‘Quickly,’ February said, ‘we don’t want to be here all night, and the car’s owner might yet turn out to be one of those hero types.’
‘Like that Slim Dorris,’ Kitty commented, obeying as quickly as she could. With the body on the back seat, Kitty joined February in the front of the vehicle. From now on when she talked, she seemed to avoid turning fully to face February, as if scared that she might catch a glimpse of that bloody mess on the back seat. Having climbed into the passenger seat, she started to study her hands; there was blood all over them and blood on her rags in some of the other places the body had touched her.
February grinned at her passenger. ‘I guess it hadn’t dried properly yet. Don’t worry; it won’t hurt you.’ She turned back to the steering column of the vehicle, which, unlike that of the patrol car, was no more than a glorified joystick, and sighed. Then, referring to the vehicle’s owner, she said, ‘He’s added a non-standard security measure to the vehicle, but I think I can crack it.’
Indeed, whatever the car’s owner had added didn’t seem to be too much of a problem for someone with February’s experience, and but a moment later the car roared into life and they were on the road again.
‘You’ve been a pet all your life,’ February said in matter-of-fact way. It seemed that she was trying to make conversation.
Kitty nodded, her lips held tightly together.
‘So you haven’t seen much of the city. Would you like a tour, a proper tour, without any uninvited guests, now that we have wheels again?’
Kitty hesitated. She swallowed and breathed heavily, as if trying to settle her stomach. Eventually she said, ‘Shouldn’t we be finding a way to get the tracking devices out of these lasers before we become the subject of another chase?’
February grinned. ‘They think we don’t know about the tracking devices in the laser rifles. They want us to take them home so they can come and collect us at their leisure. They won’t send anyone to chase us on those signals, not tonight anyway. Better to come round and catch us unprepared, so there’s less chance we’ll be able to resist.
‘Then why’d they chase you in the first place?’ Kitty asked.
‘They were using the tracking device in the patrol car itself; they knew I wasn’t going to take that home. Besides, I killed someone to get the car in the first place, so I expect they were out for revenge. I promise you, if we hear another siren I’ll dump the lasers instantly. I don’t like using rifles anyway; they’re far too hard to hide.’
Kitty sat and thought for a minute. ‘Something seems wrong about it,’ she said. She shook the thought from her mind. ‘Could we not just go home?’
‘I’d like to,’ February said, ‘but with you, getting home might be a problem, for the next few hours, at least.’
‘I’m not sure I understand,’ Kitty replied. ‘Why with me?’
‘Well, there are your stripes, your eyes, your tail—everything about you cries out Herbaht. I suppose I could claim to have obtained a new pet, but my neighbors know I’m not the type, and if we go back before midnight, maybe even one in the morning, then there’s a very good chance that someone will see you.’
Kitty seemed a little confused. ‘But your own stripes are on show.’
‘Only for hunting,’ February replied. ‘My own vehicle is parked on a stretch of waste ground, a little way from where I originally picked up the patrol car. In the vehicle, in the front compartment are the materials I need to disguise myself. You know, things like makeup, a wig and contact lenses, as well as a change of clothes, et cetera.’
‘I see,’ said Kitty. She thought for a second or two. ‘Then if you’re sure the police won’t be chasing us anymore tonight, show me
5
The New Cradle
Not too far to the east of London lay the small town of West Horndon. On the western side of this town stood a small community hall, the use of which varied from night to night. Yesterday it had been the home of the karate class for the very young to the very old, and when that class was over a troupe of local actors used it for the rest of the night to rehearse their latest play. This night it was the venue of a relatively local band known simply as The New Cradle.
The name referred to another group that had been around more than six hundred years ago by the name of Cat’s Cradle. They had been a large group, numbering maybe twenty in total, and every one of them had been Herbaht. Somehow they had broken the barriers between the races. They had become as popular among the humans as they had with their own people, and during times of truce it was believed that they actually played concerts for humans and Herbaht alike. Many doubt this last part to be true, though, as there would have still been plenty of distrust and hatred among certain humans .One could have easily gotten into the concert with a weapon, and the band would have been sitting ducks.
Nevertheless, about seven years ago, a young Herbaht by the name of Jhosatl Kaytor who long before had decided to forego the dangers and the excitement of the hunt in exchange for a quiet life taking the pills found that he was greatly inspired by the stories. Together with his wife Amba, he decided to create his own version of Cat’s Cradle.
Finding people willing to risk visiting someone they didn’t know in order to join a music group hadn’t been easy. Jhosatl had had to hold the auditions in the center of town during the early afternoon in order to ease the fear many of the hopefuls had that they might be walking into some sort of Herbaht trap. The selected were usually auditioned in the open where just anybody could stand about watching and giving their own comments about a certain performance. Others made a habit of walking through the band in the middle of a song, upsetting everything. Nor was it unheard of for the gathered crowd to ‘boo’ at a hopeful newcomer.
Somewhere along the way Jhosatl’s desire for a musical group that would appeal to both human and Herbaht alike seemed to get compromised. He did the auditions himself, and since he obviously couldn’t walk around the center of town without some sort of disguise, he got into the habit of introducing himself to the hopefuls as Joseph Carnes. And somehow it was a lot harder to reveal his true self to those that were selected after he had already assured them that they had nothing to worry about.
It was Amba who had come to the rescue. She had avoided the auditions because she didn’t think she had the skill to act as a human. She found it hard enough just going shopping, even when her husband was there with her. She told him that there was no way she could be anything other than the Herbaht she was while she was on stage.
And so it was that when Amba performed, she did so without even a whisper of makeup. She was attached to the stage by a small chain that was looped around her leg for the apparent security of the audience. Not that the audience ever felt too worried by her. No one had ever claimed that she was domesticated, and yet it was assumed that offstage she was Joseph’s pet.
And so tonight, nearly seven years after they had formed, they were performing in a small community hall on the outskirts of West Horndon.
Amba performed from the center of the stage, as per normal. The chain held her leg, and tonight there was also a collar around her neck to add to the illusion that she was domesticated. Amba didn’t play any instrument, but she could dance and usually did so in front of the rest of the band, inciting the fans to dance along with her. Sometimes when a song needed a female vocal, she would use the microphone placed at the front of the stage for her.
Jhosatl stood just behind her. He played the stringed instruments and usually had a small array placed at the back of the stage, as certain numbers required different instruments. Jhosatl liked to stay close to his wife as much to protect her as anything.
Then there were the three human members of the group. Judith Martin played the keyboards. She tended to prefer the more modern keyboards such as the Grego Organ, but she would attempt to play anything with keys from the harpsichord on. Her hair was black and flowed over her shoulders to stop just below them. She looked a little thin for her heig
ht, and she seemed to enjoy wearing black, at least when she was on the stage. Her fingernails were always painted a bright red with glitter highlights, and Amba had often wondered how long it took to get them looking so immaculate. She had been the first of the three humans to be recruited by Jhosatl. Indeed, she had been taken on before Jhosatl had really gotten the hang of pretending to be human, and there had been occasions when he slipped. Judith had never said anything at the time, and maybe she hadn’t really noticed. Or maybe it was something she had filed away for future use. Who knew how a human thought?
Colin Morris was an expert when it came to drums; at least, he claimed he was. His hair was blond, and he had the blue eyes to go with it. He liked the dark colored casual-looking clothing for the concerts, though it was the small beard that most people noticed. He had been the second to be recruited, by which time Jhosatl had ironed out most of his acting problems. He now spoke and thought like a human. Colin was not as good a choice for the band as Jhosatl had hoped he would be. Colin hated Herbaht. He would never say why, but many humans had good personal reasons for such hatred, while others tended to hate them simply because they feared them. Colin wasn’t a good person to try bridging gaps with. Indeed, in the early days of the group he would stare at the back of Amba as she performed, fuming and taking out his anger on the drums. On more than one occasion Jhosatl had thought of replacing him, but Colin was almost as excellent as he had claimed with the drums, despite his hate.
The third human and last to join the group was Sult. If he had another name, he never seemed to use it. Sult played nearly any instrument that had been made, though he was an expert with none of them. His favorite instrument, when occasion allowed, was the flute. Sult’s head was shaved, and most noticeably, one of his eyes was missing its pupil. There was a small yet nasty-looking scar from that eye diagonally across to his nose, though not actually on his nose. There had been many rumors about Sult’s past, many of them ridiculous, including the one about him having been some sort of mercenary.
The concert seemed to be going well; the group had played lots of their favorites and was encouraging the audience to sing or dance along. A few of the audience members joined the band onstage. With no bouncer to throw them off again, they were free to dance and, in many cases, touch their idols. Only Sult jerked away when they tried to touch him; he wasn’t a very tactile person. On the other hand, Jhosatl had been known to punch someone before because they had gotten a little too fresh with his wife.
As the clock at the back of the hall reached nine, the party was in full swing. Not that anyone could see the clock—the place had been darkened to highlight the stage better. Other than the oddly colored lights that swung back and forth rhythmically across the audience, they were in darkness. The audience was dancing and trying to reach the stage, trying to get as close as they could to the music until it was too deafening for them to even hear themselves sing along to the songs. At this time the back half of the hall was totally empty.
The night sight of the Herbaht was nothing like as good as that of the four-legged house cat, but it was a lot better than that of humans. It was Amba who first noticed the four figures hanging right at the back of the hall. From what she could see, they appeared to be wearing uniforms. They were projecting shadows onto the wall behind them, and the hats on the shadows all seemed to be the same shape. When the colored light flicked back across the audience and illuminated one of them for a second, Amba knew instantly who they were. The uniforms weren’t exactly correct, yet Amba was sure: they were of the Elite Guard.
Amba stopped singing for a moment, forgetting where she was. The others, especially her husband, noticed and tried to cover for her as best they could. It was only a second or two after she stopped before she started singing again. But her voice trembled, and the audience started to look at her strangely and then around the hall itself, searching for the cause of this sudden change.
The Elite Guard could be here for any number of reasons. Maybe they were checking up on the precautions being taken to protect the audience from her. Whatever they were here for, though, it had to be something to do with her.
The concert would end at ten and then she would find out why they were here. Surely it couldn’t be anything too bad. She really wasn’t a danger to the crowd, and the chain was easily enough to satisfy any safety issues. But then her thoughts turned darker. What if they had seen through the act and they knew she wasn’t really domesticated?
The crowd began to settle down as her voice became more natural. Some of them glanced around at the four uniformed figures at the back, and one or two even went to investigate further. Maybe her fans would help her get away. Maybe, like her, the crowd was considering the possibilities as to why the soldiers had even come here.
As the time reached a quarter to ten, Amba started them off on a medley of three-minute songs, trying to inch the clock closer to the ten o’clock deadline. Then at about two minutes to ten, just as Jhosatl was about to announce their last song of the evening, Amba started to sing the first words of the longest piece of music she knew. It was supposed to have a musical intro, but Amba didn’t care; she wanted to delay the end of the concert as far as she possibly could. The others caught up quickly and played the rest of it while she sang. The piece was normally thirty-four minutes long, the missed intro alone being over five minutes long, but Amba made up for it by holding many words longer than normal and slowing the song down as much as she felt she could get away with.
Jhosatl nodded across at his wife. He too had seen the uniforms at the back of the hall, and they worried him too. The Elite were supposedly able to see right through any disguise a Herbaht might wear, and he was beginning to feel a little exposed himself. If necessary, he carried a laser pistol in a hidden pocket in his sleeve when he was onstage, but the chances of one Herbaht holding out against four trained Elite weren’t high.
It was fortunate for Amba that this was a sad song, because she found that she had started to cry as the song got further along. Time was ticking and there seemed to be no way to stop it.
Maybe she was wrong. Maybe their presence here had nothing to do with her. Yet her mind, having already taken a step down that road, insisted that they were here for her. Besides, the only other reason she could imagine that they might be here was for her husband. She’d much rather go with them if it meant protecting him. The idea that they might simply have come along to listen to the music simply never occurred to her. From the way they were staying at the back of the hall and dressed in their uniforms as they were, their appearance definitely looked official.
The song eventually came to an end just after half past ten. Even Amba hadn’t been able to stop it ending, but she tried to sing them straight into another song. She would probably keep singing all night, if she could, if it might save her.
The others didn’t join her in the song. She stopped after the third word and looked around at her husband almost accusingly.
He learned across and whispered, ‘We only have the hall until eleven. We need to have the place tidy by then, all the chairs away, the litter, et cetera. We’re supposed to be gone by a quarter past at the latest. That last song was fun, but we’re going to be rushed as it is.’ He glanced towards the soldiers and added, ‘You’re officially a pet. It’s unlikely they’re here for you; it’s more likely they want me. And even if you sing all night, it isn’t going to get rid of them. Making them wait longer than necessary might even go against us.’
Amba nodded reluctantly. Whatever they were here for, they didn’t seem to be about to leave anyway, and singing more songs would just delay the inevitable. She returned her microphone to its stand and then, feeling her legs go, she sat down on the stage and waved to the crowd.
The audience broke into reels of cheering and clapping when they realized the group had played their last piece. Many headed straight towards the doors, some giving the four uniformed men funny looks as they passed them. Some of the audience started to put the
chairs away into the corners of the hall, while others came up onstage to help the group pack away their stuff. They weren’t big enough to have real groupies, but there were always people there willing to help in some way each night.
Sult had found the hall’s main lights and turned them on so they could actually see what they were doing. It was then that the three human members of the group realized why Amba had seemed so panicked.
The four at the back of the hall started to come forward towards the stage. Now, with the lights on, it was clear that they weren’t actually members of the Elite Guard, but were wearing the uniforms of trainees. There was a good chance they hadn’t recognized Jhosatl for what he was after all. Nevertheless, he jumped down from the stage to intercept them and partially to block their path. ‘All right mate, what’s the problem? What do you want?’
The leader of the four pulled out a small note pad and started to read from it. ‘One, your cat hasn’t been properly de-clawed. All performing cats must be de-clawed. Two, the sharp teeth, canines or incisors of your cat haven’t been filed down properly. Again, all performing cats must have this done. Three, you allow your cat too much freedom onstage. She should be properly tethered to the stage itself; that chain looks totally inadequate.’
Amba felt herself breathing a sigh of relief at what she heard. She had been in a panic about nothing.
‘Ok, mate,’ Jhosatl replied; he too seemed somewhat relieved. ‘I’ll look into rectifying these things before our next performance. Do you have any suggestions as to what I should do to meet your requirements? Perhaps you can give me a pamphlet or something. I mean, I know how to get her claws and teeth filed down, mate, but I’m talking about replacements for the chain. And what about the collar? That stops her from venturing off the stage.’
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