J.H. White's Puss in Boots: Book I

Chapter Eleven

"Puss, kill her now!" Kitty exclaimed. Puss couldn't get the image of the Comandante's death out of his head, but he knew this monster had to be slain.

"Time to die, demon," he said vigilantly. He and the creature stared each other down for a moment, and then he charged at her; she did the same. Their swords met again, and the impacts of the blades shook the earth. The demoness put pressure on his sword and tried to drive him backwards. His boots skidded on the ground, and he couldn't stop himself from being slammed against a wall forcefully. But he had a trick up his sleeve.

He made the demoness think that she was in control of him, and as soon as she was about to chop off his head, he kicked her sword away the same way he had done in his earlier fight with Kitty. It stuck in a

building's wall and the glow slowly faded away. Now he had the high ground. He punched her over and over until she fell. He ran over to where her sword was planted and yanked it out. The demoness couldn't deny it; she was trapped. He held the sword high and was about to bring it down when he saw her.

Dulcinea.

She wasn't a demoness in the vision. She was herself, beautiful and sparkling like a fire. Puss wasn't sure if he could trust her, though, and drew his sword as a precaution. "Dulcinea? Is it really you?"

"Yes," she replied in a haunting but angelic echo.

"Are you a ghost?"

"No, Puss. I am a spirit. At the moment, I am also a prisoner." Puss walked closer. "The demoness lied. She didn't kill me. But she might as well have."

He listened intently as she began to tell a tale of woe. "Sino had sent me back to San Lorenzo in a new body after I had been killed. I lived there in peace with the townspeople for many years. Then, the portal to The Netherworld opened again, and the demons there declared war. We fought for weeks, and we lost so many. One day, the demons came with more and more reinforcements. We couldn't fight them off. Sino had come to aid us, but even his magic couldn't draw them back. They killed him; they killed all the townspeople. I was the only survivor, but then a demoness chose my body as a host, because I'm a tulpa. She had heard of you defending Spain, and she couldn't have you getting in the way of their conquest. So, she has come to slaughter you."

At this point, Puss was trying not to shed tears. Every San Lorenzo citizen had been brutally murdered. He had adored that town; adored the people. It was all gone. "This is not what I wanted to tell you, however. I know the demoness' weakness from sharing her mind." Puss put his sadness in a corner of his mind and listened intently.

"If you stab out the demoness' eye with her sword, she will be killed and I'll be free."

"Wait, because it's your body, won't you lose an eye?"

"A small price to pay for my freedom," Dulcinea said. She turned and began to walk away.

"When will I see you again?" Puss asked, coming closer until he held her paws.

"When the demon is destroyed," she said. Puss leaned in and kissed her, and joyful tears streamed down his face. She smiled at him, and then evaporated into thin air. He was then transported back to reality and saw the demoness at his feet, cowering before him. He took a deep breath, and planted the sword in her eye.

"NO!" the pained creature shrieked. Puss saw a dark cloud leaving Dulcinea's body that indicated the demon's exit, and then she lay there, motionless.

"Dulcinea?" he asked. "Dulcinea?" She didn't respond. He put his head on her chest. "No," he breathed. "There is no pulse." He didn't want to cry again; he didn't want to be seen as vulnerable. But the tears came. That was our last kiss, he thought through his choking sobs. He closed his eyes and turned to the sky, to God.

"Dios, por favor tráemela de vuelta."

Suddenly, she opened her eyes and grinned weakly. "Puss?"

"Dulcinea! Thank God!" They embraced for a few seconds and just stood there, listening to each other's breaths. But it didn't last.

BLAM!

"No," Puss gasped. Somebody had been shot.