"I can’t hold the shapes as long," he told the shadow.
"You must get your power from the Book now. It is the only power that will serve one so advanced as you."
"I'm working on it!" flared Bait, but he felt himself growing weaker.
He could almost feel the vibration that came right before he brought about a transformation. Enough to make him crave it all the more, but when his power was too weak, it made his craving stronger.
"You must control yourself," breathed the Whisperer.
"Yes. You are right," said Bait. He tried to calm himself. “Tonight I will know if my plan will work. If Cicero is worried about the safety of the Book, he will try to move it. In all this time, I have not been allowed to get close to it. Tonight, though, you will see something amazing. It is sure to frighten Cicero into action.”
"What about the raccoons? Are they helping you?"
“They are too stupid to carry this off. They don’t care about the Book, but they do have a personal vendetta against the cats. They kidnapped that stupid ferret—for what, I don’t know. It’s okay. I only needed them to create a diversion, and that’s exactly what they did."
"I told you that rumors were the best tool, didn't I?" whispered the formless one.
"Yes, but it's not enough to get Cicero to move the Book. It has to be more threatening."
"You have something in mind?"
"Most definitely, but I need to rest. I need all of my strength to transform later."
“I have things to attend to as well,” said the Whisperer. “Don’t fail. There’s too much at stake, and if you aren’t successful… I will have to report back to my benefactor. Be sure we have something good to tell him.”
Chapter 43: Power in the wrong hands
The Dead Cats positioned themselves in the magnolia tree, waiting to ambush the raccoons. They were bored.
A large beetle crawled along a branch. Tweezer pounced and gobbled it up in one move.
“Eeew!” said Caffeina. “How can you eat those things?”
“I’m hungry,” said Tweezer.
“Well, so am I, but I draw the line at cockroaches.”
“They have lots of protein. You could probably use some protein.”
“What I need is a visit to a salon. White fur is such a pain.”
Tweezer peered at her through his one good eye. “Ahhh. You don’t look so bad,” he said.
Marco was deep in thought on a branch above the others. He was glad Cicero hadn’t found out about him trying to use the spell, but he still cringed when he thought about the strange creature he’d become. That whole night he’d hidden in a tree, terrified that he’d never be normal again.
Now he had other things to worry about. The cats, as usual, had no plan, and Tweezer said they had no luck rounding up recruits. They needed a miracle.
“Hey, Marco! You sure tonight’s the night? We’ve been up here forever.”
“Be patient, Skitzo.”
From far off came the soft deep rumble of thunder. Out of the corner of his eye, Marco caught some movement in the bushes. A small raccoon moved in and out of the shadows, then darted across an open space toward the library. Was this one of Sting’s gang?
The other cats were too absorbed in small talk to notice, so when the raccoon climbed into a basement window opening, Marco went to investigate.
He slipped through the upper story window and made his way to the balcony, where he scanned the lower floor through the rails. The raccoon soon appeared, his head poking through the same floor vent Sting had used.
But this was not Sting. He was way too small. The raccoon moved to a table with newspapers and magazines and promptly went to work ripping them into shreds, being careful to keep them in a pile. Strange, but hardly threatening. If this was the raccoons’ big move, then he didn’t have much to worry about.
The raccoon was fumbling with something in his paws. There was a soft scraping sound, a familiar odor and an orange spark. “Stupid thing,” the animal mumbled. “What’s the matter with it?”
Marco sat, spellbound, observing from his catwalk, as though the scene below were a theater stage. A clattering noise echoed in the darkened library. The raccoon had dropped the object.
He used both paws to pick it up again. A flicker of sparks sprayed out. “Dang!” The odor grew stronger and Marco realized what it was—Polo’s cigarette lighter! How in the world did this raccoon get it? He had to be a friend of Sting’s.
The raccoon’s next attempt was successful. The flame, framed by an orange halo, burned steadily. The raccoon moved the lighter close to the torn pile of newspaper, which took the flame, turning it yellow and blue. It flared up into the raccoons face, singeing his whiskers.
“Cripes!” he shouted. Then the fire steadied and the raccoon mumbled to himself. “I always say, if you want something done right, do it yourself.” He turned and gazed into the depths of the library and Marco got a better view of his face. He wondered if his eyes were playing tricks on him.
The raccoon’s face started to change shape. No, it was more like there were two faces. Marco blinked and tried to refocus his eyes. Now it was more visible, the raccoon and another animal forming within the raccoon. It was not possible, what he was seeing. But it was happening. There was another creature coming to life, another body inside the raccoon.
What kind of magic was at work? Nothing seemed to be as it appeared on the surface anymore. He felt dizzy for a moment and thought of The Book of Motion and how Akeel and Cicero had tried to explain about power in the wrong hands. He thought about his own error in judgment, trying to use power he wasn’t ready for.
“No!” The raccoon shouted. “Don’t leave me now!”
The fire grew larger, but the paper burned out quickly, and so the flames died down to almost nothing. The raccoon frantically tore up more paper, throwing it onto the hot ashes. He tried manipulating the lighter again, but it was getting harder for him to manage.
The raccoon was getting worked up, struggling with the creature that appeared to be taking over his body. The small fire smoldered and the morphing creature became more fluid as it grew angrier. It, or they, Marco couldn’t tell which one, threw the whole lighter onto the fire.
The double creature seemed to waiver back and forth, from what it was, to whatever it was becoming. The second creature had dull gray fur and no stripes. The lighter exploded and the fire leaped into action.
The transformation was complete. The creature within the creature had prevailed. Marco was looking at one of the Dead Cats.
Chapter 44: Gathering smoke
Cicero heard a small explosion, but it was the smell of smoke that alarmed him. He dashed out of his chambers towards the balcony. He stared at the flames, not believing his eyes, thinking this must be a nightmare and he would surely wake up. When smoke drifted upwards, he knew this was no dream.
Fire was Cicero’s greatest fear… his only fear, ever since he’d witnessed the burning of Alexandria. He stared at it in a daze. He knew he should move, but he remained petrified, dreading to leave as though he could will the fire to stop by his being there.
“What dark power has come upon me… that I should suffer through this, as did my predecessors? And why did I not sense its coming?”
Finally, he turned and darted back to his chambers, looking for Alaniah. She was not there and he went back to the balcony, coughing on the gathering smoke.
Cicero stood in front of the mirror, helpless to enter without Alaniah. He saw the reflection of the fire behind him, the image repeating over and over because of another mirror on the other side. For a terrifying moment, he felt the presence of the madmen who burned the library at Alexandria.
Caffeina goes for help
“Did you hear that noise? And what is that smell?” Caffeina caught the scent first, then Tweezer and the others smelled it.