"What are you looking at?" West ran her fingernails down Niles's silky, ruddy spine, something that always made him purr.
He did not respond. He stared, as if in a trance.
"Niles?" West was getting a bit worried.
"What is it, baby? You not feeling well? Got a hairball? Mad at me again? That's probably it, isn't it?" She sighed, taking a swallow of beer.
"I sure wish you'd try to be more understanding, Niles. I work hard, do everything I can to provide you a secure, nice home. You know I love you, don't you? But you gotta try and cut me a little slack. I'm out there all the live-long day." West pointed out the window.
"And what? You're here. This is your world, meaning your perspective isn't as big as mine, okay? So you get pissed because I'm not here, too. This isn't fair. I want you to give some serious thought to this. Got it?"
The words of the owner were chatter, the buzzing of insects, the drone of sounds drifting out of the radio on the table by the bed.
Niles wasn't listening as he stared out at the forlorn King Usbeecee staring back at him. Niles had been called. There was disaster looming in the land of the Usbeeceeans, and only Niles could help, because only Niles would listen. All others looked up to the mighty King and mocked him in their minds and among themselves, thinking the benevolent monarch could not hear. They, the people, had wanted His Majesty to come. They had wanted his child-care centers and frescos, his career opportunities, and his wealth. Then they had turned jealous of his omniscience, of his all-powerful and praiseworthy presence.
Those here and from distant ports were lustful and plotting a takeover that only Niles could stop.
%9 "Anyway," West was saying, popping open another beer as her weird-ass cat continued staring out at the night.
"I'm chasing him south on Seventy-seven at about ninety miles an hour? Can you believe it? He should be in jail right now, you ask me."
She took another swallow of Miller Genuine Draft, wondering if she should eat something. For the first time since she'd had the flu several years ago, West was not hungry. She felt light and foreign inside, and awake. She thought back on how much caffeine she'd had this day, wondering if that might be the problem. It wasn't. Hormones, she decided, even though she knew that the beast was no longer raging, and in fact had been quiet most of the day, on its way back to its cave until the moon was in position again.
King Usbeecee was a potentate of few words, and Niles had to watch carefully to hear what the King was saying. Sunrise and sunset were the King's most chatty times, when windows flashed white and gold in a firestorm of pontifications. At night, Niles mainly studied the red light winking on top of the crown, a beacon saying to him, repeatedly, wink-wink-wink. After a barely perceptible pause, three more winks, and so on. This had gone on for weeks, and Niles knew that the code was directing him to a three-syllable enemy, whose armies this very minute were marching closer to the Queen City that the King ruled.
"Well, since you're so friendly," West said in a snippy tone to her cat, "I'm going to do laundry."
Startled, Niles stretched and stared at her, his eyes crossed as a similar firestorm flared inside his head. What was it the King had said? What, what, what? Earlier this evening, when Niles had been watching the King send him signals with the sun, hadn't the King flashed an agitated pattern, light going round and round the building, back and forth, back and forth, very similar to how the owner's big white box worked when she did laundry. A coincidence? Niles thought not. He jumped off the sill, then the counter, and followed his owner into the utility room. The fur stood up on his back when she dipped into pants pockets, pulling out money before wadding clothes and dunking them into the machine's basket. Other flashes of insight exploded in Niles' brain. He frantically rubbed against his owner's legs, and nipped her, sharpening his claws on her leg, trying to tell her.
"Goddamn it!" West shook the cat off.
"What the hell has gotten into you?"
Wft Brazil lay back in the sleeping bag on the floor of his new, one-bedroom, unfurnished apartment. He had a headache and couldn't seem to get enough water. He'd been drinking beer for two days, and this frightened him. His mother had probably started exactly the same way, and here he was following her path. He knew enough from all the interest in genetics these days to deduce that he might have inherited his mother's proclivity for self-destruction. Brazil was deeply depressed by this realization, and he was ashamed of his behavior and knew for a fact that West had only humored a drunk kid, and the performance would never be repeated.
He lay still, hands beneath the back of his head, staring up at the ceiling, lights out, music on. Beyond his window he could see the top of the US Bank Corporate Center almost touching the slivered moon, a red light blinking at the top of the crown. Brazil stared, zoning out again, an unsettling realization coming over him. Tomorrow would be two weeks since the last Black Widow slaying.
"Christ." He sat up, sweating, and breathing hard. He kicked off sheets and stood. He began pacing, with nothing on but gym shorts. He drank more water and stood in his bare kitchen, staring out at US Bank thinking, worrying. Out there somewhere was another businessman about to become a victim! If only there were some way to prevent it. Where was the killer now? What was the bastard thinking as he loaded his gun, and thought his evil thoughts, waiting on the web of Five Points for the next rental car to innocently creep into the city?
Wft Niles was following West all over the house. She was certain the cat had gone haywire, and knew this was a danger with Siamese, Abyssinians, and all over bred cross-eyed creatures that had been around for thousands of years. Niles wound through her moving legs, almost tripping her twice, and she had no choice but to boot him across the room.
Niles cried out, but persisted, then he got angry. One more boot, he thought, and you've had it. West gave him the side of her foot, sending him under the bed, scoring another point.
Niles watched from his dark space between the box spring and hardwood floor, his tail twitching. Niles waited until his owner had taken off shoes and socks, then he shot out and bit the soft spot at the back of her heel, right behind the ankle bone. He knew this hurt, because he'd tested it before. His owner chased him around the house for ten minutes, and he ran with sincerity, because he recognized true homicidal rage when he saw it.
Niles returned to the bed and stayed under it until his owner got tired and wanted to sleep. Sneaking out, Niles returned to the kitchen. He curled up on the sill, where his kind and loving King kept watch over him during dark, lonely nights.
Morning came and brought rain. The unfriendly alarm clock buzzed loudly and stung West awake. She groaned, lying in bed, refusing to get up as heavy drops of water drummed the roof. This was perfect sleeping weather. Why should she get up? Memories of Brazil and his stranded BMW, of Niles and his outrageous behavior last night, depressed and excited her at the same time. This made no sense. She pulled the covers up around her chin, and images came, disturbing ones somehow relating to whatever she had dreamt. When she was absolutely still, she could almost feel Brazil's hands and mouth all over her.
She was horrified and stayed in bed for quite some time.
Niles, having free rein of the house for a bit, had crept into the laundry room. He was interested in the big white box with wet clothes in it. On top were several folded bills and some change. He jumped up, having yet another idea of how to pass along King Usbeecee's message to Niles's owner. Of course, Niles knew with joy that his owner could do something about the King's endangerment. She could act on it, roar in wearing her important suit with all its leather and metal and dangerous toys. That's what this was all about, Niles was convinced.
The King had spoken to him, and wanted him to pass along the information to his owner. She in turn would alert other fierce leaders. The troops would be called, the King and all Usbeeceeans saved.