Page 11 of Hell's Kitten

All I see is cats. Black cats.

We step directly into the living room, and Nim sticks his feet out left then right to stop any of the kitties from darting outside. I follow his lead and dash quickly inside so I can close the door behind me. But as soon as I can, I find a space to put down what I’m carrying and drop to my knees, reaching out and offering the backs of my hands to the cats.

“Hi!” I squeak as the bold ones come up to sniff me. Some rush into other rooms to hide, and some watch me from afar. “Hey, there. How are you doing? I’m Jessie. Nice to meet you.”

I’m so enraptured as at least half a dozen babies circle around me, it takes me a second to realize that Nim is staring at me. I open my mouth to apologize, but he’s told me off for that. So I snap it shut and look over all the cats before glancing at him again.

“I’ll put these in your room,” is all he says before spinning around and heading through the archway and up the stairs I can just about see from where I am. Wow. His apartment has two levels? I guess I feel a little less guilty about crashing here.

Soon, I’ve got one cat in my lap and another perched on my shoulders. Several more are rubbing against me, swishing their tails. A chorus of purring surrounds me, and I hardly notice as Nim creeps back down to pick up the bags and boxes I unceremoniously dropped when I realized there were cats I could be meeting instead.

When he comes back, he stands awkwardly for a second until I spy him lurking. “Is everything okay?” I ask, immediately worrying that I’ve been lazy in playing with the kitties instead of carrying stuff.

He shakes his head. “I mean, yes,” he contradicts himself. “I just need your keys to get the rest.”

I look down at all the cats climbing onto me. “Oh, yeah, I should?—”

He shakes his head again. “I’ve got it. They like you.”

He doesn’t exactly smile. However, there’s something warm in the way he’s looking at me that means I don’t argue. I just hand over Purrsephone’s keys.

It’s wild that I was crying on a park bench half an hour ago. And now I’ve got a small black and fluffy army headbutting me that all together sounds like a lawn mower. I notice that they have different colored collars on, each with a silver disk. I think they’re named after zodiac signs, which is cute. Even for the most dedicated pet owner, that would be the only way to tell each of these adorable voids apart. Every one of them is as dark as night.

The door rattles and I jump, scaring away a few of my new friends. But obviously, it’s just Nim with my last few bits. He pauses at the threshold and looks at me looking at him.

“Everything all right?” he asks.

I laugh and rub the back of my neck. “Yeah, of course,” I say. “I’ve just been making friends. This is like a dream. They’re all so cute.”

I bite my lip to stop myself from talking. He doesn’t seem to notice. Instead, he nods and pushes all the way into the room, letting the door swing shut behind him. He makes it halfway across the room before I break.

“Why are they all black?” I blurt out.

He freezes. Then he turns just his head, peeking at me over his shoulder. The arched eyebrow is the only indication I get that I should continue speaking.

“The cats,” I manage to elaborate. “Why are they all the same?”

His shoulders sag, and he drops his head. For a moment, I think he’s not going to reply.

When he does, I can barely make out all the words as he mumbles them together.

“Nooneeverwantstheblackcats.”

“Uh?” I say before I can think.

He clears his throat. “No oneeverwants the black cats,” he says quietly. I look around, my heart sinking. Before I can question him, he speaks again. “People think if rescue cats have one eye, a mangled ear, or are missing a leg, they’ll get left behind. But those go so fast. People are kind like that. Black cats are ordinary. They’re bad luck. They get left behind.”

That’s easily the most words he’s strung together so far. I find it hard to swallow, and my eyes sting. “Oh,” I say softly. “So…you…”

“They don’t have to keep wondering if they’ll get a forever home now,” he says gruffly. He clears his throat more forcefully and shrugs my boxes in his arms. My kitty backpack is slung over his broad shoulder. It looks comically small. “I’ll get these to your room.”

I watch silently as he stomps out of sight. Meanwhile, I feel like my heart has been shredded.

He keeps the cats that no one else will take. How heartbreakingly beautiful is that?

Looking around at where I’ve found myself, I suddenly wonder if I’m actually inmoretrouble, not less.

Nim might be scary. And he’s definitely still a stranger. But he’s also someone who rescues stray cats when they have nowhere else to go. Including the human kind of kitty.

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