stretch, trying to decide what takeaway to hit for dinner. She was weighing up noodles versus pizza when she heard an unmistakable sound echo down the empty corridor outside.
“What—?”
There it was again. For God’s sake! How had a cat got into the museum?
Remembering the chaos wrought by a trapped pigeon a few months before, Bel got up hastily and pushed the door of her office fully open. She peered up and down the shadowy corridor, but there was no sign of any living creature there.
She internally debated fetching one of the night watchmen. What if the cat was on the move? In the five or ten minutes it would take to get help, the stupid animal could have got into anything. Another meow made her mind up. The sound was coming from the Japanese rooms. She headed in that direction, passing the shadowy statue of Kudara Kannon as she entered the first room. Her footsteps echoed softly. Did she dare put on the powerful overhead lights? She couldn’t walk around in the pitch-dark, but she didn’t want to scare the cat into hiding with a sudden flood of light. After a moment she switched on the display lights instead. The soft spots highlighted the exhibits and gave her enough light to move around without falling over anything.
Bel heard another pitiful meow and felt a momentary pang of pity for the lost cat. She wasn’t much of a pet person, but all this noise must mean that the poor thing was frightened and wanted to be found.
“Here, puss,” she said, making kissy noises as she moved deeper into the gallery. “Here, kitty. Where are you? Come out.”
There was another meow, this time from right behind her. She turned quickly and sucked in a sharp breath, mouth falling open.
One of the exhibits – an ancient stone grave-offering, about a foot high and roughly carved in the shape of a cat – was broken. Shards of rock glittered in the display case amid a pool of dark liquid. The liquid flowed, thick as blood, down the sides of the broken exhibit’s pedestal and had somehow squeezed out under the sealed glass of the case to drip onto the floor. Torn between disbelief and fascination, Bel hesitated, then took a step back.
Her shoe squelched. She looked down and saw that in the few seconds she had stood gaping, the black liquid had circled her feet.
The hairs all over Bel’s body raked up as a low, wicked chuckle echoed through the gallery. One by one, the display lights began to wink off, plunging the room into deeper darkness.
This can’t be happening. This isn’t real.
Bel turned to run.
The fluid surged up in front of her, long rivulets gathering like an upside-down waterfall to form into a tall shape. A shape that was not human.
The mocking laughter warped and changed, taking on the ululating quality of a cat’s yowl. The last light flicked off. Bel saw eyes in the darkness. Yellow eyes. Cat’s eyes.
She tried to scream, but it was already too late.
The familiar dull roar of city noises outside made the silence in the attic seem even deeper. I felt as if I was wading through it, knee-deep, as I searched for the old metal case, my emergency torch blazing in one hand and the katana clutched in the other.
I have to put him back. I have to
.
The light flashed over the white-painted exterior, dazzling me. I snapped my eyes closed, taking a deep breath.
Do it. Just do it. You know you have to
. You have to.
It was incredibly hard to get myself to kneel down in front of the box. My legs twitched and seized up, like my own muscles were fighting me. My fingers clenched spasmodically on the saya, the slightly raised imprints of the golden cherry blossoms biting into the skin of my palm. I landed ungracefully on my backside, and cringed as the thud sent something toppling over in the dark recesses of the attic room.
I propped the flashlight on the seat of a wonky chair near by. The vivid yellow beam gleamed off the dust-choked surfaces and made dense black shadows in every nook and cranny.
Lid
“What—?”
There it was again. For God’s sake! How had a cat got into the museum?
Remembering the chaos wrought by a trapped pigeon a few months before, Bel got up hastily and pushed the door of her office fully open. She peered up and down the shadowy corridor, but there was no sign of any living creature there.
She internally debated fetching one of the night watchmen. What if the cat was on the move? In the five or ten minutes it would take to get help, the stupid animal could have got into anything. Another meow made her mind up. The sound was coming from the Japanese rooms. She headed in that direction, passing the shadowy statue of Kudara Kannon as she entered the first room. Her footsteps echoed softly. Did she dare put on the powerful overhead lights? She couldn’t walk around in the pitch-dark, but she didn’t want to scare the cat into hiding with a sudden flood of light. After a moment she switched on the display lights instead. The soft spots highlighted the exhibits and gave her enough light to move around without falling over anything.
Bel heard another pitiful meow and felt a momentary pang of pity for the lost cat. She wasn’t much of a pet person, but all this noise must mean that the poor thing was frightened and wanted to be found.
“Here, puss,” she said, making kissy noises as she moved deeper into the gallery. “Here, kitty. Where are you? Come out.”
There was another meow, this time from right behind her. She turned quickly and sucked in a sharp breath, mouth falling open.
One of the exhibits – an ancient stone grave-offering, about a foot high and roughly carved in the shape of a cat – was broken. Shards of rock glittered in the display case amid a pool of dark liquid. The liquid flowed, thick as blood, down the sides of the broken exhibit’s pedestal and had somehow squeezed out under the sealed glass of the case to drip onto the floor. Torn between disbelief and fascination, Bel hesitated, then took a step back.
Her shoe squelched. She looked down and saw that in the few seconds she had stood gaping, the black liquid had circled her feet.
The hairs all over Bel’s body raked up as a low, wicked chuckle echoed through the gallery. One by one, the display lights began to wink off, plunging the room into deeper darkness.
This can’t be happening. This isn’t real.
Bel turned to run.
The fluid surged up in front of her, long rivulets gathering like an upside-down waterfall to form into a tall shape. A shape that was not human.
The mocking laughter warped and changed, taking on the ululating quality of a cat’s yowl. The last light flicked off. Bel saw eyes in the darkness. Yellow eyes. Cat’s eyes.
She tried to scream, but it was already too late.
The familiar dull roar of city noises outside made the silence in the attic seem even deeper. I felt as if I was wading through it, knee-deep, as I searched for the old metal case, my emergency torch blazing in one hand and the katana clutched in the other.
I have to put him back. I have to
.
The light flashed over the white-painted exterior, dazzling me. I snapped my eyes closed, taking a deep breath.
Do it. Just do it. You know you have to
. You have to.
It was incredibly hard to get myself to kneel down in front of the box. My legs twitched and seized up, like my own muscles were fighting me. My fingers clenched spasmodically on the saya, the slightly raised imprints of the golden cherry blossoms biting into the skin of my palm. I landed ungracefully on my backside, and cringed as the thud sent something toppling over in the dark recesses of the attic room.
I propped the flashlight on the seat of a wonky chair near by. The vivid yellow beam gleamed off the dust-choked surfaces and made dense black shadows in every nook and cranny.
Lid
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