To Our Only Hope

Part Three: Little Hellcat

I wasn't expecting him to reply so quickly. Often these creatures take much time after their travels to communicate with me. He was warming up quickly, a good sign. But he still sounded frightened.

"Are you frightened of me? Perhaps nervous?" I asked him in a motherly tone.

"Yes, quite..." He replied. "Why aren't you afraid of me? My big batty ears and my odd eyes..."

"Odd eyes? Odd in what way, might I ask?"

"Well, they are red. No cat on earth has red eyes, this much I know."

"You're right, your eyes are red. A beautiful shade, too, I admit. Your eyes frighten me no more than my adorable collection of porcelain dolls over there." I pointed to my dolls admiringly. "My little dears tend to frighten most people. I however, find them-along with most commonly 'frightening' things- quite beautiful in their own empty, longing way." I sighed and held him up so that he was at eye-level. "My eyes are red as well. The letter the fates gave me said I'm a descendant of Hades, but I've always known that. My mother takes great pride in her family lineage. Hades is after all, the god of death."

I sat him down atop the black covers of my bed and patted his head. He looked at me in an awe-stricken, almost confused way.

I sighed. "You were supposed to come years from now, when I get married. You are to be raised well to protect my family after our last Hellcat, Katy, passed away. She protected our family for thousands of years. It was just her time." I looked toward my photo of Katy and I sitting together on the porch when I was a little girl. "You'll need a collar." I searched around the room, my eyes darting to the crates of chokers on my bookshelf. I then looked down to the gift box, still sitting right in front of me. "For now, I think the ribbon on this box will do nicely, and later on we'll find you some identification tags." I tugged on the end of the pretty ribbon, unraveling the bow.

I wrapped it around his neck firmly, with enough leeway to let him breath and move his head freely. The ribbon was very long, so I had to wrap it back around his neck two more times, and I finally tied it back into a smaller bow at the base of his head.

"Now, a name. I think I'd like to call you Linus. What do you think?" I said, setting him on my lap.

"Yeah, that sounds nice... But what does it mean?"

"It's the name of a musician and poet. In mythology, they say he's the creator of melody and rhythm."

"Oh. Cool!" he exclaimed, and scratched his ear again. He sneezed harshly a second time, and toppled off the bed. I didn't reach him quickly enough to catch him, but he landed safely on all four paws.

"Nice landing. Linus." I said, teasing him.

"Thanks." He sneezed again, the force knocking him off his feet, onto his bum.

We giggled, as he stood and hopped back onto the bed.

I heard the back door open and a male voice shout "I'm here! Now where's my Victory?"