The Magical Christmas Cat

  ound and make awkward small talk. Ruby placed the rejected box of cookies on the chair beside her and reached under her chair to grab the gift bag she'd stashed there. She held it out so he could see inside.

  "Candles," he said brightly as he peeked into the bag. "Very practicable to have on hand in case the power goes out."

  A loose strand of black hair fell across one eye. Ruby studied his face while he was peering at her candles. The professor was handsome but not cute; his features were more interesting than pretty. His face had the nice, clean lines of a healthy man who doesn't eat white sugar or white flour. His lips were just full enough, and he had smart eyes that seemed to notice everything. She had noticed it all before, but from a distance. Up close, there was a surprising power about him. An intensity she should have expected but had not.

  "Yes, I suppose they are practicable."

  He looked around the room—Hester's basement, where the Christmas party was almost always held—as if he were searching for someone. There was an almost instant disconnect. Was he one of those absentminded professors who sometimes forgot to eat and missed doctors' appointments and birthdays? It sure looked that way.

  The other neighborhood bachelor headed her way, and Ruby sighed. Todd made the professor look downright normal, and that wasn't an easy task. His long gray hair was pulled into a ponytail, as usual. Today's tie-dyed T-shirt was done in Christmas colors. Red, white, and green swirls were stretched over a protruding belly. The shirt had seen better days. And the professor thought Snoopy was bad!

  "Hey, Ruby! I found this under the tree." Todd waggled a small, square box in her direction. "It has your name on it."

  "There must be a mistake. I already have my gift." She held the bag of candles aloft.

  Todd looked at the tag hanging from the brightly wrapped box in his hands. "No, this says To: Ruby Kincaid, From: A Secret Admirer."

  A chill walked up her spine. Maybe it sounded romantic, but in her mind a secret admirer was just one step away from a stalker.

  "That's weird," she said softly as Todd offered her the gift. "I don't think I want it."

  Todd and the professor both seemed surprised. "I thought women liked gifts," Benedict said.

  "Me, too," Todd said.

  It occurred to Ruby that the only two unmarried men in the room were with her, and if the box really did come from a secret admirer it was likely one of them. Oh, she hoped it wasn't Todd! Weird as the professor was, he wasn't a forty-four-year-old man living in his mother's house, living off of unemployment combined with money and prizes from radio and television contests and one long-ago moment of glory on a network game show.

  "Fine." Curious, she offered her hand for the box. Best to open the thing and get it over with.

  Both men watched curiously as she carefully unwrapped the box. She had never been one to tear into pretty paper, but instead picked away the tape with care and removed the wrapping paper in one barely wrinkled piece to reveal a sturdy white gift box.

  She placed the paper aside and opened the box, finding that whatever was inside had been protected by white tissue paper. She removed the tissue as carefully as she had the gift wrap. At the bottom of the box sat a pale green figurine of a cat, perhaps two inches by three. She lifted the figurine out of the box and studied it carefully, noting the incredible detail and the heaviness of the stone. Jade, perhaps? Whatever it was, this was no cheap knickknack.

  "Wow," she whispered. "This must be some kind of mistake."

  "Interesting," the professor said. "May I?" He offered his hand.

  "What is it?" Todd asked. "A doodad? Not very romantic, considering it came from a secret admirer. Perfume or jewelry would be better. I won some really expensive perfume when I was on television, but I gave it to my mom."

  "I like it," Ruby said defensively as she finally placed the cat on Benedict's palm. Neither of the men acted as if they knew anything about the cat, which was odd. Who else would've gone to so much trouble to give her an anonymous gift? Who else would've signed the card "secret admirer?" It didn't make any sense. If the secret admirer was one of the married men who lived on the street—that really was creepy.

  The professor studied the figurine as if it were made of solid gold. He turned it this way and that and studied all sides, taking in every aspect. "This appears to be quite old," he said. "The work is incredibly detailed. See the hairs here, and the shape of the mouth? Extraordinary." He lifted his head and looked at her, his dark eyes deeper than before. "Would you mind if I borrowed this piece for a few days?"

  "Why?"

  "I'd like to do a bit of research if you don't mind. Classes are out for the holidays, and I have some time on my hands."

  "It's just an ornament," she said. "It's pretty and intricate, and I agree that it's interesting, but if it were worth studying I doubt it would've ended up in a box with my name on it."

  "Please," the professor said softly.

  "Hey, Ruby!" Todd called too brightly.

  Her head snapped around. She had forgotten that he watched. "Yes?"

  "I have tickets to a concert in Birmingham on Thursday. Won them in a radio 99.1 contest." He told her the name of the popular band and grinned. "I was the tenth caller. They're really good seats."

  "Thanks, but I can't." At least once a month Todd won tickets to something, and he always asked her to go along. Maybe her love life was nonexistent. Maybe she did spend her nights alone. She had a feeling if she ever said yes to Todd, she'd be stuck for life. Lonely as she sometimes was, that was entirely unacceptable.

  "Are you sure?"

  "I'm sure."

  "I don't want to ask someone else, then have you change your mind." It sounded almost like a threat.

  The professor did not take his eyes from the figurine in his hand as he said, "For heaven's sake, Todd, she said no. Go away."

  Todd looked annoyed, but he did leave. In the crowded basement, he didn't have far to go before he ran into another victim. He honed in on poor Mrs. Logan, the very shy widow who lived on the other end of the cul-de-sac.

  "So, can I borrow this?" Benedict lifted his head and looked at Ruby expectantly.

  He looked so anxious, so excited, she almost gave him an instant yes, but something stopped her. "Well, Professor . . ."

  "Zane," he interrupted. "Call me Zane. We are neighbors, after all."

  Her heart did a strange little flip. It was the expression in his eyes and the intimacy of calling him by his first name and the fact that all day she had been hyperaware that she was all alone in this world that made her insides react. Ruby took a deep breath. "Well, Zane, if you want it that badly . . ." She opened the box that sat on the chair beside her and reached in, randomly plucking out a cookie. Orange-walnut, she noticed as she held it beneath his nose. "Live a little. Eat a cookie."

  Zane didn't hesitate. He'd worked too hard, given up too much to get to this point, to let a little dietary lapse get in his way. He didn't even bother to take the cookie from Ruby's hand but simply dipped his head and took a big bite.

  He was prepared for the cookie to be tasty, and still the flavor that burst on his tongue and the way the sweet melted in his mouth took him by surprise. Yes, it had been a long time since he had indulged. In anything.

  Watching his reaction, she smiled with evident satisfaction. It was a tempting look on a very pretty face, he admitted. The soft smile, the twinkle in her green eyes, they were very nice.

  "More?" she asked softly, and he responded by taking one more bite from her hand. The second bite was as good as the first, but without the shock.

  As he savored the second bite of the decadent cookie, he studied Ruby Kincaid. She wore her dark brown hair very short. At the moment it was shorter than his. On most women it might've been too severe, but the style suited her face and made her eyes look larger than they might've if she had a mop of hair. No, it was best that the neck and that pixie face be shown off to their best advantage. Not that he should be thinking about how she
looked. Poor girl, she had no idea what was about to happen—if he was right and this was her.

  It was a shame, really. Taste in holiday sweaters aside, she seemed like a very nice person. He did not understand why she was alone, when her looks and baking skills should have men lined up at her door. True, she was a few years too old for the college students who made up a large portion of the population of Minville, Alabama, and more than a few years too young for most of the professors at the college that was the heart of this small town, but there were many men in between.

  Of course, in order to meet men, one had to be available. Ruby was not. She'd moved into the house directly across the street from Zane shortly after her aunt's death this past summer, and he had studied her, just as he had studied the others in the neighborhood. She left the house shortly after five every morning, headed for work. Ruby's Sweet Shop was located within walking distance of the college and did a brisk morning and lunchtime business. There were a number of part-time employees, all students, who apparently spent a good portion of their salaries on cakes, cookies, and pies. Ruby served coffee as well as sweets, but none of those fancy caffeinated concoctions that were served at the chain store down the street. No, nothing was available to compete with the taste of her scrumptious creations.

  He understood why, now, as the flavor of the cookie lingered.

  She closed at two in the afternoon and headed straight home— unless she stopped by the grocery store on her way, in which case she'd be home by 2:35. Once home, she worked in the yard, did laundry, cleaned the house she now called her own, perhaps grabbed a nap before dinner. Her lights were always off by nine at night, and sometimes as early as eight thirty. She was open six days a week. So, where was the time for a personal life in that schedule?

  Zane took what was left of the cookie from Ruby and finished it in short order. By the time he was finished, she wore a wide smile that broke his heart. She had no idea what was coming. Maybe he was wrong. He could still hope that he was wrong.

  "See?" she said as he swallowed the last bite. "A little bit of indulgence now and then isn't a bad thing."

  He looked her in the eye, and she blushed. Ruby might push indulgence on other people, but he suspected she didn't practice what she preached. She led a structured, dull life, apparently of her own choosing.

  If he thought telling her to run would save her, he would. Not only would she not believe him, he was convinced that running would not do her any good at all. They would find her; they would bring her back and keep her where she needed to be until the time was right. Time was running out.

  The party was winding down. A few people had already left, and Hester busied herself picking up dirty dishes. Time to go. Zane reached past Ruby and grabbed the box of cookies. "Can I walk you home?" he asked as he stood, cookies in one hand, cat statuette in the other.

  Ruby was momentarily stunned. It wasn't as if he'd been an overly friendly neighbor to this point, but until now he hadn't been sure. He hadn't known, until he'd seen the cat, that she was most likely the chosen one. He also hadn't realized that someone in this neighborhood was actively working against her. The fact that the jade cat was here at this party, and not left on her doorstep or sent by mail, hinted that one of Ruby's neighbors was involved.

  If he didn't find a way to save her, she wouldn't live to see Christmas.

  Chapter 2

  One of the things Ruby most liked about Holland Court was that the houses were all different. Some were brick, others were clapboard. The colors of the houses were alternately bright and subdued, indicating the personalities of those who lived within. In newer subdivisions, the houses all looked alike and the yards were small and there was no character. This older neighborhood, built in the fifties, definitely had character. Even the Christmas decorations hinted at the residents of those houses. Some were tastefully done, others were garish. A few, hers and the professor's among them, sported no holiday decorations at all. She kept planning to take Mildred's decorations down from the attic, but she'd just not gotten it done. There weren't enough hours in the day. Besides, she was doing her best to avoid the holidays, so why should she torture herself with a tree no one but her would see?

  Her house was a soothing pale yellow, and she'd worked very hard to keep up Mildred's garden and the profusion of plants on the front porch and the back patio. It wasn't a big house, not by any means, but it was lovely and warm and homey. And paid for. Zane Benedict's house was brick. It was solid and well kept, but his tastes in accommodations were as simple as his tastes in clothes. She suspected inside there were lots of bookcases and gray or brown furnishings.

  Todd lived just south of Zane, and his house was just as his mother had left it when she'd moved to Florida and put him in charge of the family home. The split level was white with blue shutters, and of all the neighbors, Todd was the last to mow. She didn't think he owned a weed eater. Unless he managed to win free landscaping service, his lawn would never be great. He had strung up sloppy but colorful Christmas lights around the porch, and there was a large plastic Santa on his lawn. Inside she suspected there were lava lamps and beaded curtains and black-light posters. She hoped she never found out if she was right or not. All up and down the street, she could see the personalities of the homeowners in their dwellings.

  In hers, she still saw Mildred. Would she ever put her own stamp on the place? Did she dare?

  She was surprised that Zane stayed with her as home grew near. He'd shortened his stride to remain beside her, and actually seemed to be walking her to the door. The very idea made her heart constrict. Her cookies were good, but no man had ever taken a bite, then latched on to her as if he was staking a claim.

  Later in the evening it would be cold, but right now the air temperature was pleasant enough, even though they were well into December. That was a benefit of living in the Deep South. Her Snoopy sweater was actually a bit too warm for the day.

  After a moment of awkward silence, when Zane turned toward her house with her, Ruby blurted, "I'm not looking for a man. I don't want a man in my life. I'm perfectly happy being single and I don't intend for that to change." She didn't add that she was not desperate because that would sound, well, desperate.

  "Okay," he said, sounding not at all surprised or hurt.

  "It's just, I don't want any misunderstandings," she explained. "The holidays have a tendency to make people weird."

  "I get it," he said. "I'm not hitting on you, I'm just being neighborly."

  "As long as that's clear," she said, trying to sound firm but not stern. She probably ended up sounding like a bitch, but better a bitch than a tease. She wanted all her cards on the table. "So, how long do you plan to keep my cat?"

  "Just a few days," he said. "Is that all right?"

  "Sure. I'm actually interested to hear what you can find out about it. The thing is definitely unique."

  He made an absent and noncommittal sound in his throat as they stepped onto her front porch.

  "Good night," she said as she put her key into the door and turned it.

  "Thanks for the cookies," he said.

  "Sure." She closed the door behind her and locked it, and for a moment she just stood there, back to the door as she took a deep breath, suddenly convinced that she should've skipped the party and stayed home and weathered Hester's wrath.

  The rest of the evening passed as usual. She put on her pajamas and watched a show she had recorded on her DVR. She'd eaten so much junk at the party that she wasn't hungry, but around seven she ate a bowl of cereal. Tomorrow morning would come early, so she crawled into bed about eight forty-five and pulled the covers to her chin. Her alarm was set for four. Monday mornings were always a bear, and even though classes were out for the holidays, she had lots of orders for parties and gifts, and even the locals frequented her shop. She was lucky. Business was good.

  Afraid that the day's excitement would keep her up too late, Ruby closed her eyes expecting to fight for sleep. Instead she drifted off a
lmost immediately.

  Callida wanted to fight against the bonds that restrained her, but she was too weak to move. He had put something in her wine, something intended to take away the last of her strength. She was helpless, bound and prone on a cold stone floor. She wanted to call for help, but even if she could manage to make a proper sound, who would come? No one. She had no one to rescue her, no one to miss her when she was gone. The one person she had believed to be her friend had put her in this position. Dezso had pretended to care for her, he had promised to show her the wonders of Rome, but instead he had kept her here, far from the great city, always promising tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow. He had clothed her in fine chitons and fed her an abundance of food and given her gifts of jewels and other pretty things. And now he had betrayed her; he had poisoned her and bound her hands and left her here. Why?

  The door to her stone cell opened, and Dezso walked inside. He smiled at her, smiled with great warmth even though he had lied to her and made her his prisoner and drugged her so that she could barely move.

  "What you are about to do is very important, Callida," he said in his soothing, pleasant voice. "You will make the ultimate sacrifice in the name of a power much greater than any you have ever known."

  "Please, let me go," she whispered.

  Dezso shook his head. "I cannot. It is time. Do you see the moon?"

  Callida turned her head—it was a great effort to do so, as her head felt heavy and her vision swam—and she saw the full moon through the small window high in the stone wall of her cell. It was bright, and large, and it shimmered with power. "I see."

  The man she had loved stood over her and began to chant, calling to a demon to rise. Callida tried to scream but could not. Dezso clasped something in his hand, and from that hand black smoke began to rise. No, this was not smoke it was simply blackness, a darkness so deep it looked bottomless. What began as a formless blackness grew and took shape before her very eyes. The shape was not that of a man but was of a large, black cat with tremendous paws and glowing red eyes. It was solid and yet was not, as if a great nothingness in the shape of a large cat floated on air.

  With a mounting horror Callida realized that Dezso offered her to the blackness, he gave her to this monster that grew and took shape before her. Again she tried to scream, but no sound came forth, not even when the dark cat hovered above her, blocking out all other sights, and its red eyes captured and held hers.

  She stopped trying to scream. It was too late for that. Much too late. And she was too terrified to make a sound or fight her fate. The demon—for yes, it was indeed a demon that Dezso had called forth to take her—placed its empty face close to hers. And it inhaled. . .

  Ruby was jerked out of the dream with a scream. Her own scream, one that died quickly, caught in her throat. Good heavens, she'd never had a nightmare like that one! She'd been watching and participating at the same time, she'd been terrified as if she'd been the one sprawled on cold stone, sacrificed to a dark monster. Lying in bed, Ruby rubbed a hand up and down her arm. She still felt chills, as if her blood ran icy cold. What had she eaten at the party to bring on such a nightmare?

  She glanced at the clock. Not quite 2:00 a.m. She had two more hours before her alarm went off but wasn't sure that she could sleep after that vivid dream. Great. What a way to start the week!

  It was dark in her bedroom, the only illumination coming from the bedside digital clock and a decorative porcelain night-light on the other side of the room. What little light she had was enough to draw her eyes to the object that sat on her bedside table, an object that should not be there. The cat figurine, the one she had allowed the professor to borrow, stared at her.

  Ruby muttered a curse as she sat up slowly, blinking hard, wondering if this was still a dream. She'd seen Benedict walk away from her house with the figurine in his hand. How had it gotten here? She reached out slowly and touched the pale green cat. Strangely enough, it felt warm. Alive. She drew her hand back. That nightmare had certainly revved up her imagination.

  The damn cat had not been on her bedside table—had not been in the house—when she'd gone to sleep. It was here now, and that was fact, not the product of a bad dream. She shook herself into full awareness, throwing off the last of her dream along with the blanket that covered her andkept her warm. Had Zane Benedict broken into her house and placed the statuette there? What other explanation was there? She threw her legs over the side of the bed. Was this supposed to be some kind of sick joke?

  No, this wasn't funny, it was creepy as hell. Studly or not, she did not want men she barely knew—or even men she knew well— creeping into her bedroom at night to leave signs of their visit. Ruby grabbed her bathrobe and stuck -her feet into warm, fuzzy slippers. She snatched up the green cat and headed for the front door.

  She stopped in the hallway between her bedroom and the living room, her step stuttering. What was she thinking? Her first instinct was to run across the street and confront Benedict with the evidence, but maybe that was just what he wanted. Maybe he was waiting for her by his front door—or in the darkness somewhere between her door and his. Two in the morning. Holland Court slept. There would be no one to see her, and no one to hear, if anything went wrong.

  Ruby fell into the wall for support, and when her knees went weak she gave in and sank to the floor. Until this moment she hadn't thought to be afraid of the professor. Why should she? He was a known factor, a quiet neighbor who ran every evening and kept odd hours and mowed his yard when it needed to be done. She'd always suspected he was one of the very smart people who lived in his own little world, which was odd, perhaps, but odd in a normal way. He was a well-respected member of the academic community. A couple of her employees had mentioned him a time or two, not only bringing up the fact that he was cute but that they loved his classes. A while back she had heard one student mention that he taught some kind of psychology.

  She remained on the floor for a few long moments. Her luck with men had never been the best. They turned out to be unfaithful or dishonest or else they lost interest in her and her workaholic schedule. Not that she'd had a slew of serious relationships in her twenty-eight years, but there had been a few. None of them had panned out, and in the past couple of years she'd been content enough just to drift alone. It was easier that way.

  But now, sitting in the dark with a nightmare still on her mind and the proof that a man she barely knew had been in her bedroom, she didn't know whom to call. A year ago she would've called Aunt Mildred, but Mildred was gone.

  She could call Todd, she supposed. He'd love that, wouldn't he?

  No, she should call the police. With that in mind, Ruby pushed herself to her feet and walked toward the living room and the phone there. Of course, by the time she reached the couch and grabbed for the receiver, she realized that she couldn't call the police. She could swear up and down that the cat figurine had been in Zane's possession when she'd gone to bed, but she had no proof. She wasn't hurt.

  A quick check of the doors and windows showed that everything was locked tight. The dead bolts were engaged on the front door and the back. To all appearances, it looked as if it would be impossible for Zane or anyone else to have broken into her house to leave the cat.

  That statement alone was enough to keep her from dialing 911. Someone broke into my house to leave this cat figurine, then sneak out, leaving no other sign that he was ever here, and somehow locking the dead bolts behind him.

  Deflated and wondering if she was losing her mind, Ruby collapsed on the couch, the figurine still clutched in her hand. She carefully placed the green cat on the end table, grabbed the phone book out of the table drawer, and snatched up the phone.

  Zane hadn't been asleep very long when the phone rang, jerking him out of a deep sleep. Shit. Phone calls that came in the wee hours of the morning were never good. Never. He lifted the receiver and glanced at the caller ID. Shit, again. He barked hoarsely, "What's wrong?"

  The voice he expected to hear
responded, "What makes you think anything is wrong?"

  He breathed a sigh of