Munkustrap – Part Eleven
I had a dream that night. In it Adelle was in my arms again, and what we were doing I'm not at liberty to tell. But that wasn't important. What was so delightful about that dream was that it was as though she was really there. I could really feel her skin, smell her hair, hear her breathing, see her brilliant blue eyes. I was drowning with her flood over my Jellicle senses, and loving every moment. But there was some connection beyond that pleasure...some deeper link that bound us together. I could hear her thoughts reverberate in my head, know her feelings. In that fantasy world we were more in-tune than Coricopat and Tantomile could ever be, and it was so lifelike... Then I woke up.
Staring at the ceiling of what was once my father's room as the sunlight filtering in the windows grew ever brighter seemed the only way I could concentrate and draw myself back into that false reality. I was horribly stiff, still dressed in the messed masquerade outfit that I'd fallen asleep in. It was well past dawn when I finally rolled myself out of bed and dragged myself into the bathroom for a well-needed shower and shave. The clothes were dumped for good, and that combined with the grooming finally rid myself of the stench of Miss Whitson. Nothing was wrong until I had a good look at myself in the bathroom mirror.
It was then I noticed the small marks on my throat, barely visible. Leaning forward with intense concern, I examined them more closely. Yes, they were definitely of vampire origin. Panic swept over me immediately, thinking the worst. Yet as I stumbled hurriedly back to my room I forced myself to be rational, thinking things through. I hadn't felt weak when I awoke, therefore whatever Tick had the gall to slip in here sometime during the night hadn't the intention of killing me. Thank Heaviside... Closing the door securely, I paused, glaring over my room for any clue that would suggest intrusion. But vampires rarely leave any traces. With that doubt in mind I made for the window, shifting to werecat so my sense of smell would be much more efficient as I examined the window frame. What I smelled was indeed vampire, and yet the taint mixed there with it that confirmed the vampire's identity was one that made my blood run cold. Drawing back, I stared out at the morning sky, gray with clouds that suggested rain, and could scarcely believe it myself.
"Adelle..."
It was her. Never could I forget her human scent, no matter how altered. She had been here last night, one way or another. Why? What for? The dream... Back in human I threw open the door and dashed downstairs for the hallway that led to Desere's room. Pausing, staring in horror that her door was ajar, I pushed it open silently, preparing for the worst sight to meet my eyes.
But Desere was untouched. Still asleep on her bed against the wall, the soft light from her only window cast a dull gray light across her room, adding a silver touch of serenity that matched the innocence of her face. Closing the door I quietly turned away, heading back upstairs.
I didn't tell anyone about the attack. The marks themselves healed over quickly, small as they were, and though the entire Manhattan tribe of Jellicles knew my previous wife was a vampire, it seemed the better that they think she was gone forever. I had thought that myself, until now. Why would she come back now? Of all times? Why would Adelle come back at all if she meant not to kill me? There had to be something...but nothing else in the penthouse was touched.
But this was only the first event of vampiric origin in the city. Following within the next week were several genocidal attacks on both werewolves and humans. An apartment complex was burnt to the ground, killing all of its residents. Nearly twenty bodies were found sprawled in an alleyway bloodbath, an appalling sight to any weak stomach, and were written off by the authorities as some kind of gang-cult orgy gone wrong. I knew different. Exploring the scene on all fours, the scent of musky werewolf was obvious as daylight. Yet the Jellicles remained untouched. Pure luck, I reasoned. But I was worried. We were probably the next target.
The worry I found out was well-founded. It was early fall, and with the change in season came a change over the island. A change, so slight none of the humans probably noticed it, that swept over the island like a dark chemical cloud that came with the changing color of the leaves, the cold weather. It was so slight, so secretive, that even I didn't notice to begin with. It was an energy, the pulse of a beating heart that sent out its silent, electrical waves over the island. First it began with small twinges in my tail and whiskers when I shifted, then as it grew in intensity I could begin to feel it in other forms. Like a current in the air...it couldn't be seen or heard or smelled...it could be touched.
None of us Jellicles thought about it much at first. In fact, as much as I could tell it put the others on edge and myself as well, we seemed reluctant to bring it up. We all knew the other werecats could feel it. It was that energy forming over the island that seemed to bind us together. It was very strange, this flow of energy. Late evening was when it seemed it was at its strongest. An unheard buzz rang in our feline ears. I would find myself shifting and running the streets of Manhattan for no reason, chasing rats and shadows as natural as any feline without a question in my mind as to why. I would encounter other Jellicles or normal cats in the streets, fight them or run with them without having exchanged a vocal word. Even Tugger and Bombalurina. I encountered them in an alley one evening picking at a discarded fish. Our eyes met, our tails flicked, but not a word was spoken for us to communicate. Then we did things...
Things...this sounds so strange. Whether by myself or in the company of other Jellicles we would wander the city doing...things. I can't think of a better way to describe it. It was as though the entire Manhattan population was hypnotized, under the control of some force above us all that commanded us in feline form to go out and do these actions that were not our own. But these things that we did...they were so pointless, yet I suppose we as a whole felt the compelling need to do them. Simple things like knocking shut a propped open window, tipping over a trashcan, following someone on a bicycle as they wheeled their way home. Simple things like that we did evening after evening when this dull uncaring veil was forced over our eyes, blinding us to whatever motive was behind these actions and their purpose. As I sit here now I am sure that's what it was: that we were all under some influence of vampire power. It would certainly explain what happened next.
These things went on for a little over a week. It all ended one overcast day when it was getting towards evening. That same energy was still surrounding the island, that evening stronger than ever. I was pacing my penthouse restlessly, having sent Desere over to Gwyneth's comfort when she was feeling that same energy. It frightened her, and it was beginning to frighten me. What if we were under vampire influence? Not a Jellicle in Manhattan—save for Macavity, who nobody had seen trace of at all—hadn't been unaffected by that week-long glaze that seemed to hinder us in normal living. The thought that any vampire strong and powerful enough to do such a thing was here in Manhattan and exercising those powers sent my thoughts whirling to the worst conclusions. Why? What was going on? The energy that evening was so intense I couldn't escape it. I waited for sundown, when the vampires would rise and usually that glaze would take over us Jellicles and drive me down to the street on all fours, but that evening the hypnotic whatever it may have been never came. There was only that energy. Shifting to full werecat whose senses brought the energy to its peak perception, I went out onto the balcony.
It was a wonder that a stream of humans still walked the streets of Manhattan, oblivious to this energy that trembled the ground and filled the air when it was all so plain to me. Even now the effects of that energy could be seen. Humans might have explained it as a trick of the sunset, but as I stood on that balcony with my feline eyes peering out into the city horizon I knew that something was going to happen tonight. That energy, which had first been detected a week or so ago and had wrapped its powerful clutches around our werecat minds, was saturating the island. If I walked on the street below my paws could feel the ground practically trembling with that energy. It would feel as though the streets were alive, pulsing with this electricity that tingled my paws. If I extended my hand out into the air, as I did now, I could feel it on the wind. Those tiny waves of electricity moves and shifted their strings as I moved my black-furred hand through them in the air, their choking strands ready to stifle the entire island. Even here, on the top floor of this penthouse apartment building, my ears and tail tip were quivering with that energy. Something was going to happen.
Now I could see it. The light of the sunset, they might have said, but no trick of Mother Nature or pollution could possibly make the previously dull gray clouds the color as I viewed them now. Beautiful in a savage kind of way, the clouds were sulfur yellow, tinged in greens and reds that swirled like soup around the taller buildings of the island. They were thinner than any cloud I'd ever seen, lower and moving as quick as snake tongues over the city though there was barely any wind. Nothing was natural about these clouds. The sun had gone down now, and the clouds were literally glowing. How could these humans not notice it?! The energy in the air was ready to drive me mad. It was as though the island would shatter like a mirror at any moment: it was being filled to excess with this energy and couldn't hold any more. I braced myself against the stone edge of the balcony as though expecting some type of explosion. But nothing came. Not the hypnotic glaze. Not any explosion. Only that maddening energy.
Whatever it was, there was no doubt in my mind it was caused by vampires. Something else, perhaps that same hypnotic suggestion, told me that tonight it would all end.
I tried to sleep that night and couldn't. Admittedly, the entire city never goes completely dark enough at night, but one can sleep through that. But now, even with the curtains drawn, that putrid yellowish light from the clouds weaseled its way inside, reminding me of that energy that was somewhat dulled in my human form outside. I tossed and turned, a jumble of thoughts in my head. What was going to happen? I worried, I thought, I fantasized, but I couldn't sleep.
Then it all broke. Like a strained and taut wire suddenly cut, the energy snapped. It was like a physical blow in the face, that break: so sudden and so sharp. Bolting out of bed I had barely enough time to shift to werecat before I was out on the balcony again. I looked. I listened. Nothing. The clouds were gone, nothing overhead by the sparse wispy trails of smoke from the city and the few stars able to twinkle through. The city all around was...normal. The lights flickered in Times Square. The police sirens wailed in the distance. The air was cool and calm, carrying only the scents of the city in its breeze. No energy. No tension. Only the feeling of release.
What could I make of it? Something had happened in the past week that was entirely above me, above the Jellicles. Yet the city remained unchanged by the phenomenon, the humans oblivious. Only its memory remained. It's memory... Suddenly very tired, sleep came easily as I went back inside.
What broke with the energy was our silence. The next day I spent on all fours patrolling the island, checking in with other cats on their conditions and trying to find even a scrap of evidence as to what had happened. Then again, I knew not what to look for. But radically changed from the previous week were all of us Jellicles, who wanted nothing more than to mill over and theorize about what had gone on. None of us could even fathom the truth.
I met up with Alonzo in Central Park at about midday. Curled in the gnarly roots of an old tree beside a small pond, he was dozing with his eyes closed, tail flicking slowly, as I circled to sit beside him. I had a particular liking for Alonzo that had developed over some time. He was a quiet cat who didn't like to talk about himself much, responsible and mature to where he would throw in a paw wherever it was needed. I had lost track of his age some time ago, and yet it seemed he never really did grow any older. His mottled brown-shaded and black fur coat was as thick and ruffled as ever, its dirtiness a testament to the streetlife he insisted upon leading.
"Desere's back at yer place," he rumbled after a moment when I'd set about giving my coat a good lick. "Said she thinks everything's calmed down a bit."
"Good cat," I commended to her, perhaps a tad sarcastically said but genuinely meant. "She didn't happen to say exactly what has calmed down?"
Alonzo shook his head, finally opening his gold-slitted eyes to glance at the still water of the pond. "No one knows, Strap. Might as well quit worryin' about it. It's over."
"I'm not going to be content with ignorance if there's a chance at gaining any knowledge," I replied simply enough. "What if it happens again? Did you see the way we were all acting?"
Another nod. Strange, from a cat. "Of course I did. I was doin' it, too. Like we were all zoned out and couldn't think straight."
"Exactly. If a vampire can do that, where does it leave us? What's to stop them from annihilating us entirely?"
"They're too smart t'do that."
"What?" I snapped my attention up to him. I didn't like the tone in his voice. Not at all. He spoke like he knew something I didn't, and if there was one thing I could never be content with it was not knowing. "What do you mean by that?"
"You don't think Ticks are above laws?"
"I would assume that they're powerful enough to ignore them."
"Think again, Stripes. You know what happens when ya A-S-S-U-M-E." He sighed, readjusting his paws from where they were folded under him, and stared aloofly off into the pond until he glanced back, catching my curious and somewhat angry glare. He rolled his eyes and went on. "Think about it fer a second. Mother Nature keeps balances in her population, right? The whole predator-prey relationships. Equilibrium. Natural selection. It's the same way with us, Strap. Ya dunno what consequences might come up if vampires jus' wiped all the shapeshifters off the face o' the earth."
I was almost afraid to ask: "What kind of consequences?"
"Bad ones."
"Then if they know better, what was the Great War all about?"
"A mistake. But a necessary one. Someone had t' establish their dominance over the others. It wasn't supposed t' cause a near extinction."
"How do you know all this?"
He wouldn't answer that one. Nor would he ever. I could have remained there and prodded him for information all day and not have received it. Stubborn ratlover. I wanted to know what he was talking about and how he had gained that bit of information that no one else seemed to know. But try as I might, he endured my badgering for approximately ten more minutes before he left. I had the right, didn't I? Responsible over the welfare of the other Jellicles, didn't that give me the right to know what they knew? Double-checking myself, it sounded childish that I should try to justify my want to know that way, and finally I abandoned the idea, turned out once again to complete my patrol before heading home.
It was dark by then, night having fallen over Manhattan hours before I even turned my nose in the direction of home. I wanted it that way. After the patrol that consisted mainly of a four-legged scout around the borders of my territory, checking the markings I left there every other day as a signal post, it was obvious to me that nothing had been disturbed along the boundaries. The usual scents of vampires and werewolves that came and went as routine as daylight were present, nothing worth worrying over. But it was the darkness I wanted to wait for. I wanted to see what would come about once the sun was down, my mind filled with questions that I thought could be answered if I spied on the local vampire population.
I guess I should take the time now to explain exactly what was my territory in Manhattan. Frankly, it was almost the entire island. Beginning at the western tip, it covered all of Manhattan Island up to the far eastern end of Central Park, except only the small quarter portion beyond 14th Avenue and Broadway that belonged to Macavity. It was a large spanse to say the least, large enough to suit the werecats who inhabited it and yet small enough to keep a good watchful eye over. It was a homely place, and I intended to keep it that way. In terms of foreign policy I was not quite what one might call an expansionist.
From what I heard, Admetus had been the one who was the real boundary-pusher. Whatever Jellicles or other creatures had inhabited this island in the time before I knew what I truly was Admetus had fought against to expand the small bit of territory that Jellicles possessed then, no bigger than Macavity's was now. He must have succeeded, considering the size of it. Gus from what I saw cared as much about new territory as I did. We all had what we needed in this spanse, and unless someone threatened to take it I saw no reason to risk lives any more than I had to going out to expand the boundaries.
The span beyond that far eastern border I knew not who held claim over it. As far as I knew, no Jellicles inhabited that area at all. But seeing as I had enough range to keep an eye on already, I didn't care much. Let the Dogs have it, if they wanted. The only rival for territory, which was really an understatement, since it seemed he didn't strive to gain any territory, either, was Macavity. That small quarter of the island along the borders of 14th Avenue and Broadway were his. Not that there was much down there…a few docks and rubbish heaps, perhaps, combined with an excellent population of Dogs and Ticks and the dregs of humanity, but for Macavity that seemed a fitting place to sleep at night. Thus far Macavity had not tried to push his borders over mine, and should that event ever come up…well, with any luck it wouldn't. I wasn't exactly sure if I could stand up to such a creature as was presented to me that night I rescued Desere. Now that I come to think of it, Macavity had his own way of letting me know that little outing did not please him. Two nights after I became Jellicle Leader, that same rotten old hotel building I'd gone into burned down. Carelessness, was the report I read. Some teenager forgot to put out their cigarette once they tossed it on the ground. I knew better.
I still wasn't quite sure what to make of Macavity. Yes, he'd been a fearsome sight that night that seemed so long ago, but putting that aside, what other reasons had I to fear him? A bunch of stories that couldn't be proved? He had done little to make himself known before the incident with Desere, and even afterwards, as angry as I would imagine him to be, nothing came of it. There were no rage-driven attacks on the other Jellicles from him, no threats, not even a show of his face to me or any other on my territory. Sometimes I wondered if that same energy that had engulfed us all had affected him, too. I couldn't be sure. Where was I? Oh yes...
I wanted to have a peek at the local vampires to see if they had any reaction to the mysterious energy that had just recently broken. I knew their dens...their putrid age-old scents tainted any place they walked, and when a group of them gathered at the sleazy bars or hotels that they seemed to enjoy—and which I could attest to—the stench was more than enough to keep a Jellicle away. It was a dangerous thing to attempt at all, going directly for their hangouts, but I knew not what else to do.
But the danger was gone. Not even humans inhabited the bars and hotels tonight. It was all black, deserted, not even their scent freshly present. Any smart cat would have turned away then and there, but curiosity had already taken its hold. Shifting up to werecat form, confident that the bleak darkness would hide me sufficiently, I stalked across the street to the trash-laden sidewalk that stretched out, uneven and broken, before the line of bars. Nothing. No music played from within the buildings. No neon lights flickered in the windows. I stalked carefully over the crumpled papers and broken glass the length of the street, seeing, smelling, hearing nothing. Whatever energy had swept over the island that week or so ago, it had passed through here and left its distinct mark. The place was like a graveyard.
Shivering from some inner chill, I was ready to leave the place, but the place wasn't done with me. The feeling that I was being watched came suddenly, stopping in my tracks to slowly glance at the desertedness around me. Apparently the place wasn't quite deserted... I knew that whatever vampire had his sights set on me was doing it deliberately, for a vampire could be watching someone without their knowledge. This one was toying with me. I did the only thing I knew: began backing away, slowly, hoping to get out of the shadows and back into the more well-lit streets. As though that would give any protection.
I hadn't but stepped out into the street and began to turn when something, some sweep of black that was nothing more than a shadow itself, dove from nowhere, slamming into my back with the force of a very real and very solid creature. Blasted Ticks. Snarling as I was pitched forward, I had already twisted to catch myself, but the vampire wouldn't have it. In a series of movements that were too quick for me to follow or even see, the shadow had me chest-down on the asphalt street, both arms pinned behind me with a strength that surpassed mine, and the feeling of a cold steel blade across the back of my neck.
"Stop struggling if you wish to live."
I stopped struggling.
From the angle with which my face was shoved into the ground, a sideways glance behind me revealed only that same shadow looming there, its limbs like swirling tentacles with an iron grip. A low chuckle that sounded most definitely human left only the conclusion that my attacker was not only a vampire…but a powerful one, as well. As my struggling ceased the painful hold he had on my arms and the blade's pressure both lightened, allowing me at least enough room to breathe.
"Listen, but don't speak, cat," the voice, cold as death and slithery as a reptile, hissed. Parasite… "You'll return here this time tomorrow night, alone, unarmed, and be willing to negotiate some important matters if you want to spare your kind the tragedies that have taken place thus far."
There was a pause then, silence, in which the words sunk in, before the faceless Tick released me with a shove and vanished back the way he'd came. Whirling, one hand clamped against the sting on my neck, I glared up into the darkness, trying to catch some parting glimpse of the rotting corpse. But nothing was there. In the darkness all I could see was the empty street and buildings. In the distance, though, unmistakable as a Tick's stench, was a laugh from the same Heaviside-forsaken creature. Mocking.
What else could I do? The next night I returned. Alone. Unarmed. Dressed as I would with any business meeting, the dark blue overcoat was a haughty protection against the cold night as well as sufficient to cover the forever fur I wore beneath it. I wanted to bring my cane, just as a reassurance with the silver blade concealed inside it in the case that things got rough, but for some reason unknown I left it behind, doffing my hat to head out into the city just as the sun fell. Desere hadn't shown herself much in the day between encounters, though even if she had I would not have noticed. I slept. It was a good thing, too, because I hadn't given myself the opportunity to think about what I might be walking into. A trap. An ambush. I didn't think about it, therefore no doubts had time to take root in my head and draw any nervousness as I walked slowly but surely towards that distant part of the city. That might have been a good thing...nervousness was one of the easiest scents to detect from any being.
The place had not changed once I arrived. Still dark, silent, and still, not a trace of vampire was to be found. I couldn't be sure what I expected. As eager and impatient as I was I paced the sidewalk along the bars, keeping all senses fully aware in any case an ambush was planned. That idea didn't seem likely, though. Nor was it probably. If the Tick had wanted to kill me, it would have been easy enough last night. But then again, when did vampires care about logic? I laughed a little at that.
"Odd place to find something humorous, don't you think?"
I snapped my attention behind me, my body whirling as it followed and I found my vampire. He was standing there, totally at ease with the world and rightfully so, clad in the classic black trenchcoat and dark brown hair drawn back over his shoulders. Your typical Anne Rice image. But those eyes...I shuddered. I never could get over the way those eyes were so feral, so unnatural the way they burned and stared.
"I always thought it was a virtue to find the lighter side of things in life, wot?" I replied intentionally in my trained ninny voice, more to hide my quiver than anything. Surprisingly enough, he smiled, the tips of his canine fangs gleaming over his pale lips. Purposefully. Vampires can contract their fangs when not in use. I ran my tongue over my own flat teeth, then using the ability I'd honed to a fine skill shifted just enough to feel the daggers of my own fangs. It was a small comfort.
"I do enjoy your inane formalities, Hunter," he said in a voice as smooth as silk. "But let's not waste precious time. I imagine you have questions."
"One could say that," I nodded, not moving from where I stood on the sidewalk. The vampire stood in the middle of the street, buried up to nearly his waist in the shadows of night. Neither of us seemed any more eager than the other to close the distance between us. But at the same time, even more strangely, there was no menace. I had mentally prepared myself before his arrival to fight. I had wanted to fight, kill whatever vampire showed his face...especially if it turned out being that same one who had taken Adelle. But no, there was something drastically different about the Tick who stood before me now from the one who had stolen my wife what seemed ages ago. Not just appearances...there was a wisdom around this one, some sort of timeless majesty that in the other was shallow and plain. He must have been ancient.
"Who are you?"
The vampire glanced to the ground at my blunt question, seeming disappointed that I would start with such a shallow topic. But his face never changed. "My name is...of little consequence here. I know you, Hunter Blakeney, leader of the Jellicles. I've decided to meet with you here to discuss a matter of vast importance."
If I had a tail it would have been lashing right now. "So, discuss away, old man. We can't be here all night."
He nodded once, then began. "What I want to say first is that the energy, as you call it, that had overtaken Manhattan recently was of my doing. It was deliberate, and I must also apologize for the affect it had on your kind."
"If you don't mind, what exactly was that whole episode about?"
"It was a coming of age, Jellicle. I had come to replace the Lord of the vampires here, a young and reckless fledgling who had no idea what he was doing, but in order to do so I had to gather the power necessary. That was the energy you felt. In our own way we were...fighting. I triumphed, as you can see, but during the course of the battle I'm afraid you and your kind were caught up as pawns in the struggle, carrying out our wills. None of you were harmed, I hope?"
"I don't think so," I confessed, "though I do thank you bloodsuckers for having the decency enough to leave us out of your power struggle."
He paid no heed to my insult, probably for the better. "Indeed. I took the liberty of killing off most of the vampire population here, as you can see. It was no loss. They were naught but street rabble. I doubt you will find reason to complain."
My turn to grin. "Not at all." Despite the friendly tones, I wasn't about to get on friendly terms with this parasite. He wanted something. I could smell it. And if he spoke true and was the new Vampire Lord of Manhattan—an overstating title, really...all it meant was that he was overseer of the island's vampire population—he had the power to get it. All I could do was pray to Heaviside and hope whatever his request it would be a simple one. I had never met with the previous Lord which apparently had been overthrown in the Ticks' private wars, but as far as relations went we Jellicles and the vampires were not on easy terms. Perhaps this could prove a remedy.
"I want you to know, Hunter," the vampire inevitably went on. "That I have no desire or intention of harming any of your werecat kind so long as you do not harm me or those under my protection."
"Sounds reasonable."
"It should. Considering the notion that our territories will be overlapping from now on, I thought you might consider the benefits of allowing me to provide whatever protection you or your kind need for my reign here."
As gorgeous as it sounded, I wasn't fooled. "In return for...?"
The vampire smiled, disturbing in its own horrific way. "In return for a monthly donation of blood from one of your kind. That is all I ask."
Donation? "From whom?" I had supposed it would be me, the thought of which I didn't relish, but at the mention of his proposed "cow" I would have rather offered myself.
"There is a young boy of your kind, a foreigner who I believe has just arrived. You should know him. I believe his name would be Quaxo."
Yes, I knew him. Quaxo, a young Jellicle tom kitten as mysterious as his past, had indeed migrated to our Manhattan Tribe only a month or two ago from Europe. Indeed, as strange and mysterious a werecat as he was, he was only a boy. An innocent youth who even in his eccentricity showed a loyalty to this tribe that surpassed his years, and an innocence in his gentle ways that derived such pity from me at the very thought of what this Tick was proposing...
"No."
"I've already discussed it with the young Jellicle, Hunter. He has agreed."
"I don't, nor will I ever. Take me if you like, but not Quaxo. He's far too young—"
"You couldn't possibly understand my motives for this decision, cat. Do not try."
"Heaviside d**n me if I won't," I snarled, forgetting formalities as I rushed forward angrily to stand not an arm's length from him. "What could you possibly want with Alex?"
"Alex is like no other being I've encountered over my time, Jellicle. I want him. He has agreed to the small sacrifice of blood every month in return for your kind's safety. I do not want to harm him. Pity's sake, that's the last thing I want. All that is needed is your consent, Hunter, and everything shall be fine."
Fine? I consent to this and perhaps gain the safety of the tribe, but at what cost? Condemning the life of one who shared that same feline blood who was still young and had a full life ahead of him to this vampire's clutches? Heaviside knew what the Tick would do to Quaxo once he'd had his fill of blood. It wouldn't be anything good, or pleasant. And what of Quaxo? Even a pint of blood every month would be sufficient to give this vampire control over him. Where would that lead? If the Tick had been using any influence on me thus far the decision would have been an easy debate...he would manipulate my very thoughts until I saw the entire logic behind his request and didn't question it. But he didn't. Morally correct, perhaps, it didn't make things any easier. Then again, did I expect them to be?
"I'd rather discuss it with Quaxo myself," I growled.
"You will have every opportunity to after tonight. I have told you: he has already agreed. Give your consent now and you may meet with Quaxo about it anytime you please. I have no reason to deceive you, Hunter. This is, however, the only time I will offer you this chance."
"How do I know you'll keep your word?" I snapped. I was beginning to hate myself for even considering it.
"Simple," the Tick shrugged. "You don't. But then again, what choice do you have?"
He was right, of course, and I hated it. But if this Tick had wanted to kill me or all of the Jellicles he would have been more than capable to do so already. That alone was the only basis that I could establish his sincerity on. I let my face fall in some hope to hide the inner conflict raging in my mind, but nothing could be hidden from the Tick. He chuckled evilly.
"It really is a simple decision, Hunter."
I looked up sharply, feeling my muscles tense and ready to shift, but barely had the time to react before he charge me in a flash of back, fangs bared in a viscous snarl.
I threw up my arms, expecting the impact of his grip that would render me powerless as he sank his fangs into my throat. But the impact never came. Lowering my feeble defense, I glared back at the vampire, but he remained in the exact same position, that cool leaning stance, in his hand a struggling black street rat that didn't struggle for very long before he drank it dry. Flinging the carcass away, he wiped his mouth with the handkerchief from his pocket, uncaring as could be.
"That could very well have been you," he said darkly, and I believed him. While I was still dumbly recovering my dignity he turned his feral eyes down the street, sensing something I couldn't, and said distractedly: "As you said, cat, we can't linger here all night. Give me your answer."
I let my shoulders sag, and regretting nothing else in my life as much as I did in that moment when I said solidly: "I'll agree."
A moment of silence followed, during which I imagined the vampire was savoring his victory. I kept my eyes lowered, avoiding the risk of losing my temper if I caught sight of the smirk I imagined to be playing across his pale features. Sonofa...
"Good cat," he purred, his footsteps swallowed in silence as he began to turn away. "You made the right choice."
I turned away as well, wishing I was half as certain. "I'll be the judge of that, Tick."
"I'll give regards to your wife."
I whirled, ready to attack. Vampire or no vampire. But he was already gone.
It is fairly safe to assume that as I walked home after that encounter I was one of the more miserable beings on the island. With the sun's rays just peeking over the uneven Manhattan horizon, I dragged myself back to the penthouse apartment building, trying to decide whether the choice had been the right one. On one hand I'd almost assured for certain the safety of the Jellicles in Manhattan from outside influence, from vampires, from werewolves, possibly Macavity, yet on the other paw the sinking feeling of Quaxo's fate—whatever it may be—drowned whatever contentment might be derived from that. Does the good of the many outweigh the good of the one? In the grand scheme of things it probably was, yet in the daily routine of survival the opposite was true. Perhaps no one would have to know what I'd done. I wouldn't have to justify myself then. To the Jellicles...to myself...
I felt like werewolf filth. No...lower, if that's possible.
What I hated most of all was the feeling of helplessness. Responsible for the lives of the Jellicle tribe in Manhattan, and I could not even stand up to one vampire without sacrificing one. It should have been myself if anyone was going to sacrifice anything. I had a responsibility. I had a duty. Even if Quaxo had agreed to it, what right had I to let it go without a fight? As I reached the building and began the long climb up to the top floor on the outside fire escape, I began wishing I could go back to that spot and find that vampire and thrash the living flatulence out of him. What I would give just for that one chance...even for a few moments...
Desere was still asleep when I reached the apartment, the sun already peeking into the city. My mind and heart ached much more than my body. But I waited until after I'd checked in on Desere, still asleep, before retiring to my own room where I think I drowned my sorrows in alcohol until I passed out. I can't quite remember.
I woke suddenly much later, the sound of rain pattering away on the windows. It was difficult to tell what time it was, late or early. Thinking nothing of it, I didn't lift my head or even move because of the dull ache there, and closed my eyes again. Then I realized I wasn't alone.
"Who's there?" I growled, like a frightened child, and shot up ramrod straight in bed. My head swam. In the flickering darkness my feline-sensed eyes could pick up a faint outline in the farthest corner: a slim form in white. "Desere?"
"I couldn't sleep," her timid voice said. It could have been drowned out by the rain. I relaxed, leaning back against the pillows, gesturing her closer. Heaviside, what time was it? I must have slept all day.
"It's alright," I said, making room as she gently sat on the bed's edge. Was it? "Do you want to sleep here? I can settle in the corner chair if you'd—" But I didn't get to finish. A low rumble of thunder in the distance vibrated the foundation, and in the flash of lightening that followed I saw the panic on Desere's face as she darted forward, crawling onto the bed and curling tightly to my middle, her breath ragged pants.
"I don't like storms," she whimpered. Her voice was on the edge of crying. Gently I put my own arms back around her, feeling her tight grip constricting me loosen a little, and stroked her dark hair. With a gentle rock I told her in a whisper everything was alright, that she needn't be afraid. If the situation hadn't been so grave I would have found it humorous: a fourteen-year-old girl with the mortal fears of when I was six. But then I didn't blame her paranoia. Perhaps in that dizzying hangover with the problems of last night just now returning to my consciousness, I could relate with her.
I pulled the covers up and over Desere as she crawled in with me, taking care to leave her plenty of room to settle. Needless to say I was a little hesitant in such a position. (I currently wasn't clad in very much.) But her need was for that of comfort, and I was the only other source of support. I myself crawled out and lay on top of the covers, knowing full well I couldn't trust myself any other way, and even more with the knowledge of Desere's paranoia around men. It was a wonder she was here at all. I expected her to hug the pillows and lay with her back to me, and again I was surprised. She curled up against the warmth of my chest and the spot where I'd been lying, shivering until I again put my arms over her shoulders. Her face turned down into the blankets, I gazed over her head to the window, thinking.
I had always thought of the world as absolute chaos...nothing was planned or destined to happen. If a country was suddenly attacked, and a war was started, or in this case: a proposition made that could offer the best advantages at a serious price, it was merely the greater and luckier country that would win. The world as I viewed it was ruled by logic (sometimes...) and if something happened to me it was the result of something someone else did. Sometimes I could look down into the streets of Manhattan and watch the countless number of people go by. I would be amazed by the thought that each and every person down there had their own life, their own personality, their own thoughts and conversations as they walked, their own places to go, and yet no two were identical. I found it amazing to contemplate that these vessels of unique thought and personality filled the world, and that each and every one of them left their imprint behind. Whether it be small or large...
Somehow this train of thought would land me at the feet of the Jellicles. Even if we existed in secret, what did we leave behind for the world? Children? What was our purpose? Animals evolved in the wild in order to survive, so what had caused us Jellicles to develop? Was it just a random mutation? Was it spiritual? Or was it that we branched off from either the feline or human genus millions of years ago to adapt our own ways? I remember questioning these things before. Bustopher had told me that these were just common fancies that everyone wished they knew. If they were common, then, why did I think their answers were so important?
I don't know what any of this had to do with Desere or why I was thinking these things now—perhaps it was just something to do while I waited for her to fall asleep—but these thoughts and similar ones filled my mind until an hour had passed and Desere had finally drifted off among the distant rumblings of thunder and lightening outside. Listening to the patter of rain, I rolled over to give Desere ample room and eventually dozed off myself.
The next morning I woke in the same position, listening to Desere's breathing behind me. Strange it seemed, that I'd never heard a sound quite like that. It was a deep, feminine, contented breathing entirely rhythmic in its pace. Almost like a purr. A relaxing sound, to be sure, I almost didn't want to get up and go downstairs. But the sun was already rising, and in some weird combination of sleep and blessed mercy the thought of Quaxo didn't cross my mind that morning, so very carefully to not disturb the girl, I slipped out, pulled on my robe, and went downstairs.
There was some strange peace in the silence of the vast apartment that morning. Taking into consideration I'd slept for nearly two straight days it's a small wonder I wasn't in the same depression as after the encounter with the Vampire Lord. A warm shower seemed in order, an order that was quickly carried out and worked wonders on the after-effects of the drink. Then as with most mornings, I settled down at the table with a glass of milk to check the status of my investments in the newspaper.
That alone was probably the hardest thing about being a werecat: getting over my humanity. Imagine it...for seventeen years someone is brought up acting certain ways, believing certain things, viewing society from a certain point, when suddenly they have the rug pulled from under their feet and are thrust into a world that seemed only fantasy before. I know I've ranted about this previously, but the truth of the matter is that it's been happening to werecats I suppose for centuries, and still has not lessened in its emotional intensity. I can think of nothing else that is as life-altering as a Jellicle learning the truth after that first change. And those first few years afterwards...Heaviside, those years are hard.
But I don't believe that I'll ever completely feel totally like a werecat. I know I'm not human. I never was and I never will be, but I'd been brought up feeling human, and that feeling has remained even after finding out who I truly was. I mean, some old habits, human habits, I kept up with a routine. Like grooming. I didn't realize it right away, but I discovered that if I shifted down to cat size and gave my coat a decent grooming with that sandpaper tongue, when I shifted back to human it would look as though I'd just showered. But I still kept up those human habits, realizing eventually that I was a werecat and would never be a "normal" human again, but at least I could feel a little like one.
Pointless observations, I know. I couldn't help but notice them.
Desere came down about twenty minutes later. Still clad in her silky white nightgown, she went first to her downstairs room to recover the woolly green bathrobe she insisted on wearing at all times around the house before joining me in the study. It was a slow process, but it was obvious that Desere was steadily coming out of her shell, learning to trust and feel at ease around me even if she might never totally open up. I was delighted to find she had an avid interest in the same Jellicle history as I did and offered her full use of the library I'd been collected on the subject thus far. She dove headlong into those books, sometimes sitting curled up in one of the large cushioned chairs in the den to pour over page after page of the old transcripts. She could read well enough to get by, though sometimes I had to help her. That morning was our usual scene: her sitting in one of the chairs by the fireplace with a book, me at the desk across the room. There was a comfort in that, too. It felt like a home.
But the contentment was short-lived.
"Who's Adelle?" she asked from nowhere. Looking up sharply, I felt myself stiffen as I lowered the paper.
"Beg pardon?" More reaction than intelligence.
"Last night," she said softly, gently turning the mug of her hot chocolate balanced on the chair's arm. "After you went to sleep, you kept saying a name. It sounded like Adelle."
Had I? I turned my eyes to the side, clenching my jaw, trying to think of a proper excuse. "Adelle...was...an old acquaintance."
"Did you love her?" she went on. When I didn't answer: "You said you did last night."
"Ladies shouldn't ask questions like that, Desere," I growled, lifting the paper again to hide my face behind it. I had somehow been able to manage my thought pattern over time into not thinking about Adelle very often, and to have her constantly brought back into my life one way or another was painful, but I must confess: inevitable. I remember the only decent picture I ever kept of her was a photo portrait of the two of us on our wedding day set inside the very desk I sat at now. After what had happened, though, I resolutely tossed it to the bottom of the deepest drawer I could find and left it. It was still there. My eyes wandered down to it as my thoughts ventured back, just the knowledge of its presence drawing me like a siren. But I didn't want to look at it.
Desere fell quiet after that, paging through her book, the sound of the rustling pages magnified in the room's quiet which suddenly seemed stifling. Normally the sounds of the city streets below filtered up on still mornings like this, but rather than bear the quiet I turned the radio on, setting it to play that soft, classical music I loved. That started me thinking about the show again.
It was for all in the world complete. I doubted seriously that a musical about singing and dancing cats would go over well with the general human public...let alone what the werewolves or vampires would think about it, but it was worth a shot. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. The music and songs were entirely put together, the set and characters set in their rigid guidelines, now all that remained was to find someone to produce it. That aspect I left up to Gus. To tell the entire truth, I was not that eager to see it set off so soon. As put together as the entire production was, and as surely I felt that it could work, I couldn't help but have the nagging voice in the back of my consciousness that said something was missing. Some vital aspect that I had missed was desperately needed. After a good deal of contemplating over time I think I discovered what it was. Memory. That song that seemed so frequent in my life one way or another I had not yet worked into the show. It didn't seem right if I did. I can't fully explain my reasonings, other than the concerns that the one Jellicle song that seemed so precious to my kind was too beautiful to be sold, too majestic in its meaning to have any plot centered around it or any one character sing it eight times a week. And which character could do it? As much as I even tried to fit some plot around that one beautiful song, nothing seemed to fit. I abandoned the idea officially, but in my mind I still worked over the concept, trying to find a way...
Desere brought me back to myself a timeless while later when she brought the book she held up to my desk, displaying the open face pages before me and gesturing to a certain picture.
"Who's that?" she whispered, for her voice always sounded like a whisper, as her dark hand pointed to a withered photograph print of a recreated statue of Greek origin.
"That's Demeter," I said gently. "The Greek and Roman goddess of the harvest and the seasons."
"She looks so sad..."
I nodded, detecting a distinct note of sorrow in the girl's voice but unable to see it in her face, her green eyes turned as they were down at the book. Actually I saw nothing at all sad in the white marble face of the statue, only that blank sculpted expression that seemed universal in that kind of art. But if Desere saw sadness there, I was not one to argue. "She is," I finally agreed, remembering the myth. "Something very precious was taken from her."
Conversation died after that, Desere falling back into her quiet contemplation as she slunk back to her chair. She went up to her room shortly after, but even today I'm certain that's where she got the idea.
"I want my second name to be Demeter," she said firmly. I paused where I was, halfway through buttoning up my overcoat in the process of preparing to leave for the promised visit I planned to give a certain young tuxedo-colored werecat by the name of Quaxo. Glancing sideways at her down the length of the entrance way, she seemed a meek figure standing in the frame of the tall door, her voice only reinforcing that. It took a moment of thought before I could fathom what Desere had just said.
I had only seen her shift once so far. Her human hair very dark, it was a strange sight to see her in werecat form. Her fur was gold, a lovely shade of yellow with red, black, and brown markings and a highlight of white along her throat, muzzle, and belly. It's a shame she didn't shift so often. She was quite a picture to look at. But more than that, it had never crossed my mind that Bombalurina had never mentioned her second name. I assumed she already had one, that perhaps she just didn't consider me a friend enough to reveal it, but at this proclamation it seemed I had A-S-S-U-M-E-d again.
"You're certain?" I asked. "You do know that the naming of cats is a difficult matter?" Quoting one of the very lines from a Jellicle song, she smiled slightly as she caught the jest, brushing back her hair.
"I'm sure."
"Very well. We'll announce it at the next Ball, eh?"
"Sure...thanks, Hunter."
