Catopolis

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 ci

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.

Why isn’t the lure working?

He had pla

Wait!

At the intersection a few blocks ahead of him, Sampson saw Spriggan ru

“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 ca

“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.