Varjak Paw

  Out of danger now, Varjak breathed normally – and switched out of Slow-Time. It worked! The Fourth Skill really worked!

  ‘Did they hurt you?’ he panted as he caught up with her.

  ‘Nothing wrong with me,’ said Holly, though she was trembling. ‘Thanks for getting me out,’ she added, much more quietly.

  ‘No problem.’

  ‘He saved you, Holly!’ bubbled Tam.

  ‘I guess we're even now,’ she muttered.

  ‘I didn't do it for that,’ said Varjak.

  Holly didn't meet his eyes, but just for a second, Varjak thought he saw a smile flicker on her face. ‘Come on,’ she said, sidling away from the square. ‘We've got to hurry. I don't want to be here in broad daylight. It's too dangerous.’

  ‘You don't want another go?’ said Varjak. He knew she was shaken – her fur was still ruffled – but maybe it would help to try again.

  ‘Why bother?’ she said, padding back through the city. ‘The plan didn't work. It was a stupid idea.’

  ‘No, it wasn't,’ said Varjak, keeping pace with her, ahead of Tam. ‘And you did everything you could—’

  ‘How about me?’ said Tam. ‘Did I do all right, Varjak?’

  ‘You were great. You were both really brave.’

  ‘I was great,’ beamed Tam.

  ‘There were just too many of them, this time,’ said Varjak. ‘But that doesn't mean it's impossible.’

  ‘Maybe,’ said Holly, picking up the pace. ‘Maybe if we tried it another way—’

  They started on a new plan as they headed back. The city was beginning to rumble with life once more. Familiar streets flashed past as they went by.

  ‘I'm still hungry,’ said Tam. Her nostrils twitched. ‘Wait, you two! It's that fishy smell again.’ She stopped by a turning off a side street, the same turning where Varjak had caught the mouse. Even in daylight it curved away into darkness, into shadow.

  ‘Come on, Tam,’ said Holly, over her shoulder.

  ‘But it's that lovely smell again,’ said Tam. ‘And there wasn't any food in the park, and the hunting didn't work, and I'm still hungry.’

  ‘We're not stopping here,’ said Holly. ‘If you go, you're on your own.’ She turned back to Varjak, and carried on talking. They walked away, planning their next hunt together. Tam stayed behind at the turning.

  ‘It's your loss,’ called Tam. ‘I'll see you back in our alleys.’

  Chapter Twenty

  Tam didn't return that day.

  At first, Holly laughed it off – ‘She's probably still stuffing her face!’ – but when Tam didn't show up by nightfall, or the next morning either, she began to look worried.

  ‘It was the same street where you caught the mouse, wasn't it?’ said Holly. ‘I had a bad feeling about that place.’

  Varjak thought back to that strange sensation he'd had in the turning. Maybe there was something else out there, after all. ‘You know, I had a bad feeling too.’

  ‘Let's go and find her,’ said Holly, as the rain began to fall.

  They started in the very place where Tam left them. They followed the turning she'd gone down, into the shadows, but it just led out onto another alleyway. There was no sign of Tam. Nothing: not even with Varjak's Awareness. It was just an ordinary street.

  They ranged wider, across the centre of the city, where the street cats who weren't in either of the gangs lived. None of them had seen Tam.

  They tried Ginger's territory next. Near the concrete blocks where Holly had saved Varjak, they found some cats from Ginger's gang, sheltering from the rain.

  ‘I'm looking for Tam,’ said Holly. ‘Any of you seen her?’ They said they hadn't.

  ‘Do you believe them?’ asked Varjak, as they headed for the park.

  ‘Ginger's gang are rough but they're honest,’ said Holly. ‘If Tam ran into them, if there'd been any trouble, they'd tell us.’

  Tam wasn't in the park either. They searched till twilight. They found a few scraps of food, but not a sign of Tam among the wet, dead leaves.

  Tired and soaked from the hard rain that fell through the day, they headed back to Holly's alleys. On their way, they met a big stripy tom, prowling in a covered, cobbled passage. Varjak recognized him at once by the slash marks on his face. He didn't look friendly – Varjak's dripping fur prickled at the sight of him – but he smiled at Holly, showing a set of sharp white teeth.

  ‘Razor,’ said Holly.

  ‘Holly,’ nodded the stripy tom. ‘Good to see you. Where's that shaggy cat you're always with?’

  ‘Tam. She's – I don't know where she is. Have you seen her?’

  Razor shook his head. ‘No. But she hasn't been near Sally Bones's territory, I'm sure of that.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘It's my job.’ He licked his paws proudly. ‘Who's this you've got with you?’ He flicked his tail in Varjak's direction, but didn't look at him, as if he wasn't worth wasting time over.

  ‘I'm Varjak Paw,’ said Varjak.

  The tom's tail twitched with contempt. ‘I wasn't talking to you,’ he said. Varjak fell silent.

  ‘Nothing to worry about,’ said Holly quickly. ‘He's one of us. Just a pet who got lost.’

  Razor sniffed. ‘Why waste your time with a pet? Come and join our gang. You know Sally Bones'll win in the end. This city's hers.’

  Holly smiled, but didn't say anything.

  ‘You'll be safe from the Vanishings,’ said Razor. ‘Sally looks after her own.’

  ‘Thank you, Razor,’ said Holly, ‘but you know I've never wanted to be in a gang, and I've got to look for Tam now.’ She began to move away. Razor stepped in front of her, muscles rippling.

  ‘Come on, Holly,’ he said. ‘I've always liked you.’ Holly was still smiling, but Varjak could see her trying to edge away. ‘You could be somebody, in a gang,’ said Razor, moving closer, following her. ‘You could be important. I could make you important.’

  ‘I don't want—’

  ‘Come on,’ insisted Razor. ‘I'll take you to meet the Boss. I'm one of her top cats now.’ There was a flash of fear in Holly's mustard eyes. Varjak saw it.

  ‘She told you, she doesn't want to,’ he said, without thinking.

  Razor turned to him. The scars on his face writhed like snakes.

  ‘I warned you already,’ he growled.

  SLAM!

  A rock-hard paw smashed into Varjak's face. Varjak reeled, stunned, and sank to the ground in a pool of rain. He wanted to get up, to fight back, but his legs were like soggy paper and the world was spinning around him.

  ‘Don't get in my way again,’ snarled Razor. His words twirled above Varjak's head like stars. One hit. That was all it took. And he didn't even see it coming.

  The brawny tom turned back to Holly. ‘When you've had enough of wasting your time with weak little losers, and you want to see what it's like being a real cat – come and find me.’

  He padded away, tail held high.

  ‘Varjak?’ said Holly, when he was gone. ‘Are you all right?’

  Varjak shook his head. Blood trickled out of his mouth. He wiped it away with the back of his paw. It matted on his fur.

  ‘It was brave, standing up to him,’ she said, ‘but it was stupid. You can't win a fight with Razor.’

  ‘I'll beat him one day,’ said Varjak.

  ‘You're crazy,’ she sighed. ‘You've got to learn to use your brain. There's no point fighting cats like that. The best you can do is keep out of their way.’

  ‘I will beat him,’ Varjak vowed. Whoever had left those scars on Razor's face had managed it. He could do it too.

  ‘You're not going to beat anyone today, Mr Paw,’ said Holly. ‘Come on. Let's keep looking for Tam.’

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Varjak's wounds healed as the moon grew bigger in the sky. He slept most days in Holly's alleys, or hunted and foraged for food with her. By night, they searched the city for Tam. He was worried about her, but he liked learning abo
ut hidden ways and secret paths that no one else knew.

  Together, he and Holly walked the city's walls, its window-ledges, its shadowy back streets. They always kept clear of people, though they could often hear them close by. They stayed away from the wide main roads; and they never approached or even mentioned those shrieking, roaring metal monsters that prowled up and down them.

  Everywhere they went they asked about Tam. No one had seen her. Neither Varjak nor Holly said the word aloud, but it was beginning to look like Tam had Vanished.

  ‘Now,’ said Holly, ‘there's one part of the city we haven't searched yet, and it's time we did.’

  ‘Sally Bones's territory?’

  ‘It's dangerous – but we've got to try it.’

  Varjak didn't say anything. He didn't think they'd find Tam there – they were nowhere near it the last time they saw her – and he didn't want to run into Razor again so soon. But he was curious about the tales of Sally Bones, the cat who was white and could appear out of thin air.

  Holly led the way through the streets, out of their familiar ground and into parts of the city Varjak hadn't been in before, though he'd glimpsed them from the hill long ago.

  The streets became bigger the further they went. So did the buildings. One of them was almost high as a hill, and its outline sparkled with lights. It had a glass front: windows instead of walls. Each showed something different inside.

  Varjak peered into a window. There were animals in there, ranged out and displayed on glass shelves. Little furry mice, fluffy rabbits, colourful birds. Their eyes were open, but they were silent and still. It was as if they were stuck in the moment, frozen in time, forever about to move but never quite making it.

  ‘Stop staring, Mr Paw,’ said Holly. ‘Never seen a toy shop before?’

  ‘What are they?’

  ‘The toys? They're nothing. Children play with them.’ She moved off down the pavement. ‘Come on, we can't hang about on Sally Bones's territory.’ Varjak tore his eyes away from the frozen scene and followed her, but he was getting the strangest feeling. It was like in the alley, before the mouse hunt. A cold sensation: being watched by something not quite alive, not quite dead.

  He let his Awareness flow out again, and found the source. It was coming from a stack of boxes by the toy shop door. One box had fallen on its side and split open. The flap hung loose and limp.

  ‘I am very well thank you please,’ said a tinny little voice from inside the box. It rustled, and out came a cat.

  Varjak's first thought was that it looked like Tam, or a cruel joke about Tam. It had her shaggy chocolate-brown fur and comfortable look, but everything else was horribly wrong. Like the animals in the window, it didn't seem real. Its eyes were wide open, but they were glassy, expressionless. It was smiling, but the smile was weirdly empty. It talked, but back to front, nonsense.

  ‘Tam?’ said Varjak. ‘Tam?’

  ‘Happy, happy, happy,’ said the cat.

  Varjak's fur stood on end. ‘It's Tam!’ he cried. ‘Look, Holly – what's happened to her?’

  ‘Don't be stupid,’ said Holly. ‘It's a toy.’ She peered closer at the cat. Its head nodded, bobbing up and down cheerfully. ‘It's a good one, very realistic. Look at the detail – the fur's perfect.’

  ‘But it's Tam's fur—’

  ‘Tam's fur was never so neat.’ Holly sniffed it. ‘Doesn't smell like a cat, does it? And listen to it. That's not how any cat talks.’

  ‘I be your friend forever!’ said the toy, in its strange, hollow voice.

  ‘Oh, Holly, it's horrible… I'm sure it's Tam!’

  Holly wheeled about and faced him, mustard eyes on fire. ‘Of course it's not Tam!’ she yelled. ‘Get it through your head! Tam's gone, see? She's Vanished.’ There was a moment of silence. Even the toy cat seemed to be hanging on her words. ‘There, I said it. She's Vanished. She was a greedy idiot, and now she's Vanished, another fine friend who's left me. She's not coming back. Ever. Understand?’

  Varjak had never seen her so upset. He knew Holly missed her friend, of course, but she was so spiky and cool, she'd never shown it before. ‘Are we going to keep looking for her?’ he said softly.

  ‘Here's your pretty kittycat!’ said the toy.

  Holly closed her eyes. ‘No. She's not here. She's not anywhere. She's Vanished.’ She shook her head. ‘I'm sorry I shouted at you. It's just – that's not Tam.’

  Varjak peered again at the toy cat. She was right. Tam had Vanished, but this wasn't her. It looked like her, but that was all. It wasn't even alive. Wasn't even dead.

  A cat which was not quite a cat. And behind it, there were more just the same, shuffling around in the broken box.

  ‘I am very well thank you please,’ they said.

  He shivered. ‘I don't like them,’ he said. ‘Why would anyone want one of those when they could have a real cat?’

  ‘People like toy cats better than real cats,’ said Holly. ‘No looking after. They do what you want. They're always nice and cute. Not like us.’ She grinned. ‘Not like you, anyway. You couldn't get a toy cat to stink if you tried.’ He had to smile. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Let's get out of here before we run into Sally Bones. Let's go home.’

  Varjak's mind whirled as they sped back through the city. He didn't like these toy cats, not one bit. But then he remembered that toy mouse, back in the Contessa's house: how real it had seemed, and how much he'd wanted to play with it.

  The Contessa's house. He hadn't thought about it often, with all that was happening, but the idea brought pictures to his mind. An empty armchair. An antique fireplace. A row of china bowls. The pictures were hard to hold on to. They kept changing into other pictures. The harder he tried to hold on to them, the harder it became. Even the garden that night: the Gentleman's lips: the way his cats moved – it was all fading.

  At that moment, Varjak felt he would give anything to be with his family again. Away in the distance, he heard the muffled roar of a metal monster. A great wave of sadness washed up from his stomach.

  ‘Let's stop here, Mr Paw,’ said Holly suddenly, snapping him out of his thoughts. She pointed at a covered alley. ‘We're still on Sally's turf, but it's more dangerous to walk through her streets now than to sleep here for the day.’ She smiled at him. He tried to smile back. Couldn't. ‘Hey, what's wrong?’ she said.

  ‘I want to go home.’

  ‘I told you, it's safer to stay here.’

  ‘Not that home. My old home, on the hill.’

  ‘Still thinking about that?’ She shrugged. ‘What's stopping you?’

  ‘I can't. I was supposed to go back with a dog, to save my family from the Gentleman and his cats. I tried to get one, Holly. I stood there, in front of those monsters, but I just couldn't do it. I couldn't even get them to talk.’ He closed his eyes, the shame still stinging like a new-cut wound. ‘I failed.’

  ‘It's not your fault,’ she said gently. ‘Dogs are scary. Stupid, too. I've never heard of a cat who could talk to them.’

  Varjak sighed. Jalal could do it, he knew that. But he was no Jalal. He wasn't even a proper Mesopotamian Blue. ‘All I know is I've let everyone down. I can never, ever go back. Without a dog, I don't have a home any more.’

  ‘That's not true. The whole world's your home now. Even Sally Bones's territory.’ She winked a mustard eye at him. ‘Let's get some sleep. It'll seem better tomorrow. You never know what's around the corner.’

  They settled down, side by side, in the shadows of the alley. There was no invisible barrier between them any more. There hadn't been for quite a while.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Varjak dreamed.

  He dreamed he was walking by the Tigris. Zigzag palms swayed in the cinnamon breeze. The sky was vivid with stars.

  Jalal walked beside him, shimmering in Slow-Time. Varjak breathed in–two–three–four, and slowed himself down, until he felt the energy pulsing inside him. Only then could he clearly see how Jalal was moving.

  It
was different to anything he'd ever imagined. All cats are graceful, but Jalal was a river of energy, like the Tigris, flowing and changing itself at will.

  ‘Your body,’ said Jalal, ‘is but a part of you. You are more than your body. You can make it do anything, if you know how. You can dodge any blow, you can strike any enemy, you can win any fight. I will show you how – for that is the Fifth Skill, and we call it Moving Circles.’

  His silver-blue frame started to twist into shapes as strange as those stars above.

  First, he made a soft velvet arch of himself. Varjak copied him. He stretched his spine as far as it would go – and then a bit further.

  Next, Jalal's arch curved round on itself, became a fluid figure of eight. Varjak followed him, made the move. It was a giant stretch. He felt pain – hot, white pain – but he felt something else as well. The energy that pulsed in his belly was changing into a new kind of power.

  And now Jalal's figure of eight melted into a circle, an endless Moving Circle. Varjak breathed in deeply, and followed his ancestor. His whole body shook under the strain. But that power was building up, growing stronger, a warm flow, free and unlimited; a Moving Circle, like Jalal.

  It felt like he was glowing.

  ‘Good,’ said Jalal. ‘Now the last movement. Open the Circle. Let loose the energy, take it outwards. Use your momentum to direct the force. Like this.’

  Jalal's paw appeared out of nowhere, a whisker from Varjak's nose. He hadn't seen it coming at all. His eyes widened. If he could master this Skill, he could beat anyone.

  ‘Strike me,’ said the old cat.

  Varjak breathed, moved, opened his Circle. Jalal arched aside – a moment too late. Varjak skimmed the fur on his shoulder.

  A surprised smile appeared on Jalal's face.

  ‘Well,’ he said. ‘You have travelled far since first we met, Varjak Paw. But remember: you take enough, and no more. No matter how tempting, you may cause harm only when your life is in danger.’ His eyes sparkled amber, like sunrise. ‘Which it is. Now wake up!’