Page 11 of Scaredy Cat

Stacey

I woke to Zach's voice, a dark, low rumble in the dimly-lit room.

"Wakie wakie, little kitty."

The sound of his voice sent a shudder through me, and my eyes snapped open.

I let out a startled scream as I was met with the terrifying red skull mask just inches from my face.

His unnatural green eyes glared down at me, and I tried to scramble back, but my head pounded so I just sat there clutching it in pain.

Zach threw his head back and laughed, the sound echoing around the vast room. His eyes, framed by the mask's jagged eyeholes, glinted with amusement.

"Scared you, didn’t I, sweetheart? And this is just a mask. My real form is so much worse. I'd love to see the look on your face if you ever saw it."

I swallowed hard, my throat dry.

“What are you then?” I asked.

“A demon,” he whispered seductively. “But I wasn’t always.”

I heard him move around the room to a place behind me but couldn’t open my eyes yet against the screaming pain in my head.

I was so close to getting out... And he... That bastard fucking headbutted me. Who does that?

“A long time ago,” he spoke softly, and the sounds of a piano began to play.

“I was an ordinary man. Extremely good-looking, of course. But I loved music. God, how I loved it. My mother was the one who taught me growing up and when it came time to help my father who made clothing for a living, I refused. I was so sure that I could make it on my talents, but we didn’t have social media back in the 1700s, so it was hard to get the word out. ”

The music stopped momentarily like he was waiting for me to laugh at his joke.

I didn’t.

“I was also competing against Mozart, and Beethoven - Bach had at least passed on by then.” But they were alive over 200 years ago, that can’t be right. I heard him sigh as he started playing again, but it wasn’t anything I recognized.

“Long lifetime short, I was approached by a man in black one night. Offered me everything I could want but I would be of service once I died to the keeper of hell. I had one incredible night in London and overnight I was a sensation. And then, on my way to France to play for Louis XVI, I fell ill and died. Exactly 2 weeks from the time I sold my soul. And I’ve been trying to get my life back ever since. ”

I found myself turning to look at him as he continued to move his strong fingers along the ivory keys. He would have looked sexy, sitting at the black grand piano in nothing but a pair of black dress pants. If it weren’t for the damn mask he was still wearing.

Oh, who was I kidding. It was still sexy.

He looked up at me and tilted his head. “I’m sorry, this is probably quite dated for you.”

Turning his attention back to the piano, he began playing a different tune and my jaw hung open in surprise. Zach chuckled as he stole a glance at me and continued playing.

“Is that… Are you playing Taylor Swift right now?”

Zach didn’t answer me but instead just kept banging out the chorus to Look What You Made Me Do . After a few more seconds, he stopped and looked at me again. “The Reputation album is my favorite. Which one is yours?”

I sputtered, “What?”

“A true musician recognizes another. Now, which is your favorite album?”

I brushed some of my hair out of my face to look at him better before finally whispering, “Evermore.”

I jumped as Zach clapped his hands enthusiastically and laughed. “I should have known. Pictured you more as a Midnights girl this morning, but this makes sense, too.”

“I haven’t listened to her in a while,” I tell him and I don’t know why I’m telling him this. “My boyfriends all hated her so I was forbidden to play her music around them.”

Zach pointed to the area in front of where I was seated on the floor and said, “Like that asshole?”

That’s when I noticed Matt. He was lying on the ground nearby, tied up like I was earlier, unmoving.

"Is he... is he dead?" I croaked out, fearing the answer.

Zach shook his head, his mask rustling slightly with the movement. "Not yet. That's up to you, little kitty. You get to decide his fate."

My heart sank, and the weight of his words crushed me. "What do you mean? I don't understand."

Zach chuckled, a deep, menacing sound that sent a chill running through me.

"Oh, you'll understand soon enough. For now, I just know that his life is in your hands. Literally."

I felt sick, my stomach twisting with fear and dread. Immediately I felt the need to bolt again but I couldn’t carry a grown man out of here. "Please... just let us go. We won't tell anyone about this. We won't—"

"Shhh," Zach cut in, raising a finger to his masked lips and he got up from the piano to walk towards me. "We both know that's not true. Now, enough talk. It's time for your first test, little kitty. Are you ready to play?"

I wanted to beg, to plead, but the glint in his eye told me it would be useless. My mind raced as I tried to process what was happening, but one thought kept repeating:

What kind of game were we playing, and how could I save us both?

I stared at Zach, my heart hammering in my chest. The mask hid his expressions, but his voice, deep and gravelly, reminded me how much I was actually in danger.

“Ready?”

"For the first test?" I asked, my voice shaking despite my efforts to stay calm. "What do you want from me?"

Zach took a menacing step forward, and I flinched, unable to suppress a small whimper.

"Oh, kitty, you'll soon find out. But first, let's set you straight. I want you to play fairly."

With a quick motion, he knelt before me and placed his hands on my head, making sure to straighten my cat ears as he did so. Almost at once, the pounding in my head vanished. When he pulled away, I rubbed at my temples where it had a tingling feeling, all while keeping my eyes on Zach.

“I don’t have full use of my powers in this form, but I do have some.” He shrugged, like that explained everything.

I watched him as he retrieved a ceremonial knife from a nearby marble table. The blade glinted in the dim light as he twirled it in his hand, then held it out, offering it to me, hilt first. The knife was an ornate, bronze blade, its surface engraved with intricate patterns.

"Take it, little kitty. This is your first test. You must draw blood."

I hesitated, my eyes flicking to Matt's still form.

"Go on," Zach coaxed. "Take the knife. You have five minutes to make your choice. Whose blood will it be? Yours or his?"

I shook my head, my eyes stinging with unshed tears. "I won't hurt him or myself. Just let us go."

Zach's eyes, and unblinking, held mine.

“Time is ticking."

I wanted to scream, to rage at him, but something in his gaze held me captive. I felt the weight of his words, and my mind raced as I tried to process the impossible decision he was forcing upon me.

The seconds ticked by like hours, and my heart pounded in my ears.

My eyes darted to Matt. I could see his chest rising and falling in a slow, even rhythm. He was still alive, for now.

"Please," I whispered, my voice hoarse. "Just tell me what you want."

Zach's lips curled upwards, his mask hiding the full extent of his smile, but I could hear it when he spoke next.

"It's simple. I want to see if you have what it takes."

"Fuck you!" The words burst from my lips, fueled by anger and desperation.

Zach's laughter filled the room once more, the sound grating against my nerves. The skull mask tilted backward as he roared with amusement, and for a moment, I imagined ripping that mask from his face and punching him in his pretty face.

"My, my, such language. Aren't we feisty? Kitty’s got claws, it seems. That's exactly what I wanted to hear."

I frowned, confusion clouding my brown eyes. "What do you mean?"

"It's all part of the game, sweetheart. You showed me that you have spirit, that you're not willing to just roll over and accept your fate. That's admirable, really."

I growled at him. "Then that should suffice. Let’s move on."

Zach's eyes narrowed, and his voice turned cold and cruel. "All in good time, witch. For now, just know that you're here to play. And the rules are simple: you must draw blood."

"Never. I won't play your sick game," I spat, my eyes flicking to Matt's unmoving form. "Just let him go. He has nothing to do with this."

"Ah, but he does," Zach replied, his voice silky smooth. "You see, this game is all about choices and consequences. Will you let him live and damn yourself or kill him and keep your power?"

"Why do you keep talking about my ‘power’?" My voice quavered, but I stood my ground, facing the man, the thing before me.

Zach's mask tilted to the side, as if he were considering me with newfound interest. "I'm disappointed, little kitty. Your parents never told you the truth?"

I shook my head, my mind racing. What was he talking about?

"You mean there's never been weird things that have happened when you've been upset or excited?" He took a step toward me, his looming figure filling my vision. "Strange occurrences that you couldn't explain?"

I swallowed hard, my eyes darting around the room as I tried to keep my composure.

My gaze focused back on the piano to ground myself.

I recalled a few moments—the time the lights had flickered and died when I'd argued with my parents, or the way the wind had kicked up, shaking the windows as if in anger, when I'd been thrilled at a concert.

But I couldn't bring myself to acknowledge them. "I don't know what you mean."

Zach's eyes narrowed, and for a moment, I thought I saw a flash of anger in their dark depths. "Don't lie to me, pussycat. You’ve felt different for a long time. It's a shame your parents never taught you how to wield it."

Finally, I found my voice, laced with a hint of anger. "They're not my real parents. I was adopted." The words tumbled out, and I bit my lip, immediately wishing I could take them back.