Рахма Крамбо - Guardian Cats And The Lost Books Of Alexandria

What a dreadful feeling that had been. He’d felt like a fool not seeing it before, but Bait’s deception had been flawless. Or had it? Did he miss crucial signs? Bait had seemed to be the most qualified cat to come along in years. He presented a noble character and was not afraid of danger. Now Cicero realized his dignified appearance was more a characteristic of his breed, rather than a personal quality.

Cicero had been shocked then. Now he was mortified. How could it have happened again? He cringed at the thought of how close Bait had come to being in the position of a Guardian Cat.

Cicero had given Bait a stern warning and told him his training was finished. Maybe he’d been too harsh. Maybe he should have been more diplomatic, but he’d reacted with passion, and there was no going back.

Bait hung around, came to meetings and nothing changed much on the outside. Cicero did not discourage him from coming. In fact, he thought it was better to keep him close. No one else knew what had happened, but then no one else knew about the Book.

Now Bait was befriending Marco. Nothing good could come of it, he was sure. It also seemed that he was trying to get the raccoons to do his dirty work. What in the world was Bait up to?

Chapter 38: Spying on cats

Lazer, the renegade raccoon who had befriended Sting, stood outside the raccoons’ camper and toyed with the leash around the sleeping ferret’s neck. He was pleased to see Sting had captured him. Pleased to know just how far the raccoon would go.

He banged on Sting’s door. Crimmany opened it and stuck his head out. “What do you want?”

“Sting here?” asked Lazer.

“Yeah. So?”

“So! Let me talk to him," barked Lazer.

“Sting!” yelled Crimmany, back inside the camper.

“What!”

“Somebody’s here to see you.”

Sting appeared as a silhouette, filling the frame of the door. "Hey, Lazer!"

"Hey. How's it going, Sting?"

"Not so good. Come on in."

Lazer climbed into the camper shell and made himself comfortable on shreds of what had been a mattress. “What happened?”

"You never told me the library was full of books! Then that mangy orange cat who keeps buttin’ his head in my business showed up. And that useless critter I got tied up outside. What am I? A pet sitter? Dang animal sure is a pack of trouble. Only thing he might be good for is some kind of bribe.”

“I like the way you think, Sting.”

Sting shook his head. “Well, I sure never got that book you was talking about. It’s like looking for a needle in a haystack.”

"Hmmm. Well, you did one good thing. The cats are all riled up.”

"Yeah, that’s always a good thing," said Sting. “By the way, where you been?"

"I work undercover, like I told you. Spying on cats."

"Yeah? Seems like a boring job. What for?"

"I have my reasons," said Lazer. "One thing I do know… the cats are worried that you'll steal their big-deal book. They are trying to figure out what to do with it. That means they're likely to move it somewhere." It was a lie, but Lazer had no problem with lying.

"Yeah. So."

"If we can catch them in the act, it'll be a piece of cake."

"We? What's with this 'we' business? Why should I bother?" asked Sting.

“You like having these scruffy strays in your face all the time? Can’t you see there’s something wrong with them? These cats are not normal."

"You're telling me."

"It's their magical powers. They get it from this book, I tell you. Get it away from them, and you won't have any more problems."

"Why don't you deal with them? Why are you asking me?"

Lazer hung his head. "Take a good look at me. I was the runt in my family. They didn't even expect me to live. I’ve got a good head, but physically… you tell me. You think I could handle these cats?”

“You have a point.”

“I need someone like you and your crew. Tough guys.”

Sting lit up. "We can handle 'em for sure. Right, boys?"

"Right!" agreed Tank and Crimmany.

Sting paced the length of his truck bed, his center of operations. The other raccoons kept still while he plotted. After a good while, he stopped thinking and gave an order.

“Crimmany, front and center,” he said. “I need you to deliver a message."

Chapter 39: What magic book?

By now all the Dead Cats had heard about the fight and Polo’s kidnapping. They were in their own headquarters in the library storage room and Tweezer was recounting the details, as he knew them, for the umpteenth time.

“What’s Sting want a book for?” asked one of the cats.

“There’s a jillion books here. Why doesn’t he just take one?” asked another.

Marco sat sullenly on top of a card catalogue. Cats could listen to the same story over and over again and never tire of it, but he was growing impatient. This was getting them no closer to rescuing Polo or protecting the Book. He washed his face and listened. The Dead Cats’ conversation revealed one important point, and that was how little they really knew about anything.

He had his own set of questions. How could Cicero believe he'd betrayed him? How did Sting know about the Book? And how much did Bait really know?

There was movement outside and a head appeared in the window. The raccoon looked nervously around the room. “Which one of you’s Marco?” he demanded.

Marco stood up in surprise.

“This message is for you.” The raccoon cleared his throat and spoke like he was repeating the words from memory. “Deliver the magic book to me, I mean Sting, in one hour.” His head disappeared and popped back up. “Bring it to him at his headquarters.”

He disappeared again. Tweezer was rushing over to look out the window when the raccoon popped up for the third time. “If you don’t show, your little buddy’s dead meat.”

Now all of the cats ran over to the window, crowding each other for a view of the raccoon as he clumsily clawed his way down the tree.

They all began talking at once, but everyone was pretty much saying the same thing.

“Magic book? What magic book?”

Marco slipped out unnoticed.

Chapter 40: Neither cat nor human

Marco had no problem locating Sting’s headquarters. It wouldn’t have taken his exceptional sense of smell to detect raccoon odor radiating from the brown truck. Besides, there was Polo, tied to the bumper. Even asleep he looked forlorn.

He must have sensed Marco’s presence because he woke up, squealing with delight, and began running towards him. But the leash caught him short.

Sting came out of the camper to see what the commotion was about. “Knock it off!” he yelled and yanked on the leash, choking Polo as he pulled him back. Then he noticed Marco. “Hey, Rat! Look who’s here! It’s your big buddy.”

“Let him go!” demanded Marco.

“Sure, Marco. No problem. But I don’t see no book. You didn’t come all the way out here without it, did you?”

“It’s not mine to give you, Sting.”

“I don’t care whose it is. Steal it!”

“What are you going to do with a book? You can’t even read.”

“I hear this one’s special. Maybe I won’t have to read it. Maybe it will read itself to me.”

If Marco had any doubts about a traitor in his midst, they were dispelled now. Even if he didn’t have his facts straight, there was no way Sting would know about The Book of Motion by himself. His head hung down, weighted by a muddle of problems. How had his life gotten so complicated?

“What a moron. I don’t know why I’m bothering with the likes of you. Here I thought you'd do anything to get your friend back," said Sting. “Time to proceed with Plan B.” Sting yelled back inside the camper, “You boys know what to do. Now go!”