Catopolis

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.

“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 fu

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, gri

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.