Martin Greenberg - Catopolis

“I think you’ve had more than enough excitement for this night,” says Tai Pan. He levitates up to Norbu’s waist and presses his paw against the boy’s solar plexus to get him started home.

Satisfied with the sight of his student diving back toward his physical body, Tai Pan begins to think. He doesn’t expect Tara Moondreamer as she materializes next to him. He steps back a pace, startled.

“Not bad for a first effort,” says the old cat, smiling as she gives Tai Pan a moment to regain his equilibrium. “Of course, the lamas were very worried about Norbu running amok in the city for every clairvoyant to see. They trust you’ll do better next time.”

“This turned out to be a very costly first try-one life and one major favor paid,” laments Tai Pan. “I’ll be out of business before long at this rate.”

“Ah, yes. You lost one life,” remarks Tara, “but did you not gain another, with a deeper meaning and a greater worth? Did you not just trade a favor from an acquaintance for another of much higher value?”

“Touché,” agrees Tai Pan a bit sheepishly. After a moment of silence, he adds, “I’m just realizing there is no greater wealth than that of true friendship, especially the boyhood friendship of a lama destined for greatness. Thank you for pointing out the obvious, Tara. With that in mind, I think I’ve just become the richest cat in the world.” He stands up, preparing to leave the Astral Plane.

“What will you do next, Sir Tai Pan Titus de Pannikin?” asks the white cat.

His voice lingers on the Astral Plane after he disappears. “If you please, I need to take a long nap. Then I’ll plan Norbu’s next lesson.”

With his head low to the ground, whiskers straight, eyes glimmering and ears attentive, Delavayne entered the Antique District with uneven, silent steps. Following a trajectory of shadows in the moonlit cityscape, he had unsuccessfully searched most of the metropolis in the last week. Within minutes of treading the concrete of the Antique District, his toes began to tingle.

Grimoire Hall and The Book of Apedemak must be in this part of the city, he exulted.

He stalked the alleys and avenues, prowling between ancient structures and around parked vehicles and late-night pedestrians as quickly as his four awkward limbs allowed. His nose twitched, bringing him strong unfamiliar scents.

The smoky sheen of Delavayne’s gray fur blended with the city’s neon and concrete shadows. He’d also taken arcane precautions to veil himself from the city’s feline population. He left little scent to track.

Despite my precautions, a big orange cat almost spotted me earlier this evening. Delavayne had faded into the darkness of the urban corridors.

Funny, how cats perceived even the slightest hints of the supernatural.

What other secrets do you hide from me? Delavayne wondered. What other arcane gifts has the god Apedemak bestowed upon you?

Delavayne saw a tall tabby farther down the street, strolling toward him. A distinctive metaphysical aura emanated from the cat’s body.

This one has answers!

Delavayne ensconced himself in shadows. Smiling, he flexed his claws and prepared to pounce.

Inside the underground Grimoire Hall, Tenja nestled on a pillow reading a book she had borrowed from the shelves upstairs without Clara’s knowledge by means of the ka spell. It had been years since she’d read the Poe collection, and it was like visiting an old friend.

Tenja had nearly finished

Murders in the Rue Morgue, and she was anticipating The Purloined Letter, her personal favorite. I’ll recommend this book to Fergus the next time he stops by, assuming his stiff feline pride can be convinced to read a human author, Tenja thought, the corners of her mouth turning upward. It is good to know something of the people who claim to keep us. And as poet laureate of the city, he’ll appreciate the refrains in Ulalume.

Tenja’s whiskers tingled. Sleek muscles under her white-and-calico coat tensed suddenly.

Something is amiss, her Guardian instincts told her.

No one touched the ancient books surrounding her without her approval. No one. Since early Renaissance times, members of her long-lived family had guarded the precious tomes.

Tenja rose, abandoning Poe as she assessed the situation. Her copper-colored eyes darted across the amber-lighted hall.

The Book of Apedemak lay on its central pedestal, the scrolls remained safe in their cases, and countless bound volumes by austere feline scholars and philosophers stood in orderly fashion.

Running up the front staircase, Tenja checked the main entrance. It seemed secure. She bounded over to the rear staircase that led to the door into back alley. It was also secure.

Everything was just as it should be, but her whiskers still tingled.

Is something wrong in the Antique District?

Tenja listened at the back door with ultrasensitive ears. She heard fading footfalls in the alley, then after six heartbeats… nothing. The threat had passed. Her nose told her nothing.

If there is a real problem, Fergus or Sampson or even some nosy kitten will tell me about it. Kittens are good at finding out odd things.

Still alert for a predator, she returned to reading the mystery of the murderous beast that stalked Paris.

A monster was loose in the city.

The cats that nightly patrolled the myriad levels of the metropolis had alerted feline city elders several days ago that something was on the prowl, something never seen in daylight. But the creature could not be traced; even the city’s best hunters were luckless in tracking it. That in itself was alarming.

“I myself spotted an odd intruder just a few hours ago during my usual scouting,” orange Sampson stated to a citizen’s committee. They’d hastily gathered at his call in a pocket park adjacent to a weathered brick office building.

Well respected by the city’s four-footed residents for his prodigious hunting skills, Sampson’s word carried weight in the cat community. Esteemed elders Clem, Isis, Mittens, Tambour, Tatiana, Gwendolyn, Ling, Oswald, Percival, Mooch, Fifi, and Sarah awaited his information.

“What manner of creature did you see?” prompted Sarah.

“It was furry and quadruped,” Sampson said. “It blended well with shadows, which it rarely left. I couldn’t determine if it was canine or rodent, or something else. I saw teeth and claws reflected in the moonlight as it ran past the old City Hall. Its gait is odd. And I caught a glimpse of its eyes.” He shuddered. “I’m sure there was a glimmer of black magic, the darkest sorcery.”

The elders stared at one another in shocked silence.

“We should have detected its mystical presence as soon as this stranger set paw in the Antique District,” Clem finally said. “We’re familiar with all male and female witches in our city. Who among them would summon such a threat?”

No one spoke. None could fathom the interloper’s purpose.

“It must be an infiltrator from beyond the city limits,” Sarah concluded in her soft voice. “It’s the only logical-”

Caterwauls from two blocks away interrupted her.

Catfight!

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.