Рахма Крамбо - Guardian Cats And The Lost Books Of Alexandria

The last thing he heard was the snickers of school children. When he woke up, he was lying on the floor and a paramedic was taking his blood pressure, a crowd standing over him. He passed out again.

Later, when he woke up the second time, he was in his hotel room, thankful to be away from people. But he wasn't alone.

"What was that all about?" demanded the Whisperer.

"Nevermind."

"Nevermind! What is the matter with you?" demanded the Whisperer. “You’ll never get anywhere falling apart like that!”

“Have a little sympathy,” said Professor Chin. “Maybe it was something I ate.”

“Sympathy! You’re one to ask for sympathy. Am I wasting my time with you?”

“No. I’ll be fine. You heard what she said, didn’t you? You were there?”

“You mean about the books?”

“Of course, I mean about the books.”

“What about them? It’s just a story.”

“You don’t believe that any more than I do. These kinds of things exist. You know about the Spear of Destiny, don’t you? It was the tool for Hitler’s power. These books will be my Spear.”

“How badly do you want them?”

“With all my soul.”

“I have my resources,” said the Whisperer, after some considering. “I could have them look for the books. But I must warn you. They expect a steep price for their services.”

“Any price is worth increasing my powers.”

“You would give your soul for a magical book?”

“What need have I of my soul? It causes me only pain. Take what’s left of it. What I need, my soul won’t give me. What I need is power.”

Chapter 27: Polo’s dangerous discovery

“Marco, where have you been?” demanded Polo. Marco was climbing down the wide trunk of the tree next to the ferrets’ home, his usual spot, except for nights when he fell asleep at the library. Cicero had implied that the staff might not want a second library cat, so he always had to scurry out the window when the librarians opened up in the morning.

To be sure, he hadn’t been around much lately, as he was spending more and more time at the library. He hadn’t told Polo about his other life, because… he wasn’t sure why. It was just a feeling, but he figured Polo would want to tag along with him and he didn’t think the library was ready for the likes of a silly ferret.

Still, Marco felt a little guilty about keeping secrets from his new friend. Polo bounced and leaped and ran circles around Marco. “I’ve been looking all over for you!

“What’s the matter? What’s going on?”

“Nothing. I missed you.”

“Oh, Polo! I’m sorry.” Marco felt badly about ignoring him. “I’m not trying to avoid you or anything. It’s just that I have things I need to do.”

This statement from his cat friend stopped the little ferret for a moment. “Oh well,” said Polo, shrugging it off. “You’re here now! I can show you my new treasure!” he cried out. “It’s my most beautiful possession!”

He ran under the house and reappeared with a silver keychain attached to a tube of liquid. “Look! It’s got water inside.”

Marco leaned in closer to the tube. “It doesn’t smell like water, Polo. It’s awful.” Marco jerked his head back and crinkled his nose at the biting odor. The red tube was about half-full of liquid.

“That’s disgusting. What do you want it for?”

“It goes with my red jewelry collection. Look here! See the little wheel?”

Marco did not like Polo’s latest stolen good. Lucy’s father had one almost like it. He recognized it by the smell. It was a flame shooter.

Chapter 28: Finders keepers

Marco escaped back to the tree while Polo loped across the weedy backyard, the cigarette lighter dangling from his mouth, and crawled through a fence hole into the neighbor’s yard.

A tire swing swayed gently in the evening breeze, and the promise of hidden spaces lured the ferret. He dropped the lighter and pulled himself up into the rubbery den, exploring pretty much everything there was to see inside a tire. When he heard voices, he stood straight up and looked out through the wide hole. There were three large animals with black masks sniffing their way around a bunch of kid’s plastic toys. He recognized their bandit faces. Raccoons.

“We’re being watched,” said one of them, suddenly noticing Polo. “Look’it that varmint in the hangin’ tire. What is it?”

“Looks like a deformed rat, don’t you think?” said another.

“Who, or should I say, what are you?” asked the biggest one.

Polo felt no obligation to explain himself and ignored their comparing him to a rat. It happened all the time.

“In case you haven’t heard, we own this part of town now. My name’s Sting and these are my two fine young companions.”

Even though a vagabond and a thief, Polo was completely devoid of cruel intentions, and he did not recognize a bully for what he was.

“You deaf or something?” asked Sting. “You gotta be, with those puny ears.”

“Yeah, deaf and dumb,” said Tank.

Polo had had enough. He drew in a breath. “Hey, bugle ears!” he yelled. “You’re hurtin’ my eyes. How come you’re so fat?”

“No one talks to me like that!” Sting said, and before Polo could blink, he was yanked out of the tire by his neck and tossed to the ground.

Polo was undeterred. He raised himself to his fullest height, bared his teeth and challenged Sting with his fiercest look.

Just as Sting was about to take another swipe at him, the smallest raccoon ran up.

“Hey, Sting! Take a look at this!” He handed him the cigarette lighter.

“My, my,” said Sting. “This is interesting.”

“Hey, that’s mine!” Polo yelled.

“Shut up,” said Sting. “This here trinket might save your life if you was smart enough to keep your trap shut.”

Polo had no intention of letting it go. He tried grabbing the lighter, but Sting seized him by the throat until his eyes bulged and the lighter fell out of his hand gone limp.

Chapter 29: David and Goliath

Scuffling noises from the ground woke Marco from his nap. Through the tree branches he saw three large animals scavenging plastic kid’s toys in the yard next door.

“Nothing here worth eatin’, boss,” said one.

He recognized them immediately, but he was in no mood for another fight with raccoons. Besides, they weren’t hurting anything and they’d never notice him. He curled up to resume his nap, when all of the sudden, there was Polo in the middle of the raccoons—nabbed right out of a tire swing and thrown to the ground.

He saw Polo rise from the dust and face his assailant, like David defying Goliath.

But Marco knew Polo wouldn’t stand a chance in a battle with these thugs and skittered rapidly down the tree and through the fence hole.

“What the….?” Sting said, shocked.

Marco was quickly flanked by Sting’s two cohorts. They peered at him through their black masks.

“Hey, isn’t he one of those dead cats, Sting?”

“You’re about to be a dead raccoon,” countered Marco. “Let him go!”

Polo was squirming in Sting’s grip.

“Sure thing, buddy. Tank. Crimmany. You know what to do.” Sting tossed Polo aside.

All three raccoons launched themselves at Marco. One bit his tail and Marco whirled around, smacking him with claws extended. Next thing he knew though, he was at the bottom of the heap. He clawed furiously, tasting dirt and blood. Then… pain pierced his body, first his ear, then his nose. He could barely breathe.

His saving grace came from pure instinct, a cat trick he didn’t know he had until he needed it. He jerked his body like a corkscrew, twisting his bones inside his loose skin. Free from the vicious bullies, he darted up the tree and watched the raccoons claw at each other until they discovered he had disappeared.