Guardian Cats and the Lost Books of Alexandria

Chapter 31: The London Bookshop

The dull ache in his hind leg woke Cicero and the bittersweet memories came flooding back.

He missed Amelia. He missed the labyrinthine maze of books and magazines in her bookshop, the cafés on London’s narrow cobblestone street behind the store, the treats he always found waiting for him.

He even missed dodging the shoes one merchant threw at him and the excitement of never knowing when a motor scooter would come charging down the alley like some avenging angel.

When he greeted Amelia’s customers, they’d exclaim, “Oh, you’re the cat on the mews!” and laugh hysterically. He never understood what was so funny.

His last day at the bookstore, he had been lying in a sunny patch by the front window. Something in the air changed the moment the man stepped into the shop.

A gray fedora shadowed his face. He wore a tweed coat and carried a satchel which weighed down one shoulder.

“Do you carry rare books?” he had asked Amelia, rubbing his hands together as if they were cold, even though the day was warm. Cicero remembered how his moustache bobbed as he spoke.

Before Amelia could answer, the man was talking again. “Ah, um, I should introduce myself. Where are my manners?” he said, fumbling in his pocket. He handed Amelia his card. “I’m Doctor Chin. But most people call me ‘Professor’.”

Amelia had seemed delighted with his presence, but she was like that with everyone. Cicero followed them as she guided the man on a tour of the small crowded bookstore. There should not be a shadow inside, he knew, but sure enough, one was following this man.

“Lovely shop, yes,” the man said. “And I will browse through that art collection in the back, but I wonder if… I feel a little foolish asking.” He laughed tightly. “Are there any hidden rooms?”

“You mean, like in the movies?” Amelia asked, her laugh generous and natural.

“Well, yes. Exactly. You know, a sliding door or revolving bookcase…”

“Oh, I don’t think so, Professor. This is an ordinary bookshop.”

Cicero moved protectively to Amelia’s side.

“Nothing mysterious here. Right, Cicero?” She picked him up and cradled him in her arms.

The man jolted slightly.

“Oh! I hope you’re not allergic to cats,” said Amelia.

“Oh no, that’s not it. I mean… he just surprised me, that’s all.”

The man’s breathing quickened, but he insisted he wasn’t allergic. They had stopped walking and were standing in front of a collection of children’s picture books. Cicero could feel the man’s loathing for him even as he said to Amelia, “Lovely cat. You had him long?”

“Cicero’s been here since... well, since before I bought the place. Oh my, that’s been over fifteen years.”

Cicero glared at the man.

“Fifteen years! He doesn’t appear that old,” said the man. He had been backing slowly away from Amelia as he tried to keep up the conversation.

“Well, Cicero is an amazing cat. He’s quite a fixture here. Everyone loves him.”

“Hmmm, yes.”

Cicero had never encountered a human who had taken an immediate dislike to him in such a strong way.

“He’s an unusual looking cat. More spotted than striped, like an Egyptian Mau.”

“Oh… I don’t know what kind of cat he is. He’s just my adorable Cicero.”

“Do you know about the legendary cats of Iskandriyah?” The man was nervous, but Amelia didn’t seem to notice.

“What?”

“Iskandriyah. Surely you’ve heard of the Library of Iskandriyah? Of course, you may only know it as Alexandria.”

“Of course.” The sudden stiffening of Amelia’s arms wasn’t the main reason Cicero jumped down. The strange shadow moved apart from the man. It seemed to have a life of its own.

“I think I’ve struck a nerve,” said the man.

“Oh now, Professor. That’s silly. He’s just a cat.”

“Such a nice cat.”

Cicero glowered at him.

The bell over the door jingled, and Amelia seemed relieved. “Feel free to look around while I tend to my other customers.”

Cicero tracked the Professor, who alternated between looking at books and making furtive taps on the walls.

“You look like a cat with something to hide,” he said. “I thought the Guardian Cats were just a myth. Filthy creatures like you are good for nothing more than being a witch’s familiar.”

Cicero felt the man’s struggle between desire and loathing for him. It would have made sense to turn and run, but his guardian instincts had kicked in.

“Is this the right place, this sorry excuse for a bookstore? How ironic that it’s supposed to be in London, so close to home.” The man seemed to be in conversation with someone else. “And why did you lead me here and not show me exactly where it is?” Who was he talking to?

“I paid dearly for this!” the man continued, his voice low and strained. “Don’t even think of short changing me on our deal.” The Professor seemed to be in conversation with the shadow.

Cicero kept his distance and breathed a sigh of relief when closing time finally came.

After Amelia locked up, he scooted through his cat door out into the alley to breathe the night air, but he was greeted with the tantalizing smell of fish.

How could he have known it was a trap? The instant he stepped over the wire, it snapped shut. Cicero went wild, throwing himself against the sides of the cage.

When he realized that an escape was impossible, he hunkered down, ignoring the fish. Out of the shadows the Professor spoke. “I knew you were more than just a sleepy shop cat.”

Cicero hissed. How could this have happened? The Professor took him, cage and all, and put him in the trunk of his car. They drove a short while, the car stopped and the man carried him into a small room, where he was placed on a table.

“Don’t worry. I don’t want to become friends.” He opened a suitcase and picked things out, setting them on the other end of the table.

“This should prove interesting. I’ve never tried this with a cat, but my mother’s magic might have been good for something.” He turned out the lights and lit a candle. Cicero stared at the man, who stared at the candle. First silently, then chanting, sometimes whispery, other times loudly, again talking to creatures even Cicero couldn’t see.

Not at first.

Then one after another, dark shadows appeared on the walls, peeled off and entered the room, finding their places. One came and slithered into the cage, but Cicero hissed and spat so violently it backed off, emitting a snickering kind of laugh.

The Professor did not waver in his incantations. The candle flickered and sputtered, and more shadow creatures peeled off the walls. Then on the Professor’s command, they merged and circled around his cage, absorbing the light.

They closed in on him and he struggled to breathe.

“Now let him go!” commanded Professor Chin, throwing his hands wide. The shadow creatures obeyed and slunk back into their corners. Cicero tried to stop shaking.

“I know who you are. Believe me, your days as Guardian are over. It’s time to let someone have the book who can do it justice.” He moved in close and Cicero took a swipe at him.

“Rethink your position, dear Cicero,” pronouncing his name with disdain. “You can retire with all of your limbs intact. You will be able to sleep with both eyes shut. Your only other choice is to die a martyr’s useless death.”

Cicero resisted with all his might.

“Don’t fight me!” commanded the Professor. “Tell me where the book is and I will let you go!”

For a fraction of a second, and against his will, Cicero’s mind saw where it was hidden in the bookshop. He groaned. How could he have been so weak? He still cringed when he thought of that fateful moment.

“Yes!” the Professor exclaimed.

Cicero had not been able to prevent the Professor from penetrating his mind; it had been as captive as his body in the cage.

“Now show me the entryway.”

Cicero felt his power weakening. Unable to resist the Professor’s black magic, the tapestry covering the door under the stairs appeared as clear as anything in his mind. That was all the Professor needed.

“It’s all coming back to me now. Mother always told me I had the gift. But I will go far beyond this weak gypsy magic. Tarot and tea leaves will not suffice. No one will ever have power over me now.”

The Professor rubbed his hands together. Blocking the candle light, his shadow was thrown on the wall, looming larger than life.

As he talked, he began to unlatch the cage. “What a disgusting notion—cats guarding such a priceless treasure. This is not a book that should be hoarded in some forgotten bookstore by a filthy cat.

“Should I set you free? A gesture of good will, perhaps? I suppose there are men who might do such a thing, but I know the right way to treat a cat.”

Cicero did not waste a moment. The instant the cage door was unlatched he became a wild animal and pushed through, leaping at the Professor and latching onto his neck.

The next thing he knew, he’d been hurled to the floor. All he could remember now from that moment was the numbness in his legs and disgrace in his soul.

After the Professor sped away in his car, a light appeared outside the doorway. Alaniah had arrived.

“Where have you been!” he scolded.

“I couldn’t find you-ou. There was so much interference, my navigation system was thrown off. However did you get to… what is this place? The Tar and Feathers Inn?”

“Never mind. There’s no time to explain. I can’t move, and I fear I’ve lost the book.”

“Poor, dear Cicero. I’m so sorry. Lie still.” Then Alaniah hovered above and showered him with something like warm snowflakes. Soon the feeling began to return to his leg.

“Make me a portal, Alaniah,” he asked, and the Losring transported Cicero back to the bookshop. But it was too late. The tiny room had been ransacked. He went out the back and saw the man disappearing down the dark alleyway.

There was only one thing left for him to do. The power of the book was his to use in extreme circumstances. He hobbled down the alleyway, running as best he could on his three good legs, trying to imagine what in the world he would need to become in order to rescue the book.

As soon as the answer appeared, a wave of power surged through his body. Then his feet disappeared and outstretched wings emerged from his sides, lifting him off the cobblestone street and into the air.

The alley became his runway and he flew over the Professor’s head, trying out his hawk wings. He soared in a wide circle, with the night sky and wind holding him above while he looked down at the earth from this new height.

The Professor left the alley for the street, dark and deserted except for one car and a few scattered pole lamps. Cicero’s hawk eyes picked the target site and locked onto it, as though he’d done this a million times before.

The air whooshed under him as he picked up speed and made his silent, deadly descent. The Professor’s hand was on the car door handle when he attacked, one jab with his beak in the darkest circle of the man’s eye.

The Professor didn’t make a sound right away. He fell to the ground, hugging his head, then let out one of the worst screams Cicero had ever heard coming out of a human. In one smooth motion, Cicero snatched the book with his talons and flew back up into the silent night sky.