Authors: Amy Herrick
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The Cat Gate
The wind, which had died down, seemed to rise up in fury at Danton’s words. It came at them like a subway train rushing down a tunnel and tried to rip them apart.
“Stay with me! Stay with me!” Danton yelled. Brigit followed him, stumbling and fighting and panting. Feenix was up ahead now.
From behind them, Brigit watched Danton and Feenix plow with determination through the snow. They had both grown so tall and strong. When they had come through the last tear in the time fabric she had seen right away the great change in Feenix. It wasn’t just in the balance of her face, how her eyes nearly lined up now. Something inside had shifted, too, as if she had come home to herself. Some of her meanness was gone, but she looked fiercer than ever. Brigit herself had only grown a little taller. And although she was apparently however many years older, there was still no sign of her voice. She was puny and mute and worse than useless. Danton would keep on feeling he had to protect her and what would she do except slow them down? Perhaps she should stay behind. She could go back and wait for the end of the world in the coffee shop. At least she would be out of their way.
She stopped where she was and was about to turn back when Danton—almost as if he could hear what she was thinking—wheeled around and peered into the storm. “C’mon! C’mon, we’re nearly there. Let’s not get separated!”
Up ahead, there was a shout. It was Feenix. Whatever she said was muffled by the storm, but Danton beckoned urgently to her and Brigit knew she couldn’t really leave them now.
As she came up to him, he took hold of her hand for a moment and pulled her forward. She had this sensation in her ribs like her heart was a tiny elevator that had broken loose from its chains. Down it rushed toward her boots. Feenix shouted again.
They had reached the Third Street entrance to the park. It could not be a coincidence that here was another streetlamp still shining bravely through the storm. Brigit was sure now that these lights had been left burning to lead them where they needed to go. This lamp was an old cast-iron one with a glass globe on its top. It rose up straight and handsome into the night, and where it threw its welcoming rays of light into the darkness, you could see the snow spinning wildly through the air. It cast just enough light to show the opening of the trees into the park and the two pillars with the great bronze cats on top. Danton and Feenix were peering down the curving snow-covered road that disappeared into the interior of the park. A gust of wind blew past, and Brigit, looking up at the left-hand pillar, saw the shape of the huge bronze panther standing on its flat top. The swirling snow created the illusion that the panther had turned its neck to look down at them. Then the wind blew a curtain of snow across her vision.
Feenix and Danton were arguing about which way to go. Danton thought the safest thing to do would be to stick to the road, but Feenix wanted to cut through the playground. She said it would be shorter. On the other side they would hit the main drive and then, right across that, she was sure there was a little path that would lead them straight to the hill.
Brigit looked upward uneasily just as a gust of wind drew the curtain back again. The stone pedestal where the panther had just been was empty.
She opened her mouth to call a warning, but as always, there was no sound. She reached out to pull on Danton’s jacket, but they were both distracted by Feenix, who suddenly yelled, “Hey! Where’s Dweebo?”
Danton peered behind them into the storm. “Oh, drat that dude! He’s slower than ketchup. Where could he have gotten to? EDDDIEEE!” he yelled.
The panther was coming toward them. Only Brigit noticed it. It seemed to move effortlessly over the snow. Its head was low, its ears flat. She felt like she was in one of those dreams where you try to run and your legs won’t work. She grabbed hold of Danton’s shoulder and strained with every fiber of her being to get some sound out. Her mouth opened like a little bird waiting to be fed, but only silence came. The cat crouched playfully.
At this moment Feenix saw what was happening.
Her
scream was loud and bloodcurdling, but it was too late. With a single, elegant leap the cat pounced on Danton and ripped him out of Brigit’s grasp. It held him fast in its jaws and shook him like a rag doll, then lifted him triumphantly into the air. The cat was—for the moment—merely playing with him. Danton wriggled and kicked, struggling fiercely to free himself.
Feenix didn’t stop to consider. She jumped in front of the cat, yelling and waving her arms and stamping her feet. Her hair and her long coat flew out all around her.
God, she was brave, Brigit thought.
“Let go of him! Beat it! Shoo!”
The cat ignored her and merely continued tossing and shaking Danton playfully. Brigit now saw the other panther appear from out of the darkness. It came creeping up behind Feenix.
She knew that there was no way she would be able to get Feenix’s attention, but perhaps she could draw this one off. She stepped into the path of the second cat, waving her arms wildly, and jumping up and down.
The cat acted as if she were invisible. It had eyes only for Feenix.
Brigit felt a rush of shame and frustration. What good was she to anybody?
Now the panther stopped where it was, a few feet from Feenix’s back, and prepared to pounce.
It was then that a crazy thought came into Brigit’s head.
The anchovy paste. Could Edward’s aunt have known? Brigit lost no time reaching into her pocket. She pulled the tube out, then she wasted precious seconds yanking her mitten off with her teeth so she could unscrew the top. She took a deep breath and squeezed the tube, holding it aloft.
The smell that spilled into the air around them was way more powerful than it had any business being. Like a genie emerging from a bottle, the fishy, oily stink blossomed and unfolded around them.
Danton’s panther froze where it was and opened its mouth to taste the air. Danton fell heavily into the snow.
The cat at Feenix’s back froze, too. It turned its head toward the source of the smell.
Brigit waved the tube through the air. Both cats began to glide soundlessly in her direction.
“What do you think you’re doing?” a voice yelled. It was Feenix. Now that Danton was lying safely in the snow, she had turned to see what was going on behind herself. “Throw it! Throw the stinking thing now!”
Brigit took a step backward and then another step. She wanted to make sure she drew them well away from the other two.
“Throw it, Brigit!” yelled Danton. “Throw it as far as you can.”
Brigit could see the panthers’ yellow eyes fixed narrowly upon her. They looked very hungry. They probably hadn’t eaten for a hundred years. She lifted the tube and flung it as far from herself as her strength allowed.
The tube went whirling end over end through the air and the cats were bounding after it in an instant. Because Brigit wasn’t very strong and because of the storm, the tube didn’t go very far, but dropped in a slow arc through the air and was immediately buried in the snow. The cats were on it in a few seconds, snorting and pawing at the drifts, digging for the treasure.
One of them had gotten hold of it.
Brigit could just make the cat out, standing there holding the foul-smelling treasure triumphantly in its mouth. The other one watched warily and then began to creep in, drawing closer and closer. The three humans stood transfixed, watching, afraid to move for fear of drawing them back again.
The first one paid no attention to anything other than the problem of how to get at the anchovy paste. The cat dropped the tube and tried hold it down with a paw while trying to tear open the treasure with its teeth. The drifting snow made this almost impossible and the cat was too preoccupied to notice the second cat before it was too late. The second cat dashed forward and snatched the prize right out from under the nose of its opponent. Infuriated by this treachery, maddened by the desire to get the anchovy paste back, the first cat flew after the thief and sank its teeth into the other’s rump. A terrible scream rent the night. The second panther turned and raked the other’s face with long, cruel claws and a smell of blood and raw flesh quickly mingled in the air with the powerful, fishy scent.
The cats fell upon each other, biting and tearing. Soon it was impossible to make out one from the other, as if they’d had been thrown into a blender together with the
ICE CRUSH
button on.
Brigit couldn’t bear to watch. She turned away and covered her eyes. How long had they been up there on their pedestals, two silent princes, watching the seasons change, keeping guard over this entrance to the park? That waking them should bring them to this seemed a terrible pity.
The sounds of their battle were hideous, like the screeching of chalk over a blackboard, but turned up a hundred times. And then the noise of bones crunching and skin ripping.
When it was finally over, when the last piercing screech of fury had died away, Brigit uncovered her eyes. There was nothing left to be seen but horrible bits of fur blowing through air.
Danton broke the silence. He sounded sad, too, but also relieved, and practical, as always. “All right then. Everybody okay? Let’s get a move on.”
“But what happened to Dweebo?” Feenix answered.
Brigit had almost forgotten, too, and now Danton was searching the darkness. “I don’t think the cats could have got him. We would have noticed.”
Brigit knew where he was. She was sure of it.
“Rat droppings!” hissed Feenix. “Don’t tell me he went into that café?”
“Eddieee!” Danton called. But his voice did not carry far in the wind.
“I’m going back for him,” Feenix announced grimly. “Don’t look at me like that. He’s . . . he’s got dryer lint for brains. He’ll never make it on his own. And there was something very sketchy about that place.”
“No,” said Danton. “No one goes anywhere by themselves now. It’s insane out here. There’s a blizzard and panthers and time-sucking bees, or whatever they are. We’ve got to stay together. We’ll
all
go.”
But the moment they turned and started back toward the café, they saw that it was too late. A mass of the foragers had come swarming out of the night. The individual sparks flickered and glittered faster than the eye could follow, while the swarm itself traveled slowly but steadily. As it moved along the street, eating without pause, the fabric of time dissolved wherever it went. It left behind a widening river of nothing. It was coming straight toward Danton, Feenix, and Brigit.
“Too late,” hissed Danton between gritted teeth.
“But Edward—” Feenix cried.
“If you go through that thing now, first you’ll turn into an old, old lady and then you’ll turn into nothing along with everything else. We’ve got to keep going. We’ve got to find the Weaver’s Hill.”
Feenix just stood there, glaring angrily at the foragers and calculating the odds. At last she gave in, her shoulders slumping in defeat. She nodded.
“Let’s get moving, then,” Danton said, but he didn’t move. Brigit felt him looking at her. “Listen, Brigit, maybe you should take my hand. It’s not far, I think, but the snow is getting so deep and your legs aren’t as long as mine and Feenix’s.” Again, he hesitated. “I wouldn’t want to lose you, too.”
It was true. Her legs were too short. She blushed as she held out her hand and he took it in his. It didn’t matter. He couldn’t see her face in this weather. How much more useless could she get, she thought miserably?
They began to plow through the snow. “Around that curve up there and then I think we’ll hit the main road. Once we cross that, it’s a little ways through the trees. I’m sure we can find it.”
Brigit stumbled along bravely, doing her best not to slow him down. She knew that if she weren’t there, he would be moving much faster. But his large strong hand held hers tightly and—she couldn’t help it—his words kept going around and around in her head, keeping her warm.
I don’t want to lose you, lose you, lose you.
Without her meaning to, they began to turn themselves into a little song. Now, where had she heard that melody before? Before she could remember, Danton interrupted. He had turned around to check on Feenix.
“Stop looking back there!” he yelled at her. “We’ve got to move faster!”
The melody slipped away. Danton led Feenix and Brigit past the playground. It was buried, now, under drifts of snow, an otherworldly little city of towers and slides. Then they were passing the old, abandoned toll-keeper’s booth. For a second, Brigit could have sworn she saw someone standing inside of it, peering out at them. Then the face was gone.
It was only a matter of minutes—if minutes still existed—before they had reached what should have been the main road.
Brigit felt Danton’s hand tighten on her own and pull her to a halt. Beside them Feenix gave a loud gasp and stopped, too. It took Brigit a moment to understand that the road had been replaced by a silent river of emptiness, a wide unmoving ribbon of nothing—a void without color or light or sound or smell. The foragers, for the moment, were nowhere to be seen; still the river was horrible to look at. It seemed to go against everything Brigit’s blood beat for. Yet, as she stared at it, it drew her forward, irresistibly, with a power of its own.
Danton held on to her hand tightly.
The emptiness ran in either direction, as far as Brigit could see, and where it ran there was no snow or wind. It didn’t rise high. You could see right over it, but it was much too wide to jump. On the far side she could make out the blowing outlines of trees, heavily shrouded in snow.
Beyond the trees was a softly mounded hill rising up to fill the night sky.
Brigit saw Feenix moving slowly toward the edge of the dark river, as if hypnotized.
“What are you doing? Not so close!” Danton yelled, and he reached out and grabbed hold of her. He pulled her back. “Now everybody hold hands. Don’t let go, whatever you do. It doesn’t seem to be so strong when we’re touching.”
Feenix gazed at the two of them for moment without recognition, then slowly came back to herself. “We’re toast,” she whispered hoarsely.