Guardian Cats and the Lost Books of Alexandria

by Rahma Krambo

  Chapter 54: Legacies

  Professor Chin entered the small room crammed with old books, many lying in piles on a long polished wood table. It was untidy, obviously not kept up to standards, he thought, but then this wasn’t the British Library, was it? The sight of the cat, even sleeping on a green velvet chair, caught his breath. The click of the metal latch as he closed the door behind him startled the cat into wakefulness.

  “I thought you might be dead by now, after that trick you pulled in London,” said the Professor.

  The cat bolted upright, back arched. Professor Chin smiled benevolently at Cicero. “But of course, you must have nine lives like any normal cat.”

  He brushed the dampness collecting on his palms onto his coat. “You probably never thought I’d find you in this backwater place. But I don’t give up, once I have a purpose and besides…” He lowered his shoulder, letting his satchel slide to the table, and thought about how much he should reveal. But, he laughed, what was he worried about? After all, he was only talking to a cat. He kept his tone friendly. “I have extra help now, the Finders. Creatures who travel without passports or reservations; they have no boundaries in time or space. You’ll never be able to hide your Book well enough to evade them.”

  He paced along the table’s edge, never losing sight of Cicero, careful not to make him too nervous. Careful even more so, not to give in to his rage. The cat was again standing in his way. He loathed having to negotiate with this vicious creature once again.

  The Finders had led him here but wouldn’t… or couldn’t… tell him the exact location of the Book. He considered their services inadequate for the price he paid and would take his revenge on them when he had the power to do so. But he’d think about that later. The cat was growling at him.

  He stepped to the far side of the table, calculating, despising. “It’s been a long time. Do you even remember me? Maybe you need a reminder.” He removed his fedora and placed it on top of the satchel.

  “Every morning, when I look in the mirror, I remember you.”

  Professor Chin reached behind his head and pulled his eye patch off.

  “Every morning, I am forced to wear this to cover my scarred and useless eye.”

  The cool air hit the moist, shrunken pulp of his empty eye socket. “It’s your legacy to me, but I have a legacy for you as well.” He replaced his eye patch and returned the fedora to cover his head. “My legacy to you, dear Cicero, is a curse. I will create a special one and place it upon you until the end of time.”

  Chapter 55: Language of the Unseen

  Cicero was pretty sure he could escape being captured by Professor Chin, but the dark form slinking around the room, little more than a shadow, he wasn’t so sure about. He still had nightmares about these creatures that seemed to follow the Professor like evil pets. Now even the books seemed to recoil in horror from the presence of this madman.

  But, on closer examination, he saw this wasn’t one of the creatures that almost smothered him when Professor Chin had trapped him in a cage in London. This time, there was only one, and it had a voice.

  At the same time, the Professor was coaxing him with artificially sweetened words. “Come on, old man. You’ve had your distinguished career as the library cat. None of the librarians will know what happened. What do they know anyway? I will relieve you of your duties and you will be free to read your dusty old tomes.”

  Cicero jumped off the chair and began to walk in a wide circle around the Professor, hissing.

  “You foolish cat! You think you can intimidate me! How absurd! Oblige me and I will grant you peace. Cross me and not only will I destroy you, I will destroy the preposterous notion of the legendary Guardian Cats.”

  Cicero continued to circle the Professor, who turned in order to keep his one good eye on him.

  “Shall I bring in my companions?” threatened the man. “I must warn you. I can’t always control them.”

  Cicero stopped moving and began to speak directly to the Professor, translating his words into the language of the Unseen, one he knew the Professor would understand. “I will never reveal the Book to you! I will not make that mistake again.”

  The Professor sighed. “That is truly unfortunate… just as we are getting reacquainted.” To the Voice, as Cicero thought of it, the Professor said, “He’s resisting me. Now we must get serious.”

  Cicero had no idea what he would be up against this time, but whatever the Professor had in mind was certain to be grim.

  Chapter 56: The color of humans

  Marco was outside Cicero’s chamber. This was the first time he’d ever seen it closed and he pawed and meowed at the door. He heard a man’s voice on the other side and smelled an unfamiliar, bitter smell.

  After a bit, the librarian appeared. “Oh dear, this will never do, will it Marco? Cicero hates being locked in.” She opened the door and poked her head in briefly, “Professor, we’ll be closing in fifteen minutes. And, if you don’t mind, we like to keep the door open for our library cats.”

  Miss Pinkley left and Marco scurried into the room. From behind the velvet chair he had a good view of the man. He blinked once, then again, but it didn’t change what he saw. Most humans came in shades of blue or green. This one was surrounded by a smoky haze and seemed to be talking to an even darker shapeless being.

  Cicero walked over to sit beside him. In a tone heavy with regret, Cicero spoke. “Of all the stories, I have not told you the one I really should have. But it didn’t seem possible that this mad man would find me again. So far from home.”

  Marco knew this was not the time to ask questions and was grateful that Cicero seemed anxious to explain.

  “I am old and I fear I must pass my duties on to you while you are still a novice.” As usual, Cicero’s explanations raised more questions than answers. What do you mean? he wanted to ask. Who is this man and why is he such a strange color?

  Cicero was talking, but Marco was being drawn in by the man’s chanting of words in a strange language.

  Cicero scolded him. “Marco! Do not listen to his dark words. They will affect you in a bad way. It can take a great deal of force—to resist the darkness. Menacing words have their own power, whispering promises and pretending to be your friend. Remember when I was telling you about the power of an idea?”

  With effort, Marco turned his head away from the man’s hypnotic presence towards Cicero. “Humans are their caretakers, but some ideas are born in a bad place, an unbalanced mind. Once implanted, they can fester and feed off old wounds. This dark creature before us—the Professor—has fed and nurtured a bad idea, untamed by the counsel of wiser men, and so it has become a monster.”

  The Professor walked in a circle around the room, turning within his own shadow as he went, and followed by another one. He continued his incantations in an unctuous manner, like a man obsessed with his own importance.

  “He is no longer even its caretaker but he has become its slave. The Book of Motion in the hands of such a madman! We must do everything necessary to prevent these two forces from coming together. The Book of Motion does not recognize the intentions of its possessor.”

  The Professor extended one arm, tilting his head slightly, aligning his good eye to his pointed finger, as though looking through the site of a rifle. He turned in a 360-degree circle, his finger leaving a raven-colored trail, so that when he completed the turn, he was encircled by a dark ring.

  When Cicero shivered, Marco shivered automatically. He tried to crouch closer to the floor in a futile attempt to avoid the wave of cold, dead air that filled the room.

  But there was no avoiding the creature the Professor summoned with the final words of his incantation. “From your world into this world… Enter! Come now and make your presence known!”

  Chapter 57: In the abode where demons linger

  In a place where the Seen and Unseen worlds merge, in the abode where demons linger, preparing for invasions, a black dog-like creature with glowing yellow eye
s surfaced into the library.

  His foul odor curled Cicero’s nose.

  “Welcome, Bodis,” Professor Chin said.

  “Where am I?” snarled the dog.

  “In the library of a hidden treasure.”

  “What do I care for pirates’ booty?” the dog snapped.

  “This treasure is worth more than gold—a Book that will give me power over men’s minds.”

  “A useful book for a change. But what do you need me for?”

  “You see this cat,” he said, pointing to Cicero. “He guards the treasure and refuses to give me the key.”

  The dog whipped his fire-tail around, radiating sparks. “You want me to make him talk?”

  “I think you could persuade him.”

  Cicero’s first instinct was to back up, but there was nowhere to go and he had nothing to lose. He spoke to the Professor, “Your command of the dark creatures is impressive. But why bring them back now? They’ve been behind the wall for eons. You must know how dangerous they are in this world. Even to their commander.”

  “They make useful companions,” said the Professor.

  Cicero hissed, “Your intentions are the vilest of any human. There is nothing in this world that would compel me to let you even get close to the Book!”

  The Professor turned slightly in the direction of the hell hound and swept his arm in a wide arc toward Cicero. The dog obeyed and charged. Cicero leaped straight up, scrambling to keep his hold on the bookshelves. But the hound was in close pursuit, climbing the shelves in a clumsy but relentless chase, singeing Cicero with fire blasts from his tail and spewing saliva over books tumbling to the floor in his wake.

  Chapter 58: Hideous beast

  Marco vaulted up and over the velvet chair onto the hound’s back and dug his claws into the animal’s hideous body.

  The beast continued to scale the bookshelves lathered by the hunt and his bloodthirsty nature. When all three creatures were at the top, Cicero escaped in a flying leap to the floor, barely avoiding the dog's dagger-like fangs.

  Marco was still gripped on the back of the demon animal as the dog inelegantly climbed down from the shelves. Cicero was struggling to get up from his fall, but by the time Marco was on the ground, Cicero had hobbled up to the low shelf under the window and climbed to the sill. He seemed to be waiting for the dog to notice him, and then he jumped out the window. What in the world was he doing?

  When the dog leaped through the opening after Cicero, Marco had no intention of letting go, and so he sailed through the air on the dog’s back. All three of them crashed in a heap on the ground, with Cicero on the bottom. When the beast of a dog arose, the old Guardian lay motionless on the ground, his head and neck twisted, his fur smoldering.

  At first Marco couldn’t understand what had happened to Cicero, and then a ferocious cry pierced the air. It took a minute to realize the sound he heard came from him.

  The hound twisted his head back, seeming to realize for the first time something was fastened onto him. Marco knew he was doomed, but if he let go, he felt the dog would eat him alive.

  The hound flung himself into a frenzy trying to dislodge him, but Marco was latched on, his head laid flat against the thick roll of fur and skin on the dog’s neck. His eyes were closed tight and he tried not to breathe in the dog’s stench.

  Somehow in the middle of this madness, he thought he saw Cicero, looking alive. He was speaking to him, but Marco couldn’t understand what he was saying. The dog was throwing himself against the magnolia tree, smashing Marco’s back against the trunk.

  “The words, Marco!” said Cicero’s apparition.

  The dog started to spin in circles.

  Marco tried to hear what his mentor was saying.

  “Remember the words!”

  The words! He couldn’t imagine the words could help him now. He only remembered what a disaster it had been the last and only time he tried saying them. But he had no other options. “Faw…” he began, and with the utterance of that sound, he noticed a change, but it wasn’t for the better.

  The hound was rolling in the dirt, frantically trying to dislodge him.

  “Fawta…lani,” he continued haltingly.

  The dog’s fangs clamped on to his hind leg and Marco clawed his way farther up so he was practically on top of the dog’s head.

  “Nee!” The last word exploded from within him and he suddenly found himself airborne, still clinging to the hell hound. The ascent was swift and the pair twisted and swung violently in midair.

  Marco lost his grip and fell. He landed on all fours and looked up to see what had happened to the dog. He had been snatched up by an enormous bird, something like an eagle, but with a body like a lion. The hell hound hung loosely in the talons of this strange flying creature. Marco sat motionless until both bird and dog disappeared in the sky, leaving him wondering if what just happened was a dream. When he returned to Cicero’s lifeless body, however, he knew it was no dream.

  Chapter 59: The perfect society

  The Professor turned away from the window. Half-witted hellhound, he thought. He was only supposed to extort information from Cicero, not kill him. He needed more control over his creatures. Now what would he do?

  He hid out in the bathroom while the library shut down for the night. The mousy librarian would just assume he’d slipped out while she was busy. Besides, he thought with a smile, librarians would never suspect his kind of deception, except in books.

  His palms were sweating again and he reached in his pocket for his handkerchief. It wasn’t there, which made him panic. Things were not going as planned and this small detail, the fact that he’d forgotten it, only increased his anxiety. He couldn’t afford any more mistakes.

  He washed his face and hands and dried them thoroughly on the scratchy brown paper towel, refocusing on his quest. Hitler had his Spear of Destiny. He had obviously unlocked its secrets and would have ruled the world if… Well, he wouldn’t make the same mistakes Hitler made.

  In his world, no one would ever die. People would pay dearly to join. It would be the perfect society because no one ever wanted to die. With an elite team of doctors and scientists working under his direction, he would exceed where all tin pot dictators had failed.

  Calmed somewhat, he opened the bathroom door slightly. The library was darkened except for the green glow of the exit lights.

  The Book was here, his ‘Book of Destiny’. There was no doubt that it belonged to him. He had been chosen. Once it was his, he would unlock its secrets and his dreams would come true. He would become the greatest magician of all time. Not a charlatan stage magician, but the kind who work behind the scenes, the ones who have the real power in the world.

  Yes, he would be able to change himself to appear like anyone or anything he wanted, if the legends about the book were true. He erased that moment of doubt quickly from his mind. He’d come this far. The Finders and his Whisperer had helped him. It had to be true. It was his destiny, he felt it stronger than anything he’d ever felt and allowed himself to contemplate his future. Being able to appear however he liked would mean he could gain access to anyone, have the ear of any of the world’s leaders. With a jolt, he suddenly realized even Hitler himself could have been under his power!

  He would have underlings do his dirty work and take the brunt of people’s anger. They wouldn’t mind, because he would hold their life in his hands. They would never have to face the awful prospect of death. They would be only too willing to do his bidding for the small exchange of their soul.

  He walked slowly through the stacks, scraping his finger along the book spines. He couldn’t really imagine how a cat thought, but he had the notion that the book might be hidden in plain sight. It was worth exploring.

  On a short, round table surrounded by orange plastic chairs was a children’s book with cartoon demons on the cover. Children made his skin crawl. They were disgusting and unmanageable and had no idea what a real demon looked like.

&nbs
p; Other children’s books repelled him. Why would anyone want to go Fishin’ with Grandpa? He never let himself wonder if his childhood was tarnished. He rarely thought about it except when he caught a glimpse of the scars on his back. His throat tightened and he felt like he needed air.

  Maybe the Book would be hidden in the history section. He located the Dewey Decimal numbers beginning with 930, histories of the ancient world, and began randomly pulling books off the shelves, throwing them on the floor. A rising sense of panic made him shudder and he had to calm himself again. He could not allow himself to lose control or let fear grab hold of him. He went down each aisle, randomly stabbing at books and creating holes in the order of things.

  How could he be so close and not find it? He cursed Cicero for dying before he got the secret to its location. He cursed the demon beast for not obeying him. Then he cursed the library for hiding the Book.

  Then logic prevailed. If the library would not cooperate, he would punish it. He got his book of spells from his satchel and found the curse. ”Murraq-di-fih cum-dan…i-fi…”

  He moved through the library, making friends with the dark words, feeling their power grow with each repetition. Faint sounds came from within the library books, like the crackling of brittle paper. He kept moving through the stacks, unphased by cries and shouts. He began to enjoy the noise when he realized what it was, and just to commemorate the moment, he bowed to the characters as they began emerging from the books, trying to escape certain death.

  “Murraq-di-fih, cum-dan-fi, re-quin-i-fi…” Louder this time. He repeated the chant over and over, amazed at his strength. The library was crumbling and he had performed this marvelous feat! The transformation took place before his eyes. When he had finished, the main hall looked like a tomb for dead books—a crypt, filled with corpses of characters who would never tell their story again.