Disclaimer: CATS belongs to Andrew Lloyd Webber, the RUG and T.S. Eliot.
Aside from the great crime headquarters, a busier place than the docks and surrounding warehouses of London could not be found in the city. Every hour of day and night would find cats of all descriptions wandering about this place: some merely passing through; others idling for want of a better occupation; and yet more conducting business.
For this was the heart of the feline crime rings of London, and self-employed criminals flocked here in their hundreds throughout the year. It was a recruitment office of sorts, a neutral meeting point, a place where contracts could be offered or upheld or occasionally used as a tool of dismemberment. Only the dodgier cats were ever usually found here in great numbers, and every respectable cat – and even some not so respectable – knew that the easiest way to keep safe in the city was to maintain a reasonable distance from the docks.
This was the reason why, one grim morning in late February, many cats were surprised to see two very respectable looking cats enter the area with none of the hastiness of those cats of their class who merely scuttled through on their way elsewhere. These cats seemed to be looking for something, and after a good half hour in which the pair still had not left, a general consensus was reached that these two should just be left to get on with whatever they needed to get on with.
Of course, in most circumstances they would have been approached and confronted as to their presence, perhaps roughed around a little. But unusually, these happened to be a pair of queen-cats, and if the criminals and low-lifes of the docks knew anything in regards to queens, it was that they would never agree to do anything more than sneer at you unless you gave them leeway to do whatever they wanted. And it wasn't too bad a price to pay once you had talked the queen in question into going to bed with you.
They certainly were a striking pair, and despite the unspoken agreement that all queens should be left alone unless they came directly to you, most of the cats were sneaking glances at them as they passed, some even bold enough to cross their path deliberately, looking up through greedy eyes. Neither of the pair noticed, however, caught up in a whispered discussion that, if the tom-cats had been close enough to hear, would have sounded a lot more like an argument.
"We don't need to be here! How many times have I told you –" the shorter of the two hissed, eyes darting frantically around as she spoke.
"They'll leave us alone – if we'd gone round the other way, it would have taken us twice as long," the other replied, sighing. Her companion glared at her.
"Taken us twice as long to get to where? We're not going anywhere!"
"Then we might as well be here," the second one said triumphantly, tossing her head as she began to walk faster. The first queen stopped abruptly, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose. Surreptitious onlookers noticed her huffing out a sigh before averting their eyes as she opened hers, hurrying to catch up with the other queen, who was considerably taller and had gotten rather a long way ahead.
Nearby, a young tom had been watching their spat with interest. He was certainly an intriguing looking cat – tall and thin, with striking ginger fur that looked just this side of dusty and slightly unkempt. His sunken eyes widened slightly as his eyebrows raised up his high forehead, and he smiled darkly.
"Eh? What 'choo smilin' at?" a cat nearby asked, scowling.
"Oh, nothing, nothing," the ginger cat said silkily. "I've just been thinking about business, that's all."
"Yeah, well, some of us ent as blimmin' lucky as you is," the other cat said bitterly. "Wouldn' 'ardly think you'd need ta think 'bout business like t'rest of us."
The ginger cat laughed, a low, sinister chuckle. "Sir, I've only just established my… business, as you call it. I'd come to nothing if I didn't think about it – I've still got to get out of this place for a start. And it's not luck, not hardly."
"I dunno," said the other cat, twisting his mouth as he eyed the ginger tom. "You've been on the streets for – wot? Three months? Four? An' now you're startin' up yer own –"
"Yes, yes, I know all that," the ginger cat said impatiently. He was no longer looking at the squat grey tom he had been conversing with – instead, his eyes had wandered in the direction the two bickering queens had passed by just minutes ago. He could still see them plainly, the scarlet fur of the taller one particularly eye-catching amongst the sea of grey and brown fur she walked within.
"An' Bast, if they ent sayin' the strangest things –"
"Excuse me," the ginger cat murmured, not at all sorry about ending the conversation. He leapt down from the crate he had been sitting on and began to slip through the crowd, eyes never leaving the tall queen and her shorter companion. He barely even noticed the throng of cats parting to allow him to pass, nor the whispers that followed in his wake.
"Do you think –"
"Reckon so."
"Reckon so? Since when 'as Macavity not wanted to track down a pair o' lookers like that?"
Demeter scowled as she tried to catch up to her elder sister. Why did Bombalurina have to pick now to be so infuriating? Why was it always that whenever Demeter protested most strongly, she seemed insistent on doing exactly what she was doing now?
Why would she never listen?
She suppressed a shudder as she felt eyes flicker over her body, not for the first time cursing the gold fur that made her so distinctive against the crowd. This was why she hadn't wanted to come this way – if there was one type of tom that she disliked more than any other, it was one who already had depraved moral values. And much to her disgust, it was those very toms that happened to be her sister's favourite flirting toys – as a result, she had spent far too much time around them in her life than she would have ever liked.
She still hated them with a burning passion.
Catching up to Bombalurina, who had slowed down at last, she hissed, "Can we please leave now? Rina –"
"No," Bombalurina replied impatiently, scanning the cats scattered around the docks they had arrived at. "I haven't found anyone yet."
"We'd be a lot better off if you stopped looking for toms and started looking for somewhere –"
"You could do it yourself," Bombalurina said absently. Demeter scowled.
"What, and leave you at some sleazy tom's mercy?"
"I can look after myself."
"Of course you can," Demeter replied dryly. "Still, I hope you won't take offense if I –"
"I do hope I'm not interrupting anything."
Demeter snarled as a paw landed on her shoulder, making her body tense up. She shook it off and sent a dirty look at its owner as he came around to face her and her sister, whose eyes had now alighted on the newcomer. Demeter could see Bombalurina's approving look as she took in the thin cat, a dead match for her in height and presumably good-looking to her eye. Demeter thought his fur needed a decent clean, and she continued to scowl at him as Bombalurina responded: "But not at all. My goodness, I've just been waiting for a cat like you to come along."
The cat gave a little incline of his head, shadowy eyes never leaving the scarlet queen. "So glad I could be of assistance."
Bombalurina smiled coyly, but Demeter, sensing imminent words in that same mood to follow, broke in. "Yes, and I suspect you would be of far more assistance if you allowed us to leave." She carefully refrained from suggesting that he show them the way out as well – she wasn't going to trust that he would lead them in the direction she wanted.
The ginger cat's eyes widened a little. "But of course, if that is what you wish. It does seem a shame though – one doesn't often see two queens of such high calibre as you around these parts. Where is it you are headed?"
With a sharp glare at Demeter, Bombalurina took it upon herself to answer. "We are headed nowhere in particular. I had thought we might walk through here for a time – we have nowhere to be, and all the time in the world."
"Why, what good fortune," the ginger cat said, smiling at Bombalurina. "I had hoped – but of course if you do need to be going –"
"Which we do," Demeter said icily, with a pointed look at her sister, who seemed to be ignoring her.
"It's only that I have such a penchant to play cards today, but I am currently out of a partner. Do you play?" he questioned Bombalurina. She smiled, wicked and genuine.
"Do I play? Sir, there is nothing that would delight me better." And with a smile of his own, the ginger cat offered her his arm, which she graciously accepted. Glancing back at Demeter, she jerked her head slightly, before turning to face the ginger cat and striking up a conversation with him.
With another scowl and a sigh, Demeter followed them.
Settled a little way from the pair, Demeter was devoting part of her attention to watching them play their eighth round of cards – she hadn't bothered to inquire as to the precise game – but a far greater portion of her mind was thinking about the strange ginger cat – Macavity, he had introduced himself as.
She disliked him. Yes, she disliked nearly every tom they had come across in their journeying, but this one was particularly bad. Perhaps it was the way he looked at her sister – though if she was being reasonable, she would have to acknowledge that he was no worse than any of the others. And frankly, he was nowhere near as bad as the one who had introduced himself by kissing both her and Bombalurina rather sloppily and had not stopped touching her sister until an older tom had helped them wrestle him away.
But there was something more to this one, something that she disliked immensely. This Macavity seemed far more sinister than his impeccable manners would suggest. There was something in his silky voice that rang truer in his dusty coat – something unkempt and dark.
And Demeter didn't like it one bit.
She suppressed a shudder as she thought of his long, filthy claws landing on her shoulder again. Were there really no decent toms in the world anymore? None who would treat a queen with respect – either for her opinions, her body or her brains? Was it not physically possible for a tom to look past shiny fur or an alluring voice and think that perhaps they wouldn't be wanted by the queen in question?
Perhaps it was simply Bombalurina's atrocious taste in toms, Demeter conceded. After all, she seemed to be attracted to nearly every tom they had come across – and perhaps this Macavity was psychic or it had simply been a coincidence, but she insisted on playing cards with every single one of them.
It certainly didn't help them in finding a place in which to live permanently, but the thought had often crossed Demeter's mind that maybe Bombalurina didn't want to settle down anywhere. Maybe she was content playing her games with the toms who would always lose to her, the ones who could never focus on the game due to their focus on her.
Maybe Bombalurina didn't want a home, but Demeter did. She wanted somewhere where she could sleep at night without worrying about her safety, somewhere where she could walk about without fear of leaving her sister's side. Somewhere where there were other queens, and toms that weren't entirely interested in her sister's bottom.
Sighing, she returned her focus to Bombalurina and Macavity, noticing a skinny tiger tabby coming up to the ginger tom. The toms exchanged words briefly, and then Macavity turned back to Bombalurina. He looked as though he was making excuses to her, and she nodded, smiling and saying something back, batting her eyelashes a little. Seconds later, he had left, following the tabby into a nearby alleyway, and Bombalurina sat back on her heels, looking intrigued. Demeter got to her feet, and began to make her own way over to her sister, confident that she would be able to convince her to leave now that she had played her fill.
As long as she never had to lay eyes on Macavity again, she would be happy.
"Finally," Demeter sighed as they left the docks behind them.
"Finally what?" Bombalurina asked, gesturing above them. Demeter nodded, and both queens started climbing up to the rooftop above them.
"Didn't you see the way he was looking at you?" Demeter asked as they climbed.
"Frankly, all I saw was that he can't cheat to save his life. I sincerely hope he picks up his game for next week."
"Next – next week?"
Bombalurina shrugged. "He offered, and I saw no reason to refuse. Oh, don't look at me like that, Demeter, he's perfectly respectable."
Demeter looked disbelieving. "Respectable? He was looking at you like he wanted to – well – look, the point is – why in Heaviside's name did you agree to meet with him again?"
"I'd like to see how backhanded he tries to become," Bombalurina replied casually as they reached the roof. They began to walk along it, Demeter still looking incredulously at her sister.
"You. You telling me that he's backhanded."
"Certainly."
"I know – don't interrupt, I know that you cheated at least twice as many times as he attempted to!"
"Eighteen," Bombalurina said smugly. "And he never even noticed. I know a novice when I see one."
"A novice? He sounded too sure of himself," Demeter scoffed.
"Oh, he's a novice, alright. He told me he's recently set up his own… er… business. Same trade as the others, I presume. That cat that came to get him –"
"The tabby?"
"The very same. He's an employee. Poor thing."
"The employee?"
"No!" Bombalurina said, snorting. "Macavity. Novice in the crime rings and awful at cards to boot. I do rather suspect he didn't know that he was playing with a true master."
"Why?" Demeter exclaimed, disgusted. "Why do you insist on playing cards with every single tom you meet?"
Bombalurina shrugged, a cheeky grin lighting up her face. "I like to watch their faces when I beat them."
"By cheating," Demeter said reprovingly.
"It's not cheating when the others know no better." She rolled her eyes at the look on her sister's face. "It's just a little fun and games, Demeter, what's wrong with that?"
"It's all fun and games until someone gets hurt, and I don't want that someone to be you."
"Demeter, I'm more than a match for Macavity, if that's who you're worried about," Bombalurina grinned.
"It's a horrible name, isn't it?" Demeter said, grimacing.
"It's not so bad," Bombalurina countered. Demeter shook her head.
"It's foul. A foul name for a foul cat," she muttered.
"He's not that bad."
Demeter sighed and stopped, turning to face her sister. "Rina, I didn't like him." As Bombalurina rolled her eyes, Demeter pressed on. "He looks like a nasty piece of work – Rina, I don't want you to get hurt."
Bombalurina's expression softened slightly, and she moved forwards, rubbing against Demeter comfortingly. "Demeter, I can take care of myself. He's just a tom."
"He's more than just a tom," Demeter said quietly. "He reeks of something. I can – Rina, there's something really off about him. Something he's done. It's worse than any of the others."
Bombalurina's face took on a look of concern. "How bad?"
Demeter shrugged, feeling her ears growing hot. "I don't know, just… worse. Worse than all the rest of them put together."
Bombalurina sighed and drew Demeter closer to her, wrapping her arms around her sister firmly. "Soon, I promise. We'll find somewhere soon."
But Demeter couldn't help but wonder if Bombalurina would honour that promise. After all, she had still promised to meet with Macavity within the week, and time spent at the docks was time in which they could be looking for a home wasted.
And Demeter was wary about going back, not least because she had started to recall some rumours from a few months back. Some very nasty rumours regarding some of the cats in this part of the city.
And she was positive that she had heard the name Macavity in connection to them.
Author's note
I suspect I am rather unlike most of the fandom in that I don't support the belief that Demeter was raped/abducted by Macavity. That's just the way it is, and this is my take on how they had connections to Macavity – and just for the record, Bombalurina only met up with him once more, and he still couldn't cheat half as well as her.
~JV