26

Leila didn’t usually go into Central Park alone after dark. But by the time she got to the sidewalk, Catsquatch was across the street, waiting in the park entrance.

She hurried across Central Park West and followed the white fluff into the park. The cat beast strutted along the pathway toward the reservoir, drawing the attention of a pit bull on a tight leash. With a horrible snarl, the dog lunged toward the big cat, teeth bared.

“Is that thing yours?” bellowed the dog’s owner. He was a huge guy with tat-covered arms, but it took all his strength to restrain his pet. “Get it away!”

Before Leila could answer, Catsquatch turned to the pit bull and growled.

The dog jerked its head from side to side, foaming at the mouth. It sprang forward on its massive hind legs. The leash slipped out of the owner’s hand. “Masher, no!”

But Catsquatch faced the dog head-on. The hair rose along the monster cat’s spine. It sat back calmly on its haunches, then rose on its hind legs. Its eyes bugged, its fur spiked outward, and its claws sprang like knives. With a deep-throated hiss, it slashed the dog’s snout.

The dog jumped back, falling to the pavement. With a low, guttural growl, Catsquatch began moving toward Masher, lumbering on its hind legs like an angry bear.

Masher scrambled to his feet. Whimpering, he circled around behind his owner. The man stared in disbelief. “What the heck is that?”

“A do-o-o-og’s . . . wuhst . . . dweeeam,” whispered a scratchy voice.

Leila whirled around to see who had spoken. She saw another dog walker with a very scared-looking Chihuahua, a jogger, a kid on a skateboard, and a couple arm in arm. But they were nowhere near enough.

Masher was pulling his owner away, but the guy was smirking at Leila. “Yeah, right. Funny voice. Hey, you got lucky. I don’t know what spooked him. Must’ve been something he ate. Normally he destroys cats.”

“I—I didn’t say anything . . . ,” Leila said, as the guy and his dog vanished into the night.

Catsquatch was walking on all fours again, tail sashaying from side to side. As it pranced across the park’s main road, it gave Leila a beckoning look over its shoulder. Then it disappeared into a thicket of bushes.

It was hard to find areas of Central Park that were not illuminated by overhead streetlights. But Catsquatch had managed. Carefully Leila crossed the road, ducked under low-hanging tree branches, and stepped into a tiny clearing.

Snuggled against the base of a tree, Catsquatch let out a sound between a purr and a growl. “We-e-ell, that was amusing, dahling, wasn’t it?”

Leila screamed. She stumbled backward, twisting her ankle on an exposed root. Grimacing, she sank against the trunk of a maple tree as the big white cat began licking her ankle.

Only one person in the world called her dahling. “You—you’re Auntie F-F-F—”

“Thank you. Thank you so much for not calling me by that howwid other name,” the cat said. “An old gal still has a bit of pwide. You have no idea how lovely it is to speak English again. As you can see, I’m not vewy good yet. Especially the . . . lettah that comes between q and s.”

“R?” Leila said.

“Pwecisely. Honestly, I don’t know how Smig does it.”

Breathe . . . breathe . . .

This could not be happening. Leila felt the world swirling around her. She wanted desperately to be dreaming. She closed her eyes tight and opened them again. But the ankle still hurt, the tree was against her back, and her aunt was a white cat beast. Everything was solid and real. “So . . . your journal . . . ,” Leila said. “That stuff about t-t-trans . . . species . . .”

“Twansspeciating,” Auntie Flora said.

“That. It happened to you, didn’t it? From too much time travel—it adjusted your genes?”

Auntie Flora let out a satisfied purr. “Oh, mahvelous! You must have spoken to Gus. I was hoping he would explain the pwocess. I nevuh was able to let him know my . . . news. It was all so fast. Please tell him.”

“If you can talk, why didn’t you just tell me?” Leila asked. “I mean, all those times we saw you on the sidewalk . . . ?”

“Well, deawy, I couldn’t vewy well weveal myself to yo’ fwiends!” Auntie Flora snapped.

“But you—you . . . ,” Leila stammered.

Her aunt’s exclamation hung in the air. Whatever Leila was about to say was wiped out of her brain by an uncontrollable urge to laugh. All the pressure seemed to whoosh out of her like a burst balloon. She tried to choke it back but it came out in a big, loud guffaw.

“I know . . . I know . . . I sound widiculous . . . ,” Auntie Flora said.

Now Leila was collapsing to the ground, gasping. “Oh! Oh! Sorry . . . sorry . . . it’s just . . . you sound like yourself, but . . .”

“I look widiculous.”

“No! I didn’t mean that!”

Her aunt was turning away. “I will let you calm down.”

“No! Don’t go!” Leila leaned forward, scooping up the ungainly cat from the ground, hugging her. “I’m so sorry. It’s just that I feel like I’ve been turned upside down these last twenty-four hours. Like a big nightmare. I love you, Auntie Flora. It’s just . . . well, a lot for me to get used to.”

“How do you think I feel?” her aunt said.

Leila sighed. “I know, I know. I shouldn’t complain. You’re the one who’s suffering.”

Auntie Flora’s resistance was melting now. Her new body unstiffened. Leila sat there with her aunt, rocking her back and forth silently. Joggers thumped by them on the way to and from the reservoir. One or two gave them a startled glance, but Leila didn’t care. “Does Uncle Lazslo know what happened?”

“No,” Auntie Flora said. “I’m afwaid he wouldn’t unduhstand.”

“Corey’s grandfather went to Vancouver because he heard there was a cure,” Leila said. “Can I bring you to him? Maybe he can take you there, too.”

Auntie Flora turned her big face up to Leila. Her eyes were piercing and very human. “Oh, please do, dahling. A cure? Weally? I hope so.”

“Corey, too. He can do it, you know—time-hop.”

“I know,” Auntie Flora said. “I saw Smig. He was cagey but I got him to open up. I would love to see Cowwey. He won’t need a cure if he sees what it did to me. He’ll be wisah than I was.”

Leila exhaled. “Corey is gone, Auntie Flora. He went back to 2001 to try to save his grandmother.”

“Oh . . . ,” Auntie Flora said, shrinking back. “Oh, how foolish. Didn’t his gwandfatha tell him he can’t change the events of—”

“He can,” Leila interrupted. “He’s a Throwback.”

Her feline aunt leaped out of Leila’s arms. “Impossible.”

“No. It’s like one in a million, but not impossible. He’s done it already, Auntie Flora—changed something in the past.”

Auntie Flora began pacing back and forth. “Oh my . . .”

“I haven’t heard from him. His grandmother is not alive. I’m worried.”

“Of course you aw, dahling. Listen to me. Go back to my collection. I have a lacquew box that contains vewy impowtant things you’ll need.”

“The box! I’ve seen it! I thought the stuff inside was junk.”

“Not junk. Awtifacts I’ve used to twavel in time. Nine-eleven is a pwized time destination for time-hoppers. It’s kind of sick, I know. Evewyone seems to have an awtifact from 2001. Look for the small nail file in the lacquew box. It belonged to a Stuyvesant High School student who fled the attack.”

“Wait. You want me to bring you the nail file so you can time-hop?” Leila shook her head. “In your condition?”

“Not me,” Auntie Flora said. “You.”

“But—I can’t,” Leila protested. “I—I’m not—”

“I have nevuh known you to lack self-confidence, Leila.”

“I don’t! I mean, about schoolwork and stuff like that. But—”

“We are blood welatives,” Auntie Flora said. “This ability is passed down genetically. There is a chance you can do this. Not a huge chance, but there is one way to know. Pick up that nail file. If the file becomes hot to the touch, we have something.”

“It was hot!” Leila said, bolting to her feet.

“The file?” Auntie Flora said.

“The whole box.”

A cat’s face did not show the emotion that a human’s did, but Leila could swear Auntie Flora was smiling. “Take me to your woom,” she said. “Now.”