6db4f34bb54819ccf1b86be8c539379d

Cicero walked the length of the table, as though he were preparing for a speech. Then he spoke in his best Shakespearean.

“Seems he a dove? His feathers are but borrowed for he’s disposed as the hateful raven. Is he a lamb? His skin is surely lent him for he’s included as is the ravenous wolf. Who cannot steal a shape that means deceit?”

Bait had climbed up on a chair, as if he needed to be on the same level as Cicero.“You foolish old cat! You think quoting Shakespeare solves anything?” Then he jumped to the floor and prepared to leave. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Or offer to help.” As he turned to leave, he said to Marco. “Come on, let’s leave this burned-out candle.”

Marco was torn. Reluctantly he left with Bait, leaving Cicero alone in his chambers.

Bait waited until they were outside to speak.“I fear his reach has exceeded his grasp. He has outlived his usefulness here. He has outlived his job.”

“What job?” asked Marco, trying to figure out just what Bait knew about the Book without giving away what he knew. Maybe he was only referring to his job as the library cat, but Marco was getting anxious that too many others knew about the Book, which was supposed to be top secret.

“You know it’s all a fairy story, don’t you?”

Marco hesitated. Bait made it seem like no big deal. But Marco had made a promise and he had to keep his word. Cicero was acting strangely and sometimes he scared Marco with his passion. But he’d been entrusted to something important and it felt real to him. Marco paused, unsure of what to say.

“I’ll bet he made you promise not to tell, didn’t he? That’s just part of his mental illness.” Bait shook his head. “But don’t worry about him. You’ve got other problems, Marco.”

Chapter 37: Errors in judgment

Cicero had misjudged Marco. He was thankful for that. Whatever trouble was brewing with the raccoons, he felt sure Bait was behind it after that little counterfeit display of friendship. It made sense, considering what had happened. But what truly disturbed him was the fact that he had misjudged Bait. Again.

He had chosen Bait to be his successor years ago, but had to let him go. Now he was beginning to realize how much he’d underestimated Bait’s resentment for that.

At the time, Cicero had no choice. The incident with Caffeina was disturbing especially because Bait thought no one was listening. A Guardian always treated a lady with respect and Bait had accused Caffeina of being a tramp. It was important that a Guardian have the same good character when alone, as well as when others were around.

Bait had seemed surprised about the reprimand, contrite even. It wasn’t serious enough to terminate his training, but Cicero’s eyes were opened and he kept a close watch.

Things came to a head, though, when Bait questioned him about using the power of the Book. He’d started off politely, appearing to be casual about it. Cicero explained to Bait about abusing the responsibility. A Guardian is rarely called upon to use the power. His only job is to protect it.

Bait claimed that he would only use its power for good. After his arguments didn’t work on Cicero, his tone changed, and for the briefest flash, Cicero saw Bait’s polished exterior crack. In that moment, Cicero saw the darkness underneath.

What a dreadful feeling that had been. He’d felt like a fool not seeing it before, but Bait’s deception had been flawless. Or had it? Did he miss crucial signs? Bait had seemed to be the most qualified cat to come along in years. He presented a noble character and was not afraid of danger. Now Cicero realized his dignified appearance was more a characteristic of his breed, rather than a personal quality.

Cicero had been shocked then. Now he was mortified. How could it have happened again? He cringed at the thought of how close Bait had come to being in the position of a Guardian Cat.

Cicero had given Bait a stern warning and told him his training was finished. Maybe he’d been too harsh. Maybe he should have been more diplomatic, but he’d reacted with passion, and there was no going back.

Bait hung around, came to meetings and nothing changed much on the outside. Cicero did not discourage him from coming. In fact, he thought it was better to keep him close. No one else knew what had happened, but then no one else knew about the Book.

Now Bait was befriending Marco. Nothing good could come of it, he was sure. It also seemed that he was trying to get the raccoons to do his dirty work. What in the world was Bait up to?

Chapter 38: Spying on cats

Lazer, the renegade raccoon who had befriended Sting, stood outside the raccoons’ camper and toyed with the leash around the sleeping ferret’s neck. He was pleased to see Sting had captured him. Pleased to know just how far the raccoon would go.

He banged on Sting’s door. Crimmany opened it and stuck his head out. “What do you want?”

“Sting here?” asked Lazer.

“Yeah. So?”

“So! Let me talk to him,” barked Lazer.

“Sting!” yelled Crimmany, back inside the camper.

“What!”

“Somebody’s here to see you.”

Sting appeared as a silhouette, filling the frame of the door. “Hey, Lazer!”

“Hey. How’s it going, Sting?”

“Not so good. Come on in.”

Lazer climbed into the camper shell and made himself comfortable on shreds of what had been a mattress.“What happened?”

“You never told me the library was full of books! Then that mangy orange cat who keeps buttin’ his head in my business showed up. And that useless critter I got tied up outside. What am I? A pet sitter? Dang animal sure is a pack of trouble. Only thing he might be good for is some kind of bribe.”

“I like the way you think, Sting.”

Sting shook his head.“Well, I sure never got that book you was talking about. It’s like looking for a needle in a haystack.”

“Hmmm. Well, you did one good thing. The cats are all riled up.”

“Yeah, that’s always a good thing,” said Sting. “By the way, where you been?”

“I work undercover, like I told you. Spying on cats.”

“Yeah? Seems like a boring job. What for?”

“I have my reasons,” said Lazer. “One thing I do know… the cats are worried that you’ll steal their big-deal book. They are trying to figure out what to do with it. That means they’re likely to move it somewhere.” It was a lie, but Lazer had no problem with lying.

“Yeah. So.”

“If we can catch them in the act, it’ll be a piece of cake.”

“We? What’s with this ‘we’ business? Why should I bother?” asked Sting.

“You like having these scruffy strays in your face all the time? Can’t you see there’s something wrong with them? These cats are not normal.”

“You’re telling me.”

“It’s their magical powers. They get it from this book, I tell you. Get it away from them, and you won’t have any more problems.”

“Why don’t you deal with them? Why are you asking me?”

Lazer hung his head. “Take a good look at me. I was the runt in my family. They didn’t even expect me to live. I’ve got a good head, but physically… you tell me. You think I could handle these cats?”

“You have a point.”

“I need someone like you and your crew. Tough guys.”

Sting lit up. “We can handle ‘em for sure. Right, boys?”

“Right!” agreed Tank and Crimmany.

Sting paced the length of his truck bed, his center of operations. The other raccoons kept still while he plotted. After a good while, he stopped thinking and gave an order.

“Crimmany, front and center,” he said. “I need you to deliver a message.”

Chapter 39: What magic book?

By now all the Dead Cats had heard about the fight and Polo’s kidnapping. They were in their own headquarters in the library storage room and Tweezer was recounting the details, as he knew them, for the umpteenth time.

“What’s Sting want a book for?” asked one of the cats.

“There’s a jillion books here. Why doesn’t he just take one?” asked another.

Marco sat sullenly on top of a card catalogue. Cats could listen to the same story over and over again and never tire of it, but he was growing impatient. This was getting them no closer to rescuing Polo or protecting the Book. He washed his face and listened. The Dead Cats’ conversation revealed one important point, and that was how little they really knew about anything.

He had his own set of questions. How could Cicero believe he’d betrayed him? How did Sting know about the Book? And how much did Bait really know?

There was movement outside and a head appeared in the window. The raccoon looked nervously around the room.“Which one of you’s Marco?” he demanded.

Marco stood up in surprise.

“This message is for you.” The raccoon cleared his throat and spoke like he was repeating the words from memory. “Deliver the magic book to me, I mean Sting, in one hour.” His head disappeared and popped back up. “Bring it to him at his headquarters.”

He disappeared again. Tweezer was rushing over to look out the window when the raccoon popped up for the third time.“If you don’t show, your little buddy’s dead meat.”

Now all of the cats ran over to the window, crowding each other for a view of the raccoon as he clumsily clawed his way down the tree.

They all began talking at once, but everyone was pretty much saying the same thing.

“Magic book? What magic book?”

Marco slipped out unnoticed.

Chapter 40: Neither cat nor human

Marco had no problem locating Sting’s headquarters. It wouldn’t have taken his exceptional sense of smell to detect raccoon odor radiating from the brown truck. Besides, there was Polo, tied to the bumper. Even asleep he looked forlorn.

He must have sensed Marco’s presence because he woke up, squealing with delight, and began running towards him. But the leash caught him short.

Sting came out of the camper to see what the commotion was about.“Knock it off!” he yelled and yanked on the leash, choking Polo as he pulled him back. Then he noticed Marco. “Hey, Rat! Look who’s here! It’s your big buddy.”

“Let him go!” demanded Marco.

“Sure, Marco. No problem. But I don’t see no book. You didn’t come all the way out here without it, did you?”

“It’s not mine to give you, Sting.”

“I don’t care whose it is. Steal it!”

“What are you going to do with a book? You can’t even read.”

“I hear this one’s special. Maybe I won’t have to read it. Maybe it will read itself to me.”

If Marco had any doubts about a traitor in his midst, they were dispelled now. Even if he didn’t have his facts straight, there was no way Sting would know about The Book of Motion by himself. His head hung down, weighted by a muddle of problems. How had his life gotten so complicated?

“What a moron. I don’t know why I’m bothering with the likes of you. Here I thought you’d do anything to get your friend back,” said Sting. “Time to proceed with Plan B.” Sting yelled back inside the camper, “You boys know what to do. Now go!”

Tank squeezed through the door, Sting not bothering to move to let him out.

“I’m calling in backup,” he told Marco. “Friends who are itchin’ for a good fight.”

“I’m not afraid,” Marco countered. “Cats love a good fight.”

“You’ll be sorry you didn’t make this nice and simple, Marco. Be prepared for things to get rough.” Sting looked at Polo, “Right, little buddy?”

Polo was shivering, his eyes pleading for mercy.

Marco needed some leverage. Something besides another attack. He’d already been in too many fights with Sting. He would have to go about this differently, and he’d already given some thought to it. A guardian was allowed to use the power of the Book if it was a matter of life and death. Surely, this was one of those times.

He had memorized the magical words. Cicero said he wasn’t ready to receive the spell, but their haunting sound had stayed with him. So he spoke the words, hoping to transform into a human like Cicero had done. Nothing happened at first. Marco repeated the spell. Again nothing. What was he doing wrong? He tried a third time and was suddenly catapultedinto a new form. He was the same size as before and still on all fours, but he had the arms and legs of a human. They were covered in fur, but his face felt naked and his ears were gone.

He was neither cat nor human, but a frightful hodgepodge of both. Sting and Polo were both gaping at him. When Sting started laughing, Marco, mortified at his condition, ran for cover, tripping and falling, forced to use legs that didn’t fit his body.

Chapter 41: Caffeina

Marco returned to the library in a strange mood, smelling of human and raccoon, warning the Dead Cats of impending danger. When someone asked him what was wrong, he snapped at them. But he’d taken charge and was giving orders. They needed lookouts because the raccoons were bringing in recruits for a fight. Marco said they needed their own recruits, that they needed to round up some strays.

The air was charged with electricity and Caffeina chose to join the round up rather than sit around waiting. It turned out that only she and Tweezer had volunteered.

“How much farther?” whined Caffeina, after they had been walking forever. She thought it might be fun going on an adventure, but she should have known better. How could anything be fun with Tweezer?

Now she wished she’d stayed behind, because her toe pads hurt.

“Tweezer! You never told me it would be this far. For that matter, you never even told me where we’re going.”

Tweezer did not slow his pace or miss a beat.

“We’ve no time to waste, Caffeina.”

“I know. It’s just that I figured stray cats would be… well, like, closer to town.”

“You don’t get out much, do you?”

“You are such a pain, Tweezer! Why are you so mean?”

“I’m not mean. I just don’t have time to explain things.”

After a few blocks he slowed his pace.“We’re almost there.” They turned the corner and Tweezer crossed the street in front of a dilapidated old house. The yard was surrounded by a chain link fence, and the house was wrapped with a wide porch supported by thick pillars covered in dry paint curls.

It looked abandoned, but there were cats dozing on chairs and in laundry baskets. Kittens scrambled around the dirt yard, playing with broken twigs. Aluminum pie tins of dry food lined the porch.

For once, Caffeina was speechless. She had no idea so many cats could live in one place. Tweezer climbed up the trunk of a tree and leaped off inside the fenced yard. He marched up to the porch like he belonged.

“Welcome home, Tweez. How’s it going?”

This was where Tweezer lived? Caffeina never thought about where the other cats went when they weren’t together. She’d always been a little ashamed because she lied about living at the Sleep N’Go. She picked her way around mud puddles and tried not to breathe too deeply. This was so much worse than the motel.

She joined Tweezer so she wouldn’t get stuck out in the yard having to talk with some awful-looking stray.

“Tweezer! Where you been? Hanging out with bookworms?” yelled one dirty white cat.

“They’re dead cats, supposedly,” said another.

“Aren’t we good enough for you anymore?”

“Maybe we’re not dead enough,” joked one.

To Caffeina’s surprise, Tweezer didn’t get uptight with these cats like he did with her. He greeted each one like they were long lost brothers and sisters, all of them teasing each other good-naturedly.

“Look what he brought with him! Hey, gorgeous. What’s your name?”

“Wow, Tweezer. How’d you ever get a girl like that? You being so ugly and all.”

Caffeina was appalled they thought she was Tweezer’s girl.

“Naw, she’s just a friend,” said Tweezer.

“Sure. We believe that.”

“Hey, Tweez! If she’s not your girl, maybe I can have her,” said Boris, an obese orange and white cat. “What about it, baby?”

“No way, creep.” Caffeina said. She was not used to such crudeness. The Dead Cats, except for Bait, were always respectful.

“Aw, you’re hurtin’ my feelings!” said Boris. “I need a pretty girl to talk to.”

“Okay, come here. I do have something to say,” said Caffeina.

Boris came waddling over with a stupid grin on his face, and the minute he was close enough, Caffeina smacked him a good one, drawing a thin line of blood on his nose.

“Geez, you don’t have to get violent,” said Boris, dragging his tail as he walked away.

Meanwhile, Tweezer had jumped onto a table.“Alright. Listen up, everybody. I came here for a reason and I don’t have a lot of time for explanations, so I’ll get right to the point. We need your help.”

“We? Like who’s‘we’?”

“The Dead Cats Society. We’ve been attacked by a pack of raccoons. They’re roaming through town, looking for trouble, and…”

“Raccoons! Those mangy varmints,” interrupted a cat.

“What’s a raccoon?” asked a kitten.

“But…” continued Tweezer, holding up his paw. “This pack is particularly vicious and they’ve called for more recruits. The rumors are flying, but if they’re true we won’t stand a chance.”

“What’d you do to get them so riled up, Tweezer?”

“It’s kinda complicated, but they’ve kidnapped one of our friends and are holding him hostage.”

“Kidnapped! Who’d kidnap a cat? I thought everyone wanted to get rid of us.”

“Um, well,” Tweezer faltered. “Polo’s not exactly a cat.”

“What exactly is he?” said one.

Tweezer looked to Caffeina for help. She shrugged.“Might as well tell them the truth,” she said.

“It’s a ferret,” said Tweezer.

“A what?”

“He’s a parrot?” inquired a half-deaf, half-tailed Manx. “Ruby’s been looking kinda’ lonely lately.”

Tweezer’s look was one Caffeina had never seen before. Sort of a helpless, exasperated expression, but this time he was not annoyed with her. He took a deep breath and explained to her, like he was taking her into his confidence. “Ruby is a parrot, a long time resident here at Mrs. Wilcox’s.”

To the others, he said,“No, not a parrot. A ferret.”

There was dead silence until a kitten piped up and asked,“What’s a ferret?”

Again, Tweezer appealed to Caffeina.“Can you help me out here?”

The strays were waiting.

She sighed.“Well, he looks a little like us, but he’s long and has small ears.” That wasn’t much help. Then she remembered how Marco had described him. “Oh, yeah. He’s funny.”

“Ooooh,” the cats all breathed out simultaneously, as if it explained everything.

“So I’m asking for your help,” Tweezer went on. “How about an adventure?”

The cats stared at him in utter astonishment.

Tweezer plowed on.“What are you doing here? You don’t have to hunt for food. You’ve all gone soft. Come on and live a little. Break out of your routine.”

Caffeina thought Tweezer was overselling the mission, but she admired the spirit of his speech.

But the cats weren’t buying it.

“Adventure? Why in the world would we want an adventure? We like eating and sleeping and we love being spoiled by our human,” said one.

“Yeah, why would we risk our necks to fight wild raccoons? That’s not an adventure. That’s suicide!” said another.

Tweezer pleaded with them, which was something he wasn’t used to doing. “What if you were in trouble? Wouldn’t you want someone to come and rescue you?”

“Tweezer. Look around. In case you forgot, we’ve already been rescued.”

Tweezer didn’t respond, and Caffeina worried he’d run out of arguments. Before she even realized what she was doing, she jumped onto the table next to him. “You don’t realize how serious this is. These raccoons are not only out for our blood, but you may well be their next victims. And then you’ll bebegging for our help.”

“Well, well. The little princess has spoken,” said Lulu, an old female, who was not aging gracefully. “You’re scaring us, Princess.”

Contrary to her normal behavior, Caffeina ignored her. She’d deal with this female later. Besides, she was beginning to enjoy delivering this little pep talk.

“There’s more at stake here than defense and rescue. They’re planning a heist.”

Tweezer leaned over close to her.“You have to use simpler words,” he whispered.

“Oh, sure. Uh, a heist is like a burglary.” She looked at Tweezer and he motioned to go down a notch.

“Stealing.”

“Yeah, what can they steal from a cat?”

She knew it was going to sound strange, but what could she do?“A book. From the library.”

“What’s a library?” asked the kitten.

“Oh, my. That does sound serious,” said Lulu. “You Dead Cats are so weird. The rumors are true.”

“Why would we care about some stupid book?” yelled Boris, the dirty white fat cat.

This was not going well. Caffeina thought quickly and decided to take a different approach. Even though she’d never read much more than fashion magazines, she had absorbed Cicero’s teachings. She had listened to his tales about the Guardian Cats, their gallant and noble deeds and now, when she needed them, they came to her rescue. Just knowing about them inspired her.

“Think about others for a change. Don’t be concerned only with your own lot. Test your courage and strength.” She paused and took a deep breath. “See what you’re made of. You won’t know until you’ve put it to the test.”

She looked into their faces.“Think of it as a quest,” she said a little breathlessly.

Caffeina felt Tweezer staring in amazement at her.

“What’s a quest?” asked a kitten.

Chapter 42: When rumors are not enough

Bait was on the library roof. He felt the charge in the air. Tonight was the night. Tonight he would get his revenge.

He never thought that treating a‘girl’ badly would put him out of the league of Guardians. Then of course, there was that time he let his shield down. That fraction of a second had cost him dearly, but it was Cicero who would pay. His old mentor, who had taken him in and given him the attention he’d never received.

It was all he ever wanted, and when he first met Cicero, all that had changed. The old cat took him everywhere. They would sit for hours together in the chambers, and Bait would listen to the Guardian stories and countless other stories of adventure and intrigue. They went out at night, stalking and hunting. He told Cicero about his own past, his shows, his awards. Finally, he told him about being dumped by his human.

Then Cicero abandoned him. Just like that, it was all over. Bait kept up his appearances. That was the one thing he excelled at. But inwardly, he seethed with resentment. He vowed that, whatever it took, he would steal the thing that mattered most to Cicero.

He was not in a hurry, and he took up reading books on magic. He discovered he had a gift for it.

At first, he learned how to change his appearance in small ways. His fur color, his eyes. Then he concentrated on more radical alterations until he was able to completely disguise himself. It was then that he realized the intense attraction he had toward Cicero’s Book. More than revenge, Bait wanted the Book for himself.

A shadow moving on the roof crept over and sat next to Bait.

“You make a good raccoon,” said the Whisperer.

“I know. An opposable thumb makes everything possible,” Bait said. He felt himself starting to shake. He could almost taste the power of magic, as if it were a drug. Black magic. It was so delicious.

Now when he needed its power the most, something was wrong.

“I can’t hold the shapes as long,” he told the shadow.

“You must get your power from the Book now. It is the only power that will serve one so advanced as you.”

“I’m working on it!” flared Bait, but he felt himself growing weaker.

He could almost feel the vibration that came right before he brought about a transformation. Enough to make him crave it all the more, but when his power was too weak, it made his craving stronger.

“You must control yourself,” breathed the Whisperer.

“Yes. You are right,” said Bait. He tried to calm himself.“Tonight I will know if my plan will work. If Cicero is worried about the safety of the Book, he will try to move it. In all this time, I have not been allowed to get close to it. Tonight, though, you will see something amazing. It is sure to frighten Cicero into action.”

“What about the raccoons? Are they helping you?”

“They are too stupid to carry this off. They don’t care about the Book, but they do have a personal vendetta against the cats. They kidnapped that stupid ferret—for what, I don’t know. It’s okay. I only needed them to create a diversion, and that’s exactly what they did.”

“I told you that rumors were the best tool, didn’t I?” whispered the formless one.

“Yes, but it’s not enough to get Cicero to move the Book. It has to be more threatening.”

“You have something in mind?”

“Most definitely, but I need to rest. I need all of my strength to transform later.”

“I have things to attend to as well,” said the Whisperer. “Don’t fail. There’s too much at stake, and if you aren’t successful… I will have to report back to my benefactor. Be sure we have something good to tell him.”

Chapter 43: Power in the wrong hands

The Dead Cats positioned themselves in the magnolia tree, waiting to ambush the raccoons. They were bored.

A large beetle crawled along a branch. Tweezer pounced and gobbled it up in one move.

“Eeew!” said Caffeina. “How can you eat those things?”

“I’m hungry,” said Tweezer.

“Well, so am I, but I draw the line at cockroaches.”

“They have lots of protein. You could probably use some protein.”

“What I need is a visit to a salon. White fur is such a pain.”

Tweezer peered at her through his one good eye.“Ahhh. You don’t look so bad,” he said.

Marco was deep in thought on a branch above the others. He was glad Cicero hadn’t found out about him trying to use the spell, but he still cringed when he thought about the strange creature he’d become. That whole night he’d hidden in a tree, terrified that he’d never be normal again.

Now he had other things to worry about. The cats, as usual, had no plan, and Tweezer said they had no luck rounding up recruits. They needed a miracle.

“Hey, Marco! You sure tonight’s the night? We’ve been up here forever.”

“Be patient, Skitzo.”

From far off came the soft deep rumble of thunder. Out of the corner of his eye, Marco caught some movement in the bushes. A small raccoon moved in and out of the shadows, then darted across an open space toward the library. Was this one of Sting’s gang?

The other cats were too absorbed in small talk to notice, so when the raccoon climbed into a basement window opening, Marco went to investigate.

He slipped through the upper story window and made his way to the balcony, where he scanned the lower floor through the rails. The raccoon soon appeared, his head poking through the same floor vent Sting had used.

But this was not Sting. He was way too small. The raccoon moved to a table with newspapers and magazines and promptly went to work ripping them into shreds, being careful to keep them in a pile. Strange, but hardly threatening. If this was the raccoons’ big move, then he didn’t have much to worry about.

The raccoon was fumbling with something in his paws. There was a soft scraping sound, a familiar odor and an orange spark.“Stupid thing,” the animal mumbled. “What’s the matter with it?”

Marco sat, spellbound, observing from his catwalk, as though the scene below were a theater stage. A clattering noise echoed in the darkened library. The raccoon had dropped the object.

He used both paws to pick it up again. A flicker of sparks sprayed out.“Dang!” The odor grew stronger and Marco realized what it was—Polo’s cigarette lighter! How in the world did this raccoon get it? He had to be a friend of Sting’s.

The raccoon’s next attempt was successful. The flame, framed by an orange halo, burned steadily. The raccoon moved the lighter close to the torn pile of newspaper, which took the flame, turning it yellow and blue. It flared up into the raccoons face, singeing his whiskers.

“Cripes!” he shouted. Then the fire steadied and the raccoon mumbled to himself. “I always say, if you want something done right, do it yourself.” He turned and gazed into the depths of the library and Marco got a better view of his face. He wondered if his eyes were playing tricks on him.

The raccoon’s face started to change shape. No, it was more like there were two faces. Marco blinked and tried to refocus his eyes. Now it was more visible, the raccoon and another animal forming within the raccoon. It was not possible, what he was seeing. But it was happening. There was another creature coming to life, another body inside the raccoon.

What kind of magic was at work? Nothing seemed to be as it appeared on the surface anymore. He felt dizzy for a moment and thought of The Book of Motion and how Akeel and Cicero had tried to explain about power in the wrong hands. He thought about his own error in judgment, trying to use power he wasn’t ready for.

“No!” The raccoon shouted. “Don’t leave me now!”

The fire grew larger, but the paper burned out quickly, and so the flames died down to almost nothing. The raccoon frantically tore up more paper, throwing it onto the hot ashes. He tried manipulating the lighter again, but it was getting harder for him to manage.

The raccoon was getting worked up, struggling with the creature that appeared to be taking over his body. The small fire smoldered and the morphing creature became more fluid as it grew angrier. It, or they, Marco couldn’t tell which one, threw the whole lighter onto the fire.

The double creature seemed to waiver back and forth, from what it was, to whatever it was becoming. The second creature had dull gray fur and no stripes. The lighter exploded and the fire leaped into action.

The transformation was complete. The creature within the creature had prevailed. Marco was looking at one of the Dead Cats.

Chapter 44: Gathering smoke

Cicero heard a small explosion, but it was the smell of smoke that alarmed him. He dashed out of his chambers towards the balcony. He stared at the flames, not believing his eyes, thinking this must be a nightmare and he would surely wake up. When smoke drifted upwards, he knew this was no dream.

Fire was Cicero’s greatest fear… his only fear, ever since he’d witnessed the burning of Alexandria. He stared at it in a daze. He knew he should move, but he remained petrified, dreading to leave as though he could will the fire to stop by his being there.

“What dark power has come upon me… that I should suffer through this, as did my predecessors? And why did I not sense its coming?”

Finally, he turned and darted back to his chambers, looking for Alaniah. She was not there and he went back to the balcony, coughing on the gathering smoke.

Cicero stood in front of the mirror, helpless to enter without Alaniah. He saw the reflection of the fire behind him, the image repeating over and over because of another mirror on the other side. For a terrifying moment, he felt the presence of the madmen who burned the library at Alexandria.

Caffeina goes for help

“Did you hear that noise? And what is that smell?” Caffeina caught the scent first, then Tweezer and the others smelled it.

“It’s coming from inside!” cried Skitzo.

Gypsy leaped down onto a lower branch.“Fire!” she cried. “I can see it. Come over here and look.”

“Fire?” cried Skitzo. “This is how they’ve come to destroy us?”

“They? Who do you mean? The raccoons?” asked Caffeina.

“We need a human,” said Gypsy, ever the practical one. “They’ll know what to do.”

“Where are we going to find a human at this time of night?”

“There’s a light on in that house,” said Pudge. “Who’s willing to check it out?”

“I’ll go,” said Caffeina. “I can’t sit here and do nothing.”

She dropped down from the tree and ran to the house. The rose bushes pricked her nose as she climbed up the trellis, but she managed to get to the window and peer inside where two people were sitting in front of a TV.

Caffeina tapped on the window with her paw. They didn’t hear her. She tapped harder and louder. This time the woman turned and looked out the window. She squinted at her and laughed, then nudged her husband. He ignored her. She nudged him again.

Caffeina caught a whiff of smoke and tapped more vigorously. The woman was laughing now, but the man was getting annoyed.

Caffeina meowed at the humans, hoping that they would come outside and smell the smoke. The man groaned as he got out of his chair and came over to the window.

‘Oh good,’ thought Caffeina hopefully. ‘They’ll be sure to help us now.’

“Damn stray cat,” the man muttered. “Looking for a handout.”

“Look at her. She’s beautiful, Wilbur. We should give her something to eat.”

“Forget it, Iris. We’re not taking in another cat. I’m calling Animal Control in the morning.” The man closed the blinds.

Chapter 45: Tough guys

Caffeina went back to the others to report her failure.

“Where’s Cicero?” she asked. “And Marco? Where’s he?” No one seemed to be in charge.

“I’m going back out,” she said. “I don’t know where, but I’ll keep looking until I find someone. Anybody else want to come?”

Tweezer moved to join her.

“Oh! What a pity.” A voice from the ground stopped them in their tracks. “Looks like your precious library is burning.” Sting was planted squarely under the tree, along with Tank, Crimmany and some out-of-towners.

“Hey scabs! I’m talking to you!”

“Scram, creep,” yelled Tweezer.

“Oh, you must be the tough guy, huh?” accused Sting.

“What kind of tough guy hides in a tree?” asked Tank.

“In case you didn’t notice, the books are burning,” said Sting. “You gonna sit and watch? What a bunch of losers.”

Tweezer climbed farther down the tree.“I’m not going to take this,” he muttered under his breath.

“Don’t go!” Caffeina whispered. “They’ll kill you!”

There was a cracking sound inside as the table, where the fire had started, split and crashed to the floor.

“I love a good fire. Don’t you?” Sting said to Tank. The other raccoons were milling restlessly about, looking in the windows.

“Hey, Sting!” yelled one of the newcomers. “I thought you said we were gonna have a good fight tonight. There’s nobody here to fight with.”

“Yeah, you’re right. They’re a bunch of nobodies.”

“Scaredy cats. That’s what they are.”

“I know what’ll get ‘em down,” taunted Sting. “Here, kitty, kitty. I have something special for you.”

Sting went over to the bushes and yanked on the leash that Polo was tied to.“I got your ratty little pet here. Come and get ‘em!”

Sting yanked Polo by his collar and held him up, squirming and strangling. Polo tried to squeal but nothing came out.

Tweezer took a flying leap off the branch. In one fell swoop, he grabbed the leash with his teeth and jerked it out of Sting’s paw. The startled raccoon had no time to act and Polo, with the leash dragging behind him like a long tail, ran as far and as fast as he could.

Chapter 46: A purpose in life

Marco followed the gray cat to the rooftop. He wasn’t sure what to do about the fire, but he was sure he needed to keep track of the raccoon turned cat. He moved stealthily behind him, but he needn’t worry. Bait was too self absorbed.

Bait, the traitor, began a conversation with someone Marco couldn’t see. Someone he was obviously friends with.

“I’ve failed. Cicero has vanished and so, I assume, has the Book. My plan to smoke him out seems childish now,” Bait was saying. Marco tuned his hearing and another voice became audible.

“While you’ve been playing with fire, I’ve been speaking with my benefactor. He sends you a message.”

“Yes?”

“He says we can give you something better than what you were looking for.”

“What could that possibly be?” demanded Bait.

“A purpose. You simply need direction.”

“What do I want with direction? I want my magic!” he said angrily.

“You don’t need silly magic tricks like shape changing anymore! That’s for beginners.”

A chill wind wrestled with the leaves on the magnolia tree.

“Stop playing around like this is some kind of game!” said the whispery voice. “You are behaving like a timid house cat!”

“That is unfair!” cried Bait.

“Then don’t bother me anymore. You don’t want my advice.”

“No. No! Don’t go. Tell me,” said Bait.

There was a long moment of silence before Marco heard them speak again.

“Think about it. You’ll never get to the Book as long as it has a Guardian. He’s only doing his job, you know, but he’s getting too old. Maybe he was good once upon a time, but no longer. The Book needs someone younger and stronger. You… you are the worthy one!”

“Yes, it is by all rights, mine.”

“That only proves his foolishness. His judgment is failing. It’s time you stepped in and took action. You must not hesitate or falter now.”

Marco smelled scorched paper and heard the crackle of burning books below mingled with the quiet sounds of treachery here on the roof.

“Cicero has been selfish, wanting to keep it all for himself. This is a Book to be shared and that will never happen as long as he is alive. You must have the courage to do what is necessary!”

A gust of wind whipped down from the roof and lightning from the approaching storm flared in the distance.

Chapter 47: Destiny has its own ways

An insignificant stone became the cause for change in the course of events. Gravity and vibration caused a small rock to dislodge and roll towards Marco. It was enough to catch Bait’s attention. He whirled around, his yellow eyes glowing with a savagery he had kept hidden for so long under his gray cloak. “What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing? And who were you talking to?” asked Marco.

“None of your business,” answered Bait.

“It is my business, if you are planning to kill Cicero.”

“Oh! Aren’t you the noble knight? Always out to save somebody. You’re so pathetic. You don’t have what it takes to be a Guardian, whatever foolish ideas Cicero put in your head. You’ll never be anything more than a lap cat.”

“I thought you were my friend, Bait. What happened to you?”

“I was never your friend, fool. You don’t get it, do you? Grow up!”

Something below them crashed as the fire continued to gain strength. Lightening flashed and made them both jump.

“How could you burn the library?” demanded Marco. In the distance, the sound of thunder accompanied the faint whine of sirens. “What could possibly make you turn so…” bitter, he thought, then stopped as the realization hit him. “You were training, weren’t you?”

“I’m still in training. I’m the rightful heir. You’ll never take over.”

“I’m not taking over anything.”

“You are so na?ve. You want to know what happened? You think Cicero is such a great and honorable cat? He’s old and greedy and he’ll turn on you like he did me. And he doesn’t keep his word. How noble is that?”

“What happened to you, Bait? You were not like this when I first met you.”

“No? Maybe not. Maybe I still had some hope in me. Like you. I thought I could get back into Cicero’s good graces. But he shut me out… completely. Then you came along… not so corrupt as his old student… and I knew it was all over for me. He gave up on me. So I gave up trying.”

Marco felt a sudden pang of sympathy for Bait.“I’m… ”

“Don’t,” said Bait.

“Wha…?”

“Don’t feel sorry for me. I can’t stand it.”

“You are heartless, even to yourself. I think that’s the saddest part of this.”

“I don’t need your pity!” Bait suddenly leaped onto him and sank his teeth into Marco’s leg. “There! You want to retract that touching bit of sympathy? Save it for Cicero—after I finish with him.”

Bait backed up and crouched, ready for another attack. Marco ignored the pain and got himself into a better position. He didn’t want to be caught off guard again and didn’t wait to be attacked. He leaped on top of Bait and held his head between his paws, his sharp claws digging into the sides of Bait’s face. Blood spurted out, making it harder for Marco to keep his hold. He slipped and rolled down the steep roof. The only thing that kept him from falling was the gutter.

He righted himself just as Bait pounced on top of him. Marco fell over the edge of the roof, barely grabbing hold of the gutter with his claws. Pain pierced through his body and he felt himself slipping toward certain death.

Bait came over to gloat at Marco’s predicament. “Too bad for you. It’s certain now that you’ll never become a Guardian,” he said. “But think of it this way. At least you’ve secured your legacy as one of the Dead Cats.”

Bait put his full weight behind the punch he prepared to deal to Marco. It should have been the end of him, but a deafening crack of thunder and a high-voltage jolt of lightning split the sky open. Bait lost his concentration and his balance.

Rain poured from the sky and Marco heard the thud of Bait’s body hit the ground sixty feet below.

Chapter 48: Dead cats

“What’s this?” cried Tank. “A dead cat?”

“One dead cat!” announced Crimmany, circling the body, like he was taking credit for his demise.

Tweezer and Caffeina came over to view the lifeless body. They stood there in the rain, sniffed and nudged him with their noses and looked at each other. What a strange thing that Bait had come to fall out of the sky with the rain, thought Tweezer.

“Aw. Poor kitty. Looks like you lost one of your pals,” said Sting. “But save your crying for later. After you’re all dead.”

“That’s a good one, Sting!” said Crimmany.

Sting was ignoring Crimmany and staring hard at Tweezer instead. Tweezer raised to his full height and more than met his look.“I believe we were in the middle of a fight,” he said.

“Looks like you’ve lost more fights than you’ve won,” Sting replied. “Just like you’re going to lose this one.”

“You’ve haven’t seen my opponents when I’m done with them.”

“Fightin’ kitties doesn’t count.”

“I’ve wrestled with you before.”

“Just warm up exercises.”

The sound of sirens was in the background, growing louder. Tweezer tuned it out, so he could keep all his senses for the battle. He dared not look away from Sting, but he was aware of Tank and Crimmany. They flanked their leader on both sides. Then there was the two other raccoons hovering around the edges.

Tweezer moved to one side to keep his opponent slightly off balance.

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” goaded Tank.

Caffeina, however, could not keep hers.“What’s the matter with you Sting? Why do you enjoy making our lives miserable? We are peace-loving cats, but I’ll tell you right now, you will be sorry you got on our bad side!”

“You cats are such comedians. I’m dying from laughter,” said Crimmany.

The two combatants continued to size each other up, both on their haunches, thrusting paws in threatening gestures, each provoking the other into making the first move.

Tweezer had his eyes locked onto Sting, but he knew what was going on around him, as though he had eyes in the back of his head.

Caffeina saw the movement at the same time Tweezer did.“Tweezer! Watch out!” One of the raccoons at his back lurched forward to attack him.

Tweezer lunged forward to avoid the attack. At the same time, he shoved Crimmany into Sting’s body with a force that took both raccoons down.

Tweezer whirled around to face the other raccoons, while Pudge, Skitzo and Caffeina had already tackled the other three.

But Tweezer soon realized they weren’t home free. Raccoons came creeping out of the bushes, their eyes on fire. They swallowed up the very air around them and dove into the melee.

It was a noisy, riotous brawl and the cats were completely engulfed by their attackers, the odds totally against them.

No one saw Bait get up from his fall and slink away.

Chapter 49: Would you like something for the pain?

The thunder no longer came in soft rolls. It hit with deafening cracks and competed with the blare of sirens.

Marco was still on the roof, licking his wounds. He didn’t care that he was getting soaked. His leg, badly bitten, was too painful for him to move. However, as torn and bloody as he was, he was satisfied he’d taken care of Bait. Actually, he was pretty proud of the way he’d handled the whole thing and couldn’t wait to tell Cicero.

“You were lucky.”

Marco jerked his head up in surprise. He saw only the rain hitting the dark tiles of the roof. The voice spoke again in a low murmur.“Lucky this time. Maybe not so lucky the next.”

“Who are you?”

“I’m your inspiration.”

“You are? Why can’t I see you?”

“I work behind the scenes.” Lighting streaked white veins across the black sky and Marco saw the blur of a shadow where the voice came from.

“Would you like something for the pain?” Without waiting for an answer, the shadow swept over and covered Marco like a cloak. The pain disappeared and he no longer felt the rain falling on him.

“Isn’t that better?”

“Yes, very nice,” said Marco, feeling pleasantly drowsy.

“What are your plans now?”

“Plans? I don’t know. I should find Cicero and see what can be done about putting out the fire.”

“Don’t worry. The firemen will take care of it.”

“Good. That’s very good,” Marco answered groggily.

“We need to have a talk, Marco.”

“We do? I just want to sleep.”

“Yes, you will sleep soon enough. A nice, long nap. But first, I want to ask. Have you really thought about what it means to be a Guardian?”

“Sure.” Marco peered out through half-opened eyes, wondering who he was talking to.

“You should be aware of some things. Can I tell you now?”

“Okay.” Marco sighed contentedly. He felt happy and warm, in spite of being wet. It was nice to have someone to talk to.

“You should think about what it means to be a Guardian. For the rest of your life, you will be bound to the Book. You cannot leave it, put it aside, or go on a journey, even a short one. No matter what, you will spend the rest of your days as the library cat. Day after day. Year after year. It’s not an exciting life. Not the life of adventure you had planned.”

“Really? I hadn’t thou…”

“I know you hadn’t. That’s why I’m here. To help you think.”

“Oh, well thank you.” Marco could barely stay awake and was not at all sure what this thing… or whoever was talking to him… was saying.

“You will never be able to tell anyone what you do. Not even the librarians will know. You will live in obscurity, petted by old women, tortured by small children. No one will appreciate your sacrifices.”

“That doesn’t sound…” Marco struggled to stay awake and think coherently.

“Exactly. I thought you should know. Being a Guardian is not anything like being a hero. It’s more like being a slave.”

Marco couldn’t stay awake any longer. He closed his eyes and fell into a deep sleep.

When Marco woke later, the rain had stopped and Lily was licking his wounds.

“This looks bad,” she said.

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s a very deep wound. It could get infected.”

“Really, I’m okay.”

“Mum gave me some special things to say for wounds. It should heal up in no time.”

Lily was so confident in her abilities that Marco surrendered. He was out of sorts but didn’t know why. Slowly, the strange conversation he had on the roof came back to him.

“I heard that evil thing talking to you,” she said.

“You did? You were here?”

“Yes, and I just want to tell you that you shouldn’t listen to voices like that. They don’t care about you. They don’t care about anybody. They are mean and selfish and you’ll end up just like Bait if you listen to them.”

Chapter 50: Meetings

Cicero went out the window. The cats and raccoons were having a knockdown drag-out fight on the lawn of the library, and fire was glowing through the windows. But Cicero was forced to leave it all behind and head for the Springs, where he hoped to find Alaniah to let him in the vault.

He crossed the rain-soaked street and was heading for the park when he encountered a lone cat.

“What’s going on?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s pretty noisy around here. Trouble?”

“I don’t have time to talk.” Cicero strained his neck to look ahead. He really needed to get moving again.

“Maybe I could help out.”

“Go get in the middle of the brawl, if you like.”

“Hey, you don’t have to be rude.”

Something about this cat was familiar in a disturbing way.“Do I know you?” Cicero cocked his head and really looked at the cat this time.

“No. I’m just passing through.” He shrank back into the shadows a little.

Cicero didn’t have time to worry about who this cat was. “Well, you should keep on going. There’s nothing but trouble here right now.”

“Not very friendly, are you?”

“No.”

“I’ve heard rumors about the cats in this place.”

“Yeah, what kind of rumors?” Cicero shifted impatiently.

“Something about dead cats… ghost cats. Weird and eccentric. You one of those?”

Cicero narrowed his eyes.“Who are you?”

“Just offering a friendly hand. You don’t have to be so suspicious.”

This made Cicero all the more suspicious.“Must be my eyes are playing tricks on me. You have the voice of another, but your fur is curious… it is wearing thin.”

“You speak strangely. You must be one of the dead cats… or possibly one of the noble Guardians I have heard about.”

“You have heard about the Guardians? Might you be a reader cat?”

“Most assuredly.”

“Then you are more deceptive than I even imagined. How did you change your appearance in this way?”

“Your eyes are tricking you.”

“I am not using only my eyes. There are other ways of seeing,” said Cicero.

“You speak in such cryptic language. What do you have to hide?”

“Why do you ask? You know the answer already,” said Cicero.

“Then….” the cat paused. “You should know what you did to me.”

“What I did!” Cicero exclaimed. No pretense was possible now.

“Yes. What you did was unforgivable. What were you thinking when you abandoned me?”

“That’s what you call it?” Cicero asked, his fury rising. “The dishonor of your actions was enough to disqualify you from the Dead Cats Society, let alone from becoming a Guardian.”

“Then why didn’t you kick me out? Why did you let me stay around, thinking there was some hope of regaining your trust?”

“Maybe I did have some hope.”

“What was my big crime?”

“You wanted it too much,” said Cicero. “This isn’t a job anyone should desire. The responsibility is too great.”

They made wide circles around each other, keeping their eyes locked together.

“This charade is enough to assure me that I made the right decision, if I ever doubted. What are you doing appearing in disguise? What are you hiding, dear Baitengirth?”

It seemed that his use of Bait’s full name was his flashpoint. His old companion charged at him like some dreadful demon.

Cicero was not without resources for dealing with such things. A multitude of electrical charges remained in the air from the storm. When the fallen apprentice was only a breath way, Cicero drew power from the invisible currents and aimed them at Bait.

The changeling cat disappeared without a trace.

Chapter 51: Beat‘em with fries

Polo ran randomly through yards and across parking lots, dodging cars and dogs and a baby carriage. He was not tired of running, especially since he’d been tied up so long, but a thought stopped him. It wasn’t something that happened very often, but he thought about how Tweezer had saved his life and how he and the others were fighting the raccoons. The cats were in trouble and here he was, running away. What was he doing here under a tree, when they needed his help?

He didn’t think any further, like what chance a silly ferret would have in fending off a dozen gangster raccoons. He chewed on what was left of the leash, thinking more than he’d ever thought in his life, when he heard footsteps. When they got close enough, Polo saw it was a pack of mangy cats.

“Hey!” one called out.

Polo loped over to meet them.

“Maybe you could give us directions?”

“Depends on where you want to go,” said Polo.

“The library.”

“I just came from the library, and I don’t think you want to go there now.”

“Why not?” asked one of the cats.

“The library’s on fire and there’s a pack of raccoons in a brawl with the cats.”

“That’s the place.”

“Really?”

“We’re friends of Tweezers. He asked for backup and we’re it.”

“Tweezer could use some help, but I have to tell you, those raccoons are brutal, and I don’t know that you could do much good.”

“Well, we’re here now. We have to do something.”

Polo decided to tell them what he’d been pondering. “I’ve been thinking of trying a diversionary tactic,” he said. It was a term he’d learned from Marco, and he’d been waiting for a chance to use it.

“Say what?”

“You know, a way to take their attention away from the cats, with something they want more than fighting.”

“Well, you seem to know so much. What do you think would get their attention?”

“Simple,” said Polo. “Raccoons are pigs. They love to eat more than anything. We’ll tempt them with food.”

“Brilliant idea. But how do you propose we get food to them? We’re cats. It’s not like we can steal food and lug it over there.”

Polo smiled.“That’s why you need me.”

The one cat who seemed to be the group’s leader brought the rest of them into a huddle. Then he went back to Polo. “Okay. Here’s the deal. We weren’t gonna come, ‘cause we like our lives and don’t want anything to mess with that. Understand? But some of us got to thinking about what Tweezer and Caffeina said, and it made sense. We’d want help if we were in trouble. So here we are, but we don’t have much of a plan. So, we took a vote. We’ll go with your plan.”

Polo suddenly found himself in charge of a troupe of cats. He puffed up with pride.“First thing we need to do is scope out some food. Anything will do. They are not picky eaters.” He almost added, ‘not like cats,’ but caught himself in time.

Boris sniffed the air.“I smell French fries.”

“Take us to the fries, then,” commanded Polo, and they followed Boris to a dumpster.

Polo scaled the large bin in a flash. The cats waited below.

“Here, catch!” He tossed bags of fries over the side until he was satisfied they all had one. He secured one in his mouth and hopped down.

“Follow me.” The cats each had a bag clenched in their teeth and they trotted down the street, surely a strange sight if anyone had been looking out their window.

Once they made it to the library, only Polo was brave enough to get close to the raccoons and let them get a whiff. But it was enough. The first raccoon picked up the scent and lost interest in fighting. The stray cats dropped their bags and beat a hasty retreat.

The raccoons knocked each other over to get the fries, leaving the Dead Cats stunned but grateful.

Chapter 52: Things left unsaid

The fire had been quelled before any major damage occurred. The entire newspaper section was reduced to ashes, but it was the smoke which created the greatest hazard, and the library had to be closed for several days. Cicero slept uneasily in the magnolia tree, which did not suit him in the least. Marco kept him company.

“Were you scared?” asked Marco. “Didn’t it remind you of the fire at Alexandria? I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw Bait setting the fire. How could he change so much? I swear, he looked like a raccoon at first. And up on the roof, he was talking to a shadow who wanted him to kill you.The whole thing was so weird. But I stopped him! I would never let anyone hurt you, Cicero.”

“Thank you, dear Marco,” Cicero said wearily. “You have proven yourself worthy. I have chosen well after all.”

Marco had stopped short of telling Cicero about his own conversation with the Whisperer. He couldn’t tell him how close he’d come to walking away from the whole thing. It was impossible to think of it now without cringing. If it weren’t for Lily, well… he didn’t want to think about it.

Cicero wasn’t telling everything, either. He never told Marco about his own encounter with Bait, preferring to let Marco enjoy his victory. He would need this triumph to build on for the future.

But why hadn’t he used the power of the book to do something? He’d gone after Alaniah, but he could have done something else. Why was he so incompetent? Was it age? Was he losing his power so gradually he didn’t even notice? No, he’d had the presence of mind to use it to defeat Bait. Still, he was alarmed at how weak and tired he felt.

Chapter 53: Miss Pinkley

In spite of the library being officially closed, it was busier than usual. Insurance adjustors, fire inspectors, police and health officials nosed around with clipboards.

When Professor Chin arrived for the purpose of examining the older manuscripts, Miss Pinkley assumed he was sent by someone higher up.

She was rather taken with him, even though she would never have admitted it. Maybe it was the fedora, or his square jar and solemn face punctuated by a trim moustache. It could have been his soft-spoken manner. But most likely it was the eye patch which suggested an intriguing past. He carried a large leather satchel, not in a casual way, like a lot of people, but as though it held his most precious possessions.

He inquired about the location of older books and manuscripts, offering his condolences to her about the fire. He said he hoped they didn’t lose anything too valuable, but this was his area of expertise and he would be able to give her a full report.

“Oh,” said Miss Pinkley. “There’s also a small collection upstairs. I don’t know if you’re interested in that one. It’s mostly local history, but there are some very old books in that room. We were worried about the smoke damage since it collected in the balcony area, but our big concern was Cicero.”

“Cicero?”

“Oh,” laughed Miss Pinkley, wondering at the sudden paleness that came over the man. “Cicero is our library cat. He pretty much owns the local history room.”

“Maybe I could start there. Yes, that would be good.”

“Certainly Professor. I’ll show you where it is.” Miss Pinkley got up, happy with the opportunity to escort the man to the room, but stopped short when an insurance adjustor approached her with some questions.

“Don’t worry,” Professor Chin assured her. “I’ll find my way.”

Miss Pinkley sighed.“We are getting ready to go home for the night. You only have a short time left today.”

Chapter 54: Legacies

Professor Chin entered the small room crammed with old books, many lying in piles on a long polished wood table. It was untidy, obviously not kept up to standards, he thought, but then this wasn’t the British Library, was it? The sight of the cat, even sleeping on a green velvet chair, caught his breath. The click of the metal latch as he closed the door behind him startled the cat into wakefulness.

“I thought you might be dead by now, after that trick you pulled in London,” said the Professor.

The cat bolted upright, back arched. Professor Chin smiled benevolently at Cicero.“But of course, you must have nine lives like any normal cat.”

He brushed the dampness collecting on his palms onto his coat.“You probably never thought I’d find you in this backwater place. But I don’t give up, once I have a purpose and besides…” He lowered his shoulder, letting his satchel slide to the table, and thought about how much he should reveal. But, he laughed, what was he worried about? After all, he was only talking to a cat. He kept his tone friendly. “I have extra help now, the Finders. Creatures who travel without passports or reservations; they have no boundaries in time or space. You’ll never be able to hide your Book well enough to evade them.”

He paced along the table’s edge, never losing sight of Cicero, careful not to make him too nervous. Careful even more so, not to give in to his rage. The cat was again standing in his way. He loathed having to negotiate with this vicious creature once again.

The Finders had led him here but wouldn’t… or couldn’t… tell him the exact location of the Book. He considered their services inadequate for the price he paid and would take his revenge on them when he had the power to do so. But he’d think about that later. The cat was growling at him.

He stepped to the far side of the table, calculating, despising.“It’s been a long time. Do you even remember me? Maybe you need a reminder.” He removed his fedora and placed it on top of the satchel.

“Every morning, when I look in the mirror, I remember you.”

Professor Chin reached behind his head and pulled his eye patch off.

“Every morning, I am forced to wear this to cover my scarred and useless eye.”

The cool air hit the moist, shrunken pulp of his empty eye socket.“It’s your legacy to me, but I have a legacy for you as well.” He replaced his eye patch and returned the fedora to cover his head. “My legacy to you, dear Cicero, is a curse. I will create a special one and place it upon you until the end of time.”

Chapter 55: Language of the Unseen

Cicero was pretty sure he could escape being captured by Professor Chin, but the dark form slinking around the room, little more than a shadow, he wasn’t so sure about. He still had nightmares about these creatures that seemed to follow the Professor like evil pets. Now even the books seemed to recoil in horror from the presence of this madman.

But, on closer examination, he saw this wasn’t one of the creatures that almost smothered him when Professor Chin had trapped him in a cage in London. This time, there was only one, and it had a voice.

At the same time, the Professor was coaxing him with artificially sweetened words.“Come on, old man. You’ve had your distinguished career as the library cat. None of the librarians will know what happened. What do they know anyway? I will relieve you of your duties and you will be free to read your dusty old tomes.”

Cicero jumped off the chair and began to walk in a wide circle around the Professor, hissing.

“You foolish cat! You think you can intimidate me! How absurd! Oblige me and I will grant you peace. Cross me and not only will I destroy you, I will destroy the preposterous notion of the legendary Guardian Cats.”

Cicero continued to circle the Professor, who turned in order to keep his one good eye on him.

“Shall I bring in my companions?” threatened the man. “I must warn you. I can’t always control them.”

Cicero stopped moving and began to speak directly to the Professor, translating his words into the language of the Unseen, one he knew the Professor would understand.“I will never reveal the Book to you! I will not make that mistake again.”

The Professor sighed.“That is truly unfortunate… just as we are getting reacquainted.” To the Voice, as Cicero thought of it, the Professor said, “He’s resisting me. Now we must get serious.”

Cicero had no idea what he would be up against this time, but whatever the Professor had in mind was certain to be grim.

Chapter 56: The color of humans

Marco was outside Cicero’s chamber. This was the first time he’d ever seen it closed and he pawed and meowed at the door. He heard a man’s voice on the other side and smelled an unfamiliar, bitter smell.

After a bit, the librarian appeared.“Oh dear, this will never do, will it Marco? Cicero hates being locked in.” She opened the door and poked her head in briefly, “Professor, we’ll be closing in fifteen minutes. And, if you don’t mind, we like to keep the door open for our library cats.”

Miss Pinkley left and Marco scurried into the room. From behind the velvet chair he had a good view of the man. He blinked once, then again, but it didn’t change what he saw. Most humans came in shades of blue or green. This one was surrounded by a smoky haze and seemed to be talking to an even darker shapeless being.

Cicero walked over to sit beside him. In a tone heavy with regret, Cicero spoke.“Of all the stories, I have not told you the one I really should have. But it didn’t seem possible that this mad man would find me again. So far from home.”

Marco knew this was not the time to ask questions and was grateful that Cicero seemed anxious to explain.

“I am old and I fear I must pass my duties on to you while you are still a novice.” As usual, Cicero’s explanations raised more questions than answers. What do you mean? he wanted to ask. Who is this man and why is he such a strange color?

Cicero was talking, but Marco was being drawn in by the man’s chanting of words in a strange language.

Cicero scolded him.“Marco! Do not listen to his dark words. They will affect you in a bad way. It can take a great deal of force—to resist the darkness. Menacing words have their own power, whispering promises and pretending to be your friend. Remember when I was telling you about the power of an idea?”

With effort, Marco turned his head away from the man’s hypnotic presence towards Cicero. “Humans are their caretakers, but some ideas are born in a bad place, an unbalanced mind. Once implanted, they can fester and feed off old wounds. This dark creature before us—the Professor—has fed and nurtured a bad idea, untamed by the counsel of wisermen, and so it has become a monster.”

The Professor walked in a circle around the room, turning within his own shadow as he went, and followed by another one. He continued his incantations in an unctuous manner, like a man obsessed with his own importance.

“He is no longer even its caretaker but he has become its slave. The Book of Motion in the hands of such a madman! We must do everything necessary to prevent these two forces from coming together. The Book of Motion does not recognize the intentions of its possessor.”

The Professor extended one arm, tilting his head slightly, aligning his good eye to his pointed finger, as though looking through the site of a rifle. He turned in a 360-degree circle, his finger leaving a raven-colored trail, so that when he completed the turn, he was encircled by a dark ring.

When Cicero shivered, Marco shivered automatically. He tried to crouch closer to the floor in a futile attempt to avoid the wave of cold, dead air that filled the room.

But there was no avoiding the creature the Professor summoned with the final words of his incantation.“From your world into this world… Enter! Come now and make your presence known!”

Chapter 57: In the abode where demons linger

In a place where the Seen and Unseen worlds merge, in the abode where demons linger, preparing for invasions, a black dog-like creature with glowing yellow eyes surfaced into the library.

His foul odor curled Cicero’s nose.

“Welcome, Bodis,” Professor Chin said.

“Where am I?” snarled the dog.

“In the library of a hidden treasure.”

“What do I care for pirates’ booty?” the dog snapped.

“This treasure is worth more than gold—a Book that will give me power over men’s minds.”

“A useful book for a change. But what do you need me for?”

“You see this cat,” he said, pointing to Cicero. “He guards the treasure and refuses to give me the key.”

The dog whipped his fire-tail around, radiating sparks.“You want me to make him talk?”

“I think you could persuade him.”

Cicero’s first instinct was to back up, but there was nowhere to go and he had nothing to lose. He spoke to the Professor, “Your command of the dark creatures is impressive. But why bring them back now? They’ve been behind the wall for eons. You must know how dangerous they are in this world. Even to their commander.”

“They make useful companions,” said the Professor.

Cicero hissed,“Your intentions are the vilest of any human. There is nothing in this world that would compel me to let you even get close to the Book!”

The Professor turned slightly in the direction of the hell hound and swept his arm in a wide arc toward Cicero. The dog obeyed and charged. Cicero leaped straight up, scrambling to keep his hold on the bookshelves. But the hound was in close pursuit, climbing the shelves in a clumsy but relentless chase, singeing Cicero with fire blasts from his tail and spewing saliva over books tumbling to the floor in his wake.

Chapter 58: Hideous beast

Marco vaulted up and over the velvet chair onto the hound’s back and dug his claws into the animal’s hideous body.

The beast continued to scale the bookshelves lathered by the hunt and his bloodthirsty nature. When all three creatures were at the top, Cicero escaped in a flying leap to the floor, barely avoiding the dog’s dagger-like fangs.

Marco was still gripped on the back of the demon animal as the dog inelegantly climbed down from the shelves. Cicero was struggling to get up from his fall, but by the time Marco was on the ground, Cicero had hobbled up to the low shelf under the window and climbed to the sill. He seemed to be waiting for the dog to notice him, and then he jumped out the window. What in the world was he doing?

When the dog leaped through the opening after Cicero, Marco had no intention of letting go, and so he sailed through the air on the dog’s back. All three of them crashed in a heap on the ground, with Cicero on the bottom. When the beast of a dog arose, the old Guardian lay motionless on the ground, his head and neck twisted, his fur smoldering.

At first Marco couldn’t understand what had happened to Cicero, and then a ferocious cry pierced the air. It took a minute to realize the sound he heard came from him.

The hound twisted his head back, seeming to realize for the first time something was fastened onto him. Marco knew he was doomed, but if he let go, he felt the dog would eat him alive.

The hound flung himself into a frenzy trying to dislodge him, but Marco was latched on, his head laid flat against the thick roll of fur and skin on the dog’s neck. His eyes were closed tight and he tried not to breathe in the dog’s stench.

Somehow in the middle of this madness, he thought he saw Cicero, looking alive. He was speaking to him, but Marco couldn’t understand what he was saying. The dog was throwing himself against the magnolia tree, smashing Marco’s back against the trunk.

“The words, Marco!” said Cicero’s apparition.

The dog started to spin in circles.

Marco tried to hear what his mentor was saying.

“Remember the words!”

The words! He couldn’t imagine the words could help him now. He only remembered what a disaster it had been the last and only time he tried saying them. But he had no other options. “Faw…” he began, and with the utterance of that sound, he noticed a change, but it wasn’t for the better.

The hound was rolling in the dirt, frantically trying to dislodge him.

“Fawta…lani,” he continued haltingly.

The dog’s fangs clamped on to his hind leg and Marco clawed his way farther up so he was practically on top of the dog’s head.

“Nee!” The last word exploded from within him and he suddenly found himself airborne, still clinging to the hell hound. The ascent was swift and the pair twisted and swung violently in midair.

Marco lost his grip and fell. He landed on all fours and looked up to see what had happened to the dog. He had been snatched up by an enormous bird, something like an eagle, but with a body like a lion. The hell hound hung loosely in the talons of this strange flying creature. Marco sat motionless until both bird and dog disappeared in the sky, leaving him wondering if what just happened was a dream. When he returned to Cicero’s lifeless body, however, he knew it was no dream.

Chapter 59: The perfect society

The Professor turned away from the window. Half-witted hellhound, he thought. He was only supposed to extort information from Cicero, not kill him. He needed more control over his creatures. Now what would he do?

He hid out in the bathroom while the library shut down for the night. The mousy librarian would just assume he’d slipped out while she was busy. Besides, he thought with a smile, librarians would never suspect his kind of deception, except in books.

His palms were sweating again and he reached in his pocket for his handkerchief. It wasn’t there, which made him panic. Things were not going as planned and this small detail, the fact that he’d forgotten it, only increased his anxiety. He couldn’t afford any more mistakes.

He washed his face and hands and dried them thoroughly on the scratchy brown paper towel, refocusing on his quest. Hitler had his Spear of Destiny. He had obviously unlocked its secrets and would have ruled the world if… Well, he wouldn’t make the same mistakes Hitler made.

In his world, no one would ever die. People would pay dearly to join. It would be the perfect society because no one ever wanted to die. With an elite team of doctors and scientists working under his direction, he would exceed where all tin pot dictators had failed.

Calmed somewhat, he opened the bathroom door slightly. The library was darkened except for the green glow of the exit lights.

The Book was here, his‘Book of Destiny’. There was no doubt that it belonged to him. He had been chosen. Once it was his, he would unlock its secrets and his dreams would come true. He would become the greatest magician of all time. Not a charlatan stage magician, but the kind who work behind the scenes, the ones who have the real power in the world.

Yes, he would be able to change himself to appear like anyone or anything he wanted, if the legends about the book were true. He erased that moment of doubt quickly from his mind. He’d come this far. The Finders and his Whisperer had helped him. It had to be true. It was his destiny, he felt it stronger than anything he’d ever felt and allowed himself to contemplate his future. Being able to appear however he liked would mean he could gain access to anyone, have the ear ofany of the world’s leaders. With a jolt, he suddenly realized even Hitler himself could have been under his power!

He would have underlings do his dirty work and take the brunt of people’s anger. They wouldn’t mind, because he would hold their life in his hands. They would never have to face the awful prospect of death. They would be only too willing to do his bidding for the small exchange of their soul.

He walked slowly through the stacks, scraping his finger along the book spines. He couldn’t really imagine how a cat thought, but he had the notion that the book might be hidden in plain sight. It was worth exploring.

On a short, round table surrounded by orange plastic chairs was a children’s book with cartoon demons on the cover. Children made his skin crawl. They were disgusting and unmanageable and had no idea what a real demon looked like.

Other children’s books repelled him. Why would anyone want to go Fishin’ with Grandpa? He never let himself wonder if his childhood was tarnished. He rarely thought about it except when he caught a glimpse of the scars on his back. His throat tightened and he felt like he needed air.

Maybe the Book would be hidden in the history section. He located the Dewey Decimal numbers beginning with 930, histories of the ancient world, and began randomly pulling books off the shelves, throwing them on the floor. A rising sense of panic made him shudder and he had to calm himself again. He could not allow himself to lose control or let fear grab hold of him. He went down each aisle, randomly stabbing at books and creating holes in the order of things.

How could he be so close and not find it? He cursed Cicero for dying before he got the secret to its location. He cursed the demon beast for not obeying him. Then he cursed the library for hiding the Book.

Then logic prevailed. If the library would not cooperate, he would punish it. He got his book of spells from his satchel and found the curse.”Murraq-di-fih cum-dan…i-fi…”

He moved through the library, making friends with the dark words, feeling their power grow with each repetition. Faint sounds came from within the library books, like the crackling of brittle paper. He kept moving through the stacks, unphased by cries and shouts. He began to enjoy the noise when he realized what it was, and just to commemorate the moment, he bowed to the characters as they began emerging from the books, trying to escape certain death.

“Murraq-di-fih, cum-dan-fi, re-quin-i-fi…” Louder this time. He repeated the chant over and over, amazed at his strength. The library was crumbling and he had performed this marvelous feat! The transformation took place before his eyes. When he had finished, the main hall looked like a tomb for dead books—a crypt, filled with corpses of characters who would never tell their story again.

He congratulated himself.

At first he didn’t recognize the figure in the mirror but it was dark. He checked the eyes staring back at him. Yes, they were his eyes, now yellow and glowing. This pleased him as well as the now-familiar metallic flavor on his tongue, a taste that accompanied his successes. A voice interrupted his self-admiration.

“You might need my help now,” said his Whisperer.

“Why? I’m doing well on my own.”

“You are looking at the mirror.”

“What’s your point?”

“What do you know about mirrors?”

Of course! How stupid of him. The door had been here the whole time. How could he have missed it?

“I have companions who will assist you,” hissed the Whisperer.

Suddenly the temperature dropped. The mirror reflected a ghostly phantom behind him and before he could blink, he was wrapped in a shroud and pulled through the portal, with barely enough time to notice the other creatures who gleefully trailed along for the free ride.

Chapter 60: The weight of a Guardian

Marco arrived in Cicero’s empty chamber, heavy with sadness and the weight of his new position. He never realized that becoming a Guardian meant losing his mentor and friend.

Feeling as though he’d been charged with protecting more than The Book of Motion, he walked out to the balcony, Cicero’s old command post. He remembered how the old cat used to sit here for long hours, surveying the library as though he were the captain of his ship.

At first, he saw the dust in the air and confused it for smoke. He panicked, then quickly realized his mistake. But it might as well have been smoke—the library was in ruins.

He stood frozen to the floor, denying as long as possible that what his eyes saw was real. He wanted a closer look, because he couldn’t distinguish anything recognizable. Mounds of rubble were everywhere and some sort of confetti floated in the air.

He descended the staircase, every step sinking him deeper in despair. Shafts of moonlight coming through the window blinds sliced through plumes of dust. When he reached the ground floor, he saw the crumbling debris of what used to be books spilling off the shelves, disintegrated into pulp. The ones left standing had cracked and peeling covers.

He had no doubt that the evil Professor’s hand was in this, but he could not imagine what darkness lay within a human being who would annihilate a library. He thought of Alexandria and remembered hearing the cheers of men who celebrated the destruction of other men’s stories.

He climbed over the mounds of rubble in a daze. It wasn’t until a woman’s face peered out from the debris that he realized he’d been climbing over dead bodies. The woman was wrapped in a brown fur coat, now covered in a layer of ashy white powder. He looked out across the floor where the dust was clearing and saw the mounds for what they really were. Corpses. There was something odd about how they laid all in the same direction, as if they had collapsed in the same moment, just before reaching the wide front door.

Marco wandered the battle field. There were World War II soldiers carrying rifles, as well as women in ball gowns. There were men in baseball caps and top hats, women in flowered hats and scarves, and little girls in braids. There were boys with slingshots, pirates and circus clowns, all victims of a battle of good and evil they had lost.

Marco didn’t know how he knew, but it became obvious. The bodies were characters trying to escape the unspeakable horror of the death of their story.

He could go no further. He lay down between a circus clown and a cowboy and covered his head. He might as well be dead, too.

A shower of sparks rained down on him. Alaniah flew in circles around his head.“What are you doing in such a sorry state?”

Marco did not want to be confronted with his‘sorry state’ and kept his head under the clown’s polka dot suit.

“Marco, do you think Cicero left you in charge so you could bury your head when things got tough?”

“I didn’t know it would get this bad,” he said.

“You think this is a walk in the park, as humans say, protecting such a powerful Book?”

He pulled his head out from under the clown, ready to argue.“I don’t know what I thought, but it wasn’t this.”

Alaniah laughed.“You’re so funny, Marco. It will be interesting being your companion.”

“How can you say that? I’m not fit to be a Guardian. I haven’t completed my training. Alaniah, I have barely begun my training. I can’t do this!”

“If not you, then who?”

Marco fell silent. She had a good point, but he didn’t like it.

“You are not without resources,” she insisted.

“What do you mean?”

“Ah, it never fails to amaze me how short are the memories of earthly creatures. Cicero gave you a gift, didn’t he?”

“The words?”

“Of course, the words! Don’t you remember what happened when you spoke them?”

Marco remembered when he spoke them last—the demon beast who killed Cicero had been plucked from this world by a gryphon.

“Don’t forget these words.”

“How are words going to change this, Alaniah? Look at the library. It’s dead. Cicero’s dead. I wish I were dead.”

“Oh, youngling. You are so dramatic. Do you want this to be the end of your story?”

It was not a question. It was a challenge, and next to the ones Cicero had given him, these were probably the most powerful words Marco had ever heard. Their magic worked. No, he did not want this to be the end of his story!

“Words have power,” Alaniah said. “From the beginning of time, they have brought things to life. All it takes to bring the library back is the belief in their power. Words brought darkness to this place and it will be words that bring it back.”

Renewed, Marco ran back to the balcony for a better vantage point, Alaniah floating above him.

“Fa-taw-la-nee, rah-ma-la-nee, ma-fa-la-nee, moon-too-laaaah.” He kept repeating the words, but nothing happened.

Then he saw something scurry out from between one set of stacks and down another. Could it be another raccoon? He ignored it, thinking that he had bigger problems than raccoons, but he was unprepared for what happened next.

The creature who had rescued him from the hell hound, a gryphon, flew in from a far corner and landed on the top of a high shelf, where he preened his talons and feathers and fur. Marco was mesmerized by the magnificent creature, so much so that even as it flew towards him, and even as it attacked him, he was completely stunned. The bird-beast’s talons dug into Marco’s skin, gripping him as he plucked him from the ground. All Marco could think was that this creature saved him only to return and make him his prey.

The gryphon landed on top of a high shelf and released Marco from his talons. But Marco was not free; he lay stretched out, the gryphon holding him down by standing on him with his full weight.

Marco imagined that the beast would begin to pick him apart, piece by piece. Some magic that was; the words had done him no good. Here he was doomed to die, a little bit at a time. He knew it was useless to struggle, that it would only speed the process.

When the bird-beast moved his head down towards him, Marco closed his eyes. Not that it would help, but it was the only thing he was able to move. The gryphon’s beak parted his fur and Marco felt its razor sharp point on his skin.

It wasn’t until the gryphon had been combing over his body for several moments that Marco realized he wasn’t going to be eaten. He opened his eyes. The bird was grooming him.

When the gryphon finished, he remained on top of Marco, with his long tail waving gently down the side of the bookshelves. The bird bowed and touched his forehead to Marco’s head, and oddly enough, something about this gesture reminded Marco of Cicero.

The gryphon picked him up and flew back down, deposited Marco on the floor, then flapped his enormous wings and flew off.

Chapter 61: Angel in disguise

“Don’t you just love the library?” said Lily.

Marco was shocked to find her sitting calmly, not two feet away.“How long have you been here?”

“Long enough to know I can’t tell anybody what just happened.”

Lily never ceased to amaze Marco. She seemed much older than the small white kitten she appeared to be.

Alaniah arrived in a shower of light.“Marco, there is no time to dawdle. You have work to do. I will open the door,” she said. They had been standing by the mirror and Marco and Lily were suddenly pulled through the portal and onto the steps down to the dark, dungeon-like chamber.

A cold draft greeted them.“Where do you think you’re going?” a voice whispered, and the cold air blew against Marco’s face.

Marco turned to Lily.“I don’t think you should be here.” Lily ignored him and kept walking steadily down the stairs next to him. The further down they got, the dimmer the light became. Marco looked around for Alaniah, but it seemed they were on their own.

The stairway, which he had seen before, looked very different now. The rock walls glowed with lights, dozen of small ones in pairs, like eyes. Then Marco realized they were eyes, imprisoned in the rock.

Heat radiated from the wall on one side, and currents of cold air rose up from the depths of the dark canyon on the other side, making their passage miserably hot and cold at the same time. The eyes followed their every move down the steps. Marco was terrified, but he held to his course.

Just before the stairs took a sharp turn into total darkness, they reached the landing area. The door to the chamber was cracked open and the Professor was pacing around the table, chanting. The room was crowded with shadow creatures watching the Professor as he tried to take the Book. Electrical charges shattered the darkness of the room whenever he reached for it, and the Professor cursed the light.

Without warning, a shadow creature stretched one arm through the door and grabbed Lily. Marco lost sight of her within the shadow’s murk until it plunked her down on the table next to the Book.

“What?” cried the Professor. “Where did this come from?” He grabbed Lily and held her by her neck. Lily struggled to breathe.

“Might you be an angel in disguise?” asked the Professor, laughing at his own joke. “A wicked cat is just what I need right now.”

The Professor put her on the table in front of the Book and used her as a shield to absorb the shock. It didn’t work. The power of the Book pushed them both back and a swirl of light escaped from the Book. Lily shook violently.

Marco didn’t wait to see what the Professor would do next. In a flying leap he was on the table next to her.

“Is this my lucky day? Or am I cursed?” he asked.

“I daresay it is Cicero’s young prot?g?,” said the Whisperer.

“How did so many wretched cats get in here?”

The Professor swooped down and seized Marco, who pumped his hind legs furiously against the man’s chest.

“Oh, no you don’t! I’ll not suffer from the claws of a cat again.”

The Professor gripped both sets of Marco’s legs while Marco tried to bite him.

“So wild. He must be feral,” rasped the Whisperer.

“Feral cats in the library? I think they are not wild, but why are they lurking everywhere? The one I thought I needed is dead. Now…! How many more demon cats prowl this library?”

Marco turned his head so he could see Lily. Never had he seen her scared, not even in the clutches of Sting, but she was frightened now.

“Perhaps you could do something interesting with him? Try out some of your new skills,” offered the Whisperer. “Better yet, use him for a spell needing a cat. Of course, he would have to be dead first.”

Marco struggled to escape the Professor’s grasp, trying every trick he knew. He finally got his head into a good position and sunk his teeth into the man’s hand.

The Professor shrieked and threw him across the room.“Here, you take care of this beast,” the Professor ordered the shadow. Before Marco could move, he was enveloped in a cold, black nothingness.

Like his dream. It was his dream, his nightmare come true!

He thrashed out in all directions, but it was impossible to fight an enemy he couldn’t see. He heard the Professor’s muffled voice as though he were under a heavy blanket. He heard nothing from Lily.

Then even within the darkness, Marco saw a flash of light and heard Lily’s terrified yowl. The Professor announced, “You are mine!” and Marco knew he had the Book.

The shadow creature shifted positions and Marco couldn’t tell if he was upside down or right side up. He was cold beyond belief and shivered so violently his teeth were chattering.

Then he realized the Professor was speaking to him, as though from the other side of a door.“You can have your freedom now,” the man was saying. “It won’t hurt a bit.” Then he said something Marco couldn’t hear as though he’d turned away. “All you must do is declare your allegiance to me.” Suddenly the darkness cleared and Marco saw the Professor, but he was unable to move. “That’s better. You can see me now. So let’s get this over with quickly. I need to move on, but I want to test out my power. You will do as well as the next miserable creature.”

The Book of Motion was lying open on the table and Lily was lying unconscious next to it. Or was she dead?

“Declare your obedience and, as much as I’d like to be rid of you, I will give you your mobility. You would like to walk again, wouldn’t you?”

Marco struggled to move, but his body was as good as dead.

“You want to make this difficult? Don’t waste my time. You are nothing to me and I will leave you down here to rot. Declare your obedience or suffer the consequences.”

Marco could not imagine owing his life to this demon human, but he could also not allow the man to get away with possessing the Book and leaving Lily for dead. He was powerless and thought that maybe this was his sacrifice. Would he have to be the servant of a mad man in order to save the Book? Could the Professor unlock the secrets of the Book? Any power that his man had would be dangerous. That he had seen with his own eyes.

The Professor approached Marco and peered into his face.“My father always said the only good cat was a dead cat. I will make better use of you that way.”

The Professor grabbed him by the throat and squeezed his neck. Somehow, through the terror, or maybe because of it, he remembered.

The words came to him and strength welled up inside.“Fa-taw-la-nee…” came the words that had mystical power, words that were the key to motion born from the beginning of time. It moved through his body and into his throat. The force that came out of his mouth bellowed like a lion.

Before he sprang, he recoiled and roared again, a terrible and savage cry.

*****

In the small room there was only the lion, the man, the Book and a shivering white kitten. As a lion, Marco filled most of the empty space.

When he opened his mouth he spoke in the language of men.“Leave it! You have no permission to use this Book!”

The Professor was trying his best to appear unruffled, but when Marco roared the third time, the Professor backed up.

“This is not a book for magicians!” bellowed Marco, the lion-hearted.

“I will use it to help others,” he offered, as if this would somehow appease the terrifying predator that stood before him. “People will be happy with my illusions.”

“You seek to control the minds of men?” accused Marco.

“There is nothing greater than absolute power over other men,” said the Professor.

“Your words echo those of tyrants and oppressors.”

“Rulers, misunderstood, are often considered tyrants.”

“You are nothing but a petty thief longing to become a god!” Marco growled. Then he opened his mouth to roar again, but instead a light appeared, filling the room. When it touched the Professor, the man appeared to shrink. He withdrew from the light and crouched in a corner, a small, pathetic creature. Like a battered child, thought Marco, and he had one fleeting glimpse into the man’s wounded past.

Marco moved to the table and lowered his shoulders so Lily could easily climb on. Then he picked up the Book in his powerful jaws and went out to the landing area outside the door. Alaniah appeared on the steps.

“Where have you been?” roared Marco.

“I have my job, dear Marco, and you have yours. Forgive me if I am neglectful.” Alaniah secured the door to the underground chamber, committing the Professor to utter darkness.

From the outside, Marco heard another door slam shut. Then a noise, like waves crashing, or the sound of steel gates rolling shut, and the screaming of a madman.

Chapter 62: Rejoicing

Marco ascended the stone steps with Lily nestled in his lion’s mane.

“I would never have believed that if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes,” said Lily.

Alaniah lighted their way and Lily kept chattering all the way up.“You had light coming out of your mouth! How’d you do that, Marco?”

He moved with quiet strength and grace. As a lion, he could conquer anything. As the king of beasts, he could not imagine returning to being a stray cat of no consequence. Now he could protect the Book, the library, even the other cats.

Aware of every sinew in his powerful body, he shook his head, feeling the fan of fur that was his mane, almost unsettling Lily. He roared with the pride of this power, reveling in his new size and stature.

“You’re scaring me Marco,” said Lily. “But I like it.”

When they reached the top step, Alaniah said,“You have done well, Marco, but your rejoicing will be short-lived.”

Puzzling words, thought Marco, as he waited for her to open the portal. When she did, he stepped into the library, and indeed, his rejoicing moment was over.

As if such a thing were possible, the library seemed more desolate than before.

Chapter 63: Encounter with a Queen

The stench of death was in the air and the only color present was varying shades of gray. Marco gently released the book from his jaws onto a table and Lily hopped off his back. He turned towards the sound of something like a pig rooting in the dirt, and a creature crawled out from between the ruined stacks.

Marco had only seen trolls in books before. The misshapen creature, looking like something cursed, ignored everything around him while he squatted on a children’s table, picking things off his hairless body.

What seemed like an empty dead room now started filling up with small hairy beasts and dozens of gremlins. They appeared out of nowhere and roamed the library like rival gangs, sweeping books off the shelves, sending some whizzing across the room like missiles.

The wart-covered troll seemed oblivious to the riot, scooting across the floor until he reached the lion and began to sniff at him. Marco growled, warning him to keep his distance. The troll broke into a fit of damp sneezes and ran from the room, but not without leaving behind a putrid smell.

Not far from where the troll disappeared, a Queen emerged. She wore a dress of dazzling white underneath her red cape, and her crown sparkled so brightly it made Marco blink.

The Queen stepped over the dead bodies of the characters. The gremlins and warty things slunk off as she shooed them off with a black and gold scepter.

“Disgusting creatures, aren’t they?” She aimed the scepter at Marco. “Where are your manners, beast? Don’t you know you should bow to the Queen?”

Marco kept his chin firmly up.“You may be the Queen, but I am the King of Beasts.”

“You are still an animal. This is my realm, and I rule here now.”

“But it’s dead! Will you bring the library back to life?”

“Bring the library back for what? A bunch of smelly kids and old men? Libraries, you know, coddle to the lowest common denominator of humanity, and books are a waste of good paper.”

“You don’t like humans? Or books?” asked Marco, his eyes narrowed. “What are you doing here?”

“Empty buildings are my specialty,” the Queen breathed, looking fondly at the desolation around her.

“But it wasn’t empty until…” How could he reverse the black magic? The Professor had destroyed the library and now this awful creature was challenging him for property rights.

“The Professor did me a huge favor,” said the Queen.

None of this made sense to Marco. What was she planning to do?

“And I should thank you for relieving me of the nasty job of getting rid of him. But I won’t.”

She spoke to something unseen, and a gremlin appeared on the table. He tried to grab the Book but was thrown backwards as the Professor had been, and he high-tailed it back into some dark corner, licking his wounds.

The Queen invited another presence, but nothing as tame as a gremlin. It was some kind of apparition that Marco could only tell was there by following the dark stain it left as it swept over the room. The library was under the control of this mad Queen, and her long robe trailed over the remains of the characters as she tracked the phantom.

A crack in the ceiling split open and the chandelier fell, shattering onto the floor. The Queen watched the phantom spreading its curse and laughed. Alaniah let out a high pitched squeal and curled herself into a cocoon on a top shelf. Lily scrambled to find a hiding place where she could still watch what was happening and Marco, the lion-hearted, began circling the perimeter of the room.

When the phantom appeared to be finished, the Queen turned from the scene as if her job here were done and passed by the mirror. She stopped to admire herself, straightening her crown and smoothing her dress. When she smiled, Marco saw the image in the mirror was not a Queen, but an old hag with black teeth and clouded eyes.

The Queen looked at Marco. She gave a command to a brown lizard that was part of the mirror frame, and it dropped to the floor and scurried towards him, shooting flames with his tongue.

Marco roared, and the lizard burst into flames.

“What fun!” said the Queen. “But I see that was too easy for you, Beast.” She waved her wand, and pieces of ceiling drifted down over everything. She called out to the fallen characters still scattered on the floor and they rose and moved towards her in a trance. “What lovely creatures!” she cried out, as they performed a stiff, cardboard-like bow to the Queen. “Come and pay your respects!”

They each took turns walking up to her and she laid her scepter on their shoulders as though knighting them. Then she cackled some welcoming speech to her soulless slaves.

Sparks emanated from along the edges of The Book of Motion and the dark festivities were interrupted. In her celebratory moment, the Queen seemed to have forgotten about the Book, which was now hovering above the table, vibrating with light.

“This will not do!” screeched the Queen, as her robe slipped a bit. She ordered one of her minions to fetch the Book and Marco leaped over library tables to reach it at the same time as the dead character. If it weren’t for the hat, he wouldn’t have recognized who it was. D’Artagnan!

Marco’s shock and confusion caused him to hesitate, and the soulless d’Artagnan grabbed the book. Marco tore after him.

The creature dodged tables and chairs, but Marco, now forty times larger than his former self, toppled the furniture in pursuit, which slowed him down considerably.

The Musketeer ran up the stairs and Marco almost had him, until he crawled into a narrow place in the stacks. D’Artagnan, who was not the real d’Artagnan Marco knew, clutched the Book and stared at Marco with dead eyes.

“You can’t do anything to an apparition,” yelled the Queen from below. “They are under my control.”

It was utterly unreal that Marco was faced with attacking d’Artagnan. He stared at the dead gray shell of his hero for a moment. Then he realized that the real d’Artagnan would advise him of nothing less than to go full speed ahead to defend what he’d been given to protect.

Marco smashed his way into the stacks, roaring and knocking apart shelves, which toppled more shelves until all had fallen like giant dominoes. Even the zombie-like d’Artagnan seemed to fear him and he let the Book fall as he made his escape.

Chapter 64: A life of their own

Marco returned to the ground floor and bore down on the Queen, roaring and bellowing the words Cicero had given him.“Fa-taw-la-nee!”

As soon as they were out of his mouth the Queen froze, exuding icy calmness.“I’ve heard rumors about cats guarding the Book, but I do not understand how such a filthy beast can guard something so powerful?”

“I am no rumor,” Marco shot back. “I could destroy you in a flash if I chose to.”

“Not so easy as you think. I know what you really are,” she said, flinging her next words at him like a curse. “You. Are. Nothing!”

Marco answered with a growl.

The Queen kept her distance, pulling her cloak closely around her.“We are the same, you and I. You are not the king of beasts any more than I am Queen. No matter. My followers see me as I desire them to.”

Marco roared more ferociously this time, causing the Queen to back off, but only a bit.

“You don’t scare me. You are just a scrawny housecat!”

“And you? You are a murderer!”

“A murderer?” The hag-queen laughed as she swept her arm in an arc around the room. “I wasn’t the one who killed them, but who cares? They didn’t deserve their own stories. They were imposters. Not much different than us, don’t you think?” Her face contorted in something that was supposed to be a smile. Through blackened teeth, she declared, “And they’re all mine now.”

Marco growled low, thinking of poor d’Artagnan, whose life was now at the mercy of this demon queen. “Why would they want to follow you?”

“They have no will of their own now.” She called out to a boy wearing faded green leotards and a fringed tunic. “What is your name?”

“Peter. Peter Pan.”

“Well, Peter, start cleaning up this mess!”

The young boy set about listlessly picking up books off the floor.

“But why destroy the library?” demanded Marco. “Even a hag-queen, such as you, has a story to tell. You could be as famous as Frankenstein or…” He thought there must be a better comparison. “…the Wicked Witch of the West!”

“Ha! I care nothing for silly stories.” She looked toward the boy. “Get back to work, Peter!” she ordered the gray boy. He’d stopped cleaning and was reading one of the books.

“What are you going to do with them? They are practically dead!” Marco tried frantically to reason with her.

The Queen waved her wand at them.“I don’t know what you mean. I’ve brought them back to life!”

“They have no life of their own.”

“But I’m giving them new life. Come,” she said in an overly pleasant manner to a young girl. “What’s your name?”

“Ummm… I can’t remember,” said the girl. She looked a lot like Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz.

“No matter, we will find a new name that suits you,” said the Queen. She wrapped her robed arm around the girl and drew her close, like they were old friends.

“See, I can be nice when I want to,” she said pointedly to Marco.

Marco growled.

The Queen aimed her scepter at him.“This is my place now. Get out!”

Marco roared louder, but the Queen didn’t flinch. “The library is mine! My castle. With the help of my new companions, I can slip into the human’s world with no more sound than the moon falling behind a mountain.”

The Queen pushed the girl aside and paced the room.“They will not know me, but I will be the one who invades their peaceful dreams.” She gazed upwardly as though envisioning the future. “They will not know, but I will be the one who steals their happiness.” She stepped up on a chair and laughed. “I will send an army of nightmares to bringthem to their knees.”

She stood on the table as if that would stake her claim to the realm and looked down upon the wreckage of the library. Marco wondered how it was possible she could see without seeing.

“Fear,” she announced triumphantly, “is my greatest weapon!”

The Book of Motion made a strange sound and light leaked out through its pages. The Queen glowered at it.“Get rid of that thing,” she ordered Marco.

“You will have to destroy me first,” said Marco. “And you can’t do that, because I am not afraid of you.”

“You’re in my way, Beast!” she yelled. She turned to a zombie-gorilla and ordered, “Destroy him!”

The words now came from a deeper place. As the zombies moved to do the Queen’s bidding, Marco began to say the words, “Fa-taw-la-nee…”

The Queen drew her scepter.

“…rah-ma-la-nee!” he roared, and the Queen threw daggers from her eyes. She lowered herself to the floor and approached him.

Marco stood stolid as a mountain.

“Ma-fa-la-nee!” he proclaimed, and the Queen unsheathed her scepter, revealing a glowing red sword.

She aimed it towards Marco as he completed the words.“Moon-too-laaaah!” The Queen’s sword touched the top of his head, and a surge of pain shot through him.

The Queen brayed like a donkey. Then the dark power went into reverse. Like a giant wave crashing and rolling back onto itself, the Queen’s evil power ran backwards through her sword, through her arm and into her body. Her arm withered and her sword clattered to the floor. In slow motion, her body shriveled into a dry carcass, leaving nothing but her crown and robe in a rumpled heap on the floor.

The characters she hadn’t turned to zombies were huddled together, ridiculously trying to protect themselves behind a child-sized table. A young girl in a pink tutu began to cry. A clown asked to borrow the woman’s fur coat, and then wrapped it around the girl.

Free of her spell, Marco’s roar filled the room, terrifying zombies, characters and even Lily. He went to the table where he’d left the Book. He knew what to do. He drew in his breath and blew across the book, cleaning it of any remnants of death and devastation.

Alaniah reappeared, hovering over the Book, wings spread out in full glory. Marco opened the Book and the light blinded everyone.

And the sound… it was painful to his ears, but gradually waves of light and sound receded like the tide going out.

From the mystical world of The Book of Motion, the light had done its job. From a book that was more than words, the light overwhelmed the darkness, herding all the demons into their miserable domains and locking the door of their wretched cages.

The library was restored. The first rays of sunlight heightened the colors. A fresh bouquet of yellow tulips appeared on the librarian’s desk, the deep reds and browns of old leather, gold and vermillion of a Chinese print. The books were shelved and their characters tucked safely inside. Order reigned.

Then from the stacks, far away at first, the sound of hoofbeats rang through the air. A man on horseback burst from between a set of book shelves and charged across the main floor, miraculously missing tables and chairs. Marco recognized him by his black hat and long white feather.

A light flick of the reins and D’Artagnan’s horse slowed to a gentle walk. The Musketeer jumped from his horse and surveyed the library. Then he came over to Marco, whisked off his hat and bowed deeply to the lion.

“Thanks to you Marco, we will live to tell our story another day. I wish you well.” D’Artagnan jumped back on his horse. “Godspeed!” he yelled, then galloped back into the stacks.

Chapter 65: Captain of the ship

Marco surveyed the library from the balcony, the captain of his ship. He loved how window light streamed across tightly-packed rows of books in the late afternoon. There was something appealing as well in the stability of shelved books as the backdrop for the disorder of human activity.

The library had been busier these last few months—ever since rumors of ghosts. At certain times one could hear what sounded like a man talking to himself from underneath the basement-less building. The possibility of encountering a real live ghost attracted young curiosity seekers and they stayed to browse the stacks.

The only report that touched on what had happened came from a trio of teenagers. They swore they’d heard a lion roaring inside the library that night, but everyone laughed at them and none of the other rumors came close to the truth.

He went back to his chambers to check on Lily. The librarians had made a special place for her and their five kittens. Marco figured they wouldn’t be contained in the box much longer, and he jumped inside to give a quick wash to a calico, the only one who would sit still.

“I’ll be back later,” he told Lily. “There’s a meeting of the Dead Cats Society tonight.”

“What story will you give them, Marco? Will you tell them about turning into a lion?”

“A Guardian never tells his own story, Lily. Tonight Cicero will become part of the legend.”

Marco went downstairs and threaded his way through the library, a sort of cat walkabout he liked to take. It was the busiest time of the day. Librarians pushed squeaky book carts. Students, clustered in groups, studied and talked, their conversations punctuated with soft laughter. An old man rattled his newspaper and two silent young boys hunched over a chess board.

He picked his way around backpacks feeling that there was someone he must meet. A familiar voice drew him to a reading corner. Lucy was a regular visitor since her parents had moved in with her grandmother.

She was sitting next to a boy slouched in a chair, both of them lost in their books. When Lucy noticed him, she murmured some greeting and the boy reached one long arm down to scratch his head, his eyes never leaving his book.

The meeting could wait. He nuzzled himself into an impossibly small space and laid his head on the boy’s leg. Marco purred. The book was The Three Musketeers. D’Artagnan was alive and well.