I heard scratching at the door and this time did not hesitate. There was no bad in that cat. It was simply a mouser, and one that would cuddle against me, the only one in this household that had to sleep apart from the others. I opened the door to it and raced it back to the straw. I held up the blanket again, so that it might crawl under, but this time it perched on my chest and simply stared at me. Irmeltrud’s words chimed again in my ear. This was how the incubi came to women in the night, sitting atop their bodies with eyes shining. I stared back at those eyes, riveted. The cat was a dark shape outlined by the remnants of the kitchen fire behind it. Its ears were alert and triangular, making me think of the pagan shapes we had been told to no longer think of. I breathed uncomfortably under its weight, wondering if this was friend or foe.