Martin Greenberg - Catopolis

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 bloody 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-God 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 passed 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 God 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 knob 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 manuscripts 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.