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Emma notices the black cat problem when she comes home. The animal, black as the night and with bright, yellow eyes, jumps forward as Emma steps on the porch, and circles around her leg, meowing loudly. Emma shrieks, adrenaline pounding through her veins. She reflexively tries to step away, only to lose her balance, landing ungracefully on her butt on the pavement. “What the hell?”
The cat, having jumped away when Emma toppled over, stares at her from a short distance. It licks its paw leisurely but doesn’t move its large yellow eyes away from Emma while it casually cleans itself.
Grumbling, Emma gets up and brushes the dirt off her jeans before making her way to the door. Inside, she closes the front door quickly so the cat can’t follow - she doesn’t know why, but the incident has rattled her nerves and the feeling that someone’s watching her prickles in the back of her mind.
When she peeks out of the window, she’s met by its yellow, piercing gaze, and the eerie feeling she’s left with sends a cold shiver down her spine.
“There’s a black cat on the porch,” she says as she enters the living room, shedding off her red jacket.
Regina looks up and meets her wife’s eyes over the rim of her reading glasses. “I know. It’s been there for a few days now.”
Emma blinks. What? “Why didn’t you say? It’s creepy.”
Regina snorts. “The cat is a she, and why is she creepy? She’s a cat.”
“She just scared the crap out of me by jumping in front of me and then she kept staring at me and I swear that those ginormous yellow eyes are villainous and she’s up to no good.” Emma folds her arms under her breasts.
“Emma-”
“She kept staring at me.” She throws a quick look back to the front door to make sure it’s still firmly closed, and breathes easier when she sees it is.
Regina scoffs. “It’s a cat, dear.” Emma is completely unconvinced that this is the right explanation, and snorts. Her wife huffs with a hint of impatience. “Look, Emma, she was probably just warily observing what you were doing; keeping an eye on your movements so she could get out of your way if she needed to.”
“It’s a black cat. That means bad luck and I kinda don’t need it.” She hears the petulance in her own voice and suppresses a wince.
“Emma,” Regina sighs, a mild scolding lacing her voice. “ Please don’t tell me that you’re superstitious in a town full of fairy tales, myths, and legends.”
“Did you know that black cats are considered to be bad omens?” They both look up when Henry saunters into the living room, hands casually pushed in his pockets. “I mean, it’s all superstition, I know,” he hastily adds when seeing Regina’s exasperated expression, “but it has to have come from somewhere. They’re like, the go-to pet for witches, too.”
“See?” Emma gestures wildly at Henry, “He thinks they’re creepy too. And they’re like, witches’ pets.”
Regina raises an eyebrow and looks pointedly at both of them, and Emma shifts her weight. “I didn’t mean you .”
“I prefer sorceress anyway,” Regina waves the comment away. “And I never had one. Still, she’s nothing to be scared about. I don’t know who she belongs to, so we can’t feed her, but she’ll undoubtedly find her way back home eventually.”
Except, she doesn’t.
On the contrary. The problem multiplies.
A few days later, there’s not one, but two black cats and Emma shrieks when she’s met by the two felines racing towards her when she steps on the porch. The shock lands her on her ass again . When Regina and Henry rush outside to see what’s going on, their son simply snickers, and her wife raises an eyebrow when Emma explains that she was ambushed by their creepy black yellow-eyed visitor and her much bigger friend, whose fur is as black as the first cat’s, but its eyes are darker - like liquid gold. Trying to calm her racing heart, Emma glowers at her betraying family, then nods at the felines keeping track of her. “We should find their owners.” She pushes herself up and dusts the sand off her jeans.
“You might be right,” Regina agrees. “The cats look well-fed, so they must get food from somewhere.”
“Should we spread posters?” Emma asks, warily observing the smaller, first cat as she comes closer. Really? The animal starts circling her feet, meowing loudly, nearly causing Emma to fall again.
“She’s taken quite a liking to you,” Regina says, amused. Her dark brown eyes shimmer with fondness. “I can relate.”
“Great, now the witch and the pets like me,” Emma sighs, and when Regina’s eyebrows raise, she shakes her head and raises her hands in defense. “Sorceress. Fine.” Regina chuckles softly and carefully steps closer to scratch the cat behind its ears. “Don’t give it attention - they’ll never go away now,” Emma whines.
Regina scoffs. “It’s not like they don’t have homes. We just don’t know where it is.”
“Hello? I suggested posters,” Emma retorts indignantly. Both Regina and Henry ignore her. “What if she brings even more friends?”
Regina tilts her head to study Emma while pausing her petting, but the cat doesn’t mind and starts to help itself by butting its head against Regina’s palm. “Why don’t you like cats?”
“I don’t mind them usually,” Emma replies swiftly. “It’s just… they’re not ours, and they’re here all the time, and she keeps attacking my leg - now with the two of them - and it starts to freak me out.”
“Do you know there’s this scary Halloween kids story about talking black cats?” Henry says helpfully, squatting to tickle the new cat under its chin, and the golden eyes narrow in delight. Warily, Emma watches the yellow-eyed first cat, who is creepily staring right back at her while being petted. A cold shiver runs over her spine.
“Do I want to know?”
“It’s not super creepy,” Henry defends the tale. “It’s just, it’s almost Halloween, and the cat inspired me to find black cat Halloween stories.”
“So you’re creeped out by them as well?”
“No,” Henry insists, a small grin on his face. “But you are.”
Asshole. Emma sends him a sour look.
“Enlighten us during dinner,” Regina says, before looking at the sky. “Come inside, because it’s about to rain.”
The cats remain safely outside–Emma insists on that. Fortunately, Regina also doesn’t think it’s a wise idea to let other people’s cats inside, so that’s a win in Emma’s mind.,. Henry only protests a little - he suggests offering them shelter from the rain - but he concedes after both his mothers glare at him.
“So,” he says, after swallowing a big bite of his lasagna, barely chewing. “The story tells about an old man, who’s on a walk, or traveling, the sources are a little unclear about that. But he is surprised by an autumn storm, leaving him no choice but to take shelter. He sees a large, worn-down building, knocks on the door, but nobody answers. The door is unlocked and upon closer inspection, he finds out that it’s abandoned.”
Emma rolls her eyes. “Because of course it’s worn-down and abandoned,” she murmurs with her mouth full, earning her a disapproving gaze from her wife. She motions Henry to continue and dutifully munches her pasta.
“The man is scared, but the rain’s not stopping and it starts to thunder as well, so he doesn’t have a choice. He steps inside. Cold to the bone, he searches for people inside but doesn’t see anyone. What he does find is a semi-prepared room with a fireplace. There’s wood next to it, and newspaper and matches to start the fire. He lies down on the couch, and, tired but warm, he falls asleep.”
Emma rolls her shoulders to hide the uneasy shifting in her seat that she unconsciously’s been doing. She doesn’t mind ghost stories, and Henry’s a great narrator, but she prefers to tell them herself so she knows what to expect.
“He’s startled awake by noises, but when he looks around, he doesn’t see anything but a big, black cat, staring at him. But the cat narrows its eyes and starts purring, and the man falls back asleep.”
“The cat’s not going to munch on the poor guy’s toes, is he?” Emma wonders, and Regina rolls her eyes.
“Hush, dear, let him speak.” She actually seems pretty fascinated by the story and Emma sighs in resignation.
“Thanks, Mom,” Henry says, making use of the interruption to shovel his mouth full. They wait for a few seconds for him to finish chewing. “Anyway. When he wakes again, there’s another black cat in the room - even bigger than the first one. Both cats stare at him, and then, the first, smaller cat says, ‘Should we do it now?’
‘No,’ says the big cat. ‘Let’s wait until Martin comes.’ The man thinks that he must be dreaming, and falls back asleep.”
Emma opens her mouth to speak but catches Regina’s glare. Instead, she bends over her plate, and grumbling inside, empties it.
“When he wakes again,” Henry continues, “a wolf-sized black cat is sitting next to the first two. They stare at him for a while, and the man can’t look away. Then, the big cat turns its gigantic head to the other two and asks, ‘Should we do it now?’
‘No,’ say the other two, ‘Let’s wait until Martin comes.’ And the man, scared out of his skull, grabs his meager belongings. He runs out of the room, shouting behind him, ‘When Martin comes, tell him I couldn’t wait!’ He bolts from the house, and runs home.”
Emma blinks when he pauses. “What happens next?”
Henry shrugs. “Nothing. That’s it.”
“So you’re saying that three gigantic black cats are talking and the guy leaves the haunted house and then - nothing? And who the hell is Martin?” She snorts. “What kind of story is this?”
“Well, some people say it’s not cats, but ghosts, and the house is haunted. I don’t know, I like that it’s cats. Makes it even creepier, don’t you think?” He flashes her a smile.
“I suppose it leaves room for interpretation,” Regina cuts in. “You don’t know, which makes it scarier, but not too scary so kids can enjoy it. You’re a great storyteller, Henry,” she praises their son, who accepts it with a big smile. Emma has to agree, but she’s not going to admit that she’s mildly spooked by a kid’s story.
Later that night, she crawls in bed, seeking out the warmth of her wife’s embrace. “I just don’t know why you’re not even the tiniest bit upset by two black cats on our porch,” Emma murmurs against Regina’s shoulder. “I mean, we live in a town that features a villain of the week.”
Regina’s fingers gently trace patterns up and down Emma’s arm and shoulder. “They’re simply cats, darling,” Regina replies softly. “The worst they can do is scratch and bite and know that I will be less happy with them when they start doing that.” She sighs. “I can’t shake the feeling that you’re just upset with them because the first one made you trip and fall. She was there for days without you noticing her.”
“But-”
“She just wants some attention,” Regina says, pressing a kiss to Emma’s forehead. “I don’t see the harm in that. As long as we’re not feeding her, it’s fine.”
“There are two, now,” Emma points out, snuggling deeper into the embrace. “Like, why are they here anyway? If they have a house and food then why come here? I’ve got my hands full with loitering youth, I don’t want to have to deal with loitering cats, too.” She sights. “I don’t know. They just weird me out.”
Regina hums. “Because of Henry’s story?”
Emma snorts. “No,” she says a little too fast, and she winces. “Before that, already.”
She feels Regina’s nod against her head. “It probably doesn’t help that it’s almost Halloween?” her wife asks then, the faintest hint of amusement in her voice.
Emma doesn’t dignify that with an answer. She usually doesn’t scare easily - she’s seen her share of monsters and villains and death threats. It’s the weirdest thing that she’s spooked by these cats. Maybe there are some unresolved traumas around them? She shakes the thought because she can’t even count the number of times she’s needed to save cats from trees around here. She’s not afraid of damn cats.
She just doesn’t like the pair on her porch.
Regina’s arms tighten slightly, and Emma breathes out deeply, feeling safe and comfortable in her hug, forgetting about the frustrating felines as sleep slowly overtakes her.
Fortunately, it remains two cats from then on - Emma doesn’t know what she would have done if there had been a wolf-sized cat on their porch next - and, over the next few days, she actually gets used to them and knows what to expect. The yellow-eyed smaller cat will always shoot and circle her legs, and the bigger one with golden eyes will just meow and stare at her until Emma quickly enters the house and locks the door behind her. Once or twice she’s even petted the both of them before shooing them away.
Until Halloween.
The wind is strong when Emma strides towards the front door, her hair whipping around her head and autumn leaves whirling around her while she moves forward, bracing herself for the black little monster attacking her legs. She’s late, and it’s already dawn. The clouds make it seem darker than it really is, and all Emma wants is to get inside and warm up. It’s been a long day.
There’s no cat attack.
Emma halts and suspiciously checks the parameter. No cats at all in sight.
“Huh.” Strange. Emma, pushing her hands deeper into her pocket, bridges the rest of the distance with more care. Maybe they’ve gone home after all? About damn time. But then, she sees the front door slightly ajar.
“God damnit,” she murmurs. Henry probably forgot to close the door behind him properly and now, the beasts must’ve gotten inside. Heaving a deep, annoyed sigh, she makes her way to the door. Maybe, she thinks as she scans the hall, they’re not here and they’ve really gone home, but that spark of hope is quelled when she hears a meow coming from the living room.
It’s dark inside. “Henry?” Emma calls out. It’s unlike him not to turn on every single light he can find and then to forget to turn them off - Emma’s regularly threatened him to have him pay the electricity bill - so it unsettles her a little that everything’s still dark.
Henry doesn’t answer, so he probably isn’t home yet. Maybe he’s out for Halloween with his friends, but then… why is the door open? The fine hairs on the back of her neck stand up straight. Has someone else been inside?
Carefully, she enters the living room, which is also dark, but the light from outside is still enough to be able to see what’s inside.
And then, she freezes.
Two pairs of cat-eyes stare at her, as glowing orbs in the dark. The yellow-eyed cat is sitting on a side table and the bigger other one rests on the couch, paws tucked underneath its heavy chest. Emma glowers back at them, unwilling to be the first one to break eye contact. And then suddenly, the cat on the couch looks at the other. “Shall we do it now? ” sounds from it, and Emma’s heart leaps to her throat and she shrieks. What the hell ?
The sound startles the cat on the couch, and it jumps off, finding a safe spot.
“Let’s wait until Martin comes,” comes from the now-tensed yellow-eyed cat, and it takes Emma a few antagonizing slow, adrenaline-spiked seconds to realize that the voices coming from the cats sound astoundingly like Henry’s .
Emma’s jaw slams together.
That little shit.
“HENRY DANIEL SWAN-MILLS,” Emma hollers as she turns on her ankles. She hears him giggling from upstairs and nearly runs to the stairs, “I’m going to kill you and I’ll revive you after so your mom can kill you all over again for letting those pests into the living room!”
Shrieks of laughter and sounds of two people wrestling come down the stairs, trickling into the living room. The two cats jump away from the two tiny boxes that the smaller human had nudged into their direction while feeding them little treats. Warily, they make their way to the hall, happy to see that their escape route is still there - the front door is open. They make a run for it, and only when they’re safely outside, do they slow down.
The yellow-eyed cat nuzzles the smaller one.
“A shame Martin wasn’t home.”
Together, they disappear into the stormy night.