Varjak Paw

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Varjak woke from his dream in the alley.

  It was night time again; he and Holly had slept through the day. A street light buzzed on and off behind him. A full moon, round and white as a saucer of milk, shone comfortingly up above, but it was quickly smothered by street-black clouds.

  He needed to go to the litter tray. Holly was fast asleep, and they were still on Sally Bones's territory. Well, it was all Outside, wasn't it? The whole world was his litter tray. He could go wherever he pleased.

  He slouched out of the shadows and did his business by a heap of rubbish. What a relief it was.

  His Awareness tingled. The fur on the back of his neck prickled. It felt like he was being watched. He swivelled to face the top of the alley – and immediately wished he hadn't.

  A thin white cat sat there. She was licking her claws, watching him with one ice blue eye. Where the other eye should've been was an empty socket.

  Her fur was spotless clean, but around her was the smell of darkness, of dank and deadly things and places.

  By her side prowled a dozen street cats, thick-necked and bristling, grimy as the city itself. They were bigger than the white cat, but somehow they looked like soft little kittens beside her.

  ‘Good, was it, sonny?’ she asked. Varjak couldn't answer. He kept staring at her, unable to speak. She was all muscle and bone. He could see her ribs. They jutted out as if they were trying to escape from her.

  ‘Now, this isn't your territory,’ she said, flexing her bone-white claws. ‘And you shouldn't ever do what you've just done all over someone else's territory. Especially if that someone is me.’

  She smiled a crooked smile, but her single eye stayed cold and hard. He had no doubt who he was looking at. No wonder poor Tam was terrified of Sally Bones.

  ‘Speak when the Boss talks to you,’ growled a stripy tom with slash marks all over his face. Varjak recognized him: Razor.

  Holly stood up beside Varjak. ‘He didn't mean it,’ she said. ‘He's new here.’ Her legs quivered, but her voice was steady.

  ‘New, is he?’ said the thin white cat. Her tail swished angrily. She nodded at the stripy tom. ‘Razor. Why wasn't I told about this?’

  The tom began to shake. ‘I didn't think it was important, Boss. He's just a pet—’

  The air seemed to shimmer for a moment – and then Razor howled and clutched his face. There was a fresh, new slash mark across one side. And the white cat's claws were tipped with blood.

  ‘It's not your job to think, Razor,’ she hissed. ‘It's your job to tell me everything. And if you can't do your job, I'll find someone else who can. Understand?’

  Razor nodded, still clutching his face. In that moment of quiet, Varjak could hear his own heart, thumping in his throat.

  ‘Now get some information out of this new cat,’ spat Sally Bones. ‘I have a feeling he's something to do with the Vanishings. Luger and Wes: you two watch his little friend.’

  Razor and the other two cats came towards Varjak and Holly. Holly's ears twitched nervously.

  ‘Why couldn't you wait till we got home?’ she whispered. ‘We've had it now.’

  ‘We could make it over those walls,’ said Varjak, searching for a way out.

  ‘They'd only catch us. At least Razor's doing it, not her.’ Holly shivered. ‘Just don't tell them about my alleys, OK?’

  Razor marched up to them, eyes slitted, claws glinting. The slash on his face was red and raw.

  ‘What's your name, trouble-maker?’ he snarled.

  ‘Varjak Paw.’

  ‘Where are you from?’

  ‘Mesopotamia.’

  Razor's scarred face twisted into a scowl. ‘Very funny. Where are you really from? Where do you sleep?’

  Varjak glanced at Holly. What could he do? Anything he said could give her secret away. He could only keep it by staying silent.

  ‘Are you going to open up?’ said Razor. His mouth curled back, baring his teeth. ‘Or do I have to open you up?’

  There was no sound at all in the alley except the street light's buzz. Varjak kept his mouth shut. They all stared at him: Razor, Sally Bones, her gang: all staring at him. Varjak felt boxed in and alone. The pressure mounted in his head. But he stared straight back at Razor without a word. He was determined not to look away.

  ‘Well?’ demanded Razor. The tom's eyes burned into him, but Varjak hung on. Don't look away. Don't let him win. Hang on. Hang on. Hang on.

  Somewhere in the distance, a monster roared.

  Razor blinked and looked away. Varjak relaxed. And in that instant, something slashed his cheek.

  Razor's claws. Varjak reeled back, stunned. His head was on fire.

  ‘I'm going to teach you a lesson you'll never forget,’ growled Razor. He came forward. Varjak lashed out. The street cat dodged easily, and jabbed his jaw in return. Blood sprayed from Varjak's face in a thick red fountain.

  Another hit to the face. Varjak's legs felt weak. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Holly start to move – but Luger and Wes moved faster, blocking her off. It was just him and Razor.

  ‘Not so tough, are you?’ spat Razor. ‘I can finish you any time. I'm going easy on you. Now talk!’ He slammed Varjak's ribs, knocking him off balance. Varjak staggered into the rubbish heap. It squelched around him. He was still standing, but he couldn't take another hit.

  Moving Circles, the Fifth Skill: You can dodge any blow, you can strike any enemy. It was his only chance.

  Varjak breathed as Razor came up for the kill.

  In–two–three–four. Energy pulsed in Varjak's belly. Out–two–three–four. Time slowed down.

  In–two–three–four. Razor struck in slow motion. Out–two–three–four. Varjak made a Moving Circle.

  In–two–three–four. Razor missed. Out–two– three–four. This is good, thought Varjak Paw.

  He could see the others, staring at him. Holly's mouth hung open in surprise.

  Razor bared his teeth, came in again, moving as if through mud. Varjak opened his Circle, let loose the energy – and hit Razor with everything he had, right between the eyes.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Razor's head jerked back. Varjak had struck his target!

  But the big tom was strong. It was only enough to daze him. He stepped out of Varjak's reach, and shook his head, as if he couldn't believe he'd been hit.

  ‘Enough!’ Sally Bones shouted. Varjak looked to the top of the alley – but she wasn't there.

  ‘Where did you learn that?’ her voice demanded from behind him. He wheeled about. There was the faintest shimmer of white, but she was gone again.

  ‘Who taught you?’ she hissed, from somewhere inside his head. And before Varjak knew what was happening, she had him pinned flat on the ground, white bones above him, single blue eye burning into him. He lost the rhythm of his breath – and everything sped up again. He was out of Slow-Time. ‘Answer me!’ she said. ‘Who taught you?’

  He couldn't move; he couldn't hide. ‘Jalal!’ he cried, helpless.

  Sally Bones's one eye glittered like the moon. ‘Jalal?’ she said. ‘Jalal the Paw? He's been dead a hundred years! What could you know of Jalal? What do you know?’

  ‘Slow-Time,’ gasped Varjak. ‘Moving Circles—’

  ‘You?’ Sally Bones blinked. Something that might have been fear flashed across her face. ‘Is it you?’

  Before Varjak could answer, a long, low growl filled the air. Everyone turned to face it.

  At the top of the alley, blocking the way out, was a new kind of monster. It was black and bristly, almost as big as a man. Its mouth was full of pointed yellow teeth which dripped with drool. It barked loudly, and took a step towards the cats.

  Terror ripped through Sally Bones's gang. Razor, Luger, Wes: they all bolted. They scrambled up the fire escapes and over the walls, away from the monster, away from the alley.

  ‘Come back!’ screamed Sally Bones. ‘Cowards – we can beat it if we fight t
ogether!’

  But they weren't listening. Her gang scurried to safety as fast as they could. The thin white cat shook her head with contempt. She stood up reluctantly, letting Varjak go free.

  ‘We'll finish this another time, Varjak Paw,’ she said. There was a shimmer of white – and she was gone.

  In a single heartbeat, Varjak and Holly were alone with the monster. It looked confused. It barked at the walls, but didn't try to follow the cats up.

  ‘So those Sally Bones stories are true,’ breathed Holly. She shook her head. ‘I don't know what was going on back there, but I'd swear you had them worried.’

  Varjak's head was whirling. Sally Bones knew about Jalal. She knew about the Way, much more than he did. She wasn't even scared of this monster.

  ‘Thanks for keeping quiet about the alleys,’ said Holly. ‘Come on, let's get out of here, before it gets us,’ she urged.

  The monster began to lumber towards them. Its big blunt claws clacked on the pavement as it came. It was incredibly powerful. Even its tail looked as if it could knock them senseless.

  Varjak focused. What would Jalal do? Second Skill: Awareness. He looked into its eyes. They were cloudy black. There was pain in those eyes – and there was fear, almost terror, in its scent.

  It barked again, a deafening sound. Varjak didn't flinch: he just kept looking into its eyes. If he hadn't once stood before a roaring dog, he would have run away. But compared to those metal monsters, this frightened, barking animal was friendly.

  ‘What are you doing?’ hissed Holly. ‘Let's go!’

  Varjak looked up. He could probably make it over a wall or onto a window ledge, like Sally Bones's gang. He gambled instead and trusted his instincts. This time, he wasn't going to run, he wasn't going to panic. He was going to stand his ground and face it down.

  ‘Don't be afraid,’ he said to the monster, in the calmest voice he could manage. It opened its jaws. They were big enough to swallow him whole. ‘Don't be afraid,’ he whispered.

  And then it sprang at him…

  Slow-Time!

  … and Holly leaped for cover…

  Moving Circles!

  … but Varjak stood his ground…

  Shadow-Walking?

  … wrong.

  The monster smashed into him. The world turned upside down – and everything went black again.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  ‘There are times when it is useful to disappear,’ said Jalal.

  Varjak was back in Mesopotamia, where the air smelled like cinnamon and tasted of ripe dates. He smiled. It was good to be back. Whatever happened in the real world, there was always Mesopotamia in his dreams.

  Jalal stood beside him in the shadow of a wall. And then he was gone.

  ‘Jalal?’ said Varjak. His ancestor had disappeared. Even his scent had gone.

  ‘Jalal the Paw, that am I,’ said the old cat's voice. But all Varjak could see was a shadow at the base of the wall.

  Varjak shook his head. ‘That's impossible.’

  Jalal appeared again, right next to Varjak. ‘Nothing is impossible.’

  ‘Maybe it's possible for you – but I'm not you, Jalal, I can't do these things, I can't go invisible or talk to dogs—’

  ‘Believe something is impossible,’ said his ancestor calmly, ‘and you will surely fail. But believe in yourself and you can do anything.’

  Varjak thought about pigeon hunting with Holly. She believed it was impossible, but he felt sure they could do it if they could just find the right way. Maybe this was the same – and here was Jalal himself offering to show him the Way. Wasn't it worth trying and trying and trying again?

  He nodded. ‘Teach me, Jalal.’

  ‘Shadow-Walking is the Sixth Skill,’ explained the old cat. ‘To Shadow-Walk, you must let go of yourself. Like when you stalk your prey and you become your prey – but instead, here you become nothing, nothing at all. You join with the shadow. You become one with the air, and part of the ground. You let go. Try it.’

  Varjak slunk towards the wall, willing himself to disappear. I'm a shadow, he told himself. No one can see me. I'm invisible.

  ‘You are thinking too hard,’ said Jalal. ‘Shadow-Walking is not done by thinking. Shadows cannot think, after all. Think about nothing. Empty your mind of thoughts.’

  Varjak tried to think about nothing; but found himself thinking about thinking about nothing. He tried to empty his mind, but his mind was full of images of emptiness.

  ‘Now you are trying too hard,’ said Jalal. ‘Perhaps it is too soon. You must know yourself, be sure of yourself, before you can let go of yourself. Do you know who you are?’

  Varjak frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Think about it, Varjak Paw.’ Jalal disappeared into the shadow. ‘Think hard. For your life depends upon it.’

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Varjak awoke. He was sprawled on the ground in the alley. His shoulder screamed with pain. Holly was gone.

  The bristly, barking monster towered above him, its foul breath in his face. Its big red tongue lolled out, glistening hungrily. It looked like it was getting ready to eat him. He was wrong to trust his instincts; this creature was worse than a dog. It was the most terrifying monster in the world.

  He had to do something! Shadow-Walking, the Sixth Skill: Think about nothing. Empty your mind of thoughts.

  Varjak concentrated. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

  But it wasn't that easy. The pain in his shoulder filled his mind. He couldn't do it. He couldn't Shadow-Walk.

  Varjak looked up desperately at the narrow brick walls of the alley. It felt as if they were closing in on him. If only he could get to the ledge. He tried to stand up, but it hurt too much.

  There was no escape now. It was all over. The monster's drooling mouth opened wide…

  ‘Cludge,’ it said, in a deep, deep voice. Varjak stared, helpless. It blinked those cloudy eyes. Then it licked itself, once. ‘Cludge,’ it repeated.

  Varjak scratched his ears, not quite sure what he was hearing. ‘Is that your name?’ he said. ‘Cludge?’

  It panted. A shy smile appeared at the corner of its mouth. ‘Cludge,’ it affirmed.

  Varjak smiled back. Maybe Cludge wasn't going to eat him, after all. ‘Varjak,’ he said. ‘I'm Varjak.’

  ‘Var Jak? Var… Varjak. Varjak!’

  ‘That's right, Cludge. I'm Varjak.’

  ‘VARJAK! VARJAK! VARJAK!’ barked Cludge.

  ‘You've got it.’

  ‘VARJAK!’

  Varjak gingerly shifted his weight onto his front paws. His shoulder twinged, though not as badly as before, and he flopped back onto the ground.

  Cludge reached down to lick the wounded shoulder. His big black eyes were cloudy with worry.

  ‘Sorry, Varjak,’ he sighed. ‘Didn't mean. To hurt.’

  ‘That's OK. I should've run, like the other cats.’

  ‘Cludge was scared. Varjak not scared?’

  ‘No,’ he smiled. He was beginning to like this great big creature. Cludge looked fierce, but he seemed gentle inside.

  ‘Cludge alone,’ he sniffed. ‘Everyone run from Cludge. No friends.’

  Varjak looked into Cludge's eyes again. He could see it all in there; he recognized it: his pain, his fear, his loneliness.

  ‘It's all right, Cludge,’ he said quietly. ‘You're not alone. We'll be friends, you and me.’

  ‘Friends?’ panted Cludge. ‘Varjak, Cludge, friends?’

  Varjak grinned. ‘Friends,’ he said. He tried to stand up again. This time, his shoulder took the weight.

  ‘Friends!’ barked Cludge. He wagged his tail. ‘Varjak, Cludge, friends! FRIENDS! FRIENDS!’

  ‘Varjak Paw,’ said a gravelly voice, ‘this is a first. I've seen a lot of things in this city – I've even seen you hit Razor – but this is truly something else.’ Holly jumped down from the wall. ‘You did it. You talked to a dog.’ She shook her head. ‘It's incredible. It's unbelievable. It's—’
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  ‘A dog?’ said Varjak. Cludge barked.

  ‘Yes, a dog,’ said Holly, keeping a safe distance from Cludge. ‘What do you think it is?’

  ‘But he's not like the other dogs.’

  ‘What other dogs?’

  ‘You know. The metal ones.’

  Holly looked baffled. ‘I've never seen a dog like that.’

  In the distance, a monster shrieked and roared.

  ‘Those ones!’ said Varjak. ‘The dogs that make that noise!’

  Holly shook her head. ‘That's not a dog. That's a car.’

  ‘A what?’

  ‘Car!’ barked Cludge. ‘Cars are fun. Cludge chase cars.’

  ‘So they weren't dogs?’ said Varjak.

  ‘Let me get this straight,’ said Holly. ‘All the time you thought you were talking to dogs, what you were really doing was talking to cars?’

  Varjak frowned. He was confused. The metal monsters were dogs – he was sure they were! But had anyone else ever called them dogs? No. Now he thought about it, he'd never known for certain what they were. He'd just assumed they were dogs, because they fitted the Elder Paw's description from the tales. They filled his heart with fear; they had foul breath and a deafening sound; and they looked strong enough to kill a man.

  But, he had to admit, so did Cludge.

  Awareness, the Second Skill: before you do anything, you must know what you are dealing with. Assume nothing; be sure of the facts.

  That was exactly what he'd failed to do. He'd almost killed himself trying to talk to a car. A beginner's mistake. Not the kind of mistake a cat who knew the Way would make. He wouldn't make it now. And he was sure Sally Bones wouldn't, either.

  Holly giggled.

  ‘What's so funny?’ Varjak demanded.

  She pulled herself together, but only just. ‘You,’ she said. ‘Cars aren't even alive, you moron. You can't talk to a car!’

  ‘You didn't think I could talk to Cludge, either,’ reasoned Varjak.

  ‘Cludge only talk to friends,’ said the big dog.

  ‘See?’ said Varjak. ‘Maybe cars only talk to their friends, too.’