Catopolis

THE GUARDIAN OF GRIMOIRE HALL by Christopher Welch

With his head low to the ground, whiskers straight, eyes glimmering and ears attentive, Delavayne entered the Antique District with uneven, silent steps. Following a trajectory of shadows in the moonlit cityscape, he had unsuccessfully searched most of the metropolis in the last week. Within minutes of treading the concrete of the Antique District, his toes began to tingle.

Grimoire Hall and The Book of Apedemak must be in this part of the city, he exulted.

He stalked the alleys and avenues, prowling between ancient structures and around parked vehicles and late-night pedestrians as quickly as his four awkward limbs allowed. His nose twitched, bringing him strong unfamiliar scents.

The smoky sheen of Delavayne’s gray fur blended with the city’s neon and concrete shadows. He’d also taken arcane precautions to veil himself from the city’s feline population. He left little scent to track.

Despite my precautions, a big orange cat almost spotted me earlier this evening. Delavayne had faded into the darkness of the urban corridors.

Funny, how cats perceived even the slightest hints of the supernatural.

What other secrets do you hide from me? Delavayne wondered. What other arcane gifts has the god Apedemak bestowed upon you?

Delavayne saw a tall tabby farther down the street, strolling toward him. A distinctive metaphysical aura emanated from the cat’s body.

This one has answers!

Delavayne ensconced himself in shadows. Smiling, he flexed his claws and prepared to pounce.

Inside the underground Grimoire Hall, Tenja nestled on a pillow reading a book she had borrowed from the shelves upstairs without Clara’s knowledge by means of the ka spell. It had been years since she’d read the Poe collection, and it was like visiting an old friend.

Tenja had nearly finished

Murders in the Rue Morgue, and she was anticipating The Purloined Letter, her personal favorite. I’ll recommend this book to Fergus the next time he stops by, assuming his stiff feline pride can be convinced to read a human author, Tenja thought, the corners of her mouth turning upward. It is good to know something of the people who claim to keep us. And as poet laureate of the city, he’ll appreciate the refrains in Ulalume.

Tenja’s whiskers tingled. Sleek muscles under her white-and-calico coat tensed suddenly.

Something is amiss, her Guardian instincts told her.

No one touched the ancient books surrounding her without her approval. No one. Since early Renaissance times, members of her long-lived family had guarded the precious tomes.

Tenja rose, abandoning Poe as she assessed the situation. Her copper-colored eyes darted across the amber-lighted hall.

The Book of Apedemak lay on its central pedestal, the scrolls remained safe in their cases, and countless bound volumes by austere feline scholars and philosophers stood in orderly fashion.

Running up the front staircase, Tenja checked the main entrance. It seemed secure. She bounded over to the rear staircase that led to the door into back alley. It was also secure.

Everything was just as it should be, but her whiskers still tingled.

Is something wrong in the Antique District?

Tenja listened at the back door with ultrasensitive ears. She heard fading footfalls in the alley, then after six heartbeats… nothing. The threat had passed. Her nose told her nothing.

If there is a real problem, Fergus or Sampson or even some nosy kitten will tell me about it. Kittens are good at finding out odd things.

Still alert for a predator, she returned to reading the mystery of the murderous beast that stalked Paris.

A monster was loose in the city.

The cats that nightly patrolled the myriad levels of the metropolis had alerted feline city elders several days ago that something was on the prowl, something never seen in daylight. But the creature could not be traced; even the city’s best hunters were luckless in tracking it. That in itself was alarming.

“I myself spotted an odd intruder just a few hours ago during my usual scouting,” orange Sampson stated to a citizen’s committee. They’d hastily gathered at his call in a pocket park adjacent to a weathered brick office building.

Well respected by the city’s four-footed residents for his prodigious hunting skills, Sampson’s word carried weight in the cat community. Esteemed elders Clem, Isis, Mittens, Tambour, Tatiana, Gwendolyn, Ling, Oswald, Percival, Mooch, Fifi, and Sarah awaited his information.

“What manner of creature did you see?” prompted Sarah.

“It was furry and quadruped,” Sampson said. “It blended well with shadows, which it rarely left. I couldn’t determine if it was canine or rodent, or something else. I saw teeth and claws reflected in the moonlight as it ran past the old City Hall. Its gait is odd. And I caught a glimpse of its eyes.” He shuddered. “I’m sure there was a glimmer of black magic, the darkest sorcery.”

The elders stared at one another in shocked silence.

“We should have detected its mystical presence as soon as this stranger set paw in the Antique District,” Clem finally said. “We’re familiar with all male and female witches in our city. Who among them would summon such a threat?”

No one spoke. None could fathom the interloper’s purpose.

“It must be an infiltrator from beyond the city limits,” Sarah concluded in her soft voice. “It’s the only logical-”

Caterwauls from two blocks away interrupted her.

Catfight!

Curiosity was killing Spriggan.

He was barely beyond kittenhood and still awaited his adult coat, which he hoped would be a shade darker than his current cinnamon hue. He had heard his father Sampson tell Sarah earlier about calling the congregation of city elders to discuss monster sightings.

Monsters mean excitement! His tail flicked with enthusiasm.

Spriggan had tracked his father to the meeting, staying just within sight of the orange hunter. He vaulted between awnings and window sills, remaining, he hoped, unnoticed. Now perching on a high ledge of the old office building, he listened to the elders’ discussion. An odd chill crept up Spriggan’s spine as Sampson described the creature.

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.

“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.

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.

The citizens, grinning, gave him a head start. Then, as a pride, they sprang after him.

“Will he get away?” Spriggan asked, worried.

“No,” Sampson answered.

“What was he? Cat, human, or monster?”

“He was a murderer and thief, the rest is irrelevant,” Tenja answered as she limped back into Grimoire Hall. “I think most humans wish to be a cat at some point. Delavayne was an extreme case.” She began washing a perforated ear.

“You knew the monster was a cat, didn’t you?” Spriggan asked.

“I deduced that someone who discovered the existence of

The Book of Apedemak, and desired it so obsessively, would disguise himself as a cat. It became obvious to me by Sampson’s description-stealth, speed, teeth, and claws-such could only be a cat in this city. That is the primary reason why none of us could detect Delavayne when he first arrived. Nobody could fathom such a horror resembling themselves. It runs counter to feline esteem and our sense of pride. I suspect an olfactory veiling spell at work as well.”

“What about the book?” Spriggan asked.

“I switched it,” Tenja said. “The idea came from a story by Edgar Allen Poe titled

The Purloined Letter. It’s about hiding important documents in the most obvious places. I deduced that Delavayne would overlook that shelf completely once the door to Grimoire Hall was opened.”

“

The Book of Apedemak is upstairs?” Spriggan asked, shocked. “On the cookbook shelf? We ran right by it?”

“Yes.” Tenja began to wash a long scratch on her belly.

“Guardian, may I retrieve it and put it back in its place?” Spriggan asked. His tail flicked with enthusiasm.

“No,” the Guardian said. Seeing Spriggan’s disappointment, Tenja smiled. “You have proven yourself to be both brave and quick witted, Spriggan. The Lion God smiles upon you, I believe. One day when you are older, you may take a glimpse at its pages.”

“One day seems very far away,” Spriggan sighed. Sampson led his son up the steps and through the door.

Later, after Tenja had replaced the great books on their pedestals and bathed her wounds again, she sat on her favorite pillow.

“Now, where was I? Ah, yes. For you, my friend Fergus.”

She started reading

Ulalume.