Post by wanderingchild17 on May 29, 2008 17:44:06 GMT -5
A/N: I'm not sure what the correct formatting for all this is, so for the time being, I'm going to be posting each chapter as a separate thread. This is an after Go West fic, but it is dark. There's hardly any humor or happiness, but since it's heavily inspired by Sweeney Todd, Wuthering Heights, and The Count of Monte Cristo, you can see why. If there was a rating between PG-13 and R, this fic would have it. There's no smut or swearing, but there are references to adult-entertainment-that-is-not-prostitution, abuse, violence, gambling/investing, drinking, and an unhealthy amount of angst. Enjoy! ;D
* * *
I Will Have Vengeance
Chapter One: Never An Absolution
The dry smell of dust and sweat assaulted his nostrils the moment he stepped off the edge of the train car. He held his luggage tightly in his two paws as he struggled through the curious crowd, barely restraining his impatience at the creatures that would persist in shuffling along at a turtle’s pace.
Almost a year ago, he would have laughed at the idea of so many creatures taking a genuine interest in a little shantytown like Green River. But now, as he peeked over the tops of the heads of the mice and some of the shorter dogs, he could see why they had been so eager to reach their destination.
Green River had blossomed from an archetypical ghost town into quite a charming place. All of the rundown buildings had been renovated, and many more new buildings had sprung up around the heart of the town. There were now several roads instead of just the lengthy Main Street, which had recently been paved. Despite the arid air and merciless sun that beat down upon them all, gardens and small plots of crops flourished in the animal's spaces underneath the humans' dwellings. He was sure it had something to do with the numerous water towers that now dotted the empty landscape.
As he sauntered down the busy street, his silver spurs clicking and whirring incessantly, he noticed an unsettling difference that he at first could not quite name. Was it the constant sound of light conversation and laughter that trickled through the hot air? The way that businesses of all kinds had boomed since he had last set paw on this soil? How every animal behaved with each other: with not a bared tooth, a raised claw, or a look of terror to break the lively serenity?
His whole feline form stiffened as he stopped dead in his tracks. Some of his fellow passengers grumbled loudly as they passed him by, but he paid them no heed.
A low laugh emitted from the back of his throat, which transformed seamlessly into a sinister growl. They had done it! The fools had truly created the utopia born out of his lies! The stupid, naïve, blind fools!
His claws dug into his palms as his paws clenched into fists. The cold stab of jealousy was twisting its way into his heart; not specifically because these creatures had somehow been able to build up a peaceful society, but rather that they had succeeded where he had failed, no matter that the failure had been intentional. It was all too disgusting!
"They all deserve to die," he muttered savagely, picking up his pace.
He watched them all carefully as he walked past them, watching for the telltale signs of deception. He scanned for the feral quality that widened the eyes and mouth, and the dilation of the pupils which so easily could have given away his own former scheme - the greedy buffoons! he thought bitterly against Chula and the rest of his old gang; the mice would have brought Wylie Burp down upon our heads much sooner had they been watching those cats' faces as carefully as they had watched our paws - but he saw no such sign. It was sickening, really: the toxic amount of goodwill in the air as the dogs, cats, and mice openly conversed and did business with each other. Even the reptiles took it all in stride.
But I'm here to change all of that.
The corner of his mouth twitched upward. He was willing to bet that, underneath that shiny veneer of benevolence and amiability, there lay within each creature a secret darkness that he would use to wreak his vengeance; turning their own weapons against themselves, as it were.
And how he would enjoy every moment of it!
The best part was that he was determined to follow in their charade of innocent goodness every step of the way. No one, not even Fievel Mousekewitz, was ever going to suspect him of the misery that even now lay on their doorstep!
Belatedly, he noticed that the crowd of his fellow passengers was converging around one creature: a cat, to be precise.
The badge on his vest read "Mayor".
Well, this was it. If he wanted to be successful in his deception, then one of his first steps would have to be to get on the mayor's good side.
He smoothly approached the cat.
"Welcome to Green River!" the mayor called to a small family of dogs passing by. "Welcome! Hotels, ma'am? At the end of Main Street on the left side. And a good day to you, sir!"
The mayor spotted him. "Excuse me, sir!" he called as he began to approach. Up close, he could see that the mayor was in fact albino. The white fur must come in handy on hot days, he thought absentmindedly.
"Are you coming to live here, or just to visit?" the mayor asked him.
"I've come to -" he cleared his throat, which was rough with disuse and the dry summer air, "- I've come to live here." He barely remembered to answer in the thick Irish brogue that he had been practicing for several months.
The mayor grinned without displaying any teeth. "Then welcome to Green River! However, I must inform you that our way of life is different than other places."
"And how is -" he began to say when the other cat had paused to draw breath, but the mayor prevented him from finishing.
"There is no fighting between the species. In fact, there is hardly any fighting at all between our citizens, and anyone who will not abide by this is not allowed to stay. Think you can do that?"
Now was the perfect time to throw up the first deception. He forbore to ask what exactly happened to those not allowed to stay, or to frown at the mayor's patronizing tone, and instead replied, "That is exactly why I have come."
He worked to take on the attitude of a silly, affected fanatic as he continued. "Back home, there was so much violence and bloodshed that I soon grew sick of it. I came to America thinking that things would be much different, but I was wrong. And then I heard of this town, and I thought -"
"Excellent, excellent!" cried the mayor, interrupting him yet again. He felt a hot flash of irritation; he had not rehearsed this stupid explanation in his mind for months on end only to be interrupted by a vain, verbose cat. It was a beautifully inspiring speech too, if he thought so himself.
"What's your name?" the other cat asked.
He was strongly tempted to reprimand the mayor for his abominable manners, but he held his tongue. He was full aware that the future of his plans rested on his behavior during this interview.
"Shawn O'Brady," he lied, thickening the brogue for extra effect.
The mayor nodded in acknowledgement, but did not volunteer his own name. It occurred to him that perhaps he had thickened the brogue a little too much.
"Have you decided on a place to live, or are you still searching?"
"I'm still hunting for a place."
It slipped off his tongue before he could think twice about his phrasing. He watched the mayor carefully for any sign of a negative reaction - his own expression flawlessly blank - but none appeared.
"Excellent! Mr. Watson is currently looking for a new tenant. His is the third house on the right from the saloon. If you hurry, you can catch him before someone else does! Ah, Mrs. Gouda! How wonderful to see you again!" the mayor called out to a richly dressed, middle-aged mouse.
He stood dumbfounded for a moment. He liked to think that he was infinitely adaptable, but he was not adapted to this sort of treatment. He had come to expect the deferential fear and respect his superior intellect - among other qualities - had always inspired in his fellow four-legged creatures. He certainly was not accustomed to constant interruptions, or not having the last word in a conversation.
But he would have to swallow his pride if he wanted his plans to work. It was painful, degrading, but he would do it. He knew it would be worth it, in the end.
He set off at a brisk pace down Main Street, carefully stepping around - and occasionally over - the many creatures that swarmed around him. He did not even have to look to know where exactly the mayor had been speaking of.
Despite its changes, he knew this place by heart.
Almost a year ago, he would have laughed at the idea of so many creatures taking a genuine interest in a little shantytown like Green River. But now, as he peeked over the tops of the heads of the mice and some of the shorter dogs, he could see why they had been so eager to reach their destination.
Green River had blossomed from an archetypical ghost town into quite a charming place. All of the rundown buildings had been renovated, and many more new buildings had sprung up around the heart of the town. There were now several roads instead of just the lengthy Main Street, which had recently been paved. Despite the arid air and merciless sun that beat down upon them all, gardens and small plots of crops flourished in the animal's spaces underneath the humans' dwellings. He was sure it had something to do with the numerous water towers that now dotted the empty landscape.
As he sauntered down the busy street, his silver spurs clicking and whirring incessantly, he noticed an unsettling difference that he at first could not quite name. Was it the constant sound of light conversation and laughter that trickled through the hot air? The way that businesses of all kinds had boomed since he had last set paw on this soil? How every animal behaved with each other: with not a bared tooth, a raised claw, or a look of terror to break the lively serenity?
His whole feline form stiffened as he stopped dead in his tracks. Some of his fellow passengers grumbled loudly as they passed him by, but he paid them no heed.
A low laugh emitted from the back of his throat, which transformed seamlessly into a sinister growl. They had done it! The fools had truly created the utopia born out of his lies! The stupid, naïve, blind fools!
His claws dug into his palms as his paws clenched into fists. The cold stab of jealousy was twisting its way into his heart; not specifically because these creatures had somehow been able to build up a peaceful society, but rather that they had succeeded where he had failed, no matter that the failure had been intentional. It was all too disgusting!
"They all deserve to die," he muttered savagely, picking up his pace.
He watched them all carefully as he walked past them, watching for the telltale signs of deception. He scanned for the feral quality that widened the eyes and mouth, and the dilation of the pupils which so easily could have given away his own former scheme - the greedy buffoons! he thought bitterly against Chula and the rest of his old gang; the mice would have brought Wylie Burp down upon our heads much sooner had they been watching those cats' faces as carefully as they had watched our paws - but he saw no such sign. It was sickening, really: the toxic amount of goodwill in the air as the dogs, cats, and mice openly conversed and did business with each other. Even the reptiles took it all in stride.
But I'm here to change all of that.
The corner of his mouth twitched upward. He was willing to bet that, underneath that shiny veneer of benevolence and amiability, there lay within each creature a secret darkness that he would use to wreak his vengeance; turning their own weapons against themselves, as it were.
And how he would enjoy every moment of it!
The best part was that he was determined to follow in their charade of innocent goodness every step of the way. No one, not even Fievel Mousekewitz, was ever going to suspect him of the misery that even now lay on their doorstep!
Belatedly, he noticed that the crowd of his fellow passengers was converging around one creature: a cat, to be precise.
The badge on his vest read "Mayor".
Well, this was it. If he wanted to be successful in his deception, then one of his first steps would have to be to get on the mayor's good side.
He smoothly approached the cat.
"Welcome to Green River!" the mayor called to a small family of dogs passing by. "Welcome! Hotels, ma'am? At the end of Main Street on the left side. And a good day to you, sir!"
The mayor spotted him. "Excuse me, sir!" he called as he began to approach. Up close, he could see that the mayor was in fact albino. The white fur must come in handy on hot days, he thought absentmindedly.
"Are you coming to live here, or just to visit?" the mayor asked him.
"I've come to -" he cleared his throat, which was rough with disuse and the dry summer air, "- I've come to live here." He barely remembered to answer in the thick Irish brogue that he had been practicing for several months.
The mayor grinned without displaying any teeth. "Then welcome to Green River! However, I must inform you that our way of life is different than other places."
"And how is -" he began to say when the other cat had paused to draw breath, but the mayor prevented him from finishing.
"There is no fighting between the species. In fact, there is hardly any fighting at all between our citizens, and anyone who will not abide by this is not allowed to stay. Think you can do that?"
Now was the perfect time to throw up the first deception. He forbore to ask what exactly happened to those not allowed to stay, or to frown at the mayor's patronizing tone, and instead replied, "That is exactly why I have come."
He worked to take on the attitude of a silly, affected fanatic as he continued. "Back home, there was so much violence and bloodshed that I soon grew sick of it. I came to America thinking that things would be much different, but I was wrong. And then I heard of this town, and I thought -"
"Excellent, excellent!" cried the mayor, interrupting him yet again. He felt a hot flash of irritation; he had not rehearsed this stupid explanation in his mind for months on end only to be interrupted by a vain, verbose cat. It was a beautifully inspiring speech too, if he thought so himself.
"What's your name?" the other cat asked.
He was strongly tempted to reprimand the mayor for his abominable manners, but he held his tongue. He was full aware that the future of his plans rested on his behavior during this interview.
"Shawn O'Brady," he lied, thickening the brogue for extra effect.
The mayor nodded in acknowledgement, but did not volunteer his own name. It occurred to him that perhaps he had thickened the brogue a little too much.
"Have you decided on a place to live, or are you still searching?"
"I'm still hunting for a place."
It slipped off his tongue before he could think twice about his phrasing. He watched the mayor carefully for any sign of a negative reaction - his own expression flawlessly blank - but none appeared.
"Excellent! Mr. Watson is currently looking for a new tenant. His is the third house on the right from the saloon. If you hurry, you can catch him before someone else does! Ah, Mrs. Gouda! How wonderful to see you again!" the mayor called out to a richly dressed, middle-aged mouse.
He stood dumbfounded for a moment. He liked to think that he was infinitely adaptable, but he was not adapted to this sort of treatment. He had come to expect the deferential fear and respect his superior intellect - among other qualities - had always inspired in his fellow four-legged creatures. He certainly was not accustomed to constant interruptions, or not having the last word in a conversation.
But he would have to swallow his pride if he wanted his plans to work. It was painful, degrading, but he would do it. He knew it would be worth it, in the end.
He set off at a brisk pace down Main Street, carefully stepping around - and occasionally over - the many creatures that swarmed around him. He did not even have to look to know where exactly the mayor had been speaking of.
Despite its changes, he knew this place by heart.
* * *
It was a relief to drop his luggage and curl up on the floor after his new landlord had finally left. The mouse - imagine, a mouse for a landlord! - had been in an annoyingly chatty mood, throwing out words and facts the way humans threw out excess food. If he had noticed his new tenant's reluctance to speak, he gave no indication except to talk even more.
The fool probably thought that the more he spoke, the more likely I would be to actually speak back to him. Perhaps he'll be my first victim.
However, the rent was cheaper than he had hoped for, and it was the perfect size for him. Why a mouse would own a dwelling of a size for cats was beyond him, but the whole thing was too convenient for him to complain. Maybe he would keep the old mouse...for now.
His eyes drifted to the window, and then the view beyond. If he angled his head more to the right, he could easily see the swinging doors and the sign that simply read "Saloon". The place called to him with a silent siren's song. It melted his bones and sang in his blood; not with the promise of drink, but with the promise of one who was sure to be within those four walls, dancing and singing to the beat of her pure heart.
Heart pounding in his throat, he left the nearly empty room and stepped back into the blinding sunlight. Oh yes, she was sure to be there. It was still the only place in Green River where one could go to hear anything of a musical nature, as the talkative mouse had recently informed him.
And where music was, there was she.
He walked slowly towards the swinging doors, blinking and squinting underneath his hat's broad brim.
She would be older, he realized. Older, but not by much. With a talent like hers, she was sure to be even more successful than she had been; more experience must also have helped to shape her into a seasoned performer. Was she happy? Did she still remember him? Had she fallen in love? Did she have a sweetheart? A husband?
He pushed through the doors, his heart churning with bittersweet passion. The saloon had hardly changed within the past year. It was still dark, save for where the footlights lit the stage with a bright glow. The rumble of male voices, all of different pitches, still rolled like the sound of distant thunder. The only noticeable difference was that there were now tables and chairs for the mice - placed not too far from the foot of the stage - as well as for the cats and dogs, and there was free trafficking between the species.
No one recognized him. No horrified screams or angry shouting interrupted his progress to an abandoned table in a dark corner. Hardly anyone even spared him a passing glance. But then, he had taken especial care with his disguise, only stopping short at dying his fur - which even so had darkened considerably from nearly a year spent indoors at the behest of his previous human. He had traded in his rich scarlet top hat and cloak for an old blue gingham shirt and white cowboy hat, with silver spurs adorning his heels. The monocle had been abandoned long ago. After all, it had only been a tool to impress other creatures, and at the moment, an impression was the last thing he wanted to create.
He was careful to slouch nonchalantly in his seat, instead of sitting up ramrod straight as he had been trained to do all of his life. Accepting only a small ginger beer without anise or vanilla to sweeten it - do they even have access to such things out here? - he sipped the pungent drink slowly, watching the other animals laugh, mutter, wail, and joke with a rowdy, drunken enthusiasm.
He was disgusted by the whole display.
Just when it occurred to him that she might not live in Green River anymore, a shaggy-haired, somewhat burly male mouse appeared onstage and announced her. He started compulsively in his seat, then forced himself to relax against the back of his rickety chair.
All in good time, all in good time...
She stepped out onto the stage after a long, tacky drum roll, and he found that he could not breathe. How could he have forgotten how exquisitely beautiful she was?
But she had changed since he had last laid eyes on her. She had grown taller and was, if possible, even thinner. Under the stage make-up and light fur, her face was unnaturally pale, and he thought he glimpsed a shadow of dread in her luminous blue eyes. But then her face shaped itself into her actress's mask, and she was ready to create a perfect fantasy world for her audience, supported only by the golden tones of her voice.
He was prepared to be amazed.
Instead, he was repulsed.
It wasn't that her voice had worsened; such a thing was surely impossible. With age had come a priceless maturity that only served to enrich her voice in a way that would have been unattainable a year ago. He could see that she had learned much in the way of singing technique; he might even wager that she now knew more than he did on the subject.
It was the song itself that dsigraced her. Loud, bawdy, and entirely without taste (even for a saloon out west), he cringed at each note, each raunchy line. He was both fascinated and repelled by her performance. Every atom in his body yearned towards her, longing to simply pluck her off the stage and take her away from the crude wide eyes and degrading hoots from the male creatures in this hellhole.
For she could not be happy, doing this. He knew her too well for that.
How had this happened? How had she been reduced to such a state: once a brightly rising star, now a tarnished fallen star? Were these animals really so wilfully blind that they could not see the peerless beauty that lay within and without her? She ought to be treated only with the utmost love, kindness, and respect, instead of being thrust headlong into this nightmare. Not even he, with all his darkness, would have even dreamt of subjecting her to this!
His blood boiled until it very nearly became unbearable. The "audience" had become even more enthusiastic when she had jumped off the stage to mingle, coyly displaying a bit of slender ankle as she did so. She walked among them like a tempting goddess, and he could see that through some unfortunate circumstances, she had become used to this behavior. She avoided certain mice with seemingly random maneuvers that fooled everyone but him, mice that still reached out to her with desperate, wandering paws. He clenched his own paws into fists when he saw the undisguised lust burning in their horrid eyes.
Had he been thinking clearly instead of savagely planning the murders of every single mouse in the room save one, in that moment he would have had the sense to hide, or perhaps even leave. As it was, it was not until she saw him that he realized too late that she had been making her way towards his part of the room.
His disguise did not fool her, not for an instant. She froze in her temptress's walk, her eyes wide with shock and dismay. In that moment, her actress's mask fell away and he saw her as she truly was: vulnerable, frightened, and alone in a world that she had never chosen. Her lips formed his name - his real name - but no audible sound came out. He simply stared back at her, his eyes burning with emotion as he watched her for her next move, completely and utterly at her mercy.
As long as the moment seemed to last, it was quickly over. An eager young mouse at her side tugged on her arm, begging her to continue her performance. She turned, distracted, releasing him from her hold. Short as the distraction was sure to be, it was enough for him to slip out the doors and back again into the garish sunlight. By the time she would look back at his table, it would be empty.
He cursed himself vehemently as he stalked down the street. What madness had possessed him to seek her out? How could he have been sure that she had not left Green River, as he had begun to fear? He knew how easily she could reveal him; why, then, had he not waited? Now she had seen him; worse still, she had recognized him.
What was to prevent her from telling everyone who he truly was?
Go ahead, then,{/i] he snarled fiercely inside his mind. Tell them, Tanya. They'll never believe you, but tell them anyway.
Tell them that Cat R. Waul has finally returned.
The fool probably thought that the more he spoke, the more likely I would be to actually speak back to him. Perhaps he'll be my first victim.
However, the rent was cheaper than he had hoped for, and it was the perfect size for him. Why a mouse would own a dwelling of a size for cats was beyond him, but the whole thing was too convenient for him to complain. Maybe he would keep the old mouse...for now.
His eyes drifted to the window, and then the view beyond. If he angled his head more to the right, he could easily see the swinging doors and the sign that simply read "Saloon". The place called to him with a silent siren's song. It melted his bones and sang in his blood; not with the promise of drink, but with the promise of one who was sure to be within those four walls, dancing and singing to the beat of her pure heart.
Heart pounding in his throat, he left the nearly empty room and stepped back into the blinding sunlight. Oh yes, she was sure to be there. It was still the only place in Green River where one could go to hear anything of a musical nature, as the talkative mouse had recently informed him.
And where music was, there was she.
He walked slowly towards the swinging doors, blinking and squinting underneath his hat's broad brim.
She would be older, he realized. Older, but not by much. With a talent like hers, she was sure to be even more successful than she had been; more experience must also have helped to shape her into a seasoned performer. Was she happy? Did she still remember him? Had she fallen in love? Did she have a sweetheart? A husband?
He pushed through the doors, his heart churning with bittersweet passion. The saloon had hardly changed within the past year. It was still dark, save for where the footlights lit the stage with a bright glow. The rumble of male voices, all of different pitches, still rolled like the sound of distant thunder. The only noticeable difference was that there were now tables and chairs for the mice - placed not too far from the foot of the stage - as well as for the cats and dogs, and there was free trafficking between the species.
No one recognized him. No horrified screams or angry shouting interrupted his progress to an abandoned table in a dark corner. Hardly anyone even spared him a passing glance. But then, he had taken especial care with his disguise, only stopping short at dying his fur - which even so had darkened considerably from nearly a year spent indoors at the behest of his previous human. He had traded in his rich scarlet top hat and cloak for an old blue gingham shirt and white cowboy hat, with silver spurs adorning his heels. The monocle had been abandoned long ago. After all, it had only been a tool to impress other creatures, and at the moment, an impression was the last thing he wanted to create.
He was careful to slouch nonchalantly in his seat, instead of sitting up ramrod straight as he had been trained to do all of his life. Accepting only a small ginger beer without anise or vanilla to sweeten it - do they even have access to such things out here? - he sipped the pungent drink slowly, watching the other animals laugh, mutter, wail, and joke with a rowdy, drunken enthusiasm.
He was disgusted by the whole display.
Just when it occurred to him that she might not live in Green River anymore, a shaggy-haired, somewhat burly male mouse appeared onstage and announced her. He started compulsively in his seat, then forced himself to relax against the back of his rickety chair.
All in good time, all in good time...
She stepped out onto the stage after a long, tacky drum roll, and he found that he could not breathe. How could he have forgotten how exquisitely beautiful she was?
But she had changed since he had last laid eyes on her. She had grown taller and was, if possible, even thinner. Under the stage make-up and light fur, her face was unnaturally pale, and he thought he glimpsed a shadow of dread in her luminous blue eyes. But then her face shaped itself into her actress's mask, and she was ready to create a perfect fantasy world for her audience, supported only by the golden tones of her voice.
He was prepared to be amazed.
Instead, he was repulsed.
It wasn't that her voice had worsened; such a thing was surely impossible. With age had come a priceless maturity that only served to enrich her voice in a way that would have been unattainable a year ago. He could see that she had learned much in the way of singing technique; he might even wager that she now knew more than he did on the subject.
It was the song itself that dsigraced her. Loud, bawdy, and entirely without taste (even for a saloon out west), he cringed at each note, each raunchy line. He was both fascinated and repelled by her performance. Every atom in his body yearned towards her, longing to simply pluck her off the stage and take her away from the crude wide eyes and degrading hoots from the male creatures in this hellhole.
For she could not be happy, doing this. He knew her too well for that.
How had this happened? How had she been reduced to such a state: once a brightly rising star, now a tarnished fallen star? Were these animals really so wilfully blind that they could not see the peerless beauty that lay within and without her? She ought to be treated only with the utmost love, kindness, and respect, instead of being thrust headlong into this nightmare. Not even he, with all his darkness, would have even dreamt of subjecting her to this!
His blood boiled until it very nearly became unbearable. The "audience" had become even more enthusiastic when she had jumped off the stage to mingle, coyly displaying a bit of slender ankle as she did so. She walked among them like a tempting goddess, and he could see that through some unfortunate circumstances, she had become used to this behavior. She avoided certain mice with seemingly random maneuvers that fooled everyone but him, mice that still reached out to her with desperate, wandering paws. He clenched his own paws into fists when he saw the undisguised lust burning in their horrid eyes.
Had he been thinking clearly instead of savagely planning the murders of every single mouse in the room save one, in that moment he would have had the sense to hide, or perhaps even leave. As it was, it was not until she saw him that he realized too late that she had been making her way towards his part of the room.
His disguise did not fool her, not for an instant. She froze in her temptress's walk, her eyes wide with shock and dismay. In that moment, her actress's mask fell away and he saw her as she truly was: vulnerable, frightened, and alone in a world that she had never chosen. Her lips formed his name - his real name - but no audible sound came out. He simply stared back at her, his eyes burning with emotion as he watched her for her next move, completely and utterly at her mercy.
As long as the moment seemed to last, it was quickly over. An eager young mouse at her side tugged on her arm, begging her to continue her performance. She turned, distracted, releasing him from her hold. Short as the distraction was sure to be, it was enough for him to slip out the doors and back again into the garish sunlight. By the time she would look back at his table, it would be empty.
He cursed himself vehemently as he stalked down the street. What madness had possessed him to seek her out? How could he have been sure that she had not left Green River, as he had begun to fear? He knew how easily she could reveal him; why, then, had he not waited? Now she had seen him; worse still, she had recognized him.
What was to prevent her from telling everyone who he truly was?
Go ahead, then,{/i] he snarled fiercely inside his mind. Tell them, Tanya. They'll never believe you, but tell them anyway.
Tell them that Cat R. Waul has finally returned.
