Late Spring
"'Lectra!"
The rust tortoiseshell queenkit detached herself from the larger group of kittens being herded into the 'recreation room,' a fancy term for the large storage closet that served as the kittens' play area.
The young queen gave a slight frown as she approached the older tabby queen who'd called her. "I don't like missing playtime," the queenkit fretted. "Da—Leader says it's important for kittens to play so they can 'grow up properly into contributing members of the tribe,'" she quoted, reciting a speech they'd all heard countless times.
"It's Leadah wot wants t'see ya," the tabby queen informed her. "Yew c'n miss yer playtime this once."
"More like the third time in a week," the kitten muttered.
"I'eard that. Now off with yer, luv."
"Milady," frowned the precocious kit, "endearments are unprofessional."
"'Scuse me. Be off with yer t'see his lordship the Leadah, then, Young 'Lectra," Rumpelteazer corrected herself, formal as you please.
Electra shot her mother a cheeky grin and a wink before moving off.
"'Profesh-nal,'" Teazer muttered to herself. "I don't see'ow it keeps us any safer jus' bein' so counfounded stuffy."
"Did you want me, Leader?"
"Come in, Young Electra. You have your orders—dismissed," the ginger tom added, waving his paw to release another henchtom, the only other feline present.
Once they were alone, the leader beckoned the rust queenkit closer. "Come here and tell me what sort of a day you've had."
"Is it relevant to the proper functioning of the tribe, milord?" Electra inquired.
MacVitie sighed. He had trained her well—too well. "Certainly it is. I need to know my members are contented with their lot. Mustn't have anycat harboring resentments and cooking up conspiracies, et cetera."
"In that case, Milord Leader, with all due respect, I don't mind expressing my frustration at being made to miss playtime."
"Noted, young one." He'd completely forgotten. He was, of course, the one who had mapped out the kittens' schedule to begin with, but the nursery-queens were the ones responsible for remembering and carrying it out. "I did not intend to disrupt your day, but only wished to speak with you for a moment."
"I am honored, Leader. But might speaking to one tribe-member so often be regarded as…favoritism?"
"I'll have favorites if I jolly well please," Mack growled, beginning to lose patience. "Electra. Just stop a moment and speak freely. There's no one else here for the moment."
"But there could be. Nowhere is safe, isn't that what you've taught me?"
"Only to make you take better care."
"And so I am. If anything goes amiss, it will not be my fault."
"Well done. In any case, it's your safety I wanted to speak with you about."
Electra frowned. "I told you. I'm not going anywhere without you and mum."
"It would only be for a short while," Mack urged, though he knew it would be useless. "You'd be with your grandfather and uncle and countless friends and relatives who would love and care for you until we arrived…"
"We all go or we all say," she repeated stubbornly.
For a moment, the two felines merely glared at one another. Mack broke the silence. "I could force you to go…"
"I'd just run away and come back. Besides, it's nearly summer, isn't it? Soon we'll all be going—you, mum, me, the other kits—what's so important about me going a few weeks earlier?" Only three weeks until he had given his word to the henchcats that they could make another attempt on the Junkyard—if by then he had not got them the stone. She looked searchingly into her father's face. "That is still the plan, isn't it? Nothing's…stopping it?"
He'd told her only as much as he felt she needed to know. "That is the plan…"
"Then," the kitten returned to her formal tone, "may I be dismissed, milord?"
"Dismissed, young one," MacVitie sighed. Electra bowed herself out like a good henchqueen.
"Socrates!" Mack called the feline who had been speaking to him before Electra entered. A large grey Siberian tom appeared in answer to the summons.
"Leader?"
"I am going to survey the excavation crew. The Lady will, of course, be in charge in my absence."
"Of course, milord."
So much bloody pageantry, Mack thought disgustedly as he meandered the deserted streets and alleyways, reflecting on all he and the twins had done to reach this point...
They had all agreed to it from the start, of course: MacVitie, Mungojerrie, and Rumpelteazer, advised by Quaxo, Coricopat, and Tantomile. (What was it with twins? Mack often asked himself in exasperation. One set of twins had become his…life-guides, for lack of a better term; the other set had become his responsibility. Both sets had one way or another turned his world upside-down.) It was necessary to keep up some barrier, some level of separation between Mack and the ordinary henchcats, to maintain his authority and keep anyone from taking advantage—in much the same way as Growltiger and Griddlebone had done, only preferably without the killing and maiming. Milord Leader Macavity rarely backed up his authority with blows—only on one or two occasions, when directly challenged to single combat by skeptical henchcats who didn't believe the 'wild tales' of Griddlebone's disappearance, Mack's supposed 'powers,' and 'all this nonsense about some Stone of Immortality.' (Truthfully, Mack had at first been surprised there weren't even more challengers—but then, the new henchcats must hold some level of influence, as the ones who had managed to do away with Growltiger.) In both cases, Quaxo had slyly come to his aid—never again in the same way as he had (unknowingly) done when TB had been killed, but with harmless tricks that merely appeared frightening enough to make the challengers back down. Formidable as the Tiger and his lady had been, they had never brought magical powers into the mix, except when occasionally utilizing Gilbert's telepathic abilities. As such, however paltry the tricks might be, they appeared the stuff of nightmares to the henches who had never before seen any such thing.
The challengers, of course, were sentenced to death for daring to speak out against the Leader's authority; but Lord Macavity mercifully reduced the sentences to imprisonment for life. (Mack fully intended to free them eventually. He knew what those cages were like.)
"I'm a cheat, a fake—can't even fight my own battles to defend myself," he'd vented to Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer on multiple occasions.
"Yer doin' wot y'must t'survive," Mungojerrie told him. "We all are."
"An' personally," Rumpelteazer added, "I'm glad yew ain't no killah."
"Maybe. But I'll need more than tricks before this is over. D'you think that even if Quaxo learns to move an entire group at once, all the henches will cooperatively gather into one place at the proper time? There will be some sort of confrontation no matter what, and I'll not stand by useless while my friends fight and get killed!"
"So—er, wot yew aim t'do?" queried Teazer.
"I can't risk any of the henches knowing what a poor fighter I really am…"
"Ay, they'd take advantage fer sure," Jerrie agreed.
"So, Jerrie, you've got to help me."
So, late at night, when everyone else was either sleeping or at the Bull and Bush, the two toms would 'spar' for an hour or so. Neither much knew what he was doing, but Jerrie had at least seen more combat than Mack, and tried to recall and imitate what tactics had seemed effective. It wasn't perfect by any stretch, but it was better than nothing. Mack could think of no better solution—apart from allowing himself to go into a blind rage, which he absolutely refused to do ever again. He wanted to be able to defend himself, not tear another creature to shreds without realizing what he was doing until it was too late—as he nearly had to Jezza. No cat—not the cruelest of henches—deserved to be brutalized in that manner. Even if he had cared not a jot for that, the memory of the Demeter's and the other queens' expressions as they looked at him afterward would have been enough to stay him.
And now there was another feline he was determined to protect at all costs—not only from outside dangers, but from himself.
Electra. She had certainly not been part of the original plan.
Could Coricopat and Tantomile "see" her? Had they foreseen her?
At first, Mack had had no intention of bringing the thief twins back to the place which for so long they'd all been at such pains to escape. The henchcats had maneuvered him into becoming their new 'chieftain,' but he'd not meant to bring anyone else into it. But naturally the two troublemakers had shown up just when they shouldn't have, and there'd been no stopping them. They insisted he needed them, they knew more about the henches than he ever had or could—which was all probably true.
What none of them had paused to consider was exactly how they would fit themselves into the day-to-day matters of the gang. They couldn't simply shut themselves away—there was a good reason Growltiger had been terrified of conspirators. Mack would have to keep himself aware of what his newly inherited minions were up to at all times. Besides, the newer henches with their 'Secret to Immortality' fixation would be expecting him to keep them informed of its progress.
Well, he had formed an 'excavation squad' to go digging around in an old demolished factory a ways down the street; he'd put Jerrie in charge. At the proper time, Jerrie would discover 'the Stone.' He would choose one at random, Quaxo would cause it to look Shiny or some such notion. It ought to buy them time; once the henches realized it had no powers at all, they would most likely storm the junkyard—but the Jellicles would be well prepared, and Quaxo would (hopefully) be ready to do his part… If not…? It would be a fight to the death, Mack supposed. Or Quaxo would manage some new deception and scare the henches off, buying time once again—but only until the next attack. And on it would go.
But supposing all went as it should, by Midsummer's night the henchcats would be gone and Mack and the twins and Electra could at last move on with their lives.
So much for Jerrie's role. Rumpelteazer became one of the kitten caretakers, and was meant to see that the kits were in fact well-treated and report to the Leader if they weren't. By night, she went out on 'collection detail'—a fancy term for burgling homes and restaurants, as she'd always used to do.
Trouble was, she wasn't a kitten any longer, to be sent about her duties and otherwise ignored. Plenty of the henchtoms had taken notice of her. When she never accompanied the other henchqueens to the nightly 'drinks and revels' at the Bull and Bush, some of the toms even saw this as a challenge and sought her out elsewhere. Once, a pair of them followed her on a thieving expedition, cornering her as she left the house. She'd set up a loud screeching before either could make a move, causing the humans to run out and investigate and the two henchtoms to flee.
From then on, Rumpel feared to go out thieving alone. Yet she hated to ask her brother, knowing how occupied he was with the 'stone-finding' and getting himself and MacVitie in as near fighting fit condition as possible. But at last their supplies began to seriously dwindle, henches complained of sparser rations, and both Mack and Jerrie could see something was the matter. She'd finally had to tell them what had happened—nearly happened—and, as she'd predicted to herself, both were ready to hunt the henchtoms down and throttle them without further discussion. She'd talked them down from such a dangerously rash action, but Mack went about it 'properly' and had the two culprits locked up until further notice. "Understand," he informed the gathered henchcats, "they have got off very easily. It would not be the same for any additional offenders. My Lady Rumpelteazer is not some common henchqueen here for your entertainment, but is my equal in every sense. You will treat her with the honor and respect due her rank and position. Or there will be a reckoning. That is all. You will have no second warning. Dismissed." He retreated to his private quarters, the twins following.
Mack sat down, heaving an exhausted sigh. "How was that?"
"Quite a speech. Yer gettin' good at this," Jerrie chuckled nervously. "'S a bit scary."
"Not sure if I can take that as a compliment or not, Jerr'. In any case, think you can manage to do some collecting at night?"
"Sure, sure. Can't dig fer stones er fight wit' yew constantly, can I?"
"Jerr', yer gonna exhaust yerself," Teazer objected.
"Better'n somefin' happenin' t'yew," her brother said firmly.
"I really fink Mackey scared'em enough…"
"We'll not take chances," said Mack. "You can sleep here if you want. I'll guard the entrance." He eyed Rumpelteazer searchingly, uncertainly. "Unless—were we too—er, hasty? Did you…want their attentions?"
"'Ow can yew ask that?" Teazer demanded, for some reason having to struggle to keep back tears. "D'yew know me not at all after all this time? After—after all we've been through?" She sat herself down on the old rug Mack used for a bed and turned her back on the two toms. "The Lady's ready ta retire," she announced, in the most formal tones she could muster. "'Tis near dark any'ow," she added, more naturally, "an' the othah queens c'n see fer th' kits. G'night." She waved a paw imperiously, and both toms fled the den as if it were in flames. It was only after she'd got the makeshift 'door' in place, covering the den's entrance, that Teazer called from the other side, "'T may int'rest yew t'know, Milord Leadah, that yew jus' tol' the'enches, 'This's my mate, keep yer sticky paws off.' But no worries, milord Leadah, I'll not'old yew to't. Since I'm so disgustin' to ya." Not a peep was heard from her the rest of the evening.
Face redder than his coat, Mack turned desperately to Jerrie. "Did…did I say…that?"
"Er, er," Jerrie blustered, "which paht? That she's…that yew'n Teazer's…er…er that yew fink she's disgustin'?"
"Uh, ehm, I don't know…either one."
"W-ell… As t'the fuhst, it…er…it certainly sounded like y'might be…hintin' at such a fing? So's t'keep the othahs away? Er, an' the second…y' nevah said so, but y'know queens needs y'to actually say they's pretty, not just not say they's disgustin'. Er…so I'ear."
"Uh…do you have a mate?"
"A mate? 'Ere? Sure, sure, I s'pose some'f the'enchqueens ain't bad sorts, but…'Twould be awkward, innit? When ev'ry'un'ere wants t'murder our friends?"
"Teazer doesn't."
"She's me sistah!"
"No, no—I didn't mean—you two—I meant—she and I—what if—well, after all, we've known each other a long time…"
Mungojerrie shook his head, heaving a loud sigh. "Mackey. Us'n's bein' in a life-er-death situation'ere, it's no good beatin' about the bush, I s'pose. So lemme be frank. Teazah…all I know's she's'ad 'er cap set fer yew evah since we was babbies. But yew allus seem'd to'ave yers set fer…fer some'un else…"
"That…it's never…we were never…Well, if we ever were…there's no chance, now, we don't even know each other any longer…"
Jerrie came nearer and waved his fist under Mack's nose for emphasis. "Me point is, this's a question on'y yew an' Teazah c'n settle. Bu' Mackey… Yer me greatest friend, an' so y'should know I'm perfec'ly sincere… If'n yew breaks'er 'eart… I'll break yer face." The tiger tom lowered his fist and backed out of the room, bowing awkwardly, though his face retained its serious expression and MacVitie knew he'd meant every word. "I'll see t' collection now… Leadah."
Jerrie, like any good brother, had considered his sister's feelings first and foremost. He hadn't considered much beyond that.
