Catopolis. Part 12

Curiosity was killing Spriggan.

He was barely beyond kittenhood and still awaited his adult coat, which he hoped would be a shade darker than his current cinnamon hue. He had heard his father Sampson tell Sarah earlier about calling the congregation of city elders to discuss monster sightings.

Monsters mean excitement! His tail flicked with enthusiasm.

Spriggan had tracked his father to the meeting, staying just within sight of the orange hunter. He vaulted between awnings and window sills, remaining, he hoped, unnoticed. Now perching on a high ledge of the old office building, he listened to the elders' discussion. An odd chill crept up Spriggan's spine as Sampson described the creature.

Spriggan's fur leaped upright as the catfight erupted.

He saw the committee rush toward the clash. Keeping to the aerial path of awnings and ledges of the urban real estate, he followed.

"Who's fighting? Why?" Sarah asked as Sampson zoomed past her.

"We'll find out soon enough," he tossed over his shoulder.

The elders arrived within minutes and found the conflict already finished. Sampson had discovered the tall tabby barely conscious.

"Fergus!" Sarah screamed, skidding to a halt beside the hunter.

The reigning poet laureate of the city was injured in a most unfeline manner: No true cat fought with such ugly brutality. His tabby coat was flayed in places, his eyes slashed, and his ears shredded.

"What happened?" Sampson asked, shocked. "Who did this?"

"Fiend," Fergus sputtered through a b.l.o.o.d.y cough as the elders gathered around him. "It seeks...

The Book of Apedemak."

Fergus gasped, and he never inhaled again.

"I'll inform the Guardian," Sampson said, turning away. "Warn the rest of the city's residents."

After a few moments of mourning, the elders dispersed. Sampson turned toward Clara's bookshop.

Delavayne sat in an alley and slowly sucked the blood from his claws. The taste was satisfying, but that was a small consolation. He did not have the book.

The residual amber-hued aura from recent contact with The Book of Apedemak had indicated the tall tabby had knowledge of the ancient tome. You knew Grimoire Hall's location, Delavayne thought. You had been there, possibly just an hour ago. And you fought to the death to prevent me from discovering it. The tabby had revealed nothing, not even after Delavayne had nearly chewed his ears off, blinded him with claw swipes, and almost gutted him alive.

I'm close now, he grinned. I'll find other cats with the same aura and force answers from them.

There were other spell books rumored to be in Grimoire Hall that Delavayne also wanted to possess, like The Felinomicon and The Bast Codex. But The Book of Apedemak-the most complete and powerful of feline spell books, blessed by Apedemak the Lion-G.o.d himself-held all the answers he desired. Once he owned it, he'd become master of the arcane secrets of cats.

The sun will rise soon and bring the shift, he thought, stretching long, as only a cat can. I'll continue my search in a different manner come daylight. The tingle in his toes told him to remain in the Antique District.

I'm close, so very close.

As dawn brightened the sky, the sun triggered the shift. Delavayne strolled out of the alley on two legs.

Tenja was fond of Clara because the short, bubbly human did the cutest things.

She keeps the bookstore free from dirt and cobwebs, but she never cleans the coffee pot, the Guardian mused from her cushion in the display window. Tenja cleaned up mice, rats, silverfish, and anything else that ruined books.

And Clara thinks she owns this old brick building! It was nestled on a bustling avenue of antique stores, curio shops, cafes, taverns, and small offices. The Society of Apedemak had long ago persuaded their humans to invest in and preserve the old buildings in the area known as the Antique District. The Society itself owned the bookstore above Grimoire Hall, also the structures surrounding their treasures.

Clara kept human patrons occupied while Tenja meditated in the early sunlight pouring through the wide window that declared "Clara's New and Used Books." Tenja pa.s.sed the time by reading when she was not actively guarding the premises, or boxing with shadows to keep her muscles and wits exercised. Most cats lacked interest in human authors, but Tenja fancied some: LeGuin, Bradbury, Atwood, and especially Poe were among her favorites.

Tenja could not only read the shop's merchandise but literally envisioned the spirit of a book. By reciting a spell, Tenja could see true souls, what the ancients called a ka. The spell metaphysically revealed truth, all truth. It also translated literature into a language all catkind comprehended. Tenja "read" books through their spiritual manifestations.

Grimoire Hall's ancient valuables included The Book of Apedemak. Its tooled leather cover was protected by a fabric jacket woven from hairs of the golden mane of the Lion G.o.d himself.

No one touched that book without her approval.

No one. Ever.

Tenja smiled to herself, thinking of the collection downstairs that outnumbered the books on Clara's shelves by many thousands. It was good to be the Guardian of Grimoire Hall in the guise of a bookstore cat.

Some time later, Tenja roused from meditation when she heard a familiar voice. Lifting her head, she saw Sampson's wide orange face in the window.

"We need to talk." He sounded concerned.

Sampson eyed the cat flap Clara had installed in the bookshop's front door. Tenja shook her head. She pointed with her chin toward the rear of the shop.

I'll meet you there.

Tenja rose, stretched, dropped onto the floor, and ambled toward the back of the shop. Busy with customers, Clara barely noticed her exit. Tenja walked to the last book aisle on the left. A shelf labeled "Cookbooks" held three hard-backs with yellow dogeared dust jackets on the bottom row. It was too low for most humans to notice. Tenja stepped through a concealed door and down the stairs to the Hall.

She strode across Grimoire Hall to the rear entrance. This door was just as well concealed from the outside as the interior one. Only certain cats discovered it. The back door opened into the alley behind the bookstore.

"Greetings, Guardian," Sampson said, nodding in respect when Tenja opened the door. "I have news concerning you and the sacred writings."

Tenja stepped back. "Enter Grimoire Hall, Sampson."

Spriggan had kept surveillance on Sampson since the previous night's events. Curious as always, he now shadowed his father around the back of the bookstore. Spriggan heard the cat Tenja grant Sampson entrance to someplace he'd never heard of. After waiting a few seconds, he slunk closer, and found the secret door.

Spriggan searched for a camouflaged k.n.o.b or handle. It soon became obvious that the back door opened only from the inside.

There must be another way in, he thought. Of course-inside the bookstore!

Returning to the front, Spriggan put a cautious foot forward and poked his pink nose under the cat door flap. He heard humans talking. When they did not notice him, he stuck his entire head through.

A woman was babbling to a tall man with gray hair. She smelled friendly, and he detected the scent of Tenja on her.

She must be all right, Spriggan thought. The man had an odor he couldn't pin down, and he must have entered while Spriggan was around back.

Taking his chance, Spriggan darted through the doorway and between bookshelves.

Sampson followed Tenja down the stairs. He had been inside the bookshop before, but he had never seen the amber brilliance-the blessings of Apedemak-illuminating Grimoire Hall. There were no shadows. He was awestruck by the room's magnificence. Here, among the great sandstone columns and velvet drapes, were many of the most important catkind ma.n.u.scripts ever written. Pillows were scattered around for comfortable reading. The sacred book itself rested on its central pedestal, its golden cover closed.

Tenja spends her life here, Sampson thought in reverence, patrolling the grounds below and above, protecting these fragile but powerful books from small threats such as mice and insects to beings demonic and insidious. Like the one we face now. It is a difficult job to be Guardian.

"I have much to tell, all of it strange," Sampson said aloud. He marshaled the details, because the smallest one might mean something to her. As he spoke, her eyes widened with concern.

"Poor Fergus," Tenja said after he finished. "He consulted many texts here before he composed his verses. He was an excellent friend." They were respectfully silent for a long moment.

Tenja broke their silence. "You have no idea if this creature was rodent or canine?"

"All I know is that it's ungainly, perhaps even clumsy, in its stride. But it has stealth and speed and knows how to use shadows as well as we do."

Tenja said nothing, deep in thought. Sampson respected her contemplation.

"It is uncomfortable on four legs, but it seeks The Book of Apedemak?" she finally asked.

"Those were Fergus's dying words."

"I think Sarah's hunch about an intruder from outside the city is correct," Tenja mused, flicking her tail. "I have a theory."

"Yes?"

"We have to build a better mouse trap, one with lots of teeth," Tenja said in a low voice. "Let me explain."

After a few wrong turns between the musty stacks, Spriggan discovered the door by the three cookbooks. The frame had a hint of amber light on it.

Spriggan nudged the door open and listened. Despite his sensitive ears, eavesdropping revealed only bits of the conversation. His father and Tenja were whispering.

Tenja must be the Guardian my father speaks about! Did she say something about a trap? Why would the Guardian want to bring the monster here? Isn't this the very place it's searching for?

His father spoke.

Did he say he'd go on a mission of some sort? Did he say "decoy?" Something about misdirection and lying in wait?

Spriggan thought Tenja said something about a mysterious warlock or shapeshifter, but that too was not clear.

"You're sure about this plan, Guardian?" Sampson asked, speaking louder now.

"Yes, this is the best way to rid the city of the menace."

"I'll notify the elders. They will be in their places before sunset."

Spriggan heard his father leave through the alley exit. He firmly closed the door by the cookbooks, mind racing with questions.

What has my father gotten into? Why does the Guardian want the monster to come here? Where is everyone supposed to be at sunset? I need to know!

Spriggan padded back toward the cat flap in the shop's front door. He was worrying his unanswered questions as he pa.s.sed Clara and her customer.

"h.e.l.lo, little one," the man said.

Spriggan looked up, and halted. The man's eyes froze him in place. Surely that was black magic swirling there!

Why is he staring at me?

Spriggan noticed a funny light, one with the same l.u.s.ter as the luminescence from the hidden door, coming from somewhere. His eyes darted back and forth, and finally alighted on his big paws.

Me-that light is coming from me!

He realized the light was what drew the human's attention, what was making him smile in such an odd way. The man saw the amber glow. Mundane Clara did not.

The customer lunged for Spriggan as Clara shouted "No, stop! What about your book?"

Spriggan shot like a missile through the cat door and out to the street. The man bolted outside on his heels, grabbing for his tail.

Tenja flipped through The Book of Apedemak, absorbing esoteric information she already knew. She found comfort and courage rereading the words she needed.

My plan is risky, but I feel confident in my deductions. Even Poe's famous detective C. Auguste Dupin would admire them.

She said a prayer for the Lion-G.o.d's spiritual unction and jumped off the pedestal.

Tenja had not alarmed Sampson as they conversed, but her whiskers had tingled and her muscles had tensed again. The murderer had pa.s.sed nearby but had vanished once more.

Time to get to work.

Sampson spent until midafternoon contacting the elders. He spoke with Sarah, Clem, Tatiana, and Fifi. They would spread the word to other citizens. He knew everyone would be in position soon.

A better mousetrap indeed, he thought, grinning. Now, where's Spriggan? He's the only one missing.

His grin vanished when he realized he had no idea where the kitten had run off to.

Spriggan had no idea where he had run off to.

When he saw the dark magic in the man's eyes, he knew this was the monster who had murdered the poet. His instincts had screamed a single order: Run!

Spriggan heard the man's footsteps and felt him grab the last few hairs of his tail. Spriggan flipped it away from the murderer's fingers and sprinted like a cheetah, dodging pedestrians and vehicles, crossing a dozen streets, bouncing between the urban obstacle course of streetlamps, trash cans, fire hydrants, and mailboxes. Panting and tired, he slowed, turning around to discover he was no longer pursued.

Where am I?

Spriggan had never been to this part of the city before. It had wide boulevards between glittery steel and gla.s.s sky-sc.r.a.pers, unlike the narrow streets and old buildings of the Antique District.

I am one lost kitten, Spriggan sighed. But I've got to tell my father or another elder that the monster is human. Where are they?

He looked to the sun for a sense of direction. To his left, the crimson beams of near-evening hovered above the street. So that was west. He remembered that the afternoon sun touched the bookshop's display window. So that was east, to his right.

He headed eastward.

Sniffing, listening, and looking for familiar things with every step, Spriggan slowly retraced his path. He pa.s.sed many mundane humans, most of whom either spoke on phones or had music plugged into their ears. But Spriggan did not see a single cat. Anywhere.

Where is everyone? he wondered. Where have they gone?

Something is very wrong if I can't find another cat in this city.

He strode the strange streets for a long time as the sun lowered in the sky. His concern evolved into fear.