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and the fact that some of their tips had involved evidence that couldn’t possibly have been discovered by a human informant, tended to make Max Harper nervous. He had, in short, some well-founded suspicions involving the feline persuasion.
    â€œWe don’t need to add to his unease,” Dulcie said. She looked deeply at Joe. “Let’s leave this one alone. I have a bad feeling about this.”
    â€œDulcie, sometimes you…”
    Below them a shadow moved in the blackness at the edge of the awning. The blackness exploded up at them and the black cat hit the roof inches from Joe, his fangs white in the moonlight, his claws gleaming sharp as knives, going straight for Joe’s throat.
    Dulcie charged between them.
    The black tom froze, staring at her.
    Joe and Dulcie faced the black cat, rigid with challenge.
    Not a sound, not a twitch.
    Then the tom relaxed, leering at Dulcie, his tail lashing provocatively, his neck bowed like the neck of a bull; when he smiled, his eyes burned keener than the fires of hell.
    â€œI am Azrael.”
    Joe circled him, rumbling and snarling.
    â€œAzrael,” Dulcie said, moving between Joe and the black tom. “Azrael means Death Angel.” She watched the cat intently.
    The presence of another like themselves should be a cause for joy. Where had he come from? Why was he here in their village? As Joe moved again to attack, she cut him a look of warning. What good were teeth and claws, if they found out nothing about this cat?
    â€œAzrael,” she mewed softly, recalling the dark mythology. “Azrael of the million dark veils. Azrael who can spin the world on one claw.
    â€œAzrael whose golden throne gleams in the sixth Heaven,” she purred, glaring at Joe to be still. “Azrael of the four black wings and the four faces, and a thousand watchful eyes.”
    The tom smiled and preened at her but glanced narrowly at Joe.
    â€œAzrael who stole from that store,” Dulcie said,trying to sound amused. “Azrael who helped that man steal.”
    The black tom laughed. “And what do you think we stole? That junk furniture? Did you see him carrying away old chairs and hat racks?”
    â€œYou took her money.”
    â€œIf we did, little queen, that’s none of your affair.” His purr was a ragged rumble; he towered over her, slow and insinuating; his amber eyes caressed her, devoured her—but when he reached out his nose to sniff her tail, she whirled, screaming feline curses, and Joe exploded, biting and slashing him, sinking his claws into the tom’s back and neck. The two toms spun in a clawing, yowling whirlwind across the roofs, raking fur and swearing until Dulcie again thrust herself between them, fighting them both.
    They spun apart and backed off, circling and snarling, crouching to leap again for the tender parts.
    Joe attacked first—blood spattered Dulcie’s face. But the tom sent him flying against a chimney. Joe shook his head and bolted into Azrael, cursing a string of human insults until Dulcie again drove them apart, battling like a wildcat; neither tom would hurt a queen.
    â€œYou want to bring the cops?” she hissed at them. “There are apartments above these shops. You make enough noise, someone will call the station.”
    The black tom smiled and turned away. He began to wash, as casual and easy as if there had never been a battle. But soon he paused, and drew himself up tall and erect like an Egyptian statue carved from ebony. “You two little cats,” he said, looking them over as if they amused him. “You two little cats—I see death around you.”
    He studied them haughtily. “Do you not sense death?” He licked his paw. “There will be death in thisvillage. Human death. I sense death—three human corpses. Death before the moon is again full.
    â€œI see you two little cats standing over the bodies. I see your foolish pain—because humans