Morning broke upon the city, and cats were slinking, lazily, from their nests to feast in preparation for the day's events. Munkustrap was perched alert above the rabble with Alonzo at his side, stretching his back out toward the rising sun. Down below he smelled the savory wafting of Jenny's dishes, before which Bustopher Jones was seated in preparation. Gus had prepared a rousing speech to kickstart the morning, accompanied by the steam and sound of Skimbleshanks's infernal machines. But where was Grizabella in this time of celebration?
Amidst the quiet rumbling of his flock he detected an outlier, a huddled form scraping its way through the crowd toward the lamppost on which he sat. He leapt gracefully from his perch, shocking both parties with his landing as he beheld a familiar face. His younger brother, the Rum-Tum-Tugger, wore an uncharacteristically serious look as he supported a wounded Mungojerry with all his might.
The twin cat was covered in scratches, the most notable of which obscured his face and vision, and must have caused him difficulty enough that he required anycat's aid, however faulty was that which the Rum-Tum-Tugger could provide. His brother pleaded with him for sympathy, crooning his account in his typical, irreverent fashion. He told Munkustrap that he'd found Mungojerry unconscious by a human dwelling, separated from his better half and cursing his weakness. He said he'd been attacked, and by none other than Macavity himself. He said Macavity had his sister.
Munkustrap, a leading figure in the Jellicle order, had every right to be skeptical of his brother's second-hand account. The Rum-Tum-Tugger did love to tug his own rum-tum, so to speak, and his overblown tales were more than often inspired by an excessive catnip habit. I ought to keep my brother on a shorter leash, he thought, before his reputation for gallivanting ruins us both. They seemed to be two opposite cats: the elder wore a coat of white and grey with black spots, perhaps a symbol of purity besmirched by the wear-and-tear of his onerous duty; and the younger was bedecked on gold and orange, a flamboyant, deliciously masculine affair that never failed to turn a Jellicle's eye from the light of the Moon. His brother was beautiful, and were he not possessed of the most desirable young cat in the litter for his own, he would be envious of his lot in life.
Munkustrap worried for his brother, and for himself, but he worried most now for Rumpleteaser if her brother's words proved true. Macavity, unchecked by law or logic, was a dangerous enemy to behold. The Clerical Cat bade his acolyte escort the injured Mungojerry to the infirmary. He and the Rum-Tum-Tugger made their way to a private quarter of the Jellicle Temple, where he hoped to acquire some insight into the intentions of the Scheming Sorcerer Macavity.
Inside the Arcane Archives was musty and dim, the heavy scent of academia burdening the very air. Munkustrap crept quietly forward so as not to disturb the cat who dwelled there: The Magical Mr. Mestophiles, Conjurer Supreme, Father of Lunar Wizardry. The eccentric cat was levitating a foot off the ground, a weathered tome pinned beneath his claw, his white hairs on end with the current of knowledge rushing through him.
Munkustrap entreated the wizened young cat, and the mere mention of Macavity's name forced a serious sigh from Mestophiles as he closed his book and touched ground. A breeze brushed across his short black hair as he recalled his earlier days at the Acatemy, an institution established by Old Deuteronomy himself for the purpose of research. When the cats who would someday be known as the Jellicles first settled into their London colonies, they found that the Moon itself was watching over them. Its luminescence seemed to have special properties, granting them a light by which humans could not catch or frighten them, and a life which even death could not snatch away. It was Deuteronomy and his Acatemy who first communed with the Moon, offering praise and song in exchange for its divine protection. Thus began the annual festivals, and the everlasting prosperity of the Jellicle clan.
All of this was relayed to Munkustrap when he was first assigned his sacred duties. Mestophiles now informed him that there was indeed more to the story, an unsavory truth that even Deuteronomy shied from discussing. The tale of Macavity's first betrayal.
As a teenage kitten, Mestophiles had served beside Macavity in pursuit of Deuteronomy's promised insights. The two had grazed together for many an extended morning, poring over the texts they collected from local houses of worship, mewing at the Moon and crafting concoctions of the most outlandish variety. Macavity was surely the more headstrong of the two, and his natural talent for magic only aided his grand ambitions. Their pursuits led them to the tallest towers and deepest depths of the London sewers, where danger doubtless pursued them in turn. When one of their adventures led them straight into the jaws of a hungry pack of Dogs- mortally wounding the Conjurer Cat- the Moon was quick to oblige their cries for mercy, and it was in this desperation that the healing properties of the Lunar Light were first witnessed. Mestophiles owed his eternal life to the Moon, to Macavity, and to the covenant they three established that bloody night decades ago.
Of course, if the tale ended there, Macavity would still be a respected Magician of the Acatemy. Instead he strayed from the path, perverting the Moon's promise beyond recognition. Macavity had learned through means Mestophiles preferred not to imagine that those blessed by the Moon possessed, in physical form, a modicum of its restorative properties. These blessed cats were pure of heart, lovely of body and, above all, preternaturally youthful. He proposed in blasphemous tongues that- for the good of all Jellicles, not only the annual chosen one- these blessed cats be... harvested for their sacred blood. He proposed an exchange of their lives for the countless others in their litter, who would live on to produce finer cats that would draw even the Moon's sympathy with their beauty and grace. He proposed an annual ritual sacrifice, as grand and celebrated as the festival of Resurrection. And for this, he was banished from the Acatemy, to dwell in the shadows with his darksome desires.
Munkustrap trembled at this news, and at the distant gaze in his elder's yellow eyes as he recalled the heart-wrenching betrayal of one who was once like a brother to him. The Rum-Tum Tugger rushed to Mestophiles's side, stroking his fur in hopes of comforting his dear friend. Mestophiles rested his head on the Tugger's shoulder, burying his shamed face in the ruff around his collar.
Through all this Munkustrap wondered, though, why Mestophiles thought it pertinent to share this tale, during the height of their celebration of all times...
Of course. Macavity is not here, because he is preparing his own ceremony. But what of Grizabella? Mestophiles's eyes widened as he contemplated the implications of her absence. His claws swept a nearly visible swathe through the empty air, so profound was his sudden fury.
We have been caught in a decades-long game of cat-and-mouse. Our missing felines are truly but lambs, and Grizabella is the slaughter.