The Other Side of Midnight
Chapter 3
It shouldn't have been so easy, Macavity chuckled to himself, but the reality was that the Rum Tum Tugger and the exhausted conjurer were no match for his hardened henchcats. The fight had been short and bloodless. Well, bloodless for him. His henchcats suffered nothing more than scratches but the Tugger - Macavity shrugged. What was the human saying? You have to crack a few eggs to make a good omelet. He hadn't wanted to kill the randy tom. He rather admired the cat's stamina. The Tugger's sex appeal could have been useful to the Hidden Paw had the Tugger been willing to see reason but no matter. Macavity had what he wanted. Or rather who he wanted.
Macavity's sunken eyes focused on the bloody, unconscious figure in the corner. He knew from experience that maxing out one's magic was exhausting. He didn't have near the power that the little tuxedo tom did but it was still enough to send him to his knees when he overused it. Macavity unfolded himself from where he sat, sprawled, on a ratty velvet divan and sauntered over Mistofolees. He poked idly at him with his foot and clucked his tongue at the long deep scratches that marred the black fur on the conjurer's side. Macavity's foot shot out again, this time an angry kick that cracked bones and dislodged the broken arm the Mistofolees had unconsciously cradled against his chest. He'd wanted Mistofolees unhurt but the little cat had fought back. He had been honestly surprised that the magician had so much fight in him after having drained himself. The Hidden Paw suspected the fight was more to help his friend than himself but the result was the same. His henchcats got a little rough. Tugger got a little dead. And the young tom was his.
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The junkyard was quiet. Most of the Jellicles that had slept here were laying in the noon sun's warmth and relishing the afterglow of a wonderful ball. Munkustrap was basking on the trunk of the car, watching over the kittens as they played hide and seek among the heaps of trash. "I wouldn't hide in there," he warned Victoria as she crept toward an old wood stove. "You'll get dirty."
The little queen stopped short and looked at him. Then she looked at the soot blackened stove then down at her white fur. With a sassy shake of her head, she turned to her right and headed for an old wooden crate. "I wasn't going to hide in there anyway," she said nonchalantly. Munkustrap laughed out loud. It was common knowledge that the dainty kitten was very vain about her fur and hated getting dirty. He was getting ready to tease her further when the wind brought a new scent into the junkyard. The Jellicle protector jumped to his feet. The other cats, sensing his alarm, went from pleasant lethargy to heightened wakefulness in an instant. Munkustrap sniffed at the passing breeze. The smell of blood was heavy in the air and coming closer. With a wave of his hand, the older cats had the kittens tucked close against their bodies. He sent a warning glance to Victoria where she sat hidden in the crate. The little queen's eyes were wide with fright and she simply nodded at his unspoken command. Something at the edge of their territory crashed and they could hear the uneven footfalls of someone coming closer. The smell of blood was almost overpowering and Munkustrap could now tell for certain that the blood was that of a cat. Another crash and a large tom came stumbling into the clearing. Munkustrap's heart leapt into his throat as he recognized the telltale tuft of fur that stood up along the bloody tom's shoulders.
The Rum Tum Tugger's eyes searched the horrified faces around him until he found the striped gray visage he sought.
"What happened?"
"Macavity," he croaked. "Last night."
A horrible thought began to grow in Munkustrap's mind. "Mistofolees?" he whispered hoarsely.
A broken sob escaped the Tugger's throat. "I couldn't stop them," was all he could say before his body went limp and he crashed to the ground.
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The deep blackness that surrounded him wasn't strong enough to keep away the pain that burned at the edges of his awareness. It was there, red and flickering, even as he waited here in the dark place that was unconsciousness.
Mistofolees
The voice was whisper soft. Not even a voice, really, more like the essence of one drifting on air. Still, he ignored it. To acknowledge the voice meant that he had to acknowledge that part of him was aware and that was exactly what he did not want.
Mistofolees
The voice came closer and he could sense a presence beyond the perimeter of darkness. A presence ringed with light and magic.
Mistofolees
The magician sighed to himself. Maybe if he concentrated hard enough it would just go away.
I know you can hear me
The disembodied voice was becoming irritated. Despite his better judgement, Mistofolees opened his eyes.
I'm glad you decided to join me
The voice wasn't just an empty echo on air. There was a figure attached to it. A queen, gray with tufted ears and painted red claws. She was familiar somehow. "Do I know you?" Mistofolees asked, his brow narrowed with thought as he tried to place her.
In a way I was the last Jellicle reborn
Mistofolees eyes widened in astonishment. "You're Grizabella!"
The gray queen smiled I was called that once
"What are you called now?" Mistofolees wanted to know.
There are no names in the Heaviside Layer But you may call me Grizabella if you must
Despite his concentration on the apparition before him, the magical cat could feel the pain beckon more strongly from the edges of his consciousness. "Why are you here?" he asked softly, trying to focus that part of his brain that felt the pain elsewhere. "I'm not dead, it hurts too much for that. Or are you here to take me with you?" He heard the desperate hopeful plea in his voice. He hadn't wanted to die when he saw Macavity in the alley. He fought desperately to avoid just that fate but now he could feel the agony that awaited him in life and he wasn't so sure he'd made the right choice.
I'm not here to take you Grizabella sounded almost regretful I am here to help you
"Help me? How can you help me? Tugger tried to help me and he's . . . " Mistofolees stopped, unable to say the words for a moment. "He's dead." There. They were out. And with them came hot tears that tracked down the white face. "He died trying to save me from Macavity but they killed him."
The old cat reached out a misty paw and Mistofolees felt a warm brush on his shoulder. He lives, my child Your friend is made of stronger stuff than you might think - as are you
The young tom snorted as he wiped his eyes. "I'm not strong. My magic is what made me strong and I have no magic left. Not now anyway."
Grizabella laughed, a gentle sparkling sound whose echo tinkled around the blackness. There is more magic inside you than you can possibly imagine, young Mistofolees And I am here to help you find it
Mistofolees raised wide, hopeless eyes to this strange ghost. "More magic? But I used it all up. There will be no more until I've rested and then when I have it back Macavity will take it. I know that's why he took me. He wants my magic. He wants it for his evil purposes. Then he will kill me."
No He will not He will not take your magic He will not kill you Macavity wants you for your magic, that's true, but even he doesn't know the extent of your abilities Bringing back Old Deuteronomy from Macavity's clutches wasn't some parlor trick, my child There is real power in you and I am here to show you how to find it
Again the red-hot pain flared against the black shield that had held the torment at bay and Mistofolees moaned. "Then show me," he whispered desperately, "for I haven't much time."
Grizabella held out a shimmering paw. Come, then, and let me show you some real magic