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"Meow," said the beautiful blonde.
"Meow?" I asked, then gave the orderly a strange look.
The young balding man shrugged. "She's Heather Clarke, the actress."
"Meow," said Heather Clarke. She licked her hand and used it to
smooth out her hair.
"What happened?" I asked.
"She snapped last week. Been playing the part of Jemima in Cats for
seven years, and now she can't get out of character."
"Hmmm," I said, then turned and did the only thing I could think of. I
barked.
Immediately her head dropped, her shoulders raised, and she spat and
hissed at me. The hackles at the back of my neck rose, and I growled.
Quick as light, she unsheathed her claws and slashed. I stumbled
backwards in pain, blood streaming down my face. I gave her one, long
canine gaze, then turned and left. I knew her smell. I could find
her again. Anytime.
On the next full moon, I'd get my revenge.
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