Chapter Nine | Claws of the Cat | Cliffhanger Case Files

BY CURT FERNLUND

- Claws of the Cat Credits -

Pain!

Selia had never felt such pain before. When the gringo had hit her with the wooden club, she thought that the force of the blow might separate her head from her body. As it was she had been struck senseless, sailing across the clearing and slamming into one of the old, solid trees that filled the Green. She had been dazed, her mind spinning, but worse, she could feel the gift escaping her. The glimmer that had given her the image of the Blanca – Gloria Swann – had been disrupted by the force of the old man's attack, and Selia had felt her face burning as the magicks leeched away, seeping back into the Green.

She had hoped for a fast kill, a quick slashing of her ceremonial claws as she had done on the first woman. She had taken that Blanca by surprise, attacking with the speed and cunning of the jaguar, ripping her throat and slicing until she fell silent. The other woman had surprised her though stumbling upon the kill, and she had been too slow to attack. Then the old man came and she was lost.

She had burned. She could feel her face melting away as the magic left her, the gift of the goddess returning whence it came. She wanted to cry out with the pain, but she bit her tongue and remained silent, slinking off to lick her wounds when the pain lessened and the gringos had forgotten her. She had slipped into the shadows, into the cool darkness, away to recover. She had gathered her wits, her breath, but she had no time to waste. It was time to drive the outsiders from the land, once and for all.

Selia ran, swiftly and silently like the great cat for which she was named. She was El Gato Negra – the Black Cat. She was sleek and dangerous, the lady of the night, protector of the Green and High Priestess of the Cult of the Jaguar. She would not be bested by these fool outlanders!

She arrived at the cave in moments, the secret tunnel leading into the bowels of Mother Earth, beneath the Green. Her face still burned, and her side was afire – she could feel bones scraping together in her chest with every deep breath, every step. She ignored the pain, or tried to, struggling to go on. The darkness of the caverns was soothing, comforting as she hurried down deeper into the tunnels. She hoped with all of her heart that Beran and Dyla had the captive in line and prepared. Only the life's blood would satisfy the goddess now. Only a sacrifice would wake the Guardian to drive the outlanders away.

Selia had entered the Grand Cavern, saw her fellows immediately, relaxing- resting. Fury filled her breasts! Her skin burned as anger rushed through her body. Her comrades leapt up as they saw her, gasping in disgust and dismay at the twisted mockery that her face had become. She ignored their fearful, questioning gazes. Their voices fell on deaf ears as she ordered Beran out to find the old man and the girl. Find them quickly and kill them! Beran jumped to the task, eager to be away from the monster that she had become. Dyla hovered about in confusion, and Selia was about to order her out as well when she saw the two captives. Two!

The older one whose memories she shared – Gloria – was still a prisoner, bound and gagged on the dirt floor. What drew her attention though was the other. The one with the very luck of Bell, who she had tried to slay so many times, only to see the woman survive again and again. Selia strained, trying to grasp the fleeting memories of the older woman, searching for a name – Angela! Beran and Dyla had somehow captured the younger woman and chained her to the Totem of Light. Better still, she was unconscious. Excellent!

Selia strode forward, confidence swelling within her as she pulled the ancient blade from the sheath strapped about her leg. Both women were helpless, bound and gagged and ready for her vengeance – ready to give their lives for the Green that the Mother might survive. Selia's face still burned, shame and a scar that she knew somehow would never heal. Her beauty was gone, but she did not care. She would slay the older woman first and rid her own mind of the queer memories still lingering there. Then she would give the life of the other, so full of energy and the luck of her own brittle brass gods. Surely it would be enough. Surely the Guardian would return—

Selia stood over the Gloria woman and saw the sudden fear in her wide, watery eyes. She was mewling into her gag, trying to squirm away and escape. She knew that her life was forfeit. Selia – El Gato Negra raised the ceremonial dagger high. Its panther shaped hilt carved from the same massive black stone as the guardian's statue glistening in the flickering light. The two tiny jewels in the handle sparkled, as did the larger eyes of the monument itself. The Guardian smelled the blood, the offering to come. Selia could feel the energy ready to explode from her hands as she held the blade aloft, speaking the ancient words that would call the Guardian of the Green – Nekara, the Panther God…

Gloria Swann stared up at the woman towering above her, straddling her prone and helpless body, waving a long and dangerous knife high in the air. Her face was a twisted mass of melting flesh; her cheeks and jowls drooping, her dark eyes almost lost in her sagging brows. Her body quivered, almost crackling with excitement of the slaughter to come. Her eyes rolled up into her head as she began mumbling in that guttural grunting that her and the other two Amazon women seemed to speak. Gloria tried to squirm away, tried again to pull at the knots of her bonds, hoping to escape.

She had been captured again. Captured by the Amazons again. Bound hand and foot and gagged and dumped into the dirt once again. She was helpless, though this time she thought that if she had had the time she might have remembered her trade and been able to free herself from the constricting bonds. All that she needed it seemed, was time…

Angela Morgan shook her head, trying to come awake. She was in pain again, a feeling that seemed to accompany waking more often than not lately. Her shoulder felt as though it was on fire, and dimly she remembered the arrow that had driven through flesh and bone. Her arms were aching and straining, as though supporting all of her weight. Her ankle still throbbed from the fall she had survived earlier, the death-defying plunge from Pitt's biplane. Angela shook her head and moaned…

She opened her eyes against her better judgement, wanting nothing more than to sleep. She was tired, exhausted, and she wanted to rest. Some inner voice told her however that now was not the time. It was hard to focus at first, as her eyes strained in a smoky darkness. She could just make out the flickering of lights, like distant stars too far to touch. Shadows shifted and twisted before her, and she heard voices that she could not begin to understand. She smelled something bitter, like spent matches. She smelled her own sweat, and fear—

Angela's eyes popped open wide, suddenly aware. She was bound again, but this time she knew that it was no stunt. She remembered, bit by bit – the fall from the aeroplane and crashing through the canopy of the jungle, into the tunnels beneath the ground. Wandering aimlessly for hours it seemed, until she came across Gloria Swann. Chasing through the labyrinth of endless corridors of rock with amazon warriors on their trail. The chase finally ending back where Gloria said she had started from, only to confront the warriors at last. She remembered the arrow, and the pain! Darkness—

She was chained, her arms trapped over her head and reaching impossibly for the sky. She glanced up through the matted, unruly mane that her hair had become in the humid caves and saw the old, rusted links of metal chain stretching above into the shadows. Horrid, leering faces hovered above her, staring at her, laughing. She wanted to scream, but tasted the soiled rag tied tightly, spreading her lips back and apart. She was gagged. She realized that she was chained to one of the two totem poles she had seen before, and vaguely recalled. Angela tried to stand, gritting her teeth as her shoulder burned and pain shot through her leg. She eased her weight to her good leg, trying to clear her senses and focus on the world about her.

Gloria Swann was at her feet, bound and gagged and writhing about as though she were trying to worm her way across the floor. Angela could not understand why the older woman did not just slip out of her bonds. They were not so tight, and Angela knew that Gloria, despite the last few years of having Angela do her stunts, should still have skill enough to escape her bonds. She was the Queen of Escapes, after all. Angela was about to cry out, to scream past the gag and get Gloria's attention when she saw what had terrified Gloria so.

A woman stood over the prone Gloria Swann. One of the Amazons Angela guessed, and probably the queen that Gloria had described; though her face was hidden in the shadows from Angela's view. It was the woman that had stolen the movie star's face to infiltrate and sabotage the film. The woman that had caused all of the troubles that had plagued the camp cast and crew. The same woman that had tried to kill Angela more than once. She was still dressed in Gloria's clothes, though they were filthy and stained – a khaki blouse and skirt, leather boots and a bandana tied about her throat. Too, she wore an odd pair of gloves that stretched to her elbows, like opera gloves. They seemed made of a sleek black fur and the fingers were laced with long sharp animal claws, like a cat's. Worse, clenched in her hands was a long, sharp knife, poised to strike – Gloria!

Something snapped, whatever it was within Angela that gave her the drive and courage to defy death with every new stunt. Whatever it was that allowed her to leap over high chasms, dodge oncoming locomotives, and dangle from the bottom of high-flying aeroplanes kicked in, and Angela was moving before she knew what she was doing. She charged forward, ignoring the pain as she stepped down awkwardly on her bruised ankle. She felt the chains binding her wrists draw up short, but she had considered that, planned on using it to help. She clenched her teeth against the blinding pain she knew was going to come. Angela leapt –

She screamed into her gag as pain exploded through her shoulder. Her hands wrapped about the thick, rusting chains as she leapt up and out, using her bonds as a rope of sorts, swinging in an arch about the totem that easily supported her weight and actions. She swung about, like a weight on a pendulum, kicking out with her feet as far as she could. She screamed again, her cries barely escaping the stifling gag cleaved through her lips as her heels slammed into the Amazon queen. Angela saw the woman fly backward off of her feet, the blade tumbling from her grip. Then gravity took hold and the arch of her wild swing sent her spinning about and away. Angela braced, and a second later skidded across the hard-packed dirt floor and slammed into the totem. She shook her head, pain racking her body, but she focused on her agony, trying to stay conscious.

Angela struggled to her feet, resting against the pole, trying to ease the weight from her swollen, throbbing ankle. She could feel blood running from her shoulder, the wound having reopened from her sudden exertions. The filthy rag that someone had wrapped about the wound was soaked and stained a dark, deepening red. She heard Gloria whimpering again and turned her gaze about.

Angela gasped around her gag; the pains in her battered body suddenly pushed aside by the horror of what she saw. The Queen of the Amazons was struggling to her feet, one of her cohorts helping her – the warrior that had shot Angela with the arrow she thought. What terrified the stuntwoman however, was not the women, but the face of the queen herself. Cast in the flickering torchlight it appeared horribly disfigured, twisted and burned, almost looking as though it had melted. Angela could not understand how the woman could see, or even breathe. Her eyes were almost lost in the sagging flesh. She had no nose, and her mouth was little more than a slit in the dripping remains of her skin. Angela saw flashes of bleached white where the hair was starting to fall away, patches that had to be bone! The woman's face was dripping and dissolving even as Angela watched.

The queen shuddered, her entire body shaking as she tried to find her balance. Angela could only imagine the pain that was attacking the woman, pain that made her own pale in comparison. She watched as the woman shrieked in agony, in anger, shoving her warrior friend aside. The queen staggered forward, and Angela saw that she was going for the knife…

Gloria Swann braced for the attack, for the knife that would be plunged into her back, between her shoulder blades. The attack that would steal her life and finally end her long and lustrous career. It would seem that the backwater savages were about to do what all of the producers and directors of Hollywood could not. Gloria had no regrets, as images of her life flicked through her mind's eye in the space of a heartbeat. She remembered struggling through the hell of her childhood in the Bronx. The endless lines and auditions as she worked her way down Broadway, taking whatever two-bit job that came her way. She remembered seeing Harry Houdini on stage, when she was a dancer in a vaudeville chorus line, and her calling became clear. She had badgered the man, trying to learn his secrets, trying to learn the artistry of escape. It had taken years, but she had learned, much of it through trial and error all on her own. Eventually she surpassed her reluctant mentor by applying her hard-earned skills in film, leaving the vaudeville stage behind. She had become Gloria Swann, silent screen star and Queen of Escapes!

But the years and the stunts had eventually taken their toll. Oh, she had become rich and famous, her name revered throughout the film industry, but she had stepped on not a few too many people to achieve her goals. She had made many jealous enemies along her path to stardom, and as she became older and slower, when her hair began to fade and her body began to sag those foes swooped in like the vultures they were. Her roles became less and less. She had needed a stunt double – Angela Morgan who was the spitting image of her though some ten years younger. Gloria knew that they were grooming Angela to take her place, but she was not quite ready to step down from her throne.

Gloria Swann had used her fortune to back one final picture, an adventure serial that would either put her back where she rightfully belonged in the limelight, or else would be her 'swan' song. She had gathered the best in the business that her money could buy. Jonathan Harkins, the award winning director, Karl Braun, the master stunt coordinator, and even Angela Morgan herself. She would use the Morgan girl – abuse her. She would push the stargazing little wannabe to her limits, making herself look good in the end, then cast Angela aside. Gloria Swann would remain the Queen of Escapes. She would reclaim the throne as Hollywood's most sought after leading lady. Or she would have—

Gloria glanced up, her past and dreams fading into the recesses of her memories. She saw a shadow pass by over her head, just as the Amazon was about to strike. It was Angela, kicking out, striking the horribly disfigured warrior woman even though she was chained and gagged and injured. Gloria saw the queen fly back, knocked off of her feet, the knife flying from her grasp. Angela swung about and slammed into the oddly carved thick totem pole that she had been chained to. Gloria winced at the impact, empathizing with the agony that must have rocked the girl to her toes. Gloria's eyes widened though, watching as Angela did not give up, and struggled again to stand. Blood seemed to be pouring from the soggy rag wrapped loosely about her shoulder. She could not stand on one foot, but still she fought on, trying to escape as she tugged feebly on the rusting chains that held her. Worse, Gloria suddenly realized- Angela Morgan had saved her. Again—

Gloria turned back and saw the other Amazon running to help her fallen queen. Gloria had needed time, and thanks to Angela, she suddenly had it. Not much she knew, but it would be enough. Determination swelled in Gloria's breast as her fingers began twisting and groping for the coarse ropes that bound her wrists. They were thick and rough and even the slightest movement hurt and chaffed at her skin. Gloria ignored the pain however, having survived far worse. Her fingers ached, numb and tingling all at once as they danced over the tightly bound cords. The knots were suddenly there, easily within reach. The Amazons had thought her old and spent, easily made helpless. They were wrong.

Gloria traced the knots; simple square knots tied one upon the other. The women had not even bothered to criss-cross the ropes as they bound her, simply looping the cord about her wrists several turns. Gloria's fingernails were jagged and bent back from when she had been hanging from the cliff face before, when Angela had rescued her. Gloria sneered, biting down on the gag in her mouth, furious over how pathetic she had been then, focusing past the pain in her fingers as she picked at the top knot. She stared at the Amazons, watching as the warrior tried to lift the stunned queen to her feet. She felt the rope slip as the first knot opened to her struggles. Carefully but quickly Gloria slid the loosened cord through the hole of the knot, separating the ropes and started probing the second. Gloria resisted the urge to tug on her bonds, knowing that that would simply undo her meticulous work and slow her down. The second knot was looser than the first, and she easily began to thread the tightening cord through the simple web binding her. Though the second knot was not as tightly tied, the trailing ends of the rope were now longer. Sweat was beading on her brow and back, between her breasts making her itch as though she was covered with insects. She grimaced, watching as the Amazon queen pushed her helper away, trying to get her bearings. Gloria saw the tiny beads of her eyes glint in the torchlight and followed the woman's gaze. The knife was lying just a few yards away at the base of the big black stone statue. Gloria cursed as the second knot fell away, but not before the Amazon stumbled towards the blade…

Selia, High Priestess of the Cult of the Jaguar, El Gato Negra, the Black Cat staggered forward. Her mind swam, screaming in agony as she tried to focus on her goal. Her vision was clouded and red from the pain that washed across her face and throughout her body. She was dying, she knew, but she would save the Green with her last efforts. It was her duty – her honor!

Through the smoldering haze of her sight she could see the Swann woman writhing about in terror, knowing that her own end was drawing closer with every failing beat of Selia's heart. The air was thick, and every breath was a struggle, every step a new sensation in agony. The ceremonial dagger seemed miles away rather than a few short feet, but Selia stumbled on.

She slumped against the statue, the great monument of the Panther God- Nekara, Guardian of the Green. The great black beast seemed to stare down at her, almost watching in judgement as Selia bent low, groping for the blade that would call forth his power and set her free. Selia tried to smile as her fingers wrapped about the hilt of the blade. Pain racked her body as she tried to rise, one hand still braced on the statue for support.

Doubled over in agony she called on Nekara to guide her, for the Earth Mother to give her strength. Every pain, everything she did was for the Green. It was only right that the gods aid her now after all that she had done. As she had struggled so hard. For them! It was all for them…

Gloria Swann felt the final knot loosen and fall away as she pulled on the rope with all her strength. The cords slipped free, her fingers guiding the rope in and out and around and soon she was pulling her bruised and bleeding wrists from the loose coils. Moaning into her gag, Gloria forced her aching arms forward and pushed herself up. Her legs were still bound, she knew, but the Queen of the Amazons was right in front of her, the knife in her hands once again. The warrior woman was obviously in agony though, struggling to rise as she clawed her way up the side of the massive statue.

Gloria knew she had little time before the Amazon would be after her again. Gloria spun about on her butt, putting her legs in front of her to attack the ropes that held her ankles together. She watched the woman before her and actually jumped, startled when the queen cried out. Gloria's eyes went wide with horror as she stared at the other woman's face. The last of the skin on the queen's face had fallen away, and a grinning, leering skull stared back at her. The eyes rattled in the deep, dark sockets. Her tongue flailed about in jaws barely held in place by thin strips of muscle. Her long, thick hair fell away as whatever was eating at her flesh dissolved her skin more with every second, rolling down her throat. Gloria screamed in stark terror, pushing back and away as the woman lurched forward. In desperation, Gloria kicked out, just wanting the grisly creature to stay away—

Angela Morgan looked up at Gloria's terror stricken scream, her concentration broken. She had given up on trying to pull the chains loose from their moorings atop the totem pole. As old and rusted as they were, they were still too strong to break or pull free. All that she had managed to do was make her wrists slick with sweat and blood. She had thought that that might help, as the manacles had been made for a person bigger than she was, but she could only force her hands through the metal cuffs to her knuckles and no further.

Angela had watched as the Amazon had shambled across the cavern seemingly more dead than alive. She was making her way for the knife, obviously, and Angela began struggling, straining her arms and legs to kick at the blade, which was just tantalizingly out of her reach. Her feet scraped against the ground kicking uselessly at rocks and gravel. Then, miraculously she spied something thin and sparkling in the firelight. It was golden, a needle of some sort. A stick pin she thought, used to adorn a cloak or robe in ancient times.

Angela's mind had raced as she glanced at Gloria still struggling with her own bonds. The aging starlet had loosened the ropes about her wrists but had yet to free herself, and the Amazon was almost within reach of the knife. Angela knew what she had to do. It would hurt, but she had little choice.

She placed her foot over the ornament and carefully dragged it closer through the dirt. It slipped free twice, but finally she had it within easy reach of both of her feet, turning it about in a position that she thought best. She looked up as the queen slumped against the huge statue of the man-cat, then bit down on the gag against the pain to come. She stepped down on the head of the pin, forcing the sharp tip up, then rammed her already sore foot onto the jewelry, hoping that the point would not find her flesh.

Angela moaned as the tip drove into the soft arch of her foot. She tried to ignore the pain however, immediately forcing her leg up, her fingers groping for the pin as tears welled in her eyes and ran down her cheeks. It took several tries, kicking higher each time, as she did not have the strength to hold up her leg for any length of time. Finally though she grabbed the pin with enough pressure to get a grip. She gasped as it slid from her foot and boot, and she almost blacked out. It was too much. She held on though, with her life as well as Gloria's at stake; watching as the Amazon woman bent down to retrieve the lost blade. Angela rammed the pin into the key hole on the left manacle and frantically started digging into the locking mechanism.

It had been months since she had practiced escaping from hand cuffs and picking locks, but the skill came back to her in a rush. She felt tumblers push aside at her efforts and she smiled around her gag, almost whimpering in ecstasy. The manacles were not built to hold anyone for long, apparently, rather just for a time, before the captive was sacrificed to the statue. They were simple, and Angela felt a snap as the first unlocked and fell away. Angela had let out a deep breath that she had not even realized she had been holding, then transferred the pin to her free hand to set to work on the other manacle, ignoring the raw and bloody scars about her wrists. It was then that she had heard Gloria's scream and looked up.

The Amazon's face had all but dissolved completely away, exposing most of her skull. Angela gasped, wondering how the woman was still alive as she clutched the blade in her hand. The Amazon struggled though, trying to find the strength to plunge the knife into Gloria. The movie star was scrambling back, inching away as Angela reached out, trying to grab her from behind. The Amazon lurched forward then, and whether by panic or instinct Gloria kicked out with her bound legs trying to save herself.

Gloria Swann's kick connected with the Amazon queen's hand, driving the knife back and away. Angela heard a ghastly shriek as the blade was driven into the woman's chest. Her face snapped up, the tongue lolling, wagging in the force of the queen's death gasp. Dead eyes stared, rolling in the hollow sockets as blood spewed forth, erupting unimpeded from the depths of the warrior's throat. Angela felt the sizzling blood as it spattered her own face. She heard Gloria whine as it hit her as well, but she ignored the starlet's protests, more intent on the dying woman.

The queen staggered back, clutching at the hilt of the blade protruding from her chest. She fell against the statue, her fingers clawing desperately at the slick black stone. Angela stared, entranced as the woman slid down the monument, her jaws wagging as though she were trying to speak. The black stone glistened, streaked with blood as the woman fell in a heap at its base. The queen convulsed, twice, then lay still…

Gloria Swann stared, mesmerized as the Amazon queen sagged to the ground, dead, and all at once she collapsed. Exhaustion hit her like an anvil and she fell back gasping for breath. She could hear Angela, screaming through her gag, probably still terrified, but Gloria ignored the girl's cries. They were safe, and free, if not in body then in spirit. The Queen of the Amazons was dead, and Gloria Swann had saved the day.

Gloria sighed, content. It would be a simple matter to undo the bonds about her ankles now. She reached up lazily and pulled the gag down about her neck, then plucking the filthy wadded up cloth from her mouth. She did not even bother to untie the rag, more intent on working her jaw loose again. It felt wonderful—

"Gloria!"

Gloria Swann opened her eyes, irritated that the Morgan girl would not leave her be. Couldn't she just relax for a few minutes and let her regain her strength? They were both tired and hurt, but a few more minutes in chains would not hurt the little bit—

Gloria gasped and rolled to the side as the Amazon warrior drove the spear into the ground where she had just been laying. Gloria had totally forgotten the other, and now that woman was intent on killing her, completing the evil that her queen had started, or just for vengeance maybe. Gloria rolled back as the woman pulled the spear free, leaping over the movie star's feeble attempt to trip her up.

The Amazon warrior slammed her foot down into Gloria's stomach and Gloria felt her breath rush from her lungs. Her head swirled, her vision graying at the edges as she struggled for breath. She felt the woman's foot holding her down, and try as she might, Gloria could not gather the strength to fight back. She heard the Amazon's cry of rage. She saw the woman raise the spear high, the sharpened head glittering in the torchlight. Gloria screamed…

Angela Morgan screamed as she watched the Amazon warrior rushing across the cavern. She cried out for Gloria to move as the woman snatched up a spear from the floor and drew closer, anger creasing her beautiful face. Finally Angela had wit enough to pull her gag loose, but it was too late. Still, she screamed Gloria's name hoping for the best.

She watched as Gloria suddenly rolled to one side, avoiding the Amazon's thrust. The spear chucked into the dirt, and Gloria rolled back trying to trip the warrior, but the Amazon was too nimble and quick. She easily leaped over Gloria's attack and pulled her weapon free. She then pinned the star to the ground, planting a foot on Gloria's stomach and forcing the breath out of her.

Frantically Angela worked the stick pin into the lock of the other manacle still secured about her wrist. She was panicked though, her concentration spent as she watched the warrior raise her spear, prepared to strike. She felt the tumblers shift and fall away as the thick cuff unlocked. She glanced up, her attention divided between the manacle and Gloria. Was she too late?

Something shifted in the shadows. Angela glanced up hearing the rough sound of stone grating against stone. Her brow wrinkled in confusion, her mind not believing what her eyes were seeing. She heard a slow, guttural growl, saw the long dark limbs of the statue start to shift and move.

Her eyes widened in horror as all at once the massive arm of the cat-man statue shot forward. Its sharp ivory claws glittered in the flickering torchlight as they raked up and across the back of the amazon warrior. Angela saw the woman's eyes grow wide with surprise as she was lifted from her feet. The spear clattered to the floor as the force of the swift blow ripped the woman's back open and sent her sprawling far across the cavern. The huge cat-man howled, screaming in rage as it slowly, almost casually stepped down from its base, a massive tongue licking at its stone muzzle, grinding.

Angela screamed, terror pouring from her throat. The cat-man statue was alive, somehow, some way. Its body rippled, but she did not know if it was muscles beneath the rocky skin or a trick of the light shining on the glossy stone. Its head shifted, moving back and forth as it scanned the cavern searching for prey. Its huge emerald eyes glistened in the torchlight, suddenly alight with intelligence. It was massive, imposing, like some dark god come down from the heavens. Some dark god of vengeance!

Angela saw the cat-man rear back, its gaze fixing on the two women at its feet. She saw the ivory claws slide free, extending from the stone as the creature snarled, preparing to strike. To kill! She heard someone scream, but she was not sure if the voice was Gloria's, or her own…

Things look bad for our ladies. Read the next thrilling episode for the startling conclusion…

Read the next thrilling episode to find out! Coming Soon to a web page near you...

Claws of the Cat © Curt Fernlund 2002 - 2007. Original Logo, running cat and claw marks by Word Mill Optical (Used with Permission).

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