*  *  *

Lucifer was sulking under the bed.  Omar had to pull him out again.  He gritted his teeth furiously, saying stupid stuff like, Nice kitty and Good kitty.  Lucifer was only responding to the pampered treatment that Michelle had introduced.  Omar decided to make one last audacious effort to reanimate the beastly, ferocious qualities within the cat.  It was a last resort.  One he abhorred, but it was necessary.

Old legends revealed that witches were believed to have what was called a Witch's Mark.  Their familiars, or animals that were really imps or devils, took blood nourishment directly from it.  Omar had to give Lucifer his own blood to suck.

Lucifer loved blood, Omar thought, as he lay down, bare-chested on his bed, holding Lucifer up by the scruff of the neck.  He took the dagger, squinted his eyes, and made a small incision in his chest, just below his own nipple.  It made him woozy and the room whirled around for a second as he saw his own precious fluid well up and flow down his chest.  He placed Lucifer's nose right in the blood so he would be forced to lick it off in his usual fastidious manner.

Omar cried out in pain as the cat eagerly lapped at his bloody chest.  The rough tongue abraded his skin right where the dagger had plunged.  It hurt.  But it worked.  Lucifer was biting him, trying to get more blood out of the tiny wound.  Omar had to cut himself repeatedly with the dagger until Lucifer was finally satisfied.

Then he whispered instructions to his cat, sending him concepts of evil, corruption and devastation.