Рахма Крамбо - Guardian Cats And The Lost Books Of Alexandria

“Some friends. Looks to me like you’ve been deserted, little buddy.”

Marco lunged towards his adversary. At the same moment Sting shifted Polo between them, using him as a shield. Marco’s claws punctured Polo’s skin and he smelled his blood. Polo squealed louder.

“You should take better care of the one friend you got,” taunted Sting. “Looks like this little rat is all mine now.”

Marco made a second attempt to attack Sting, but everything went black. He took the blow from Tank in his soft underbelly and when he caught his breath, it was filled with the heavy odor of raccoon.

He heard Polo’s cry pierce the air again, and just as suddenly, it was squelched. He squirmed out from under Tank and caught sight of Sting shoving Polo down an open grate in the floorboards, then disappearing down the hole after him. Crimmany was lunging forward, ready to attack.

He tried to block himself from Crimmany’s next move and failed. Not because of his own moves, but because Tweezer, one of the Dead Cats, appeared out of nowhere in a flying leap, colliding with Crimmany and knocking him to the floor.

Tank sprang to attack and Marco met him in a mid-air collision. All four animals were sprawled on the library floor, books scattered everywhere around them. But the impact broke the momentum of the battle as everybody disentangled themselves and jockeyed to an upright position.

The raccoons ambled off, shoving each other and complaining about who was to blame.

Raccoons have no dignity, Marco thought. Then he turned to Tweezer. “Thanks for covering my back.”

Chapter 36: “A shape that means deceit…”

Marco bolted up the stairs, nearly skidding on the landing as he made the turn. He dashed straight into Cicero’s chambers without thinking, but something about the old cat stopped him cold. A large volume of Shakespeare was spread out in front of him. His eyes were half closed, but he was anything but sleeping.

“Cicero,” started Marco, but Cicero sat as still as a stone cat.

Marco thought Cicero should know what was going on, but when he opened his eyes all he got was a grim look.

“Sorry to disturb you Cicero, but I need to tell you... ” How was he going to explain? “We have a problem.”

“Really,” answered Cicero, his voice flat.

“Sting was here.” Marco’s mouth was dry and he suddenly felt more afraid of Cicero than he’d been of Sting. “You know, the raccoon.”

“I know who Sting is.”

Marco plowed ahead with his explanation. “He acts like he knows something about the Book, but he couldn’t possibly know. And he’s kidnapped Polo. What should we do?”

“What do you think we should do?”

“I… I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking you.”

“I saw the whole thing.”

“Wha…? What do you mean? You saw Sting?”

“I watched from the balcony.”

Marco was confused by Cicero’s odd behavior. “Shouldn’t we do something? At least, we need to rescue Polo.”

Suddenly Cicero was up on all fours, standing on the edge of the table, hunched over and looking down on Marco. For a brief moment, Cicero reminded Marco of a vulture.

“Who did you tell?” demanded Cicero in a roar.

Marco froze. He’d never seen him so angry.

“Did you tell that ridiculous ferret?”

“No, I mean… what do you mean? Tell him what?”

“How would a filthy animal like Sting know anything about the Book?”

Marco wondered the same thing. He also wondered why Cicero was accusing him.

Someone cleared his throat at the door. It was Bait.

“May I enter?” he asked politely. “Or is this a private meeting?”

Marco was relieved to see a friendly face.

“I heard what happened, and I’m here to offer my services,” said Bait.

“What services would I need from you?” replied Cicero coldly.

“Come on, Cicero… you will need me. The raccoons are onto the Book and you will need an extra hand or two protecting it from those thieves.”

Marco thought Bait’s proposal seemed generous and didn’t understand why Cicero had his back arched. He was also surprised that other cats knew about the Book.

Bait seemed calm, considering Cicero’s threatening position. “I’ll bet Marco would help, too. Wouldn’t you, Marco?”

“Sure. Yeah,” said Marco, agreeably.

“See, Cicero. You don’t have to do this alone. You do have friends.”

Cicero backed off and sat down. He closed his eyes. Bait threw a sideways glance at Marco, as if to indicate how eccentric Cicero was.

Cicero walked the length of the table, as though he were preparing for a speech. Then he spoke in his best Shakespearean.

“Seems he a dove? His feathers are but borrowed for he’s disposed as the hateful raven. Is he a lamb? His skin is surely lent him for he’s included as is the ravenous wolf. Who cannot steal a shape that means deceit?”

Bait had climbed up on a chair, as if he needed to be on the same level as Cicero. “You foolish old cat! You think quoting Shakespeare solves anything?” Then he jumped to the floor and prepared to leave. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Or offer to help.” As he turned to leave, he said to Marco. “Come on, let’s leave this burned-out candle.”

Marco was torn. Reluctantly he left with Bait, leaving Cicero alone in his chambers.

Bait waited until they were outside to speak. “I fear his reach has exceeded his grasp. He has outlived his usefulness here. He has outlived his job.”

“What job?" asked Marco, trying to figure out just what Bait knew about the Book without giving away what he knew. Maybe he was only referring to his job as the library cat, but Marco was getting anxious that too many others knew about the Book, which was supposed to be top secret.

"You know it's all a fairy story, don't you?"

Marco hesitated. Bait made it seem like no big deal. But Marco had made a promise and he had to keep his word. Cicero was acting strangely and sometimes he scared Marco with his passion. But he'd been entrusted to something important and it felt real to him. Marco paused, unsure of what to say.

"I'll bet he made you promise not to tell, didn’t he? That's just part of his mental illness." Bait shook his head. “But don’t worry about him. You’ve got other problems, Marco.”

Chapter 37: Errors in judgment

Cicero had misjudged Marco. He was thankful for that. Whatever trouble was brewing with the raccoons, he felt sure Bait was behind it after that little counterfeit display of friendship. It made sense, considering what had happened. But what truly disturbed him was the fact that he had misjudged Bait. Again.

He had chosen Bait to be his successor years ago, but had to let him go. Now he was beginning to realize how much he’d underestimated Bait’s resentment for that.

At the time, Cicero had no choice. The incident with Caffeina was disturbing especially because Bait thought no one was listening. A Guardian always treated a lady with respect and Bait had accused Caffeina of being a tramp. It was important that a Guardian have the same good character when alone, as well as when others were around.

Bait had seemed surprised about the reprimand, contrite even. It wasn’t serious enough to terminate his training, but Cicero’s eyes were opened and he kept a close watch.

Things came to a head, though, when Bait questioned him about using the power of the Book. He’d started off politely, appearing to be casual about it. Cicero explained to Bait about abusing the responsibility. A Guardian is rarely called upon to use the power. His only job is to protect it.

Bait claimed that he would only use its power for good. After his arguments didn’t work on Cicero, his tone changed, and for the briefest flash, Cicero saw Bait’s polished exterior crack. In that moment, Cicero saw the darkness underneath.