by Colin Forest
“That’s not good enough,” said Necronis, and he pulled Gate’s lips until they protruded from the wall like a fish’s. “Open wider!” yelled Necronis, and he pulled and stretched at the sides of the mouth until it expanded and covered Fanfer like a snake devouring an egg. His arms bulged as he squeezed Gate back into the wall. The sides of the wall crumbled with the effort. With an explosion of breath, Gate withdrew into the wall. Her eyes looked dazed with the effort and her tongue lolled out of her mouth to lie like a dead worm upon the ground.
Necronis looked at Oswald.
“If you want him, cat, you have to come to my domain.”
Then, he lunged at Oswald. Oswald flew up and back. In the air, the field of golden light appeared. It grew more brilliant until it consumed the rich blue of the twilight sky and the sienna of the red soil. Oswald was surrounded in that golden light for what seemed like an interminably long period. When it disappeared, he was in a room. He looked up and saw himself in bed. He saw the movement of his eyeballs beneath his lids. The flesh around his left eye was slightly swollen. He knew that he was at the circus. A grain of memory told him that he should not be at the Lonely House, that he had been rescued when he fell. The two men had taken him away and brought him back to England. A voice told him that he dreamed. But it all seemed more vivid than a dream. He could see, listen, smell and touch.
Amid his swirling thoughts, he thought he heard another voice call his name. It confused him, for it was not his voice, not the one which nagged at him to wake up. He felt trapped. He wanted to wake but did not know how to. Then, a thought struck him. He was convinced that it would happen if he could hear his own voice. He told himself to scream.
Oswald’s eyelids fluttered open at the sound of his own voice. The voice began as a low guttural cry, but grew in strength until it was enough to jolt him into consciousness. He looked around. All appeared as indistinct blotches which over time, solidified into shapes he recognised as a door, walls and a cabinet. At the foot of his bed was a fuzzy bluish shape. He gasped when he saw it was the Spindle Cat. It regarded him coolly.
“I had a dream about you,” he slurred. “And Fanfer and Necronis. And Gate.”
Oswald, he heard the voice again.
Oswald looked around in confusion. Finally, his eyes settled on the cat. “Was that you?” he asked. The Spindle Cat looked at him, and he thought that the cat nodded. “Why now? Why haven’t you spoken to me before?”
The Spindle Cat hopped onto the bed and approached Oswald.
Fanfer is gone.
“The dream! That all happened!” he exclaimed. “Then that’s it. We’ve lost Fanfer. We’ve come to the end.”
We can go after Fanfer.
“How? He’s in Necronis’s realm now.”
Have you no faith in me?
“Of – of course I do. But getting Fanfer back … that’s impossible.”
Nothing is impossible.
“What do you want?”
Oswald pulled himself up and propped himself against his pillow. The Spindle Cat walked right up to him and rubbed against his cheek. And then, the Spindle Cat meowed.
You smell differently, Oswald.
Oswald did not reply. He pulled back and regarded the cat with an unwavering look. For a long interval, he did not blink. The cat looked into his eyes, and a communication passed between them.
“What?” Oswald gasped. “You’re asking too much.”
The Spindle Cat meowed again.
“No! You can’t have that. I’m putting my foot down,” shrieked Oswald.
The cat flattened its ears and meowed some more.
“Favour? As I recall, not all of Necronis’s followers were destroyed. You can’t ask such a favour of me.” Oswald waved his hands in agitation. He tried to push the Spindle Cat away bodily, but all he managed was to nudge one of its paws to the side. Oswald rolled to the other edge of the bed, where he strained to get his feet to the floor. After several attempts, he gave in and slumped over the pillow. The Spindle Cat viewed Oswald with narrowed eyes. It got up on its feet and stretched its long legs. Then, it sprang into the air and spun its legs.
“NO!” cried Oswald, raising one hand before him. He felt a surge of vitality flow through him. He jumped up alongside the Spindle Cat and with a strength which surprised him, he pushed the cat back. It flew across the room and hit itself hard against the wall. A loud thump resounded in the room. Tiny creases lined the Spindle Cat’s face, and it bared its teeth at Oswald.
Footsteps could be heard running down the corridor outside. The Spindle Cat opened its third eye and disappeared in the golden light. Before it did so, Oswald heard its voice in his head.
You made an agreement, Oswald.
The door burst open and Tumblety came in, panting.
“You’re awake. That’s unexpected. And the swelling’s almost gone,” he said on seeing Oswald’s face. He looked up and down Oswald, who still sported the pose he had when he repelled the Spindle Cat. “You better get back in bed,” he said tersely. “I don’t want you to over-exert yourself. God knows what you’ve been up to with the Ringmaster and Arcanus. You three must’ve had quite the adventure. Still, the Ringmaster will be pleased that you are better. I imagine that he has many things to speak to you about,” he said.
Oswald stared at Tumblety with a vacant look on his face. He laid himself down as told. When he finally spoke to Tumblety, he said, “My book. Have you seen it?”
Tumblety tilted his head to the table. “There.”
Oswald turned to the bundle on the side table. He smiled and allowed Tumblety to tuck him in, after which Tumblety left to fetch the Ringmaster.
“What is your name?” asked the Ringmaster.
Oswald kept quiet. He looked from the Ringmaster to Christophe, and back again.
“I know that you’ve been through a lot,” began the Ringmaster, “and I don’t want to tax you needlessly, but I need to get Felina and Suresh back.” His voice was soft but commanding.
“What are you going to do with me?” asked Oswald.
“Nothing,” said the Ringmaster, “if you help me get my people back. That’s all I’m interested in. But first, tell me your name.”
“Oswald,” he said, barely above a whisper. “And if I can’t help you, what will happen then?”
The Ringmaster exhaled loudly. “All I need is information on their whereabouts. I’m not interested in revenge. Now, tell me where you’ve taken Felina and Suresh while my patience is still in supply.”
“North,” Oswald blurted.
“You’ll have to be more specific,” Christopher chimed in.
“A cottage in the north. In a forest of spruce trees. I don’t know how else to describe it without showing you.”
“Then show me,” said the Ringmaster.
He came in close. Oswald noticed that there was a subtle glow in his eyes, more apparent when his face was in shadow.
“Don’t be alarmed,” said Christophe. “Adam is a mind-reader. Picture where this cottage is located. See every detail. Adam will know exactly what you know.”
Christophe went to sit on a side of the bed.
“Trust me,” said the Ringmaster as he laid his hands on Oswald’s temples.
Oswald relaxed his body as he let himself be soothed by the Ringmaster’s massaging fingers. They kneaded the flesh around his temples, moving in tiny circles. Oswald breathed in and out slowly. He saw the cottage in his mind; and he saw the spruce trees standing in rank in an array against a hilly backdrop.
“Scotland,” breathed the Ringmaster.
Oswald heard the word, a soft utterance which wove in among the sounds of his breathing. It was then that he noticed the presence sharing his thoughts with him. It was most unobtrusive, so that had he not concentrated, he would not even have noticed it. Now that he did, he wished for it to go away. The feeling displeased him. It was a harrying feeling, like a piece of splinter caught underneath a layer of skin. He sought the Ringmaster�
�s mind to dispel it. For a brief moment, he touched it. Images flooded into his own consciousness: a stone, a tank full of mermaids which looked half-simian, and a man wearing a uniform Oswald recognised: a uniform from Lockwood Asylum. The man struggled in the tank while the Ringmaster kept him submerged. The mermaids swam around energetically, tugging at his limbs in playfulness while the man drowned. The Ringmaster reacted in shock, and pulled himself away. But before he did, Oswald caught a name: Kenneth Monckton.
Oswald snapped his eyes open. The Ringmaster stared at him in disbelief. He pushed Oswald away from him very suddenly, asking, “How did you do that?”
“What happened?” asked Christophe.
“The man from the asylum! You killed him!” exclaimed Oswald.
“What?” gasped Christophe. “What man?” he asked.
“Kenneth Monckton,” said Oswald.
Christophe could not believe what he had just heard. His body tensed at the name. The Ringmaster noticed the change in Christophe’s posture, and saw that for a fraction of a second, there was a look of excitement on Christophe’s face.
“Arcanus, have you heard this name before?” asked the Ringmaster.
“I might have. He … used to have a show in a park, didn’t he?”
“Quite right,” said the Ringmaster.
“Is he really dead?” asked Christophe.
“It was an accident,” said the Ringmaster. “A terrible tragedy.”
“No!” screamed Oswald. “It was no accident! He killed him! I saw it.” Oswald kicked his blanket off him and crawled towards Christophe. “And he’s going to kill me. I’m convinced he’ll do it!” he shrieked, grabbing at Christophe’s clothes.
“Calm down,” cooed Christophe. “No one’s going to kill you.”
“Then … then he’ll send me back to Lockwood Asylum.”
“Is that where you came from?” asked Christophe.
Christophe nodded.
“Oswald, why were you in there?” asked Christophe. He patted Oswald on the back and waved for the Ringmaster to stay back when he saw him drawing near.
“They put me there. The vultures!” he spat.
“They?” asked Christophe.
“My former friends. They took everything from me. If I hadn’t got out, then I wouldn’t have been able to see my book.” A tear rolled down his cheek.
“The Noble Grimoire is a very special book. I can see why you wouldn’t want to part with it. It’s still here. You see?” Christophe pointed at the rucksack on the table. “No one’s going to take it away. But what you did distressed a lot of people.”
“They deserved it.”
“Felina and Suresh didn’t deserve it,” said the Ringmaster.
“That … that wasn’t planned,” Oswald uttered beneath his breath. “All I wanted was the book.” He looked up surreptitiously at Christophe and asked, “Do you … want to know my mother’s name?”
“Is it important?”
“You’ll understand if I tell you,” said Oswald.
“What is it then?”
“Mariah Noble.”
“A descendant,” gasped Christophe.
For the second time, the Ringmaster saw excitement on Christophe’s face, which lit up at the mention of the name.
“If you know the pedigree of the book, then you know that I, more than any other, have a right to it.” Oswald reached for the rucksack on the table. Christophe took it and handed it to him. Oswald removed the box with trembling hands. He opened the box for a fraction of a second, just to see that the book was inside.
“Oswald,” the Ringmaster’s voice sliced through the silence. Oswald looked up, rapt. “Will you give your word that while you are under our care, you will not use the book?”
Oswald nodded, answering, “I won’t use the book, but I can’t guarantee the Spindle Cat won’t be back. He came for me earlier.”
“When?” the Ringmaster and Christophe asked simultaneously.
“Just before the doctor came in, but I managed to send it away.”
The Ringmaster raised his eyebrow. “How?” he asked.
“I – I don’t know. I had a strength I can’t explain. I repelled it, and it went away.”
“And the giant?”
“Fanfer’s gone. Necronis defeated him.”
The Ringmaster signalled for Christophe to follow him. The Ringmaster held the door open and as Christophe passed, the Ringmaster could not help notice Christophe’s eyes lingering on the box in Oswald’s lap.
“Oswald’s newfound talent is rather unexpected,” said the Ringmaster.
“I don’t like it too,” replied Christophe.
Chapter 10: The Three Cats
A sliver of smoke rose from the branch. Felina fanned the nascent flame, so that not long after, it burned strong and hot. She picked up the branches and bundled twigs lying on the ground and lashed them to Suresh’s shoulder. Then, picking up the burning branch, she mounted Suresh and the two of them sprang into the woods, headed in the direction of the cottage Felina saw from the treetop. The fire wavered in the wind as Suresh ran with all his might. Felina crouched low, using just the strength in her legs to keep her anchored to Suresh’s body. She held the two burning branches by her side, her arms spread wide like a bird in flight. Afternoon sunlight pierced the canopy of the forest and fell in diagonal shafts, lighting up drifting seeds, dust and flying insects.
Not long into their journey, the familiar rustling sound reached their ears. All around them, vines of ivy slithered across the forest floor, clambering over fallen tree trunks, and coiling around still living ones. Felina raised the burning torch and waved it threateningly at the ivy. Suresh roared as he sprang over a log, his powerful hind legs pushing and propelling Felina and him through the air. He landed in the midst of a tangle of ivy, which slinked underneath his feet and attempted to twine around him and hold him firm. Felina set the vine alight, and it retreated into the undergrowth. The flame could be seen weaving among the leaves of the forest, a bright spot of yellow in an otherwise green palette. She grabbed another branch from the knot around Suresh’s shoulder and set it alight. She held it in her other hand; and waving the two like swords, she twisted and turned atop Suresh’s back, keeping the vines at bay. Whenever the opportunity presented itself, she reached out and set the ivy aflame. And so she cut a swath through the forest.
“You’re doing well,” she whispered to Suresh.
Out of the branches, vines descended with lightning speed. They wrapped themselves around Felina’s wrists. With a flick, Felina wriggled her wrists free. But one branch fell into the undergrowth. And although the vines’ grip was weak, it was enough to distract Felina. She felt Suresh racing ahead beneath her. Felina tumbled off his back, but managed to turn in mid-air so that she landed on her feet. Suresh bounded to the side and rushed back. He roared at the vines cascading from overhead and clawed at some of the earthbound ones. Felina waved the other branch in front of her. The vines retreated when they were burned by the fire as it moved through the air.
Then quite suddenly, the vines stopped their attack. Their vigour evaporated and they fell limp, hanging from branches or trunks without any hint of the intelligence they showed earlier. Felina and Suresh looked around them suspiciously. Suresh pawed at a tree trunk strangled with ivy. Some of the leaves fluttered to the ground. They were ordinary, mundane leaves.
A soft meow echoed through the woods. Felina and Suresh peered into the depths of the greenery but they could see nothing.
“Come out, pussy,” said Felina.
A greyish shape passed between the trees in the distance. It flitted in and out of Felina’s view. The cat bounded gracefully through the forest, growing larger with each passing. It stopped when it reached a few feet from Felina and Suresh. Felina noticed that the giant and the man were not there. She expected them to turn up at any moment: the giant trundling along and the man prowling by his side. She waited but there was no sign of them. There was an air of qui
et foreboding.
Felina, she heard the voice in her head.
“What is it?” she asked, rather abruptly.
I thought that you would be more agreeable. This is what you wanted, is it not: to speak to me? I have come offering companionship.
“What about the other two? I thought they were your companions.”
Fanfer and Oswald are gone. Fanfer is lost to me. And Oswald has turned his back on me.
“I feel no sympathy for your loss.”
Perhaps not. But you should feel concern for your friends. Oswald is with them now.
“Why should I feel concern?”
Oswald is a danger to them.
“That lurking man? I don’t see how. He looks like he’s more prone to be a danger to himself.”
Oswald is changed. Corrupted.
“My friends can take care of themselves.”
Oswald has been imbued with the essence of a god. Do your friends have what it takes to best him?
Felina fell silent. Beside her, Suresh pawed at the ground silently. He cast his eyes upon the Spindle Cat, his amber irises brilliant in the afternoon light. The cat returned his stare with equally dazzling eyes.
“Is this … danger your doing?” she asked.
Oswald was caught in events beyond his control. His condition was the result of the capricious nature of luck.
“It was good luck for him then.”
But bad luck for your friends. Oswald cannot be allowed to wander around with that kind of power. That is why it is of paramount importance that I re-claim him.
“Re-claim him? You sound as if you own him. What arrogance.”
That is what humans say of cats. Do they not say the same of you, and of Suresh?
“No. We would never behave in such a way. We would never claim to own others, to dominate them.”
This is what Oswald will do to your friends – eventually – if he is left alone.
“If he has the power of a god, then what can any of us do? Why do you even need me?”
