Martin Greenberg - Catopolis

Why isn’t the lure working?

He had planned on the amber aura that still radiated from his body to attract the interloper. No luck.

Wait!

At the intersection a few blocks ahead of him, Sampson saw Spriggan running full-out. Seconds later, he saw a swift but ungainly cat in pursuit. They streaked past.

“No!” Sampson leaped after them as fear and anger collided in his heart.

Spriggan’s muscles began to ache, and he felt himself slowing. The sounds of panting from behind kept him racing toward his destination.

Run!

Spriggan rounded a corner and saw the bookstore. Turning at the last moment, he dived through the cat flap. He sprinted down the far left aisle, and heard the small door slap again as the shapeshifter followed.

Spriggan found the cookbooks shelf and slid on the hardwood floor, scrambling to make the sharp turn down the stairs. The doorway was wide open.

Open?

He didn’t have time to think about it. Spriggan whisked down the steps, feeling his pursuer too close behind as he rushed into Grimoire Hall.

The Guardian stood in the amber-lighted room. Spriggan was not surprised to see a shocked look on her face.

“The monster’s followed me!”

“Hide and don’t move,” Tenja responded.

Panting, Spriggan jumped behind a pillow in the nearest corner. He peeked beyond its fringe as the Guardian confronted the intruder.

Unlike Spriggan, Tenja was not surprised that the monster entering Grimoire Hall looked like a gray cat.

“Halt. Tell me your name,” Tenja commanded.

“Delavayne.” The gray halted, looking around. His eyes coveted every book and scroll on the shelves and pedestals. “You must be the Guardian. I’ve been searching for Grimoire Hall for decades.”

“This is a place for cats only.”

“Am I not?” He lifted a paw as evidence.

“No. You’re an intruder, a shapeshifter, a warlock, and a murderer. You have the likeness of a cat, but you don’t have natural control of four legs. You don’t understand what it means to be a cat.”

“But I want to understand what being a cat means,” Delavayne said. “I want to understand in every way. That is why I want The Book of Apedemak.”

Tenja glanced at the central pedestal, then back at Delavayne. “Explain yourself.”

“I was not born a cat, true. But I desire every feline secret.”

“Why? To use such knowledge in the human world?”

“Precisely,” Delavayne’s eyes sparkled with greed. “I want to know how cats store sunlight in their eyes so they can see at night; how cats see spirits and sprites everywhere; how cats can steal someone’s breath while they sleep; how to leap over a corpse and make it rise as a vampire; how a pride of cats can drive old women insane; how cats can change luck from good to bad and from bad to good; and I want to know how to live nine times. Furthermore, I want to know everything else.”

“You think there’s more?”

“Don’t be coy. Those secrets I mentioned are what humans have either figured out themselves or what cats have let slip during thousands of years of close relationships. But I desire to know every other arcane secret-all the secrets that cats have not revealed to humans! And all of those are written down in The Book of Apedemak, I’m sure. Cats, by nature, have always been more supernaturally endowed than humans. I simply seek to change my nature.”

“You’re a murderer. Your nature won’t change with knowledge, magical or otherwise.” Tenja held her ground like an embattled queen. “No one touches that book without my approval. No one.”

“You cannot stop me.”

“I’ll try.”

Delavayne pounced.

Spriggan watched the battle with wide eyes.

Delavayne’s claws swiped at Tenja, but she dodged the attack. Tenja, half his size, struck back, but Delavyne blocked.

They tackled each other in a frenzy of claws and fangs. The tumbling gray and calico kaleidoscope of violence became streaked with red. Growls and caterwauls reverberated through the hall.

Delavayne fought like a drunken brawler, brute force more important than finesse. His foreclaws were deadly but imprecise. Tenja twirled and pirouetted, her counterstrikes a martial ballet.

Sure footed, Tenja broke away. Delavayne whirled, quickly landing a heavy blow to her face. Tenja rolled across the room and did not rise. Blood showed on her mouth.

Laughing, Delavayne raced to the tallest pedestal and the powerful grimoire it supported.

“Finally, it’s mine!”

Is the Guardian defeated? Spriggan was horrified, until Tenja caught his eye and winked. She was playing possum.

Delavayne leaped atop the pedestal and greedily caressed the protective gold cover before flipping it open and reading the first page.

“What is this?” he said, puzzled. “Apple pie? A recipe for apple pie?”

Flummoxed, he read the next page. “Apricot dumplings?” He flipped another, and another. “Linguini, meatloaf, pork chops, zucchini.” He slammed the book closed, and screamed, “What sorcery is this?”

That distraction was all Tenja needed. She jumped beside Delavayne, turned, and seized him on a cat’s only weak spot, the scruff of the neck.

He howled as they dropped to the floor.

Sampson pounded into Grimoire Hall.

With relief, he spotted Spriggan peeking over the cushion. The kitten was safe, albeit bewildered. Then he saw that Tenja’s plan was working exactly as she intended, despite the change in decoys.

“Guardian,” Sampson’s voice rang with doom. “They’re ready.”

Tenja pulled the screaming Delavayne towards the back stairs, attended by Sampson and followed by Spriggan.

“Let me go!”

Delavayne writhed in every direction, but escape was impossible. Despite his twisting, Tenja dragged him up the steps, through the hidden door, and into the alley behind the bookshop. She tossed him hard onto the asphalt.

Delavayne wavered to his feet, bleeding from many wounds. Snarling, he headed toward Tenja, who stood back-lit by Apedemak’s blessings in front of the door.

Delavayne stopped suddenly in midstride, looking around.

“Who are you? What do you want?” he snarled.

Sarah, Clem, Isis, Mittens, Tambour, Tatiana, Gwendolyn, Ling, Oswald, Percival, Mooch, Fifi, and hundreds, maybe thousands, of other city residents surrounded him. They stood silent on trashcans, in windows, on ledges, and on rooftops.

“You can’t stop me,” Delavayne howled. “I am too close to success. After all these years, I am too close.”

The cats remained silent, staring at their enemy.

“What do you want?” Delavayne screamed, his tone revealing fear for the first time.

“We want you,” Sarah said softly, padding forward. “We’ve been waiting for the Guardian to drag you out, murderer.”

Tenja recited the ka spell under her breath. It manifested the aura of Delavayne’s true soul for all the cats to see.

“What are you doing?” Delavayne hollered. “Stop it!”

The cats growled and hissed as they saw his ka. Delavayne’s soul was a wicked, shriveled thing; it had beady eyes and a narrow snout, somehow both serpentine and rodentlike.

The citizens got a good look at Delavayne’s ka, sniffed its scent, and committed his supernatural essence to their memories. Thousands of eyes narrowed, thousands of fangs glistened, and thousands of haunches tensed.

Delavayne looked around again, and again. He was trapped. Like a mouse. He had one course of action left: retreat. He backed up a step, then another.

“The grimoire will be mine,” he hissed. “I’ll return.”

“You will never come back to this city,” Sarah said. “Because you will never leave it.”

Spinning, Delavayne shot out of the alley.