by Juman Malouf
Kats von Stralen picked up a violin and plunged into a quick, fiery rhapsody. He played impeccably, hopping across the floor, swinging from side to side. “This one came from a boy in one of the Schools for the Gifted,” he shouted over the music. “Young Mr. Jack Cross!”
The name catapulted into Charlotte’s ear and shot through her heart. His Talent was inside Kats von Stralen. How on earth was she going to get it out?
Kats von Stralen flung the violin onto the couch and darted over to the grand piano. He rolled it into the middle of the room. “Now for the finale!” He winked at Charlotte. “A Talent you might recognize.” He sat down, opened the keyboard lid, and began to play. His fingers sparkled across the black and white keys. He laughed broadly. “Ticking the ivories!”
Charlotte listened in disbelief. The rhythms, the colors, the nuance: it was her voice. “That’s my Talent,” she muttered.
“Now that I have so many Talents,” Kats von Stralen said, continuing to play, “I’m planning to sell the leftovers. The problem is, I can’t have children stealing them back.”
He slammed the piano lid shut. He picked up a flute off an armchair and stuck it out at Sonja. “Kanazi Kooks was already good—but after I injected your Talent, Sonja, he was astounding. I was the toast of all the cities. I quote the Daily Swan: ‘Last night, the great Kanazi Kooks became the Greatest Kanazi Kooks!’”
Kats von Stralen flung the flute straight down at the floor, where it landed with a smack. It bounced, flipped, then rolled away. “How am I going to face my public now? Your Talent died in me when it returned to you. I want it back.”
He withdrew a pocket-sized Gatsploder from up his sleeve. “Number One, Number Five, and Number Six! On the double.”
Tatty clutched the twins and brandished Edgar’s dagger. Three teenaged boys marched toward them. Tatty lunged. “Stay back!” she cried.
Kats von Stralen pointed the Gatsploder at Sonja’s chest. “I’ll shoot her straight through the heart.”
“She’s only a child!”
“Think I care?”
Tatty closed her eyes. She dropped the dagger to the floor. Kats von Stralen gripped Sonja’s arm in his fist like a vise. The three boys dragged Tatty and Charlotte to a set of shackles on the wall.
“Tatty!” Sonja yelled, struggling. “Charlotte!”
Charlotte locked eyes with one of the boys as he buckled a clasp around her wrist. Her voice rasped: “Help us.”
Something flickered in the boy’s face. His hands froze in the air for an instant. “Get back to work!” ordered Kats von Stralen. The boy continued what he was doing.
Two teenaged girls rolled a gleaming, metallic hospital gurney into the room.
“Your coach has arrived, mademoiselle.” Kats von Stralen slammed Sonja bodily flat down onto the bed, and the girls strapped her in. “This procedure may have a few complications,” he cooed in her ear. “You’ve already had your Talent taken once. The second time? Hard to say. Could be fatal.”
“Why are you doing this?” cried Sonja. “Don’t you know you’re our uncle?”
Kats von Stralen dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief and licked his dry, cracked lips. “Uncle?”
“Alexandria’s our mother.”
Tatty stared, astonished. “You know?”
Charlotte nodded. “We know.”
Tatty’s voice trembled. “I’ve dreaded this moment for years. I’ve always been afraid I’d lose you.”
“It doesn’t change a thing, Tatty dearest,” Charlotte whispered gently. “Not a thing.”
Kats von Stralen stroked Sonja’s cheek. “You look so much like her,” he said softly. “Alex, I mean. When we were children. She took care of me, you know. She protected me from Mother.” He paused, then laughed. “She was always fighting in the schoolyard for me, too. Most days, her face was covered in marks and bruises.” A tear inched down his cheek. “Then our grandmother died and left her that dratted pearl. She ran away and never came back. Mother said if I cried another tear for Alexandria, she would slice it off my cheek.” He gestured to the scar running down his face. “She did.” His eyes darkened. His jaw clenched. He snapped his fingers. “Who needs family, anyhow?”
One after the other, the company of cats leapt onto the gurney, crowding like a swarm. Their eyes were slits, their fur stood on end like electricity, and their breath stank of sardines.
“Get off me!” Sonja screamed, writhing and jerking and yanking at the straps.
Chestnut Sabine gingerly tiptoed up Sonja’s legs and onto her chest. “Time to get better acquainted,” Kats von Stralen said as he twisted Sonja’s head and pressed the side of her face hard into the steel with both hands and the full weight of his body.
Chestnut Sabine cocked her head and savored the moment. The horrible, miserable, vain, spoiled, evil, rotten, unfortunately very intelligent little cat thought, this time she would swallow the Talent whole so it would never return. She flicked back her whiskers and lowered her tongue into Sonja’s ear.
Charlotte pressed her eyes shut. She had to save her sister. She had to save her right now. Come on, come on, she said to herself. She racked her brain.
The locket around her neck popped open.
Charlotte looked down.
The glass cracked, and the lock of Alexandria’s hair sprang out and spiraled, braiding itself around the locket.
Charlotte turned to Tatty, puzzled. Tatty stared with eyes wide open. “It’s Alexandria. She’s trying to tell you something.”
The words flashed through Charlotte’s mind: My brother hates to be wrong. Charlotte took a deep breath. It was now or never.
“Funny!” Charlotte blurted. Her voice rang out, echoing strangely across the room. Everyone, even the cats, turned to look at her, startled. Chestnut Sabine stared with her tongue sticking out. “Funny, I mean, how you took my Talent for playing the piano, but I can still play.”
Kats von Stralen frowned. “No, you can’t.”
“No? Oh, well.” Charlotte shrugged.
Kats von Stralen said calmly, “I just played the entire first movement of the ‘Cat Eyes’ Sonata in B-minor. Perfectly! I’ve got your Talent.”
“I wouldn’t say perfectly.”
“What?” Kats von Stralen let go of Sonja’s head.
“I said, ‘I wouldn’t say perfectly.’ That wasn’t my Talent. Must be somebody else’s. More of an amateur, if you know what I mean.” Kats von Stralen did not move a muscle. Charlotte cleared her throat. “Maybe it’s only a matter of opinion, but I have a hunch I could play circles around you with both hands tied behind my back.”
Kats von Stralen straightened sharply. He stormed across the room. Chestnut Sabine jumped down and hurried after him. Kats von Stralen’s shadow swept up Charlotte’s body as he approached and stood in front of her. He brought his face to hers. “We’ll see about that,” he whispered. His breath smelled like icy spearmint. “But if you’re lying?” Their eyes locked. Charlotte swallowed hard. “Who knows what I’ll do?”
Kats von Stralen unlatched Charlotte’s manacles. Tatty smiled encouragingly with tears running down her cheeks. “You’ll be fine, dearie, just fine.”
“Well, what are you waiting for?” barked Kats von Stralen. “You’ve got a masterpiece to perform!” He poked his bony finger into Charlotte’s back, and they walked slowly toward the piano with the cats scampering after them, meowing.
Sonja started to speak as they passed, but Kats von Stralen snapped his fingers. “No time for goodbyes!”
Charlotte began to sweat as they reached the piano. She could hear her heart beating loudly in her ears. Kats von Stralen pressed her down by both shoulders onto the bench. He opened the cover of a little wooden metronome and set it ticking.
“You may begin,” he said coolly.
Charlotte stared down at the keys. Her feet
barely touched the tops of the pedals. The bench was cold and hard. She had learned to play the piano before she had learned to walk—but the instrument had never felt less familiar to her than it did at this moment.
Dear Jack Cross,
I owe you an apology. I don’t think I’ll be able to fulfill my promise.
Sorry, Charlotte
The Contessa’s voice thundered again over the loudspeaker outside. There were more screams and explosions. Uncle Tell and Moritz and Alexandria were out there fighting, thought Charlotte. Alexandria had her faults, but she certainly had courage. Charlotte touched the silky braid around her neck. Alexandria was her mother. Courage must run in her blood.
Kats von Stralen sniffed his last pinch of black powder and draped himself across the couch. Chestnut Sabine curled in a ball beside him. “Well?” he barked at Charlotte. “We don’t have all day!”
Alexandria had told her to risk everything for love. This was her chance. Not only for Sonja and Tatty and Alexandria and Uncle Tell, but for everybody. She made a fist. She stuck out one finger. She banged it down on F-sharp above middle C. The note echoed bluntly.
Kats von Stralen looked curious. “Well, that was odd.”
The battle continued to roar outside.
Charlotte could not let them win. She would not let them win. She gritted her teeth. She slammed three fingers down at once—a strange, dissonant chord.
Kats von Stralen stared blankly. “Can she play at all?”
The Contessa’s world would be a terrible one: full of factories and pollution and greed and cruelty and desperation. There would be no laughter, no dreams, no art, no music, no stories. Most importantly, there would be no love. Charlotte’s cheeks were hot. She hurled both of her hands into the keyboard, fingers splayed. What came out was certainly an angry noise—but not music.
“Useless!” thundered Kats von Stralen. He withdrew a long, serrated blade from underneath the couch and leapt to his feet. “Get her out of here!”
The three teenaged boys closed in around the piano. Tears of desperation streamed down Charlotte’s face.
Sonja screamed, “Your Talent! It’s in you, Charlotte! I can feel it!”
Charlotte looked to her sister. There was fire in their eyes. She stomped her foot down on the sustain pedal. She backhanded the metronome onto the floor. She lifted her arms high up into the air like a mad sorcerer—
—and Kats von Stralen’s face went whiter than white.
Every section of the orchestra seemed to sing in unison from this single instrument. The boys stood, frozen, and watched Charlotte’s body bounce back and forth as she conjured a tempest.
This was not only music, but a symphony.
Kats von Stralen’s nose twitched. He sneezed. The knife slipped from his fingers and jabbed with a twang into the floor. His legs felt like rubber. His head began to ache. He mopped the sweat off his face with a handkerchief and limped toward Charlotte—then crumpled to his knees. With every note, a new chill rippled down his spine.
“Number One!” he howled. “Shoot her!”
Number One did not move.
“Do as I say!” demanded Kats von Stralen. “Or I’ll—or I’ll—” Another bolt of pain struck his chest. He clasped his hands over his ears, but the music throbbed through his fingers. “I’ll do anything!” he pleaded with the teenager. “I’ll give you back your Talent!”
A soft “No” came from the boy’s lips.
Kats von Stralen grabbed Chestnut Sabine by the scruff of the neck and roared, “Stop her! She’s killing your master!” He threw her, scuttling, across the floor.
Chestnut Sabine looked to the other cats. Her eyes were fierce. She screeched and hissed and spat—and all her brothers and sisters followed, racing behind her as she dashed toward the piano.
“Watch out, Charlotte!” Tatty warned. “They’re coming!”
Charlotte wheeled, twisting around to look, but her dancing fingers did not leave the keyboard. The cats leapt through the air, long claws like needles poking out of their paws, spiky teeth bared—but in midair, right before they reached Charlotte’s neck, a powerful thrust blasted them, spiraling in every direction. They somersaulted, spinning around and around the room like a tornado. Finally, they tumbled across the floor, dazed and groaning. Chestnut Sabine lay on her back with her feet in the air, mouth open, eyes closed.
“What have you done to my darlings?” wailed Kats von Stralen.
Charlotte stood up—but the music continued without her. Her feet hovered off the floor.
“Like a Swifter!” cried Sonja.
Charlotte floated toward Kats von Stralen. Her eyes were glazed over, and her hair whipped across her face. Voices whispered inside her—voices of other women. They were coming.
“You think you’re scaring me? Mother will be here any second now!”
Charlotte pointed. A wind snaked around Kats von Stralen’s body, and his jacket began to unbutton itself.
“No! I won’t let you!” he sobbed. Kats von Stralen crossed his arms over his chest and clutched himself. The wind slipped inside his jacket and yanked the parchment out of his pocket. He tried to grab it, but it shot into the air.
“You’ve got it, Charlotte!” rejoiced Sonja. “You’ve got the map!”
The roll of parchment rocketed across the room, unraveling until it stretched out fifty feet. The paths to the Seven Edens were a winding thread of black ink through the middle of the intricate web of images and text across the extended band of paper. The wind sliced through it lengthwise, straight down the center, dissecting it into halves, then thirds, then fifths. It ripped and chopped and tore and shredded the paper into thousands of tiny bits that danced in the air like snow.
“My map!” Kats von Stralen grabbed at the darting fragments. “My map!”
The wind burst out the doors and swept into the room full of Talents. The glass balls shimmered, clinking. They shook and cracked. They smashed and crashed and exploded. The teenagers raced away in all directions, covering their heads as glass showered over them. The wind whipped up a stormy cloud of silver dust and gold mist and rushed back in. It swirled and glittered, filling the air with twinkling specks.
Kats von Stralen lay on his back. “It’s beautiful,” he muttered, stretching out his arms. Silver and gold specks trickled through his fingers. “Like the stars we saw every night from the beach.” Tears ran down his face. “Alex, remember our vacations with Nana? I wish it was then, not now.” He cringed with pain. “I wish it was then, not now.” He rocked from side to side. “Alex!” he screamed. “Why didn’t you come back for me?” The pain grew stronger as his chest pumped harder. Suddenly, thick streams of silver dust whooshed out of his ears. He gasped one last breath—and was silent. The stolen Talents had been ripped from his heart, and his heart had ceased to beat.
The music ended. The wind stopped. The locket snapped in two. Charlotte dropped to the floor gently.
Chestnut Sabine, half dead, mewled quietly.
The other cats limped, bruised and wet. They gathered to sadly poke and lick at Kats von Stralen. Their leader was no more.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
The End and the Beginning
A HAND SWUNG UP ONTO THE WINDOWSILL BETWEEN shards of shattered glass. Wolf Boy poked his head up. His face was dirty, and his fingernails were caked in blood. He squinted through the glittery haze. The shivering teenagers watched him from the corners. Sonja wriggled on the gurney. Tatty hung from the wall. Charlotte lay in a heap on the floor in front of him. He scrambled up into the room. He picked up the two halves of a broken locket and knelt beside Charlotte. He held his hand close to her mouth. Her warm breath tickled his fingers. He let out a deep sigh of relief.
They were alive.
A few feet away, Kats von Stralen was not. His eyes were peeled open, and his lips were parted. A yellow crust had
formed around the edges of his mouth. Chestnut Sabine crouched on his chest with her ears pricked up. She snarled as Wolf Boy approached. He grabbed her by the scruff of the neck and stared into her eyes.
“You’re just a cat,” he said, and threw her across the floor. She limped away through the open door, snarling and hissing.
Wolf Boy stared down at Kats von Stralen. No wounds, no marks. What had killed him? Bits of paper like confetti dusted his body. Wolf Boy picked one up and studied it.
“The map,” he muttered under his breath.
There was something in the dead man’s hand. Wolf Boy pried the stiff fingers loose and found a faded, dirty, creased old snapshot of a young girl with long mahogany hair wearing a sailor dress. Alexandria had looked so much like Charlotte and Sonja. Wolf Boy searched Kats von Stralen’s jacket.
He pulled out the Golden Knot.
He put it in his fur cloak along with the photograph, walked over to Sonja, and gently nudged her shoulder. She squinted open one eye and then the other. Her face brightened. She tried to sit up with a jolt, but the restraints pinned her down.
“I missed all the fun,” teased Wolf Boy.
Sonja suddenly looked around in a panic. “Where’s Charlotte? Where’s Tatty?”
“They’re fine. Kats von Stralen’s dead.”
Wolf Boy stared at Sonja. Her eyes looked like a doll’s. Big and brown. He liked her dark, messy hair, even cut short.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You smell like honeysuckle.”
“Really?” Sonja sniffed her shoulders.
There was so much about Sonja that annoyed him, but none of it seemed to matter. Wolf Boy leaned over her and kissed her lips. They were soft and small and trembled under his.
“Untie me,” she whispered.
Wolf Boy unbuckled her ankles and unlatched her wrists. She slapped him hard across the face.
He touched his stinging cheek. “What was that for?”
“Don’t do that again!”
Wolf Boy turned away and walked off. “I won’t. Ever!” he yelled. That was it. That was the last straw. He would not try to be friends with her again. He tossed the broken locket away.