by S. F. Said
‘Varjak Paw!’ The family hailed his conquest.
‘Varjak Paw! Varjak Paw! Varjak Paw!’
He closed his eyes. The victory tasted sweet, like cinnamon. He'd done it at last. He was a Mesopotamian Blue.
‘Varjak Paw! Is that you?’
A gravelly voice! Varjak's heart skipped a beat.
‘Holly?’
‘Varjak? I'm here!’
Chapter Thirty
It was Holly! Her spiky black-and-white fur burst into the front room. Varjak went to the door to meet her, flushed with victory. But there was a look in her mustard eyes – a look of horror – that wiped the smile off his face the moment he saw it.
‘Varjak, it's horrible,’ she said. ‘We've got to get out of here.’ She looked up at the thick green windows, searching for a way out.
‘What's horrible?’ said Varjak, confused.
‘It's the Vanishings… this is where they've all gone.’ She shuddered. ‘The man's not here, and I didn't see those black cats. But there's a room upstairs with a big cage in it, and hundreds of cats in it, only lots of them aren't—’ She closed her eyes as if she was trying to block out the memory.
‘Aren't what?’ he said, afraid of the answer.
‘They're not alive.’ She looked more shaken than he'd ever seen her in the city.
‘Sorry to interrupt you, Varjak,’ said Mother, ‘but who is this?’ The Mesopotamian Blues were all watching, even Julius, licking his wounds by the fireplace.
‘Holly, this is my family,’ said Varjak. ‘Mother, Father, everyone: meet Holly.’
‘Don't worry,’ Holly said to them. ‘We'll find a way out.’
Father frowned, and turned to Varjak. ‘I don't understand,’ he said. ‘Do you know this cat?’
‘This is Holly – my friend from Outside, who I told you about.’
Father looked disgusted. He turned his back on her. They all turned their backs.
‘This is not Outside,’ said Father. ‘Tell this cat to leave us.’
It felt like a slap in the face. Varjak glanced at Holly. She looked as stunned as he felt.
‘How could you even think of it?’ whispered Mother. ‘You should know better than this, sweetheart.’
‘Didn't you hear?’ protested Varjak. ‘She's going to help us get out.’
‘But we don't want to get out,’ said Mother. ‘Where would we go? Who would feed us?’
‘Wait a minute,’ said Holly. ‘Have you seen what's happening upstairs? If you're being fed, it's not for a good reason.’
Father ignored her; he spoke just to Varjak. ‘We haven't been upstairs, because of the black cats. But we know there are other cats up there too.’
‘You do?’ said Varjak.
‘The Gentleman brings them to the house,’ said Father. ‘He feeds them. Not like he feeds us, not with caviare, but cheap dry food. There are sacks of it in the kitchen. He keeps them alive until – well, we don't know exactly what happens next – but we all agree that the Gentleman would never harm one of us.’
‘You're wrong,’ said Holly. ‘If it's them today, it'll be you tomorrow.’
‘We're different,’ Father said to Varjak. ‘We're special. We're Mesopotamian Blues. As for those common cats,’ he shrugged, ‘who cares what he does to them? They're nothing.’
‘What?’ said Holly, ears and whiskers bristling.
‘Less than nothing,’ said Aunt Juni, as if Holly wasn't there.
‘Come on, Varjak, let's go,’ said Holly. ‘These idiots deserve everything they've got coming.’
Her words made Varjak shiver. He didn't know what to do or say. He looked at Mother.
‘We know what we're talking about, sweetheart,’ she said, in a gentle, reasonable voice. ‘We're not going anywhere.’
His head was spinning. Maybe they were right and Holly was wrong. The Gentleman hadn't harmed them yet; perhaps he never would.
‘But what about Holly?’ said Varjak.
‘She is not one of us,’ insisted Father.
Varjak looked at Holly. He looked at his family. There was a twisting, tearing feeling in his guts. He looked at Holly. The family. And Holly again. His insides were being ripped in half. It was impossible.
‘We need you here,’ said Jasmine.
‘You need me?’ said Varjak.
Father nodded, very serious. ‘Of course we need you, son. You're head of the family now. You can't just leave us.’
‘You beat Julius,’ said Jay.
‘Julius was terrible,’ said Jethro.
‘But you're the best, Varjak,’ said Jerome.
Varjak felt proud inside, proud to be a Blue.
creeeaak
It was the front door, opening.
click CLACK
The Gentleman, entering the house. Two sleek black cats by his shoes.
‘Come on,’ urged Holly. ‘Now!’
She cut towards the corridor. Varjak couldn't move. His mouth felt numb, like ice. He wanted to go with her, but how could he? He finally had what he always wanted: he was a proper Mesopotamian Blue at last!
He couldn't ruin it. He couldn't walk away now.
Holly stopped, on the edge of the front room. She glanced back at him. He looked away. Shame pricked his eyes, made him blind. He couldn't meet her mustard gaze.
‘Holly…’
‘Varjak? What's wrong?’
‘I—I can't…’
He felt it at once: her invisible barrier, going up, coming between them. And he knew why. Because he'd done exactly what she'd always feared her friends would do. He'd let her down, at the very moment when she was trying to help. But what else could he do?
‘I'm the worst friend in the world,’ he whispered.
‘Stop,’ she said. ‘Don't say another word.’
Varjak watched, frozen to the spot, as Holly bolted like she'd been burned, bolted away from him and towards the front door.
The Gentleman's cats were ready for her. In a blur of blackness, moving as one, they blocked her and flung her to the floor.
Varjak's Awareness spun into action, taking in their smooth, sleek power, their deadly speed. He'd seen everything in the city, even the fearsome Sally Bones, but these black cats were still something else. The way they moved together so perfectly, their identical eyes… they were more like machines than anything alive.
They had Holly trapped on the ground. His heart screamed at the sight, but how could he fight them both on his own? They'd destroy him, like they'd destroyed the Elder Paw.
He turned to the family for help, but they turned away. No one could look at him.
The Gentleman closed the front door. He stooped down to touch one of the black cats' collars, and whispered something in its ear.
It left Holly with the other black cat, and marched up to the front room, where it stood blocking the way out. It stared at Varjak and the family with its black eyes. As its gaze fell on him, Varjak's Awareness quickened with a strange, cold sensation.
He took a step towards the black cat. Immediately, it pushed him back. Varjak's hackles rose.
‘Don't, son,’ said Father. ‘You're bringing us into danger.’
‘Just let them do what they want,’ said Mother, ‘and they won't hurt us.’
Varjak's mind was raging. After all they'd been through together, he'd let Holly down. He'd brought her here. He'd cost her the few moments in which she might have escaped. And now, he couldn't even help her, because that would harm his family, and there was no way he could do that.
He wanted to be a Blue. He was a Blue. He belonged with them. Not her. Them.
He looked on, powerless, as the other black cat dragged Holly up the stairs. She went without a struggle. There was no fight left in her. Varjak watched, silent, unable to move. The last thing he saw was the tip of her tail, vanishing from view. It was like watching his own heart being torn out.
She was gone. The Gentleman went upstairs after her. The black cat who'd been guarding them followed at l
ast, leaving Varjak alone with the family again.
‘That's my son,’ said Father.
‘I knew you'd do the right thing,’ said Mother.
‘What an ugly little cat she was,’ said Cousin Jasmine. Her voice sounded like milk. Sour milk.
Chapter Thirty-one
That evening, Varjak dreamed.
He dreamed he was walking by the Tigris. Date palms swayed in the cinnamon breeze. He looked up at those Mesopotamian stars, no longer so strange. They were part of him now, as he was part of this place. It was peaceful out here. It was home. However hard Jalal's teaching was, it wasn't as difficult as the real world with its decisions and dangers and failures.
Jalal walked beside him. ‘The knowledge that was lost is almost restored,’ he said. ‘There is but one more Skill. This, however, I cannot teach you. I can only tell you its name.’
As he spoke, Varjak wondered what the original Mesopotamian Blue really thought of him. Jalal had never answered that question. Would the old cat be proud that Varjak had stood by his family? He'd faced a terrible choice, and he had chosen the Mesopotamian Blues. It hurt inside when he thought of Holly; so he tried not to, and looked at his silver-blue ancestor instead.
‘What is the Seventh Skill, Jalal?’
‘The Seventh Skill is to Trust Yourself. There. Your training is now complete. Keep the Way alive, Varjak Paw.’
Jalal glided down to the water's edge.
‘Wait!’ called Varjak. ‘I don't understand. Show me what it means.’
‘Trusting Yourself is a Skill, like Open Mind,’ said Jalal. ‘But where the First Skill looks outwards, the Seventh looks inwards. This is the hardest Skill of all. For someone who thinks he is not worthy even to be himself, it could be impossible.’
Varjak hung his head, tried to look away from Jalal's amber gaze. But there was no avoiding his ancestor's words. They seemed to reach right into his heart.
‘What have I taught you, my son? A cat must be free, must be true: true to itself. When you said you were not worthy to be a Mesopotamian Blue, I knew not whether to laugh or cry. You see, who you are and where you come from count for nothing with me. The only thing that counts is what you do.’
Varjak gasped at his ancestor. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.
‘Aren't we the noblest of cats?’ he said.
‘We are whatever we choose to be,’ said Jalal. ‘If being a Blue means anything, it means following my Way. Any cat who does that is one of mine. All you need do is Trust Yourself, and I say you are worthy to be a Blue.’ He smiled. ‘What say you now, Varjak Paw?’
‘But my eyes…’
‘What colour are your eyes?’
‘They're the wrong colour. The colour of danger.’
‘Which is?’
Varjak hesitated. ‘I don't know,’ he admitted. ‘I've never seen them.’
‘Come and join me, my son.’
Varjak glided down to the water's edge.
‘Look at me,’ said Jalal. ‘Am I worthy to be a Mesopotamian Blue?’
‘Of course you are!’
‘Now look into the river,’ said Jalal. ‘What do you see?’
Chapter Thirty-two
Varjak awoke from his dream in the front room. It was still dark Outside as he looked around. The family were gathered round him in a circle, by the Contessa's empty armchair.
His mind was like the sky after a storm. Everything was clear and sharp. He knew what he had to do.
With one leap, he sprang onto the red velvet armchair. No one tried to stop him; not Father, not Julius. It was his. The power was his, and only he could decide what to do with it.
‘Now,’ he said, ‘I need the truth. Has anyone seen the Contessa since the Gentleman came to the house?’ They shook their heads. ‘So unless we do something ourselves, we're at his mercy. How often is he here?’
‘He goes out a lot,’ said Father.
‘And the black cats? Do they go with him?’
‘Varjak, you're head of the family,’ said Julius. ‘I'm not disputing that. But why do you ask these questions? It's only going to cause trouble. Why can't you just accept things as they are?’
‘Because something's happening up there, something bad. I'm going to find out what it is. I'm going to get my friend back. And if I have to, I'm going to fight those black cats to do it.’
‘Whatever's going on up there,’ said Mother, ‘it doesn't affect us, sweetheart. We're different.’
Varjak shook his head. ‘We're not different. We're not special. We're cats, just the same as the others.’ They looked at him as if he'd gone mad. ‘Didn't you hear what Holly said? She's right. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but one day soon, the Gentleman's coming for us too. His cats killed the Elder Paw to stop us leaving. He's got something planned for us. I know he has.’
A murmur went round. They were thinking about it. But they weren't convinced yet.
‘Even if you're right,’ said Father, ‘how can we fight those black cats? They're too strong.’
‘The Elder Paw fought them,’ said Varjak. ‘They beat him, but he gave them a fight first, a good fight. If we work together, we can do it. That's what I believe. Who's coming with me?’
He looked around the family circle.
Mother, Father and Aunt Juni looked away. Julius and Jasmine looked away. Jay, Jethro and Jerome looked away.
Varjak Paw was on his own again.
‘All right,’ he said. ‘If you change your minds, you know where to find me.’
He came down off the chair and marched out of the circle, out of the room, into the corridor. No one came with him. He didn't expect them to. It was all right. Like being in the city again, he had nothing to rely on but himself, and the Skills Jalal had taught him. Nothing else.
He slunk to the foot of the stairs. Holly was up there somewhere. And so were the Gentleman's cats. How was he going to get past them? He'd need to be invisible. He was going to have to Shadow-Walk: the only Skill he couldn't master.
He took a deep breath. This time, it had to work. There was no other way.
He remembered his dreams. You must know yourself, be sure of yourself, before you can let go of yourself. Do you know who you are?
Yes, I do, he thought. I'm Varjak Paw. Nothing less and nothing more.
He relaxed, let go, and merged with the shadows at the foot of the stairs. The world flickered faintly around him.
One of the Gentleman's cats came out of the Contessa's room. It stood at the top of the stairs, surveying the scene with its black eyes. Would it see him? It turned his way for a moment – but looked right through him.
Varjak placed a paw on the first step. The black cat didn't react. It was as if he didn't exist.
Slyly, slowly, slithering low, Varjak Shadow-Walked the stairs. The Gentleman's cat just sat there, unaware. It couldn't see him. No one could. He was invisible; he could go anywhere. But where was he going? What was he going to see? He remembered Holly's face as she came into the front room. Whatever it was that lay ahead, it wasn't good.
At the top of the stairs, he heard mewling. It made his fur prickle: it was the sound of fear. But he had to face it. However awful, he had to learn the truth about the Gentleman, the Vanishings and the Contessa's room. That was the only way he could save Holly.
His Awareness tingling with danger, Varjak crept past the Gentleman's cat and up to the room. Sticking to the shadows so he couldn't be seen, he looked in.
It was just as Holly had said. There was a cage in there. It had a solid metal door and sharp wire mesh. It was full of cats, street cats with no collars. But they weren't tough or menacing. The air was thick with the scent of their fright. Varjak could taste it, bitter on his tongue. They were cowering from the Gentleman as he reached into the cage; cowering from the black cat that prowled by his shoes.
Varjak craned his head right back, and saw the Gentleman pluck out a tortoiseshell cat from the cage. She was mewling pitifully; so were the cats ar
ound her.
The Gentleman closed the cage door and locked it up with a lever. Varjak had to hold himself still as the shiny black shoes clicked past, a whisker away. The Gentleman was carrying the tortoiseshell out of the room, dangling her by the scruff of the neck. The black cat stayed behind, standing guard over the others.
It took all Varjak's control to remain there in the shadows. The urge to flee clawed at his chest. The cage, the cats, the smell: it was like a nightmare. But he had to trust himself, be true to himself. Downstairs he had known that it was right to come up here. And it was still right. There could be nothing worse for a free cat than to be locked up in a cage like this. Even if it never affected the Blues, this was more important than family, more important than anything. He had to find a way to release Holly and the others.
But where was she? He looked into the cage again – and finally glimpsed her in a corner. Holly was all right! Varjak could see that she was talking to someone. A thin, frightened-looking, chocolate-brown cat. Was it possible? Varjak looked closer. His heart skipped a beat.
It was Tam! There she was: scared, but still alive after all this time!
So Holly was right about the Vanishings. This was where they ended up. But why?
‘Where's he taking that tortoiseshell?’ Holly was asking Tam. ‘What's he going to do with her?’
Tam shook her head. ‘We don't know. But that's the end of her. Once he picks you, it's over.’ She shuddered.
‘It doesn't take long,’ said another cat.
In the shadows, Varjak's scalp prickled. What didn't take long? What was going on here? And why was his mouth so dry?
‘Can't we get out of this cage?’ he heard Holly ask.
‘Think we haven't tried?’ said Tam. ‘It only opens from outside. And even if you could open it – how are you going to get past them? Those black cats are the ones who got us in the first place.’
Varjak felt cold. It was that strange sensation again: being watched by something not quite alive, not quite dead. He'd felt it downstairs when he met a black cat's eyes. What did it mean? It couldn't be coming from the black cat this time, because it wasn't looking at him.
