The Doe Identity

6 - Love Bites

"So you're Mona, huh?" I squatted in front of the strange cat.

The color pattern of the cat's fur made her look like she was wearing a black mask, a tuxedo, and white shoes. There was a streak of black on her chin, resembling a goatee. A golden heart-shaped pendant hung from the yellow collar snugly wrapping around her neck; engraved on it was her name: Desdemona.

I found the name more suitable for the little demoness; much more suitable than a lovely Mona. I supposed she must've been a nuisance to whoever had named her.

Our staring battle was cut off when John started stroking the cat's back. To my surprise, the strange cat blinked slowly at him and started to purr.

"Well, she seems to like you," I muttered.

"Yeah." A small smile tipped John's mouth as he gazed at Desdemona. "She's sweet, isn't she?"

The tuxedo cat looked sweet, but the wound on my ankle told me she was anything but sweet.

"Depends on your definition of sweet," I replied. As John scratched Desdemona's goatee, she closed her eyes and purred louder. "Maybe you should adopt her when you wake up," I suggested.

"Maybe." John smiled at Desdemona. "But I think she likes you better."

I barked a derisive laugh. "Are you kidding me? She just bit me."

He chuckled. "Trust me, you do not want to get bitten by a cat for real. That's just a love bite." He gestured at the tiny bite marks on my leg. "It's a way of saying hello."

"Yeah, right," I scoffed.

"I'm not kidding. Any vet would agree with me."

"Oh, so you're a vet now?" I mocked.

He shrugged. "I might be."

Considering his knowledge about cats, he might actually be a real vet. Well, either that or he simply spent his free time around cats. Maybe he even lived with 13 cats. Or ran a Catfluencer account. Or maybe he was a cat whisperer—

"Wait, what's . . ." John furrowed his brow as he rubbed the left side of Desdemona's stomach.

As he gently pressed his finger into her flesh, she meowed in pain and swung her paw at him. John jerked his head back, but if he hadn't been a spirit, he would've had pretty decent scratch marks on his face.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." John petted Desdemona's head as she licked her stomach.

I cocked my head to the side and squinted at the cat. If the blood in the kitchen was hers, then she should've sported a wound of some kind: a scratch, a cut, or maybe even a gash; but there were no wounds on her, at least nothing I could see. Nevertheless, the way she'd reacted when John touched her stomach told me something was wrong.

"Is she okay?" I asked.

"I'm not sure." John leaned sideways to observe Desdemona's stomach. "I think there's something in her stomach, but I don't see any wounds. Maybe she swallowed something. It's not uncommon for stray cats to eat anything they could find." John placed a hand on Desdemona's back and said, "We should get you checked out by a vet."

"Meow," she replied before she continued licking the same spot on her stomach.

"Was that a yes?" I wondered.

John tensed his mouth into a line, thinking. "Honestly? I have no idea."

I snorted a laugh. "I guess you can cross Cat Whisperer from your resume then."

"Yeah." John chuckled. "That'd be pretty cool though—"

Desdemona's head and ears perked up as if she sensed something. Her eyes darted to the manor's door.