by Lisa Morton
The passage had become a narrow limestone fissure, damp and cool. It began to descend more sharply, with jagged rocks underfoot, and they had to pick their way slowly.
“Why is this cave of cats?” Yi-kin asked, his voice echoing around the stone walls and down the length of the passage. “We cannot even find our cat.”
“Well,” Diana said, trying not to think about the last cave they’d been in, “she could only have gone this way.”
The temperature dropped noticeably, and a somehow-familiar, musky odor tainted the air. This part of the cave showed no evidence of human workmanship, and Diana thought that probably very few had ever dared venture this far.
Especially on Samhain.
The odor became stronger, and now Diana could almost place it. There was something to its acrid scent, something of….
“Mina,” Yi-kin commented, his nose twitching. “Cave smells like cat siu bin.”
“Territorial marking,” muttered Diana.
The cave flooring evened out beneath their feet, and the passage opened out before them to a wide cavern, perhaps twenty feet wide and at least forty or fifty long. Then they saw the source of the smell:
Cats. There were hundreds of them, in all manner of size, color and breed. They lounged on the hard floor of the cavern, strode lazily about, groomed each other, and batted playfully at tails and ears. Diana’s eyes immediately sought out Mina, but there were dozens of gray tabbies, along with fluffy Persians, midnight black toms, sleek little tortoise-shells, regal Siamese, and battle-scarred old grays.
And beyond all the cats was the gateway. This one was clearly visible, shimmering in the lanternlight.
Diana heard Yi-kin gasp with surprise, and knew he’d seen it, too. It took up most of the far wall of the chamber, a rippling circular mass about ten feet in diameter. The rocky cave was dimly visible behind it, but its shimmering depths gave hints of other landscapes as well: Diana thought she glimpsed dead trees, headstones, a full moon….
“Why can we see this gateway?” Yi-kin asked.
Diana shook her head and answered, “I don’t know, Yi-kin. Unless…it’s simply because this one is somehow more powerful than the others, especially on this night.”
Diana took another step onto the floor of the cavern—
—and hundreds of green and yellow eyes turned towards her, reflecting back the glow of their lanterns like lighthouse beacons, warning unwary ships to turn away.
Diana froze, and for a moment there was no movement in the chamber. Yi-kin tensed behind her, his lantern held high, and the sea of cats stared.
Then one of them hissed. And one started towards her.
She felt Yi-kin’s hand on her shoulder, pulling her back. “Siu saam….” he cautioned.
Diana acquiesced and stepped backwards, moving cautiously. More of the cats were starting towards them now, but as Diana retreated backward into the passage, so the cats lost interest in them and strolled back towards the gateway. One trio stayed behind, eyeing the intruders with mild interest.
“Good—they stop,” breathed Yi-kin.
“Well, at least we know why it’s called the cave of cats, don’t we?” Diana added. “They guard the damnable thing.”
“How do we get to gateway?” Yi-kin asked.
Diana took the lantern from him and swung it about, searching out the dimensions of the cavern. There seemed no way around the mass of cats, and Diana was far more reluctant to injure a horde of what might have been family pets than she’d been to do likewise to loathesome lizard people. And she still couldn’t find Mina; she could only assume her own beloved companion was out there somewhere amid that feline sea, meaning it was inconceivable that she would consider an offensive attack.
Given the length of the cavern, Diana calculated that she could dive the final quarter of the distance to the gateway. “We have to run for it,” she told Yi-kin.
“But we step on cats—” he protested.
And then he stopped short when he noticed the cats regrouping, moving towards them now with more sinister purpose. They blocked themselves firmly between Diana and Yi-kin and the gateway, as if they were rows of tiny soldiers preparing for battle.
“Cats understand us!” Yi-kin whispered.
Diana answered softly, “That’s ridiculous, cats can’t understand human language—”
One of the cats stood up then, not on four legs, but on two. It reared up on its rear two legs, extending its lean body upright and balancing perfectly, as if born to bipedal motion.
“Of course,” Diana admitted, “normal cats can’t do that, either.”
More of the creatures were standing now. Some stood taller than Diana’s waist, and she saw with dismay that the claws on their upper paws (hands?) had been unsheathed, and glistened cruelly in the lantern’s glow.
They began walking towards Diana and Yi-kin.
The two beleaguered humans began backing up the way they’d just come, desperately trying to keep one eye on the advancing felines and one on the jagged path behind them. The animals advanced on them with a matching, deliberate speed, and although Diana considering drawing her gun she feared exciting the cats to the point of attack.
And then the first cat launched itself at them.
Diana didn’t see where it had come from, but before she could react a feline form was flying through the air at her, dagger-like claws extended, fangs bared. She instinctively reached up and caught it in mid-air, and it struggled madly in her grip, keening a nearly-human shriek as it slashed blindly. Diana felt pain in one cheek before she managed to hurl the beast away. She reached up and felt blood trickling down her face.
“Are you hurt?” Yi-kin cried out.
She ignored his question, instead gesturing behind her. “Yi-kin, I want you to go. Run back as fast as you can. These aren’t cats!”
Predictably, he refused. “No! I will not leave you—”
“Then we’ll both die here, Yi-kin. Now go—!”
“Diana saw more cats squatting back onto their haunches, preparing to spring, and she was drawing her gun—
—when Mina appeared at her feet.
She had come up from the sea of her murderous kind and positioned herself before the two humans, turning back to face the feline army. Her own teeth were bared, her hair bristling in a ridge along her spine, her hisses directed at her opponents.
Yi-kin called, “Mina!”
The advancing cats looked at her—and stopped.
Mina continued to snarl and spit at them, and Diana thought surely she would be attacked en masse by the horde of demon cats, but instead the guardians began to pull back, dropping down to all fours again, even turning their backs to walk away. Within seconds they had not only halted their threatening approach, they’d even opened a path in their ranks leading directly to the gateway.
Diana knew Mina had saved them. She reached down and stroked her animal’s head, and Mina stopped her angry hissing long enough to look up at Diana and offer a self-satisfied meow.
“Mina, I adore you,” Diana said, offering a few more caresses to the cat before rising.
Then Diana stepped into the cavern again, still walking slowly.
The cats were completely placid now; they seemed utterly disinterested as Diana, Yi-kin and Mina moved between them towards the gateway. Diana still kept a cautious eye on them, but the cats had returned to their usual innocent activities.
The human pair were perhaps ten feet from the gateway when one of the cats, an especially large black-and-white tom, roused itself and stepped into their path. They stopped, and then watched in astonishment as the animal began to change: It reared up not on furred hind paws, but on human legs, complete with feet enclosed in whimsical, curled boots. The metamorphosis continued on up the rest of the body, the shape melting and twisting, colors shifting and running, fur becoming skin and cloth, until a small man-like being stood before them.
He stood about four feet tall, with a slender build, a colorful tunic
that shimmered in different colors as Diana looked at it, a wide belt seemingly made of leaves, and long golden hair that fell to his shoulders.
He also possessed lacey, translucent wings and gracefully-pointed ears.
His narrow face was as rosy-cheeked and unlined and hairless as a child’s, yet there were ancient lines creasing his vivid blue eyes. He smiled at them, and executed an elaborate bow before speaking:
“Welcome, Lady Furnaval. My lord Asmodeus has sent me to welcome you to the netherworld.”
Diana said, “I see. And you are…?”
He answered, “You may call me Robin.”
Ahhh, of course.
“Robin Goodfellow, I presume?” she inquired.
He gave her a nod of acknowledgement. “Quite right, Lady. I salute you.”
Yi-kin stepped close to her and whispered, “You know this…man?”
“M hai yan, Yi-kin. Mr. Goodfellow is a fairy—siu gwai.”
Siu gwai…Diana didn’t know the Cantonese word for fairy—if there was one—and little ghost was as close as she could come.
“Ming baak,” Yi-kin answered. Apparently her rough translation had worked.
Diana turned back to the fairy. “Yes, Mr. Goodfellow’s quite famous in Britain. He has a most impressive reputation for mischief.”
Goodfellow feigned embarrassment. “M’lady is too kind.”
“Oh no, Robin, you’re really very well known, and I’m perfectly acquainted with some of your adventures. You see, Yi-kin,” Diana directed back over her shoulder, never taking her eyes off Goodfellow, “our friend here is a shapeshifter. In the form of a will-o’-the-wisp, he’s led travellers over cliff edges to their doom; I believe he’s even taken the form of a horse, tempting a weary journeyer to mount him only to throw the unfortunate man into a river.”
Robin laughed and then said, “Oh, but that chap only broke an arm!”
She offered Robin a tight smile, then told him, “You’ll pardon us, I’m sure, if we proceed with caution around you.”
Diana passed the lantern to Yi-kin, then shrugged out of her coat and handed that back to him as well. “Here, hold this, please.”
Yi-kin took the coat while eyeing her with amazement. “Miss Diana, why do you…?”
But, she was working on the buttons of her vest. “You see, Yi-kin, according to legend, Robin Goodfellow can be gotten rid of by handing him a waistcoat. I thought we’d just test that folktale right now.”
She was rewarded with a flash of fear across the little imp’s face, followed by a nervous smile. “Now, Lady, you don’t want to do that until you’ve heard why I’m here, do you?”
Her smile broadened as she finished unbuttoning her vest. She pulled her watch and fob from the pockets, placed them in one trouser pocket, and then pulled the vest off. She dangled it from her fingers, appearing to consider what next to do.
Robin backed anxiously towards the gateway. “Lady Furnaval, if you dismiss me now you’ll never see William or Asmodeus.”
She handed the waistcoat back to Yi-kin. “I’ll have you hold this until we hear what our friend has to say.”
Diana took her coat back and put it on again, while the fairy noticeably relaxed. “Wise choice. You see, I have very specific instructions for you. Were you to cross over on your own, you wouldn’t stand a chance.”
Diana asked, “And what are those instructions?”
Robin gestured to the gateway. “You’ll receive them on the other side. Now, if you’ll just follow me….”
Without a pause, he stepped through the gateway. Its surface trembled, resembling an impossibly vertical surface of clear water into which a stone had just been cast; then Robin disappeared, and Diana knew he awaited them in the Netherworld.
She did not move.
Behind her, Yi-kin nearly danced in agitation. “We cannot go! He will trick us….”
“Yes, I’m sure he’ll try,” Diana answered.
“Then…what….”
Diana answered, “The fairies of folklore liked nothing more than games, Yi-kin. I suspect Robin will offer us some sort of challenge on the other side. If we win, we’ll probably be allowed to see Asmodeus. And…William.”
Yi-kin said, “Maybe game already start. Maybe when we go to Netherworld siu gwai kill us.”
Diana thought on that. “If that was all he wanted, he could have tried already.”
She accepted a lantern from Yi-kin and took a step towards the portal.
“Lady Diana, m ho—!” Yi-kin cried out.
She stopped at the opening and turned back to him. “I’m sorry, Yi-kin, but I have no choice. And I’d tell you that you don’t either, but it would be pointless, wouldn’t it?”
Yi-kin paused long enough to parse her sentence, then nodded. “Yes. Pointless. I go first.”
With that he raised his lantern and stepped through the gateway into the Netherworld.
Diana was about to follow when a voice caused her to draw up short.
“Diana….”
She spun about, both thrilled and incredulous. The voice belonged to Stephen Chappell.
He was there, impossibly, standing in the middle of the cavern; cats slept peacefully nearby, unconcerned by his presence.
In fact, the cats at Stephen’s feet were purring.
He was looking at her seriously, with a hint of anger, or disappointment. “You were warned not to do this,” he said.
She swallowed in a suddenly dry throat, and realized she had no idea how to answer.
He walked to her, and she noticed that his feet seemed to find their own way miraculously through the now-placid feline guardians, and then she wondered if his feet were actually passing through the cats. Still, his presence in front of her, now only inches away, felt real enough. If anything, it felt too real; she was acutely aware of him, of his very essence.
“I….” she started, then had nothing else to say.
“It may not be too late to save your friend. Step through only long enough to bring him back, then get out of this place. Samhain will be done by the time you come back, and you’ll be able to leave safely. Leave…and don’t return.”
“Who…or what are you?” she asked.
“I told you before, Diana: Just as there are forces for evil in these worlds, so there are universal forces for good. I am simply a representative of those forces. And they are very concerned for you.”
She demanded, “Then why don’t they ever help me?”
“They have helped you,” he affirmed.
“When?” she asked.
“On several occasions. I’ve provided information, and other times you’ve been given protection. For example, when you escaped the lizard men’s realm in Los Angeles, we saw to it that you and your companions survived.”
“There was a young man who was with me there, Manuel, who died. Why did your friends let that happen?”
Stephen thought briefly, then answered, “As I recall, that young man was killed not by any supernatural creature, but by a shotgun blast.”
She nodded. “So I’m on my own when it comes to guns, is that what you’re saying?”
Stephen looked away, seemingly chastened. “Believe me, Diana, if we could have saved that young man, we would have.”
“My friend Isadora, then. Or will you simply dismiss that as an accident with a letter opener?”
“The answer should be obvious: Your medium’s spirit had entered the Netherworld, as she searched for answers to your questions.”
She wanted to tell him that wasn’t possible, that Isadora hadn’t died in part because of what she’d asked…but she felt the crushing truth of it, and the guilt threatened to overwhelm her.
Stephen sensed how distraught she was, and softened his tone. “You didn’t kill her, Diana…but something in the Netherworld did. Step through that gateway, and you completely relinquish any protection from us whatsoever.”
“Why?”
“We have no foothold in the Netherworld; it belo
ngs to the dark ones. If you enter into their kingdom, you place yourself utterly under their control. We won’t be able to aid you at all. You’ll be quite alone.”
Mina chose that moment to curl around Diana’s feet, meowing softly. Diana smiled down at her, then looked back up at Stephen. “Apparently not quite alone.”
He also offered Mina a fond look, but then returned to Diana. “You can’t save William.”
“Why not?”
Stephen looked away, silent, and Diana’s ire rose. “I’m sorry, Stephen, but you’re not much of a guardian angel. You offer only vague hints and try to tell me that your side has been protecting and helping me all along, but strangely enough it feels to me as if my friends and I have done everything on our own. Now unless you can offer me tangible reasons for not attempting to find William, or tell me exactly what to expect in the Netherworld, our conversation is ended, I think.”
He suddenly reached out and took one of her hands in his. “Here’s a tangible reason, then: I want you to stay.”
“With you, you mean?” she asked.
“Yes.”
She felt the warmth of his hand on hers, his almost magnetic pull, his lovely dark eyes; it would have been easy, so easy, to say yes, to take him into her arms, into her bed….
“I’m sorry, Stephen,” she said, after a long moment, pulling her hand from his. “Were it not for William, we could perhaps have enjoyed many a pleasurable evening together.”
He chuckled softly, then ran a hand along her jaw. “I adore your frankness.”
“And sadly, that’s all you can adore.” She pulled away from him, stepping toward the gateway.
Stephen’s jaw clenched for an instant, then he called after her, “You know you won’t survive. And neither will the boy.”
“Goodbye, Stephen.” She turned toward the gateway, and Mina ran through ahead of her, disappearing into the Netherworld. Diana was lifting her foot for the final step that would carry her across when he called one last time:
“Wait, Diana….”