Chapter Two

"My daddy is the leader now," Jemima said haughtily as she bounced up beside Bombie on the couch.

"I know," Bombie replied with an amused smile. Jemima sat down, a very self-important expression on her young face, "Which means I must be on my best behavior. Mummy says that everyone will be watching me now."

Bombie smoothed the fur on the kit's dark head, "Oh, Button, everyone was watching you before. You're such a cute kit, how could they not?"

Jemima smiled and nuzzled her aunt. Then, sitting up, she bit her lip in concern, "What I am supposed to do, now that Daddy is the Jellicle Leader?"

"Just be yourself, pumpkin," Bombie kissed the top of the kit's head. "Don't worry about anyone else. And don't let anyone try to change you. Because you are perfect just the way you are."

Visibly relieved, Jemima nodded in agreement as she curled up and snuggled closer to her aunt. Bombie was the only grown up cat that paid attention to her, the only one who listened to her worries. Sure, her mother listened, but Demeter always said motherly things that never helped the situation.

Bombie watched the kitten drift to sleep, a soft smile on her features. Jemima was a precocious kit; she reminded Bombie of when Demeter was young. The young Demi was a sassy daredevil, much like Jemima was becoming. Bombie thought back to those rosy days with a smile. That was before her exile or the birth of Misto or before Demeter became the shy, high-strung cat that she was now.

~*~

"You seem a little high-strung tonight," Munku noted as he and Demeter made their way down the abandoned street.

"I'm always high-strung, remember?" Demeter gave a wry grin. Munku laughed and kissed the tip of her nose affectionately, "I know. And I love you because you are so high-strung."

"Really?" Demeter seemed doubtful.

"Yes," Munku chuckled. "I love everything about you."

"Well, the feeling's mutual," Demeter smiled up at him. They had been mates for several years now, but he still possessed the power to make her stomach flutter with girlish excitement. Still, her previous worries gnawed at the corner of her mind.

Munku sensed this, "Something's bothering you, Dem. Fess up."

Demeter gave a shy smile, slightly embarrassed that Munku could read her so easily and slightly fearful of voicing her thoughts. But when she saw Munkustrap's kind face smiling down at her, she felt her doubts melt away like snow in spring. She took a hesitant breath, "I'm just worried about you…being Leader is so…stressful…and time consuming."

Munkustrap stopped walking. He took Dem by the shoulders, looking her in the eye, "Demeter, nothing's going to change. I'm still going to be here for you and Jemmie. We're still going to be a family; being Jellicle Leader is not going to take that away. I promise."

Demeter nodded, her light green eyes filled with tears of relief. "I believe you."

"Good," Munku wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. "Cuz I mean it."

~*~

Mistoffelees curled up in the windowsill, casting a watchful eye at the house across the street, where his mother and Demeter lived with Jemima. He could see by the dim lamplight as Bombalurina jumped lightly onto the couch, followed by Jemima. The red queen nuzzled the kitten affectionately as the kitten chattered away happily.

Mistoffelees felt a slight pang of sadness. He had been too young to remember the time he spent with his mother, before Bomba's human had taken him away. He and his sisters had been tied in a burlap sack and tossed in the river. That was how Misto discovered his powers—without any real explanation, he had been able to transport himself to dry land. Unfortunately, he had not been able to save his sisters—a sad thought that still plagued him to this day.

It took him a long time to find his way back to the human's house—by then, Boms had vanished. An old friend of hers, Nefertiti, had taken Misto in, telling him wonderful tales of the Jellicle and the enchanting queen that was his mother. Once he was old enough, Mistoffelees set out to find Bombalurina. He didn't know where to start or even how to find her—he had simply followed his feet. Those white-tipped paws had led him to the junkyard, where he was quickly accepted into the Jellicle Clan.

It wasn't until much later that Bombalurina came forward—it had taken her awhile to realize who he was. At first, Misto wasn't sure if she truly was his mother. But when she sang the lullaby, a haunting refrain from his past, he had remembered.

And although Boms never admitted it—in fact she avoided the subject altogether—Mistoffelees knew that Macavity was his father. How else could he have inherited his conjuring powers? Bombalurina's insistence that their relation be kept secret was another proof of this theory. Misto knew Boms didn't want Macavity to find out that he was alive. Bombalurina confirmed everything the night Old Deuteronomy was kidnapped, when she told Misto that he could never confront the Napoleon of Crime face-to-face.

The black and white tom thought back to the night of the Jellicle Ball with a sigh. It was supposed to be a magical night—his very first Jellicle Ball! Like his mother, Misto was an exceptional dancer—some said the very best. For weeks before the Ball, Misto had been spending more and more time with Victoria, who would be coming of age at the Ball. They would often go for long walks during the balmy summer twilight, talking shyly about frivolous things, their eyes and actions tentatively turned towards things of love and adulthood. It was then that he knew he loved her.

And he had planned to tell her so, at the Ball. He was going to give an eloquent speech, sweep her off her feet and declare his love for the snow-white queen. But at the last moment, his courage had failed. When he saw her standing there, so pure and innocent in the pale moonlight, Misto had felt his heart stop. She was perfect. Why in Heaviside would she condescend to dance with him? He wasn't anything special. His heart went out to her, but his paws remained firmly rooted to the spot. Plato stepped forward, and in that instant, Misto watched his own heart shatter into a thousand pieces as the two began the mating dance.

Mistoffelees shook his head, trying to rid himself of the depressing thoughts that now filled his mind. Apparently Victoria had decided that she was in love with Plato; the two had become inseparable. As much as it hurt, Misto bore the pain of her rejection, believing that as long as Victoria was happy, nothing else mattered.

Move on, the tuxedoed tom told himself, turning away from the window and curling up to sleep. But even in his sleep, the white queen still haunted his dreams.