by Rahma Krambo
“Aw. Poor kitty. Looks like you lost one of your pals,” said Sting. “But save your crying for later. After you’re all dead.”
“That’s a good one, Sting!” said Crimmany.
Sting was ignoring Crimmany and staring hard at Tweezer instead. Tweezer raised to his full height and more than met his look. “I believe we were in the middle of a fight,” he said.
“Looks like you’ve lost more fights than you’ve won,” Sting replied. “Just like you’re going to lose this one.”
“You’ve haven’t seen my opponents when I’m done with them.”
“Fightin' kitties doesn’t count.”
“I’ve wrestled with you before.”
“Just warm up exercises.”
The sound of sirens was in the background, growing louder. Tweezer tuned it out, so he could keep all his senses for the battle. He dared not look away from Sting, but he was aware of Tank and Crimmany. They flanked their leader on both sides. Then there was the two other raccoons hovering around the edges.
Tweezer moved to one side to keep his opponent slightly off balance.
“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” goaded Tank.
Caffeina, however, could not keep hers. “What’s the matter with you Sting? Why do you enjoy making our lives miserable? We are peace-loving cats, but I’ll tell you right now, you will be sorry you got on our bad side!”
“You cats are such comedians. I’m dying from laughter,” said Crimmany.
The two combatants continued to size each other up, both on their haunches, thrusting paws in threatening gestures, each provoking the other into making the first move.
Tweezer had his eyes locked onto Sting, but he knew what was going on around him, as though he had eyes in the back of his head.
Caffeina saw the movement at the same time Tweezer did. “Tweezer! Watch out!” One of the raccoons at his back lurched forward to attack him.
Tweezer lunged forward to avoid the attack. At the same time, he shoved Crimmany into Sting’s body with a force that took both raccoons down.
Tweezer whirled around to face the other raccoons, while Pudge, Skitzo and Caffeina had already tackled the other three.
But Tweezer soon realized they weren’t home free. Raccoons came creeping out of the bushes, their eyes on fire. They swallowed up the very air around them and dove into the melee.
It was a noisy, riotous brawl and the cats were completely engulfed by their attackers, the odds totally against them.
No one saw Bait get up from his fall and slink away.
Chapter 49: Would you like something for the pain?
The thunder no longer came in soft rolls. It hit with deafening cracks and competed with the blare of sirens.
Marco was still on the roof, licking his wounds. He didn’t care that he was getting soaked. His leg, badly bitten, was too painful for him to move. However, as torn and bloody as he was, he was satisfied he’d taken care of Bait. Actually, he was pretty proud of the way he’d handled the whole thing and couldn’t wait to tell Cicero.
“You were lucky.”
Marco jerked his head up in surprise. He saw only the rain hitting the dark tiles of the roof. The voice spoke again in a low murmur. “Lucky this time. Maybe not so lucky the next.”
“Who are you?”
“I’m your inspiration.”
“You are? Why can’t I see you?”
“I work behind the scenes.” Lighting streaked white veins across the black sky and Marco saw the blur of a shadow where the voice came from.
“Would you like something for the pain?” Without waiting for an answer, the shadow swept over and covered Marco like a cloak. The pain disappeared and he no longer felt the rain falling on him.
“Isn’t that better?”
“Yes, very nice,” said Marco, feeling pleasantly drowsy.
“What are your plans now?”
“Plans? I don’t know. I should find Cicero and see what can be done about putting out the fire.”
“Don’t worry. The firemen will take care of it.”
“Good. That’s very good,” Marco answered groggily.
“We need to have a talk, Marco.”
“We do? I just want to sleep.”
“Yes, you will sleep soon enough. A nice, long nap. But first, I want to ask. Have you really thought about what it means to be a Guardian?”
“Sure.” Marco peered out through half-opened eyes, wondering who he was talking to.
“You should be aware of some things. Can I tell you now?”
“Okay.” Marco sighed contentedly. He felt happy and warm, in spite of being wet. It was nice to have someone to talk to.
“You should think about what it means to be a Guardian. For the rest of your life, you will be bound to the Book. You cannot leave it, put it aside, or go on a journey, even a short one. No matter what, you will spend the rest of your days as the library cat. Day after day. Year after year. It’s not an exciting life. Not the life of adventure you had planned.”
“Really? I hadn’t thou…”
“I know you hadn’t. That’s why I’m here. To help you think.”
“Oh, well thank you.” Marco could barely stay awake and was not at all sure what this thing… or whoever was talking to him… was saying.
“You will never be able to tell anyone what you do. Not even the librarians will know. You will live in obscurity, petted by old women, tortured by small children. No one will appreciate your sacrifices.”
“That doesn’t sound…” Marco struggled to stay awake and think coherently.
“Exactly. I thought you should know. Being a Guardian is not anything like being a hero. It’s more like being a slave.”
Marco couldn’t stay awake any longer. He closed his eyes and fell into a deep sleep.
When Marco woke later, the rain had stopped and Lily was licking his wounds.
“This looks bad,” she said.
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s a very deep wound. It could get infected.”
“Really, I’m okay.”
“Mum gave me some special things to say for wounds. It should heal up in no time.”
Lily was so confident in her abilities that Marco surrendered. He was out of sorts but didn’t know why. Slowly, the strange conversation he had on the roof came back to him.
“I heard that evil thing talking to you,” she said.
“You did? You were here?”
“Yes, and I just want to tell you that you shouldn’t listen to voices like that. They don’t care about you. They don’t care about anybody. They are mean and selfish and you’ll end up just like Bait if you listen to them.”
Chapter 50: Meetings
Cicero went out the window. The cats and raccoons were having a knockdown drag-out fight on the lawn of the library, and fire was glowing through the windows. But Cicero was forced to leave it all behind and head for the Springs, where he hoped to find Alaniah to let him in the vault.
He crossed the rain-soaked street and was heading for the park when he encountered a lone cat.
“What’s going on?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, it’s pretty noisy around here. Trouble?”
“I don’t have time to talk.” Cicero strained his neck to look ahead. He really needed to get moving again.
“Maybe I could help out.”
“Go get in the middle of the brawl, if you like.”
“Hey, you don’t have to be rude.”
Something about this cat was familiar in a disturbing way. “Do I know you?” Cicero cocked his head and really looked at the cat this time.
“No. I’m just passing through.” He shrank back into the shadows a little.
Cicero didn’t have time to worry about who this cat was. “Well, you should keep on going. There’s nothing but trouble here right now.”
“Not very friendly, are you?”
“No.”
“I’ve heard rumors
about the cats in this place.”
“Yeah, what kind of rumors?” Cicero shifted impatiently.
“Something about dead cats… ghost cats. Weird and eccentric. You one of those?”
Cicero narrowed his eyes. “Who are you?”
“Just offering a friendly hand. You don’t have to be so suspicious.”
This made Cicero all the more suspicious. “Must be my eyes are playing tricks on me. You have the voice of another, but your fur is curious… it is wearing thin.”
“You speak strangely. You must be one of the dead cats… or possibly one of the noble Guardians I have heard about.”
“You have heard about the Guardians? Might you be a reader cat?”
“Most assuredly.”
“Then you are more deceptive than I even imagined. How did you change your appearance in this way?”
“Your eyes are tricking you.”
“I am not using only my eyes. There are other ways of seeing,” said Cicero.
“You speak in such cryptic language. What do you have to hide?”
“Why do you ask? You know the answer already,” said Cicero.
“Then….” the cat paused. “You should know what you did to me.”
“What I did!” Cicero exclaimed. No pretense was possible now.
“Yes. What you did was unforgivable. What were you thinking when you abandoned me?”
“That’s what you call it?” Cicero asked, his fury rising. “The dishonor of your actions was enough to disqualify you from the Dead Cats Society, let alone from becoming a Guardian.”
“Then why didn’t you kick me out? Why did you let me stay around, thinking there was some hope of regaining your trust?”
“Maybe I did have some hope.”
“What was my big crime?”
“You wanted it too much,” said Cicero. “This isn’t a job anyone should desire. The responsibility is too great.”
They made wide circles around each other, keeping their eyes locked together.
“This charade is enough to assure me that I made the right decision, if I ever doubted. What are you doing appearing in disguise? What are you hiding, dear Baitengirth?”
It seemed that his use of Bait’s full name was his flashpoint. His old companion charged at him like some dreadful demon.
Cicero was not without resources for dealing with such things. A multitude of electrical charges remained in the air from the storm. When the fallen apprentice was only a breath way, Cicero drew power from the invisible currents and aimed them at Bait.
The changeling cat disappeared without a trace.
Chapter 51: Beat ‘em with fries
Polo ran randomly through yards and across parking lots, dodging cars and dogs and a baby carriage. He was not tired of running, especially since he’d been tied up so long, but a thought stopped him. It wasn’t something that happened very often, but he thought about how Tweezer had saved his life and how he and the others were fighting the raccoons. The cats were in trouble and here he was, running away. What was he doing here under a tree, when they needed his help?
He didn’t think any further, like what chance a silly ferret would have in fending off a dozen gangster raccoons. He chewed on what was left of the leash, thinking more than he’d ever thought in his life, when he heard footsteps. When they got close enough, Polo saw it was a pack of mangy cats.
“Hey!” one called out.
Polo loped over to meet them.
“Maybe you could give us directions?”
“Depends on where you want to go,” said Polo.
“The library.”
“I just came from the library, and I don’t think you want to go there now.”
“Why not?” asked one of the cats.
“The library’s on fire and there’s a pack of raccoons in a brawl with the cats.”
“That’s the place.”
“Really?”
“We’re friends of Tweezers. He asked for backup and we’re it.”
“Tweezer could use some help, but I have to tell you, those raccoons are brutal, and I don’t know that you could do much good.”
“Well, we’re here now. We have to do something.”
Polo decided to tell them what he’d been pondering. “I’ve been thinking of trying a diversionary tactic,” he said. It was a term he’d learned from Marco, and he’d been waiting for a chance to use it.
“Say what?”
“You know, a way to take their attention away from the cats, with something they want more than fighting.”
“Well, you seem to know so much. What do you think would get their attention?”
“Simple,” said Polo. “Raccoons are pigs. They love to eat more than anything. We’ll tempt them with food.”
“Brilliant idea. But how do you propose we get food to them? We’re cats. It’s not like we can steal food and lug it over there.”
Polo smiled. “That’s why you need me.”
The one cat who seemed to be the group’s leader brought the rest of them into a huddle. Then he went back to Polo. “Okay. Here’s the deal. We weren’t gonna come, ‘cause we like our lives and don’t want anything to mess with that. Understand? But some of us got to thinking about what Tweezer and Caffeina said, and it made sense. We’d want help if we were in trouble. So here we are, but we don’t have much of a plan. So, we took a vote. We’ll go with your plan.”
Polo suddenly found himself in charge of a troupe of cats. He puffed up with pride. “First thing we need to do is scope out some food. Anything will do. They are not picky eaters.” He almost added, ‘not like cats,’ but caught himself in time.
Boris sniffed the air. “I smell French fries.”
“Take us to the fries, then,” commanded Polo, and they followed Boris to a dumpster.
Polo scaled the large bin in a flash. The cats waited below.
“Here, catch!” He tossed bags of fries over the side until he was satisfied they all had one. He secured one in his mouth and hopped down.
“Follow me.” The cats each had a bag clenched in their teeth and they trotted down the street, surely a strange sight if anyone had been looking out their window.
Once they made it to the library, only Polo was brave enough to get close to the raccoons and let them get a whiff. But it was enough. The first raccoon picked up the scent and lost interest in fighting. The stray cats dropped their bags and beat a hasty retreat.
The raccoons knocked each other over to get the fries, leaving the Dead Cats stunned but grateful.
Chapter 52: Things left unsaid
The fire had been quelled before any major damage occurred. The entire newspaper section was reduced to ashes, but it was the smoke which created the greatest hazard, and the library had to be closed for several days. Cicero slept uneasily in the magnolia tree, which did not suit him in the least. Marco kept him company.
“Were you scared?” asked Marco. “Didn’t it remind you of the fire at Alexandria? I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw Bait setting the fire. How could he change so much? I swear, he looked like a raccoon at first. And up on the roof, he was talking to a shadow who wanted him to kill you. The whole thing was so weird. But I stopped him! I would never let anyone hurt you, Cicero.”
“Thank you, dear Marco,” Cicero said wearily. “You have proven yourself worthy. I have chosen well after all.”
Marco had stopped short of telling Cicero about his own conversation with the Whisperer. He couldn’t tell him how close he’d come to walking away from the whole thing. It was impossible to think of it now without cringing. If it weren’t for Lily, well… he didn’t want to think about it.
Cicero wasn’t telling everything, either. He never told Marco about his own encounter with Bait, preferring to let Marco enjoy his victory. He would need this triumph to build on for the future.
But why hadn’t he used the power of the book to do something? He’d gone after Alaniah, but he could have done something else. Why was he so i
ncompetent? Was it age? Was he losing his power so gradually he didn’t even notice? No, he’d had the presence of mind to use it to defeat Bait. Still, he was alarmed at how weak and tired he felt.
Chapter 53: Miss Pinkley
In spite of the library being officially closed, it was busier than usual. Insurance adjustors, fire inspectors, police and health officials nosed around with clipboards.
When Professor Chin arrived for the purpose of examining the older manuscripts, Miss Pinkley assumed he was sent by someone higher up.
She was rather taken with him, even though she would never have admitted it. Maybe it was the fedora, or his square jar and solemn face punctuated by a trim moustache. It could have been his soft-spoken manner. But most likely it was the eye patch which suggested an intriguing past. He carried a large leather satchel, not in a casual way, like a lot of people, but as though it held his most precious possessions.
He inquired about the location of older books and manuscripts, offering his condolences to her about the fire. He said he hoped they didn’t lose anything too valuable, but this was his area of expertise and he would be able to give her a full report.
“Oh,” said Miss Pinkley. “There’s also a small collection upstairs. I don’t know if you’re interested in that one. It’s mostly local history, but there are some very old books in that room. We were worried about the smoke damage since it collected in the balcony area, but our big concern was Cicero.”
“Cicero?”
“Oh,” laughed Miss Pinkley, wondering at the sudden paleness that came over the man. “Cicero is our library cat. He pretty much owns the local history room.”
“Maybe I could start there. Yes, that would be good.”
“Certainly Professor. I’ll show you where it is.” Miss Pinkley got up, happy with the opportunity to escort the man to the room, but stopped short when an insurance adjustor approached her with some questions.
“Don’t worry,” Professor Chin assured her. “I’ll find my way.”
Miss Pinkley sighed. “We are getting ready to go home for the night. You only have a short time left today.”