A Flight of Raptors (Paws & Claws Book 2)

by Ralph Vaughan

  “Who do you think told the hobo cat about this house in the first place?” Levi challenged.

  “A dog with a large…” Yoda sat down in amazement. “Big Head!”

  “Roscoe,” said the dog with the unusually large head, but without any trace of rancor. He looked to Levi. “There’s a new dog next door now?”

  “Her name is Princess,” Levi said. “And she could use a friend.”

  “She’s a Pit Bull,” Yoda added.

  “Oh. But everybody…”

  “Listen, Roscoe, you can’t always believe what everybody tells you,” Levi cautioned. “If a dog is bad, it’s because he chooses to be that way, not because he’s born that way.”

  After a moment, Roscoe nodded his massive head.

  “She’s had it rough, a life of cruelty and betrayal,” Sunny said.

  “Guess I know something about that,” Roscoe admitted.

  “Then you’ll watch out for her?” Levi asked. “Drop us a line to let us know how she’s doing?”

  “It’s hard to get a letter out without it being noticed,” Roscoe said, “but I’ll try.”

  “You could Skype us,” Sunny said.

  “I don’t…” Roscoe started to say.

  “Web-cams don’t have wide-angle lenses,” Yoda quipped.

  Roscoe growled from his side of the fence, but there was more affection in the growl than animosity. During his short stay with the Three Dog Detective Agency the previously year, when he fell from the sky into the midst of the Feral Gang, he had become quite fond of all of them, but especially the yappy little Pomeranian with such outlandish hair that he could easily have passed for the Wild Dog of Borneo.

  “I did it before,” Roscoe said. “I guess I can do it again.”

  Around the previous Halloween, they had received from Roscoe a card with a progress report, which told them all, especially Yoda, that he much smarter and resourceful than his slow and laid-back demeanor implied. The note had, of course, been written in the secret language of dogs, but what really impressed them was that the envelope had been addressed in English…a little sloppy, yes, but much more legible than many envelopes seen by the Post Office filled out by individuals with thumbs.

  “We had better be heading back,” Levi told his friends. “We’ve been gone a long time, we’re far outside our neighborhood, and we still have things to do before we get home.”

  Yoda and Sunny looked at him curiously, but he silenced them with a look. There was no use bringing Roscoe in their case.

  “Thanks, Roscoe,” Levi said. “We appreciate the help.”

  “Anything for you guys,” Roscoe replied. “I owe you three so much.”

  “And remember to give Princess a chance,” Sunny reminded.

  He promised he would, said his farewells, and moved off toward his own house. The three dogs, with a backward glance, walked down the curving driveway and out between the posts beneath the stony stares of the griffins.

  “All right, we’re alone now,” Sunny said. “What else do we need to do before we can settle down for the night?”

  “The Vogue Theatre,” Levi replied. “Time for reconnaissance.”

  Yoda smiled.

  Sunny frowned, but knew the futility of argument.

  Chapter Ten

  Like most of Third Avenue at that time of the night, the Vogue Theatre was shrouded in darkness. The difference of course, was the other businesses were just closed for the day, while the Vogue was shut down and boarded up for good, and while it may have been a boon to Parrots looking for a secure home it was a local tragedy for all film fans, of whom Levi counted himself one.

  He recalled with wistful fondness sneaking in, either through the now-barred emergency exit or this hole near the old door behind the screen, then lying quietly in the darkness mesmerized by the images upon the massive silver screen; once, he had tried coming in through the main entrance with a five-dollar bill threaded through his collar, but it had worked out almost as badly as the time he tried to ride the bus to a crime scene in the Castle Park area.

  Some worlds did not mix well, and probably never world.

  He knew his limits, but he ever tried to either work around them or overcome them, not whine like a wretched cur.

  “What’s that smell?” Yoda asked as they made their way down a narrow passage to the alley running behind the Vogue.

  “Thai food,” Levi answered after a sniff. “Restaurant next door has its trash bins in the alley.”

  “Smells great!”

  “Pork and beef are good,” Sunny remarked. “If you get into the garbage give the seafood a pass and definitely steer clear of any food with pepper flakes. Whew!”

  “I am not getting into any garbage,” Yoda announced. “Think of my fur.”

  “Yeah, I do,” Sunny said. “Sometimes I have nightmares.”

  “Hey!”

  “Keep it quiet,” Levi advised. “We’re getting close now and I do not want anyone to know we are here.”

  “You mean any Raptors?” Yoda suggested.

  “Anyone,” Levi replied.

  Levi led the others into the alley at the rear of the cinema. Even in the near pitch blackness – there was so little worth stealing in any of the shops still in Chula Vista’s old business district, why waste money on security lighting – Levi trod familiar ground. Many was the time he had come unseen to this long-unnoticed defect in the building’s structure. It was such a small defect, even if anyone had noticed it, it was doubtful the money would have been spent to correct it. After all, who could possibly gain entry?

  Levi grinned at the thought, remembering fondly the day when, as a much younger dog whose coat was then all ebony and him still rather new to the house on Fifth Avenue, he had wandered into this alley and found this way into a world of wonder. It was then he found a new purpose to his life, a day that changed his world, and affected the lives of so many.

  Sunny gazed at the small opening with a doubtful expression on her golden face. “There is no way I…”

  “I know,” Levi acknowledged. “I’m even doubtful about Yoda going in.”

  “It’s almost all fur,” Yoda protested, but soto voce. “I’m really very svelte under it all.”

  “Sunny, we need a watch kept,” Levi said, “but a stealthy one.”

  “You expect trouble?”

  “You know me,” Levi said with a crooked grin. “I always expect trouble. Besides, an empty building like this, it’s bound to attract more than desperate Parrots and opportunistic Hawks.”

  “What shall I do if there are other intruders, or danger of some sort?” Sunny asked.

  “I have always admired your resourcefulness when faced with any sort of problem,” Levi said. “As always, we rely on your sense of discretion, your experience and your judgment to do the right thing, tempered by the circumstances.”

  “Very well,” Sunny said. “You can count on me.”

  Levi nodded. “Always.”

  Levi motioned with a toss of his muzzle for Yoda precede him into the darkness of the theater. Yoda looked a bit uncertain for a moment, then moved forward. As soon as he started into the small aperture he realized he was in trouble – there may indeed be a svelte dog under his fur, but there was an awful lot of wild hair surrounding that svelte dog. What had been such a great advantage in his conflict with the rapacious Vortex, during which he had managed to thrash the pinioned Raptor insensible, was now a frustrating hindrance. The jutting pieces of wood, concrete and rebar snagged and pulled, and just when he seemed clear of one obstacle, three more grabbed on; he whimpered softly at the pain, despite his resolution not to let the others see him cry, and recalled an old film he had once seen – talk about fighting a Hydra!

  “That’s enough, Yoda,” Levi said consolingly, as he and Sunny helped their friend to extricate himself from the architectural snare. “You had better stay and watch Sunny’s back.”

  “Who will watch yours?” demanded the not-so-little Pomeranian.
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br />   “I don’t like the idea of you going in there alone,” Sunny said. “If you run into those Raptors, they’ll have a big advantage over you.”

  “I have no intention of running into the Raptors,” Levi assured them. “I will blend in with the night.”

  “Only if it’s a salt-and-pepper night,” Yoda quipped.

  Levi frowned but said nothing. While his coat was not nearly as inky as it had been in youth, he still considered himself a black dog…mostly.

  Leaving his comrades behind to stand sentinel against the darkness and its myriad terrors, Levi entered the opening. And found it a bit of a tighter fit than he recalled. It had been a few years since the Vogue had regrettably closed its doors, and while Levi was nowhere near being considered anything but a small dog, he was hardly the five-pound runt rescued from the fighting school. On the other paw, he was not about to let Yoda and Sunny see him fail. It was not in his nature.

  As he pushed through, Levi softly exhaled all the air in his lungs and did not pull in another breath until he was inside the clotted darkness of the abandoned theater. He sniffed the air and smiled wanly at the fragrant remnants left by decades of popcorn tubs, sweet drinks and Red Vines; not so pleasing, however, were the other scents – mold in the walls, animal droppings and the acrid tang of rust.

  What a tragedy, the little Dachshund-mix thought as he stealthily made his way from behind the screen. So many good times here, so many lifetimes.

  Exiting from the under-framework to the right of the theater, he passed the short flight of steps that led to a stage that jutted outward. From this little platform on Saturday afternoons ticket numbers had been shouted into the noisy gloom between features, awarding prizes; it all happened, of course, in the theater of Levi’s imagination, for although the practice had ceased long before he was stolen from his litter, he had read all about it in such books as Cinema Treasures. Though he knew a winning ticket would not have been his to hold, Levi still found himself yearning for that heady period of history when Rin Tin Tin and Ace (whose companion was The Phantom) sprang heroically across the silver screen in glorious black and white, one chapter a week.

  No one, however, would again mount those steps to that stage. Both were rotted through, and Levi had noticed how rickety the supports beneath were when he passed by. Too much weight upon the stage or force against the struts underneath, and likely the whole thing would collapse.

  How empty it all seemed, how sad, he thought as he moved up the shadowy aisle. He looked back at the huge rectangle of the screen; despite the recent years of neglect, it was still in perfect condition, even if the structures around it were not, and though there was no real source of light in the theater it seemed to Levi gently phosphoric, as if the film was ever ready to start.

  Of course, the film never would begin, he realized with regret. This was the first time he had made his way in since the doors had shut for the last time, and there was a part of him that rued the decision to return. He had expected some hint of nostalgia when he entered, but he had had no idea that it would be such a palpable force, like being smacked with a newspaper.

  Levi frowned at his own mawkishness. Yes, he had had many good times here, unseen and unsuspected in the darkness, but that was then. He was here now on a job, and that job had to be done, no matter what he felt. And what he felt was no small amount of wistfulness as he recalled the words that had come to him from that silvered screen so long ago:

  What’s past is past, nothing to do but smile through teeth that have been kicked in; only the future matters, the decisions you make from this moment on. You can choose to be a victim, but if you do, you’ll always be a victim…and nothing but a victim; you won’t be able to help anyone, not even yourself, and, believe me, the world is filled with those who need help. So what are you going to do? Let your future be shaped by the injustices and cruelties of the past, or do you shape your own future? Do you walk down those mean streets without becoming mean yourself, or do you lie down and whimper? Victim of everyone, or the hero of your own story – those are your only choices.

  The film had been an old detective drama in the black and white format preferred by dogs with all its many shades of gray, an afternoon of retrospective cinema to celebrate the Golden Anniversary of the theater.

  The Golden Anniversary…

  At the time, it seemed like it would go on forever.

  Levi continued up the aisle, surrounded on both sides by classic theater seats, some of which, unfortunately, had been trashed. The shadowy spaces between the seats were cluttered with all matter of litter, some of it deposited in the tears since the closure, but most left by the final patrons of the final show, one last act of protest – if you give up, so do we.

  Near the top of the auditorium were a set of double doors with small round windows set in them. Levi pushed silently though and entered the lobby. Seeing how the lobby had been vandalized, a place he had yearned to enter, made him almost whimper.

  To the left, next to one of the lavatories, was a plywood door with a brass pull-handle set high up. Fortunately, the door was slightly ajar; Levi inserted his lean muzzle, levered the door open just enough to ease on through, then continued on up the narrow wooden stairs beyond, ascending in almost total darkness with only his keen sense of smell to guide him through the gloom.

  He entered the projection room which smelled of dust, machine oil and plastic. Here, the darkness was relieved by a small reddish indicator light gleaming in the endless night. Evidence of a hasty departure, or perhaps, Levi thought, a hope of a return someday? An unwarranted hope – one day someone would either remember to cut the power or the light would burn out forever.

  At the rear of the projection room was another doorway, this one much smaller, more of an access hatch a bit above floor level. Levi utilized his long legs and leaped up without any trouble. When he landed, however, his nails clicked against the floor. The sound was soft and brief, but it sounded loud in his ears, and he stood still, listening, barely daring to breathe.

  But the stillness of the theater remained unbroken and Levi realized no one had noticed his intrusion. In that silence, however, as he listened for some sign of alarm, he realized that the night was not at all silent, but filled with measured breaths and desperate sighs.

  He was close to his goal.

  The crawlspace turned twice, then emptied into vaulted darkness, a space as wide and long as the entire building, but which seemed smaller, not just because of the oppressive gloom but because it was crisscrossed with beams and support columns, filled with debris.

  As Levi stood in the clotted murkiness of that upper loft area, information came to him via his various senses, beginning with his most acute – his sense of smell. The Parrots were here roosting in slumber, and he could smell their earthiness, the subtle scents left upon their feathers by the trees they frequented, and the feathers themselves, full of odd combinations of smells that were just as vibrant, at least to a scent-hound, as their colors; there was also something else, Levi realized, an exotic tang, as if they still retained a hint of their faraway jungles, as if there were still a bond despite the passing of decades. The Hawks were here, too, not nearby but Levi could smell the sharp must of their feathers, the coppery scent of talons still stained by blood.

  Levi heard their measured breaths around him, the almost inaudible murmurs that escaped their beaks when they dreamed.

  Levi’s sight was his least sensitive sense – keen vision was not necessarily an advantage to a dog bred to chase a badger from his lair – but as he stood in the darkness he saw that it was not absolute. Stars glimmered through a ragged gap in the southwestern portion of the ceiling, obviously how the Parrots had entered in the first place.

  Cautious not to make a sound, Levi made his way among the sleeping Parrots until he found one slightly away from the others. Levi poked the tropical bird gently with his muzzle, letting it rest there a moment before drawing back, what he hoped would be a reassuring touch. He
sensed the Parrot’s gradual return to wakefulness, sensed its alarm.

  “I mean you no harm,” Levi said in the softest of whispers. “Do not be afraid.”

  After a moment, the Parrot asked: “Who are you?”

  “My name is Levi,” he answered. “I am a dog.”

  The Parrot started to flutter, but before he could raise a ruckus, Levi again pressed his muzzle against the bird’s chest, just as he would a nervous pup’s.

  “What is your name?” Levi asked.

  The combination of the gentle touch, the soft voice and a banal question worked to calm the bird down, to keep him quiet.

  “My name is Natividad.”

  “Do you know Benedict?”

  “Benedict?” The Parrot paused, and when he continued after a small sigh it was with a tone of regret and sadness: “He was my friend, but he is dead.”

  “No, Benedict is alive and well.”

  “Alive?”

  “Shhh,” Levi cautioned.

  “How is that possible?” Natividad demanded. “Ripper told us he was killed by Gyre.”

  “He tried,” Levi confirmed, “but we stopped him.”

  “You?”

  Levi started to shake his head but recalled in time that doing so would cause the tags on his collar to tinkle noisily.

  “My friends,” Levi clarified. “The important thing is that your friend is alive and is safe, for the time being. My reason for coming here tonight is to speak to Christobal. Can you help me?”

  “Yes, you must speak to Christobal,” Natividad agreed, “but this is not the place. There is much danger here; you are bravely foolish for coming here. You are courting death, mi amigo.”

  “Nevertheless, Christobal must know that his grandson is safe with us.” Levi thought a moment, then said: “You know the opening in the wall there?”

  “Yes.”

  “It is how I got in.”

  “We are forbidden by the Hawks to enter it,” Natividad said.

  “All the better,” Levi said. “Will you escort Christobal to me in the chamber beyond? It will allow us to speak without fear of being overheard.”