“See, Cicero. You don’t have to do this alone. You do have friends.”
Cicero backed off and sat down. He closed his eyes. Bait threw a sideways glance at Marco, as if to indicate how eccentric Cicero was.
Cicero walked the length of the table, as though he were preparing for a speech. Then he spoke in his best Shakespearean.
“Seems he a dove? His feathers are but borrowed for he’s disposed as the hateful raven. Is he a lamb? His skin is surely lent him for he’s included as is the ravenous wolf. Who cannot steal a shape that means deceit?”
Bait had climbed up on a chair, as if he needed to be on the same level as Cicero. “You foolish old cat! You think quoting Shakespeare solves anything?” Then he jumped to the floor and prepared to leave. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Or offer to help.” As he turned to leave, he said to Marco. “Come on, let’s leave this burned-out candle.”
Marco was torn. Reluctantly he left with Bait, leaving Cicero alone in his chambers.
Bait waited until they were outside to speak. “I fear his reach has exceeded his grasp. He has outlived his usefulness here. He has outlived his job.”
“What job?" asked Marco, trying to figure out just what Bait knew about the Book without giving away what he knew. Maybe he was only referring to his job as the library cat, but Marco was getting anxious that too many others knew about the Book, which was supposed to be top secret.
"You know it's all a fairy story, don't you?"
Marco hesitated. Bait made it seem like no big deal. But Marco had made a promise and he had to keep his word. Cicero was acting strangely and sometimes he scared Marco with his passion. But he'd been entrusted to something important and it felt real to him. Marco paused, unsure of what to say.
"I'll bet he made you promise not to tell, didn’t he? That's just part of his mental illness." Bait shook his head. “But don’t worry about him. You’ve got other problems, Marco.”
Chapter 37: Errors in judgment
Cicero had misjudged Marco. He was thankful for that. Whatever trouble was brewing with the raccoons, he felt sure Bait was behind it after that little counterfeit display of friendship. It made sense, considering what had happened. But what truly disturbed him was the fact that he had misjudged Bait. Again.
He had chosen Bait to be his successor years ago, but had to let him go. Now he was beginning to realize how much he’d underestimated Bait’s resentment for that.
At the time, Cicero had no choice. The incident with Caffeina was disturbing especially because Bait thought no one was listening. A Guardian always treated a lady with respect and Bait had accused Caffeina of being a tramp. It was important that a Guardian have the same good character when alone, as well as when others were around.
Bait had seemed surprised about the reprimand, contrite even. It wasn’t serious enough to terminate his training, but Cicero’s eyes were opened and he kept a close watch.
Things came to a head, though, when Bait questioned him about using the power of the Book. He’d started off politely, appearing to be casual about it. Cicero explained to Bait about abusing the responsibility. A Guardian is rarely called upon to use the power. His only job is to protect it.
Bait claimed that he would only use its power for good. After his arguments didn’t work on Cicero, his tone changed, and for the briefest flash, Cicero saw Bait’s polished exterior crack. In that moment, Cicero saw the darkness underneath.
What a dreadful feeling that had been. He’d felt like a fool not seeing it before, but Bait’s deception had been flawless. Or had it? Did he miss crucial signs? Bait had seemed to be the most qualified cat to come along in years. He presented a noble character and was not afraid of danger. Now Cicero realized his dignified appearance was more a characteristic of his breed, rather than a personal quality.
Cicero had been shocked then. Now he was mortified. How could it have happened again? He cringed at the thought of how close Bait had come to being in the position of a Guardian Cat.
Cicero had given Bait a stern warning and told him his training was finished. Maybe he’d been too harsh. Maybe he should have been more diplomatic, but he’d reacted with passion, and there was no going back.
Bait hung around, came to meetings and nothing changed much on the outside. Cicero did not discourage him from coming. In fact, he thought it was better to keep him close. No one else knew what had happened, but then no one else knew about the Book.
Now Bait was befriending Marco. Nothing good could come of it, he was sure. It also seemed that he was trying to get the raccoons to do his dirty work. What in the world was Bait up to?
Chapter 38: Spying on cats
Lazer, the renegade raccoon who had befriended Sting, stood outside the raccoons’ camper and toyed with the leash around the sleeping ferret’s neck. He was pleased to see Sting had captured him. Pleased to know just how far the raccoon would go.
He banged on Sting’s door. Crimmany opened it and stuck his head out. “What do you want?”
“Sting here?” asked Lazer.
“Yeah. So?”
“So! Let me talk to him," barked Lazer.
“Sting!” yelled Crimmany, back inside the camper.
“What!”
“Somebody’s here to see you.”
Sting appeared as a silhouette, filling the frame of the door. "Hey, Lazer!"
"Hey. How's it going, Sting?"
"Not so good. Come on in."
Lazer climbed into the camper shell and made himself comfortable on shreds of what had been a mattress. “What happened?”
"You never told me the library was full of books! Then that mangy orange cat who keeps buttin’ his head in my business showed up. And that useless critter I got tied up outside. What am I? A pet sitter? Dang animal sure is a pack of trouble. Only thing he might be good for is some kind of bribe.”
“I like the way you think, Sting.”
Sting shook his head. “Well, I sure never got that book you was talking about. It’s like looking for a needle in a haystack.”
"Hmmm. Well, you did one good thing. The cats are all riled up.”
"Yeah, that’s always a good thing," said Sting. “By the way, where you been?"
"I work undercover, like I told you. Spying on cats."
"Yeah? Seems like a boring job. What for?"
"I have my reasons," said Lazer. "One thing I do know… the cats are worried that you'll steal their big-deal book. They are trying to figure out what to do with it. That means they're likely to move it somewhere." It was a lie, but Lazer had no problem with lying.
"Yeah. So."
"If we can catch them in the act, it'll be a piece of cake."
"We? What's with this 'we' business? Why should I bother?" asked Sting.
“You like having these scruffy strays in your face all the time? Can’t you see there’s something wrong with them? These cats are not normal."
"You're telling me."
"It's their magical powers. They get it from this book, I tell you. Get it away from them, and you won't have any more problems."
"Why don't you deal with them? Why are you asking me?"
Lazer hung his head. "Take a good look at me. I was the runt in my family. They didn't even expect me to live. I’ve got a good head, but physically… you tell me. You think I could handle these cats?”
“You have a point.”
“I need someone like you and your crew. Tough guys.”
Sting lit up. "We can handle 'em for sure. Right, boys?"
"Right!" agreed Tank and Crimmany.
Sting paced the length of his truck bed, his center of operations. The other raccoons kept still while he plotted. After a good while, he stopped thinking and gave an order.
“Crimmany, front and center,” he said. “I need you to deliver a message."
Chapter 39: What magic book?
By now all the Dead Cats had heard about the fight and Polo’s kidnapping. They were in their own headquarters in the library storage room and Tweezer was recounting the details, as he knew them, for the umpteenth time.