Martin Greenberg - Catopolis

“Poor Fergus,” Tenja said after he finished. “He consulted many texts here before he composed his verses. He was an excellent friend.” They were respectfully silent for a long moment.

Tenja broke their silence. “You have no idea if this creature was rodent or canine?”

“All I know is that it’s ungainly, perhaps even clumsy, in its stride. But it has stealth and speed and knows how to use shadows as well as we do.”

Tenja said nothing, deep in thought. Sampson respected her contemplation.

“It is uncomfortable on four legs, but it seeks

The Book of Apedemak?” she finally asked.

“Those were Fergus’s dying words.”

“I think Sarah’s hunch about an intruder from outside the city is correct,” Tenja mused, flicking her tail. “I have a theory.”

“Yes?”

“We have to build a better mouse trap, one with lots of teeth,” Tenja said in a low voice. “Let me explain.”

After a few wrong turns between the musty stacks, Spriggan discovered the door by the three cookbooks. The frame had a hint of amber light on it.

Spriggan nudged the door open and listened. Despite his sensitive ears, eavesdropping revealed only bits of the conversation. His father and Tenja were whispering.

Tenja must be the Guardian my father speaks about! Did she say something about a trap? Why would the Guardian want to bring the monster here? Isn’t this the very place it’s searching for?

His father spoke.

Did he say he’d go on a mission of some sort? Did he say “decoy?” Something about misdirection and lying in wait?

Spriggan thought Tenja said something about a mysterious warlock or shapeshifter, but that too was not clear.

“You’re sure about this plan, Guardian?” Sampson asked, speaking louder now.

“Yes, this is the best way to rid the city of the menace.”

“I’ll notify the elders. They will be in their places before sunset.”

Spriggan heard his father leave through the alley exit. He firmly closed the door by the cookbooks, mind racing with questions.

What has my father gotten into? Why does the Guardian want the monster to come here? Where is everyone supposed to be at sunset? I need to know!

Spriggan padded back toward the cat flap in the shop’s front door. He was worrying his unanswered questions as he passed Clara and her customer.

“Hello, little one,” the man said.

Spriggan looked up, and halted. The man’s eyes froze him in place. Surely that was black magic swirling there!

Why is he staring at me?

Spriggan noticed a funny light, one with the same luster as the luminescence from the hidden door, coming from somewhere. His eyes darted back and forth, and finally alighted on his big paws.

Me-that light is coming from me!

He realized the light was what drew the human’s attention, what was making him smile in such an odd way. The man saw the amber glow. Mundane Clara did not.

The customer lunged for Spriggan as Clara shouted “No, stop! What about your book?”

Spriggan shot like a missile through the cat door and out to the street. The man bolted outside on his heels, grabbing for his tail.

Tenja flipped through

The Book of Apedemak, absorbing esoteric information she already knew. She found comfort and courage rereading the words she needed.

My plan is risky, but I feel confident in my deductions. Even Poe’s famous detective C. Auguste Dupin would admire them.

She said a prayer for the Lion-God’s spiritual unction and jumped off the pedestal.

Tenja had not alarmed Sampson as they conversed, but her whiskers had tingled and her muscles had tensed again. The murderer had passed nearby but had vanished once more.

Time to get to work.

Sampson spent until midafternoon contacting the elders. He spoke with Sarah, Clem, Tatiana, and Fifi. They would spread the word to other citizens. He knew everyone would be in position soon.

A better mousetrap indeed, he thought, grinning. Now, where’s Spriggan? He’s the only one missing.

His grin vanished when he realized he had no idea where the kitten had run off to.

Spriggan had no idea where he had run off to.

When he saw the dark magic in the man’s eyes, he knew this was the monster who had murdered the poet. His instincts had screamed a single order:

Run!

Spriggan heard the man’s footsteps and felt him grab the last few hairs of his tail. Spriggan flipped it away from the murderer’s fingers and sprinted like a cheetah, dodging pedestrians and vehicles, crossing a dozen streets, bouncing between the urban obstacle course of streetlamps, trash cans, fire hydrants, and mailboxes. Panting and tired, he slowed, turning around to discover he was no longer pursued.

Where am I?

Spriggan had never been to this part of the city before. It had wide boulevards between glittery steel and glass sky-scrapers, unlike the narrow streets and old buildings of the Antique District.

I am one lost kitten, Spriggan sighed. But I’ve got to tell my father or another elder that the monster is human. Where are they?

He looked to the sun for a sense of direction. To his left, the crimson beams of near-evening hovered above the street. So that was west. He remembered that the afternoon sun touched the bookshop’s display window. So that was east, to his right.

He headed eastward.

Sniffing, listening, and looking for familiar things with every step, Spriggan slowly retraced his path. He passed many mundane humans, most of whom either spoke on phones or had music plugged into their ears. But Spriggan did not see a single cat. Anywhere.

Where is everyone? he wondered. Where have they gone?

Something is very wrong if I can’t find another cat in this city.

He strode the strange streets for a long time as the sun lowered in the sky. His concern evolved into fear.

Am I alone? Did the monster kill everyone? Am I the last cat alive?

His nose worked furiously, and he kept close to buildings and their lengthening shadows to steer clear of threats. Finally, he came upon an avenue of closely built brick buildings he recognized. He was only a few blocks away from the bookshop.

Spriggan felt safer returning to the Antique District. But there were still no cats he could see. His heart beat a little faster.

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

Spriggan whipped around. Peering into a narrow alley, he saw a man whose eyes flickered oddly. And he had a confusing scent.

Spriggan was dumbfounded.

I couldn’t smell him! I walked right up to him!

“We need to have a little talk,” Delavayne demanded. “Now.”

“Who are you?” Spriggan squeaked, uncertain if the monster could understand him. “Why are you after me?”

“I want information,” Delavayne said, stepping onto the sidewalk. The last violet rays of the sun illuminated his face. “

The Book of Apedemak. Where is it?”

Spriggan stared at the human. His ears flattened. Both fear and defiance kept him silent.

“Tell me.”

Spriggan did not move. Night dropped its cloak on the city.

“Very well, little one. Let’s see if you’re as brave as that tabby cat was,” Delavayne said as the shift began.

Spriggan’s cinnamon fur stood straight up as he watched those horrid eyes suddenly slide ground-ward. The human melted into another shape.

Glimmering irises and fangs in the dark were enough.

Run!

Spriggan’s mind raced as fast as his feet.

Where do I go? Where? The Guardian! She wanted to lure the monster back to the place where that book is. That’s where I’ll go!

He knew without doubt that the shape-shifter would follow as he wheeled and flattened into a run.

I hope the Guardian’s trap works!

Sampson padded the silent streets alone. Everyone was in place. Now he played decoy to flush out Fergus’ slayer. Sampson had been walking for hours.