Guardian Cats and the Lost Books of Alexandria

by Rahma Krambo

  “You like having these scruffy strays in your face all the time? Can’t you see there’s something wrong with them? These cats are not normal."

  "You're telling me."

  "It's their magical powers. They get it from this book, I tell you. Get it away from them, and you won't have any more problems."

  "Why don't you deal with them? Why are you asking me?"

  Lazer hung his head. "Take a good look at me. I was the runt in my family. They didn't even expect me to live. I’ve got a good head, but physically… you tell me. You think I could handle these cats?”

  “You have a point.”

  “I need someone like you and your crew. Tough guys.”

  Sting lit up. "We can handle 'em for sure. Right, boys?"

  "Right!" agreed Tank and Crimmany.

  Sting paced the length of his truck bed, his center of operations. The other raccoons kept still while he plotted. After a good while, he stopped thinking and gave an order.

  “Crimmany, front and center,” he said. “I need you to deliver a message."

  Chapter 39: What magic book?

  By now all the Dead Cats had heard about the fight and Polo’s kidnapping. They were in their own headquarters in the library storage room and Tweezer was recounting the details, as he knew them, for the umpteenth time.

  “What’s Sting want a book for?” asked one of the cats.

  “There’s a jillion books here. Why doesn’t he just take one?” asked another.

  Marco sat sullenly on top of a card catalogue. Cats could listen to the same story over and over again and never tire of it, but he was growing impatient. This was getting them no closer to rescuing Polo or protecting the Book. He washed his face and listened. The Dead Cats’ conversation revealed one important point, and that was how little they really knew about anything.

  He had his own set of questions. How could Cicero believe he'd betrayed him? How did Sting know about the Book? And how much did Bait really know?

  There was movement outside and a head appeared in the window. The raccoon looked nervously around the room. “Which one of you’s Marco?” he demanded.

  Marco stood up in surprise.

  “This message is for you.” The raccoon cleared his throat and spoke like he was repeating the words from memory. “Deliver the magic book to me, I mean Sting, in one hour.” His head disappeared and popped back up. “Bring it to him at his headquarters.”

  He disappeared again. Tweezer was rushing over to look out the window when the raccoon popped up for the third time. “If you don’t show, your little buddy’s dead meat.”

  Now all of the cats ran over to the window, crowding each other for a view of the raccoon as he clumsily clawed his way down the tree.

  They all began talking at once, but everyone was pretty much saying the same thing.

  “Magic book? What magic book?”

  Marco slipped out unnoticed.

  Chapter 40: Neither cat nor human

  Marco had no problem locating Sting’s headquarters. It wouldn’t have taken his exceptional sense of smell to detect raccoon odor radiating from the brown truck. Besides, there was Polo, tied to the bumper. Even asleep he looked forlorn.

  He must have sensed Marco’s presence because he woke up, squealing with delight, and began running towards him. But the leash caught him short.

  Sting came out of the camper to see what the commotion was about. “Knock it off!” he yelled and yanked on the leash, choking Polo as he pulled him back. Then he noticed Marco. “Hey, Rat! Look who’s here! It’s your big buddy.”

  “Let him go!” demanded Marco.

  “Sure, Marco. No problem. But I don’t see no book. You didn’t come all the way out here without it, did you?”

  “It’s not mine to give you, Sting.”

  “I don’t care whose it is. Steal it!”

  “What are you going to do with a book? You can’t even read.”

  “I hear this one’s special. Maybe I won’t have to read it. Maybe it will read itself to me.”

  If Marco had any doubts about a traitor in his midst, they were dispelled now. Even if he didn’t have his facts straight, there was no way Sting would know about The Book of Motion by himself. His head hung down, weighted by a muddle of problems. How had his life gotten so complicated?

  “What a moron. I don’t know why I’m bothering with the likes of you. Here I thought you'd do anything to get your friend back," said Sting. “Time to proceed with Plan B.” Sting yelled back inside the camper, “You boys know what to do. Now go!”

  Tank squeezed through the door, Sting not bothering to move to let him out.

  “I’m calling in backup,” he told Marco. “Friends who are itchin' for a good fight.”

  “I’m not afraid,” Marco countered. “Cats love a good fight.”

  “You’ll be sorry you didn’t make this nice and simple, Marco. Be prepared for things to get rough." Sting looked at Polo, "Right, little buddy?”

  Polo was shivering, his eyes pleading for mercy.

  Marco needed some leverage. Something besides another attack. He’d already been in too many fights with Sting. He would have to go about this differently, and he’d already given some thought to it. A guardian was allowed to use the power of the Book if it was a matter of life and death. Surely, this was one of those times.

  He had memorized the magical words. Cicero said he wasn’t ready to receive the spell, but their haunting sound had stayed with him. So he spoke the words, hoping to transform into a human like Cicero had done. Nothing happened at first. Marco repeated the spell. Again nothing. What was he doing wrong? He tried a third time and was suddenly catapulted into a new form. He was the same size as before and still on all fours, but he had the arms and legs of a human. They were covered in fur, but his face felt naked and his ears were gone.

  He was neither cat nor human, but a frightful hodgepodge of both. Sting and Polo were both gaping at him. When Sting started laughing, Marco, mortified at his condition, ran for cover, tripping and falling, forced to use legs that didn’t fit his body.

  Chapter 41: Caffeina

  Marco returned to the library in a strange mood, smelling of human and raccoon, warning the Dead Cats of impending danger. When someone asked him what was wrong, he snapped at them. But he’d taken charge and was giving orders. They needed lookouts because the raccoons were bringing in recruits for a fight. Marco said they needed their own recruits, that they needed to round up some strays.

  The air was charged with electricity and Caffeina chose to join the round up rather than sit around waiting. It turned out that only she and Tweezer had volunteered.

  “How much farther?” whined Caffeina, after they had been walking forever. She thought it might be fun going on an adventure, but she should have known better. How could anything be fun with Tweezer?

  Now she wished she’d stayed behind, because her toe pads hurt.

  “Tweezer! You never told me it would be this far. For that matter, you never even told me where we’re going."

  Tweezer did not slow his pace or miss a beat.

  “We’ve no time to waste, Caffeina.”

  “I know. It’s just that I figured stray cats would be… well, like, closer to town.”

  “You don’t get out much, do you?”

  “You are such a pain, Tweezer! Why are you so mean?”

  “I’m not mean. I just don’t have time to explain things.”

  After a few blocks he slowed his pace. “We’re almost there.” They turned the corner and Tweezer crossed the street in front of a dilapidated old house. The yard was surrounded by a chain link fence, and the house was wrapped with a wide porch supported by thick pillars covered in dry paint curls.

  It looked abandoned, but there were cats dozing on chairs and in laundry baskets. Kittens scrambled around the dirt yard, playing with broken twigs. Aluminum pie tins of dry food lined the porch.

  For once, Caffeina was speechless. She had no idea so man
y cats could live in one place. Tweezer climbed up the trunk of a tree and leaped off inside the fenced yard. He marched up to the porch like he belonged.

  “Welcome home, Tweez. How’s it going?”

  This was where Tweezer lived? Caffeina never thought about where the other cats went when they weren’t together. She’d always been a little ashamed because she lied about living at the Sleep N’Go. She picked her way around mud puddles and tried not to breathe too deeply. This was so much worse than the motel.

  She joined Tweezer so she wouldn’t get stuck out in the yard having to talk with some awful-looking stray.

  “Tweezer! Where you been? Hanging out with bookworms?" yelled one dirty white cat.

  "They’re dead cats, supposedly,” said another.

  “Aren’t we good enough for you anymore?”

  “Maybe we’re not dead enough,” joked one.

  To Caffeina’s surprise, Tweezer didn’t get uptight with these cats like he did with her. He greeted each one like they were long lost brothers and sisters, all of them teasing each other good-naturedly.

  “Look what he brought with him! Hey, gorgeous. What’s your name?”

  “Wow, Tweezer. How’d you ever get a girl like that? You being so ugly and all.”

  Caffeina was appalled they thought she was Tweezer’s girl.

  “Naw, she’s just a friend,” said Tweezer.

  “Sure. We believe that."

  “Hey, Tweez! If she’s not your girl, maybe I can have her,” said Boris, an obese orange and white cat. “What about it, baby?”

  “No way, creep.” Caffeina said. She was not used to such crudeness. The Dead Cats, except for Bait, were always respectful.

  “Aw, you’re hurtin’ my feelings!” said Boris. “I need a pretty girl to talk to.”

  “Okay, come here. I do have something to say,” said Caffeina.

  Boris came waddling over with a stupid grin on his face, and the minute he was close enough, Caffeina smacked him a good one, drawing a thin line of blood on his nose.

  “Geez, you don’t have to get violent,” said Boris, dragging his tail as he walked away.

  Meanwhile, Tweezer had jumped onto a table. “Alright. Listen up, everybody. I came here for a reason and I don’t have a lot of time for explanations, so I’ll get right to the point. We need your help."

  "We? Like who's ‘we’?"

  "The Dead Cats Society. We’ve been attacked by a pack of raccoons. They’re roaming through town, looking for trouble, and…”

  “Raccoons! Those mangy varmints,” interrupted a cat.

  “What’s a raccoon?” asked a kitten.

  “But…” continued Tweezer, holding up his paw. “This pack is particularly vicious and they’ve called for more recruits. The rumors are flying, but if they’re true we won’t stand a chance.”

  “What’d you do to get them so riled up, Tweezer?”

  “It’s kinda complicated, but they’ve kidnapped one of our friends and are holding him hostage.”

  “Kidnapped! Who’d kidnap a cat? I thought everyone wanted to get rid of us.”

  “Um, well,” Tweezer faltered. “Polo’s not exactly a cat.”

  "What exactly is he?" said one.

  Tweezer looked to Caffeina for help. She shrugged. “Might as well tell them the truth,” she said.

  "It’s a ferret,” said Tweezer.

  “A what?”

  “He’s a parrot?” inquired a half-deaf, half-tailed Manx. “Ruby’s been looking kinda’ lonely lately.”

  Tweezer’s look was one Caffeina had never seen before. Sort of a helpless, exasperated expression, but this time he was not annoyed with her. He took a deep breath and explained to her, like he was taking her into his confidence. “Ruby is a parrot, a long time resident here at Mrs. Wilcox’s.”

  To the others, he said, “No, not a parrot. A ferret.”

  There was dead silence until a kitten piped up and asked, “What’s a ferret?”

  Again, Tweezer appealed to Caffeina. “Can you help me out here?”

  The strays were waiting.

  She sighed. “Well, he looks a little like us, but he’s long and has small ears.” That wasn’t much help. Then she remembered how Marco had described him. “Oh, yeah. He’s funny.”

  “Ooooh,” the cats all breathed out simultaneously, as if it explained everything.

  “So I’m asking for your help,” Tweezer went on. “How about an adventure?”

  The cats stared at him in utter astonishment.

  Tweezer plowed on. “What are you doing here? You don’t have to hunt for food. You’ve all gone soft. Come on and live a little. Break out of your routine.”

  Caffeina thought Tweezer was overselling the mission, but she admired the spirit of his speech.

  But the cats weren’t buying it.

  “Adventure? Why in the world would we want an adventure? We like eating and sleeping and we love being spoiled by our human,” said one.

  “Yeah, why would we risk our necks to fight wild raccoons? That’s not an adventure. That’s suicide!” said another.

  Tweezer pleaded with them, which was something he wasn’t used to doing. “What if you were in trouble? Wouldn’t you want someone to come and rescue you?”

  “Tweezer. Look around. In case you forgot, we’ve already been rescued."

  Tweezer didn’t respond, and Caffeina worried he’d run out of arguments. Before she even realized what she was doing, she jumped onto the table next to him. “You don’t realize how serious this is. These raccoons are not only out for our blood, but you may well be their next victims. And then you’ll be begging for our help.”

  “Well, well. The little princess has spoken,” said Lulu, an old female, who was not aging gracefully. “You’re scaring us, Princess.”

  Contrary to her normal behavior, Caffeina ignored her. She’d deal with this female later. Besides, she was beginning to enjoy delivering this little pep talk.

  “There’s more at stake here than defense and rescue. They’re planning a heist.”

  Tweezer leaned over close to her. “You have to use simpler words,” he whispered.

  “Oh, sure. Uh, a heist is like a burglary.” She looked at Tweezer and he motioned to go down a notch.

  “Stealing.”

  “Yeah, what can they steal from a cat?”

  She knew it was going to sound strange, but what could she do? “A book. From the library.”

  “What’s a library?” asked the kitten.

  “Oh, my. That does sound serious,” said Lulu. “You Dead Cats are so weird. The rumors are true.”

  “Why would we care about some stupid book?” yelled Boris, the dirty white fat cat.

  This was not going well. Caffeina thought quickly and decided to take a different approach. Even though she’d never read much more than fashion magazines, she had absorbed Cicero’s teachings. She had listened to his tales about the Guardian Cats, their gallant and noble deeds and now, when she needed them, they came to her rescue. Just knowing about them inspired her.

  “Think about others for a change. Don't be concerned only with your own lot. Test your courage and strength." She paused and took a deep breath. "See what you’re made of. You won't know until you’ve put it to the test.”

  She looked into their faces. “Think of it as a quest,” she said a little breathlessly.

  Caffeina felt Tweezer staring in amazement at her.

  “What’s a quest?” asked a kitten.

  Chapter 42: When rumors are not enough

  Bait was on the library roof. He felt the charge in the air. Tonight was the night. Tonight he would get his revenge.

  He never thought that treating a ‘girl’ badly would put him out of the league of Guardians. Then of course, there was that time he let his shield down. That fraction of a second had cost him dearly, but it was Cicero who would pay. His old mentor, who had taken him in and given him the attention he'd never received.

  It was all he eve
r wanted, and when he first met Cicero, all that had changed. The old cat took him everywhere. They would sit for hours together in the chambers, and Bait would listen to the Guardian stories and countless other stories of adventure and intrigue. They went out at night, stalking and hunting. He told Cicero about his own past, his shows, his awards. Finally, he told him about being dumped by his human.

  Then Cicero abandoned him. Just like that, it was all over. Bait kept up his appearances. That was the one thing he excelled at. But inwardly, he seethed with resentment. He vowed that, whatever it took, he would steal the thing that mattered most to Cicero.

  He was not in a hurry, and he took up reading books on magic. He discovered he had a gift for it.

  At first, he learned how to change his appearance in small ways. His fur color, his eyes. Then he concentrated on more radical alterations until he was able to completely disguise himself. It was then that he realized the intense attraction he had toward Cicero's Book. More than revenge, Bait wanted the Book for himself.

  A shadow moving on the roof crept over and sat next to Bait.

  “You make a good raccoon," said the Whisperer.

  “I know. An opposable thumb makes everything possible," Bait said. He felt himself starting to shake. He could almost taste the power of magic, as if it were a drug. Black magic. It was so delicious.

  Now when he needed its power the most, something was wrong.

  "I can’t hold the shapes as long," he told the shadow.

  "You must get your power from the Book now. It is the only power that will serve one so advanced as you."

  "I'm working on it!" flared Bait, but he felt himself growing weaker.

  He could almost feel the vibration that came right before he brought about a transformation. Enough to make him crave it all the more, but when his power was too weak, it made his craving stronger.

  "You must control yourself," breathed the Whisperer.

  "Yes. You are right," said Bait. He tried to calm himself. “Tonight I will know if my plan will work. If Cicero is worried about the safety of the Book, he will try to move it. In all this time, I have not been allowed to get close to it. Tonight, though, you will see something amazing. It is sure to frighten Cicero into action.”