Catspaw Conclusion...

A full moon rose over the city, lighting the rooftops with a pale bluish light. I looked out over the city and wondered why the sky was upside down. My head was throbbing; more evidence all was not right with my world.

I looked up into a pair of pink boots. then saw a smiling face peering up at me.

"Comfortable little birdie?" giggled the Pink Pussycat.

I squirmed, realizing now, that I was bound upside down to something large and bronze. A bell?

"Where am I?" I asked, still a bit groggy.

"All Saints Cathedral, White Owl," said Pussycat. "You've always been on the side of the angels, so I thought you'd enjoy getting there even sooner." She stood up and all I saw was a pair of boots moving around me.

"You're chained to the clapper of the largest bell in the tower. At midnight, the Westminster Chimes will play for the last time, then you, White Owl will begin to toll the last hours of the night. At the twelfth ring, an electric charge will connect, blowing up the tower, the bell and you. I suppose the only question is, will the bell sound your knell, or will the bomb do you in?"

"You're extremely mad," I said. "Why are you going through with all of this?"

"I did try to warn you off, love," she said. "But you wouldn't listen. Poor dear, you'll be in smithereens and poor Captain Valiant will be heartbroken. He'll pine for his poor lost lover, and in despair he'll turn to the only woman who could love him as he deserves."

Across the road, I could see the cathedral clock reflected in the mirrored windows of the City County building. I had eight minutes before the death knell began. I struggled again, feeling the chains settling back against me and keeping me pinioned to the clapper.

"I'd love to stay and watch the fireworks, White Owl, but I'm sure you'll forgive me if I watch from a safer distance. WENDELL!!!" I saw her meek looking muscle come up to his mistress and the two of them climbed down from the belfry. My only companions were a handful of curious pigeons.

I glanced at my feet and chest at the chains holding me in place. A heavy gauge steel, drawn tightly across my chest and around my shoulders and elbows. The chains had a slight give, but I wasn't able to put enough resistance and leverage into them to snap the welds.

But I did notice the lock at my wrists was in a position to be grabbed. I grasped it tightly in my right hand, then pulled. I felt the tumblers groaning in my grasp, then head the faint snap as the lock snapped free in my hand. I quickly unravelled the chains holding my wrists.

Working faster, I was able to flex at the elbows, snapping the chains at my waist and elbows. The chain around my shoulder slipped over my head and dropped with a soft tinkle against the wooden floor of the open air belfry. "How much time?" I wondered. I heard a buzzing sound as the bell tower's carillon wound up and a moment later, the familiar Westminster Chimes began sounding.

With a furious tug, I broke the chains at my ankles and flitted out of the bell. I saw the dynamite strapped to the bell and stopped. With Athena's wisdom, I broke the bomb free from the bell and tucked it under my arm. I flew out the bell tower and into the cool air of Queen City's night. Looking down, I saw the minivan that had brought me here, idling at the corner of Queen City and Broadway. I dove down, hovering above the roof panel and listened.

"I simply MUST hear the death throes, Wendell. Please wait just one more moment." From above, I could hear the steady tolling of the bell, strong and clear as it chimed the night hours. With each clear tone, I could hear the Pink Pussycat growling.

"She should be dead! Those tones are too clear--why aren't they muted by her body?" The twelfth note sounded.

"Where's the kaboom?" she asked. "There was supposed to be an Owl shattering kaboom!"

At that moment I tossed the deactivated bomb into the passenger window.

"NO! The bomb! WENDELLLLLlllll!" screamed the Pink Pussycat as I reached into the van and grabbed her by the costume, yanking her out of the minivan. I threw her backward, into the Broadway National bank, but the marble cornice softened her blow. Behind me, I heard the squealing of wheels as Wendell drove like a madman into the night.

"Now you peroxide bitch," I said. "I believe we have some unfinished business." Pussycat scrambled back , then turned and launched herself at me, her razor sharp claws tearing into my costume. I rolled with her lunge however, putting a foot into her belly and flinging her down Queen City toward the square. Pussycat flipped through the air, landing lithely on her feet. She began running, laughing as she did.

"You can't stop me, Owl," she grinned.

"We'll see," I replied. I pulled a sleeve of marbles from my belt, winging it at the Pussycat's feet. The bag broke open, spilling tiny marbles and graphite lubricant all over the Pussycats feet. The feline felon couldn't keep her balance and skidded across the pavement, tripping on the curb and ending ass over teakettle into the Fountain. She came up for air, blubbering about being wet and cold.

"You haven't won yet, White Owl! I'll still have Captain Valiant!!" she spluttered.

"You look like a drowned rat, Pussycat," said a strong masculine voice.

"NO!" she hissed; slinking down and trying to hide. Captain Valiant was hovering above the water.

"Satisfied?" I asked.

"I'm sorry I ever doubted you," he said. "You obviously are capable."

******

Late the next night, at Valiant's Secret Sanctum, deep in the Arizona deserts, I snuggled up against a bare chest. "I'm sorry I had to deceive you," I said. "It wasn't right to use you as bait for my trap."

"You put yourself into some severe danger. Athena you might have died!" he said.

"I know. But I also had to prove myself to you. And maybe to me too. If I couldn't handle a clever cat burglar, I don't deserve to be your girlfriend, and maybe I don't deserve to be a heroine either."

"Well," he began. "While I might not approve the methods, I approve the results--She really looked ridiculous in the fountain" Val paused as if searching for the right words.

"And what about us?" I asked, hesitantly.

"I think there IS an us," he said. "Just no more interviews with Jackie Marks, OK?"

"I promise," I said as I fell asleep in his arms.

The end.