The Catswold Portal

“It takes more time than a glance away to go across the garden. I was watching the door.” She looked faintly embarrassed. “The door seems to draw me. I see anything that moves around it. Vrech didn’t go in while I was sewing. He came out well after dark, carrying a big, awkward bundle. The band was here, I could hear them warming up. Vrech came up across the garden carrying the bundle over his shoulder, then the moon went behind a cloud. When it cleared he was gone. I changed, made a phone call, and came on over. And there he was ordering a beer.”

Bob shifted his chair again so he could prop his feet on the one next to him and see the gardener more easily.

Braden said, “Alice felt that way about the door.”

Morian nodded. “I know.”

When Bob left to meet Leslie, the bag had still not moved. Morian wouldn’t leave. They sat quietly talking about the show at the de Young, obliquely watching the gardener. They avoided talking about Braden’s paintings. Their hands touched as they worked up comfortably to a night at his place; it had been a long time. The band was into “Tailgate Ramble” when the bag moved again; they both saw it twitch then twist, as if something inside had flopped over. When Vrech prodded it with his toe, it lay still. But Morian was up, easing around the table. “I heard a cat cry. He has a cat in there.” She stared at Braden, eyes flashing. “One of our cats?” He watched her, half amused, and followed her, hoping this wasn’t going to turn into a brawl.

The gardener watched Morian coldly. When she knelt reaching for the bag, he snatched it from her and stood up swinging it away. The bag began to thrash and yowl. Vrech pushed Morian out of the way and spun past them out the door. Morian lunged after him. Braden could do nothing but go with her. He grabbed Vrech, swinging him around, and Morian jerked the bag from his hands. The rest was a tangle. Vrech punched Braden in the face, the cat screamed and raked Braden’s cheek through the bag, then Vrech had the bag again, running. Morian ran after him; Braden, his jaw hurting, caught a glimpse of her face raging mad. He could only stay with her, knowing this was insane. As they crashed through the wood he gained on Vrech and tackled him running. He threw the bag clear, jabbing his knee in the man’s belly.

Holding the gardener down, he watched Morian tear at the bag, fighting the knots. Whatever was in there flopped and fought. Every time Vrech tried to jerk free, Braden twisted his arm tighter. He stared down at the man’s angry face, surprised that Vrech was so strong. He felt a powerful distaste at touching the man; he wanted suddenly to flatten that leering face.

“It’s open. Oh Brade…”

A cat looked out, crouching and terrified. Its ears were laid flat, its eyes immense with fear. Its face was part mottled dark, part white. As the wind hit it, it ducked down. But when it saw Vrech it exploded out of the bag, clawing Morian’s hand, leaped away, and ran. Like a streak it disappeared within the dark woods. Morian rose to chase after it, then turned back.

“She was terrified, Brade. If I chase her she’ll run forever.”

He looked at her, exasperated. “What the hell am I going to do with the gardener? What the hell are we doing out here?” He was drained suddenly, and perplexed. Something about the gardener sickened him. The man was tense as a spring—he knew if he let up only a little, Vrech would be all over him. He didn’t feel like fighting anymore. His jaw was already swelling and his fist felt like it was broken. “Christ, Mor…” But she wasn’t paying attention; she was staring off into the woods looking for the damned cat. The way the wind was tearing at the bushes, no one could see a cat running.

“It was hardly more than a kitten, Brade. Little white throat and paws. It was terrified.” She turned on Vrech, her black eyes blazing. “What did you want with it? What were you going to do to it?”

The gardener glared and didn’t answer. His dark eyes were chilling, there was a strangeness about him that made Braden force him harder against the earth.

Morian moved closer, touching Braden’s shoulder. “Let him up, Brade. The cat’s gone—he won’t catch her. Let him go.”

He didn’t want to let him go, he wanted to pound him.

“Brade, let him go.”

Unwillingly he loosed Vrech, ready to pulverize him if he so much as looked sideways.

Vrech moved away from him quickly, and headed back down through the blowing woods toward Sam’s. He looked back at them once. In the darkness Braden couldn’t see his face. The lights through the bar’s windows illuminated his slouching walk, then he was gone around the building, heading toward the lane.

“Brade, go ask Sam for some hamburger. I’ll go up in the woods, maybe she’ll come to me. I think she’s hurt. I couldn’t tell, she fled so fast.” She touched his face. “I can’t just let her go, if she’s hurt. Go on, Brade—cooked hamburger.”

In the bar he got some hamburger scraps and two double whiskeys, and borrowed a flashlight from Sam.