I wanted to punt it, but I had no idea what sort of rakes or glass jars or pipe organs were around us, waiting to make the noise that would betray our hiding place to the Coppers above. I put my mouth to where I hoped Criminy’s ear might be and whispered, “There’s something in here with us. It was on my foot. Kill it!” His lips moved against my cheek, his breath warm against my skin as he said, “You just kicked a very nice house cat, darling. And a forgiving one. Can’t you hear her purring?” When I slowed my own breathing and stopped listening to my heart thump, I heard it. A soft, low rumble from the ground. “Why does Antonin have an underground cat?” I whispered. “To keep her safe, I’d guess,” he said. “There’s nothing the bludrats would love so much as a nice, juicy cat. Probably lets her up at night, when the front door is bolted.” I felt him fold gracefully to the ground at my feet, and the purring intensified. The blood-drinker was petting a cat. And humming.
