Cat People (15 page)

"Struggle as much as you like," he said. "You can't stop what's going to happen to you. You don't really want to stop it, do you, Irena?"

She felt him grasp the hem of her nightgown. He pulled it up, and the chill of the night air hit her bare buttocks. His fingers probed and pinched at the tender flesh.

"You've never done it before, have you?" he said, breathing hard.

"No ... never! Please, Paul, don't do this."

"You don't know how lucky you are that I will be your first lover. One of your own. When it is over, you will thank me."

His hand slipped down the crease of her rump and insinuated itself up tight between her legs. In spite of her revulsion, Irena felt herself go moist down there.

"You see?" Paul said close to her ear. "You do want me to do it. You need it as much as I do."

He grasped the backs of her thighs, his fingers digging into the firm flesh, and forced her legs apart. She felt him move in between her spread legs, felt his hard penis rub against her flesh.

With all the strength she could summon, Irena twisted and writhed from side to side.

"Damn you, hold still," Paul growled.

She thrashed around even harder, then screamed suddenly as Paul's teeth sank into the skin on the back of her neck. She snapped her head backwards and felt the back of her skull crack against her brother's forehead. He grunted and lost his grip on her, staggering back a step.

Irena sprang off the bed and whirled to face this madman who was her brother. There was a smear of blood on his mouth. Her blood. He shook himself and started toward her.

Instinctively Irena slashed out at his face with clawed fingers. Her nails dug in and raked red furrows down the flesh of his cheek.

Paul reached up and touched the deep scratches. He smiled.

"You see?" he said, and started toward her again.

Irena spun away and ran for the window. She snatched it open and stumbled out onto the balcony. Breathing raggedly, Paul lurched after her.

Outside the sound of the sirens was very close. The dogs too. They seemed to be right in the neighborhood.

Irena edged sideways along the balcony with her back against the iron railing, her eyes never leaving Paul as he came after her. He lunged, reaching for her. She danced away, avoiding his grasp, but her foot slipped on a damp spot. She fell against the railing, fought for a moment for her balance, and toppled over.

Falling.

Like the terrifying childhood dream where the ground rushes up at incredible speed. The wind roared in Irena's ears as she waited for the impact that would crack her bones and smash her internal organs.

But the impact never came. Somehow her body twisted in midair so she landed on the lawn below, hitting on all fours, cushioning the shock. She bounced immediately to her feet as she heard Paul hit the ground close to her.

She was running then, down the path to the tall iron gate, through the gate, and out onto the street. Running, running, with the sound of Paul's footfalls behind her pounding ever closer.

There were sudden blinding lights and a confusion of sounds as Irena ran on in blind panic. Her only thought was to escape the beast that had been her brother. Her eyes streamed with tears as she ran on, heedless of anything in her path.

It was the screech of tires that finally stopped her. A pair of headlights dipped and bounced, almost touching her as the driver brought the car to a tortured stop.

A door slammed. There was a new set of footsteps, and Irena was held in a strong pair of arms. Not like Paul's terrible embrace, these were loving and protective. She pressed her face into the rough material of the man's jacket and began to sob.

"Irena," Oliver said, holding the shaking girl close against him. "Irena, darling, what happened?"

It was several minutes before Irena could catch her breath and talk coherently. Oliver's arms around her were strong and protective. She did not want him to take them away.

"It's all right," he said soothingly, his lips close to her ear. "Just take your time. There's nothing to be afraid of now."

Standing back behind Oliver in the glow of the headlights, Irena could see Alice Moore. The redheaded woman was watching her carefully.

"It was my brother, Paul," Irena said when she regained some of her control. "I don't know what happened to him. He seemed to go crazy. He ... he attacked me. I got out of the house and ran. Paul chased me. He kept getting closer. And then suddenly you were there."

Oliver looked around in the darkness. "There's no sign of him now."

A police car screeched to a stop in the street next to them. Reluctantly Irena moved out of Oliver's arms as he turned to greet Sergeant Brant.

"Is the girl all right?" asked the big detective.

"Yes," Oliver said. "Just frightened. Her brother seems to have had an attack of some kind. What about the leopard?"

"We tracked him to the Gallier house. The dogs are outside now, going crazy. I'd like your permission to go in, Miss Gallier."

"Y—yes, of course," Irena said. "Anything you have to do."

Brant nodded to them and jogged off up the street. "Let's go in," he called to the waiting policemen. "Be careful, and keep a tight hold on the dogs."

Oliver looked off toward the house, now bathed in spotlights from the police cars. "Do you feel well enough to go back there?" he asked Irena.

"Maybe she ought to wait in the truck," Alice said.

"Oh, no, I'm all right now," Irena said quickly. "I have to know what they find."

They started back toward the house. Oliver took Irena's arm protectively. Alice followed a few paces behind, saying nothing.

The lights were all blazing when they entered the house. Femolly was in the dining room, sitting in a straight-back chair while a detective questioned her. The dogs could be heard barking urgently in the kitchen.

"I was asleep the whole time," Femolly told the detective.

"You didn't hear anything?"

"Nothin', till you people came banging on the door with your dogs barking and all." The dark woman looked up when Irena came into the room. There was a strange combination of sorrow and relief in her expression.

Sergeant Brant entered through the swinging door leading from the kitchen. He took Oliver discreetly aside. "Will you and Miss Moore come with me for a minute? There's something I want you to see."

Oliver glanced over at Irena.

"I'll have a man stay with her," Brant said.

Oliver signaled to Alice, and they followed the detective through the kitchen to a door that was partly hidden behind a big refrigerator. A heavy padlock dangled from a hasp. The screws that held the hasp to the door frame had been pried out of the wood.

Oliver looked questioningly at Brant.

"We had Miss Gallier's permission," said the policeman.

With Brant in the lead they picked their way down a crumbling flight of stone steps into the basement. The air was cold and damp. Tomblike. They had to duck their heads to avoid a maze of corroded pipes overhead as they crossed the damp, uneven floor. Ahead of them a uniformed policeman stood in a pool of yellow light from a dangling overhead bulb. The policeman was holding a handkerchief to his nose.

As they picked their way across the basement, Oliver recognized the smell. Dead flesh. Some of it dead a long time. As they came closer to the policeman they could make out a caged-off corner of the basement. Steel bars extended from the heavy ceiling beams to the concrete floor.

"I think we've found where your leopard came from," Sergeant Brant said.

Oliver and Alice went closer and looked through the bars into the cage. It was filthy inside. Animal feces, bones, and strange bits of withered flesh littered the floor. A stout chain was bolted to one wall. The other end was attached to a thick metal collar.

"What a terrible way to keep an animal," Alice said.

Oliver bent over and examined the collar. "This is rusted shut," he said. "It hasn't been used in a long time."

"Maybe the collar hasn't," said Brant, "but something has sure as hell been using this cage."

Alice reached in through the bars to poke at a large yellowed bone. "At least the animal was fed."

"I wouldn't touch that, Miss Moore," said Brant. "It's human remains."

"Are you sure?" Oliver asked.

The detective nodded. "There are human skulls in the far corner. From the looks of it there's parts of three, maybe four, bodies in there. Wouldn't surprise me if we found others buried on the grounds."

"What the devil was going on here?" Oliver asked.

"Off the record, it Looks like this Paul Gallier has been killing people and feeding them to the cat. There's been a few we've found—prostitutes, female runaways, and the like. Half eaten. Mutilated, especially in the genital area."

Alice cleared her throat.

"Sorry, Miss Moore."

Alice waved away the apology.

"What could make a man do a thing like that?" Oliver said.

"Who knows? The housekeeper says he's been in and out of psycho wards since he was a kid. He's also some kind of a religious nut.

"But the leopard," Alice said, "where would he get that? How did he learn to handle it?"

"He was raised around them. His parents were circus people. Lion trainers. They weren't exactly your apple-pie mom and dad, either. He caught her in bed with another man one day, shot her dead, then blew his brains out."

"What about his sister?" Alice asked. "Is she involved in this?"

"How could she be?" Oliver said. "Irena hadn't seen her brother in years until a week ago. Tonight we found her running on the street after he tried to attack her."

"I'll want to hear more about that," Brant said. "At the moment we have no reason to suspect her. It seems likely the brother was planning to kill her too. If she's a friend of yours, you ought to suggest that she find another place to live."

"I'll take care of that," Oliver said.

Alice shot him a look, which he ignored.

"Good. That leaves us with a couple of problems. One, we got a leopard loose out there somewhere, and he likes human flesh."

"You mean a leopard that was
trained
to eat human flesh," Oliver corrected.

"Doesn't make a whole lot of difference, the way I see it. The second problem we got is the maniac who trained the cat. Let's go upstairs."

Femolly, wearing her coat, stood in the doorway. A policeman standing beside her had his hand lightly but firmly on her arm.

Irena ran to Sergeant Brant when he came into the room with Oliver and Alice.

"Do you have to arrest Femolly? She hasn't done anything."

"I'm sorry, Miss Gallier," the detective said, "but at the very least we have to hold her as a material witness. She had to have knowledge of what was going on here."

Irena walked over to the proud black woman and touched her hand. "Femolly, is there anything I can do?"

"Don't you worry none about me, child. You just take care of yourself. You got lots bigger things to be worrying about."

Brant gave a signal, and the policeman led Femolly out of the house. To Oliver he said, "You were going to arrange a place for Miss Gallier to stay?"

"I have an extra room at my house. She can stay there." He turned to Irena. "If that's all right with you."

"Oliver!" Alice's voice was sharp.

He turned to her impatiently. "What is it?"

"Do you think this is a good idea?"

"She certainly can't stay here, and she doesn't know anybody else in New Orleans."

"Please, I don't want to be any trouble," Irena said.

"No trouble," Oliver assured her. "You're welcome to stay at my place until we can work something else out. Until they find your brother, anyway." He turned to look at Alice. "Unless you have a better idea."

"Put her wherever you want to," Alice said.

Oliver regarded her for a moment, then returned to Irena. "Do you have much to pack?"

"Just a few things."

"I'll wait down here for you. Alice will go along and help you pack. Won't you, Alice?"

"Sure," Alice said without enthusiasm. "Lead the way."

Oliver watched the two women go up the stairs. Irena looked back at him over her shoulder. A fleeting smile touched the comers of her mouth. At that moment he knew he was falling in love with her.

Irena stood in the center of Oliver's compact living room and looked around. "It's lovely."

"It used to be a carriage house," Oliver told her. "The rooms upstairs were for the servants. It's sort of a converted garage."

"They don't make garages like they used to," Irena said.

"Nor anything else."

"Oliver?"

"Yes?"

"Alice wasn't very happy about you bringing me here, was she?"

"Alice is ... well, she's juet being a woman."

"Are you and she ... ?"

"No, nothing like that," he said quickly. "We're good friends. We work together."

"I got the feeling Alice thinks there's something more."

"I can't help that. Maybe she thought I was bringing you here to throw you into the sack and ravish you." He put on a grin to show he was kidding.

"Were you?" Irena's eyes remained serious.

Oliver's grin faded. "That wasn't my purpose. If you want to know if I'm attracted to you, the answer is yes. But I don't take women to bed under false pretenses."

"I'm glad to hear that. I'm a virgin, you know."

Oliver looked embarrassed. "No, I didn't."

"Does it make any difference in the way you feel about me?"

"Why should it?"

"I don't know. These days, if you're still a virgin at twenty-one, people think there's something wrong with you."

Oliver came over and put his arms around her. He held her tenderly for a moment, then kissed her on the cheek. "As far as I've been able to tell, there is absolutely nothing wrong with you. If anything, I'm even more attracted to you now."

She smiled up at him. "I think I needed to hear that."

He let her go and took a step back. "What the hell are we talking about? You were almost killed tonight. There's a sick man and a dangerous cat loose in the streets. This is no time to talk romance. Come on, I'll show you your room." He picked up her bag and started toward the stairs.