thumb where Reaper bit it.
And Joe snorted. “No, he’s just an asshole.”
“You’re all right, Reap.” I tuck him into the crook of my arm, and he rests his flat little face on my elbow. Finally, we drift off to sleep, the creaking house and my anxious mind like a horrible metronome in the darkness.
Creak.
Whateva im goin to Andy’s.
Thud.
When’s your next bestseller coming out?
Groan.
Had a few things to take care of.
Bang.
Don’t kill me. Don’t kill me. Don’t kill me.
Chapter 5
If we don’t fix the bloody shower soon, I am going to murder someone. The showerhead’s been leaking since we moved in.Drip, drip, drip.All day and all night.
I swear I can hear it all the way down the hall from my bloody bedroom.Drip, drip.I stand on tiptoes on my bed, my husband beside me, smelling pleasantly of sweat and beer. Together we hold the giant piece of cream-and-gold wallpaper with our fingertips, trying hard not to make any creases before we press it on. We inch closer. Directly in front of me are four blackbirds in the crook of a tree. Watching.
“They look so sad.” I grunt, struggling to keep my balance.
Joe presses his corner down first with the flat of his hand, and I watch the blackbirds disappear.
For the next few minutes, Joe and I work together, side by side, and for a moment I allow myself to enjoy it. I always loved these little moments of being married. We smooth down the paper, and once it’s stuck firm, there’s a loud knock on the door downstairs.
Joe and I exchange relieved looks. The plumber’s here.
“I’ll let him in,” Joe says, jumping nimbly from the bed and disappearing out the door.
I stare up at the wallpaper, shocked by how much difference it’s already made to the room. The cream and gold gleam softly, just catching the last light of the day. It’s beautiful, but I wonder what the blackbirdsthink now that they’re smothered underneath it all. I jump down from the bed and land right on Susan’s bloodstain. Poor Susan. Poor little blackbirds.
I feel uneasy, like I’ve made the wrong move. Like I’m guilty of something but I’m not sure what. I head to the bathroom and peer in.
“Cracked seal,” the plumber says laconically, inspecting the leak. “Won’t take too long to fix.”
Joe shoves his hands in his pockets, anxiety staining his face. “How much is that gonna cost?”
