Page 80 of Death and Do-Overs

My boot slipped, but I caught my footing just as Guy reached the room at the end of the hall. I ran faster, as fast as my legs would carry me.

He slammed the door in my face with an ear-poundingbang.

My shoulder crunched against the paneled wood, leaving a dent in both the door, and if the pain was any indication, my bones.

I thrust my fist onto the door. “Open up.”

A high-pitched squeal came in response.

Could I knock this door down? I didn’t love my chances of plowing through it since I’d already hit it at full speed with my shoulder and the door looked more or less fine. I’d have to kick it down.

I prepared to do just that when it occurred to me that I should at least try the handle first.

With a quick turn of the knob, the door creaked open.

Small forms wriggled all over what I assumed was meant to be the living room of an apartment, based on the fur-covered sofa at one end.

More boxes were stacked up along the walls and jutted out over the space. Crawling all over those boxes were cats. More than I’d ever seen in one place. If anyone needed to have his adoption application denied, it was Guy.

At least all of the animals appeared healthy at a glance.

Newspaper and nuggets of cat chow lay scattered all over the floor.

A particularly friendly feline rubbed itself against my ankle.

“Come out here right now,” I demanded.

“What do you want from me?” a meek voice called back.

I followed the sound around a corner and found Guy holding a fly swatter like a baseball bat.

Exhilaration left my fingers twitching. I was getting my answers, now.

“If you think that’s going to squish me, you’ve vastly overestimated the strength of your weapon,” I said.

“Whoareyou?”

That one caught me by surprise.

“You want to pretend you have no idea who I am?” I asked. “You think I’m stupid?”

“No. I really don’t know.”

I crossed the floor between us and grabbed him by the collar. He swatted me in the arm.

I barked a laugh.

His expression transformed from fear to a veil of faux devastation.

And he dropped.

It wasn’t a graceful movement to kneel or sit on the floor. No, Guy let his legs drop out from under him, flopped down onto the newspaper like a piano from the roof of a three-story building.

He thrashed, kicking his legs and pounding his fists on the ground, while wailing at an ear-piercing volume.

My adrenaline-fueled high crashed into sheer bewilderment. What was wrong with him? The absurdity of his behavior left me speechless.

Caspian stepped up beside me, with Imogen asleep in his arms.

---