“So when are you going to show me your magic tricks?” Muse asked him.
“Huh?” asked Caterwaul, who wasn’t really listening. He was too busy enjoying himself just sitting there next to this unbelievably beautiful female.
“Magic,” she repeated herself. “My cousin Pudding tells me that you can do magic.”
“Oh . . . it’s nothing more than a few little tricks mainly,” he answered, not wanting to reveal that he possessed any depth of skill.
“Do you like magic?” he asked her.
“My father used to do quite a bit of magic for me when I was younger. I must admit that I’ve always had a soft spot for magicians,” she smiled. “What trick do you plan to do?”
He started thinking of a number of quick and easy tricks he might be able to perform to impress her, but he thought none of them was good enough. Then it dawned on him—he might have found a way to kill two birds with one stone.
“I was thinking of sawing you in half,” he said jokingly, and she laughed.
“Oh no,” she said. “That wouldn’t do. How would I get all of the mess out of my beautiful coat?” They were both laughing.
“Now what if I said that I could perform a trick that would get the both of us into Cathoon Castle and have the royal chef make us a grand five-course meal in honor of your birthday?” he asked her with confidence.
“I would say that was impossible,” she answered him. “No one goes to Cathoon anymore. No one wants to go to Cathoon. Even when I was just a little girl, nobody wanted to go to that horrible place. The castle is practically empty. The only person who goes anywhere near there now is that awful Queen Druciah—she and her servants, of course.
“I appreciate your sense of humor, but even if you could make that happen, why on earth would I want to go there?”
Caterwaul thought to himself and decided not to continue along those lines for the moment.
“What do you have there in your pack?” Muse asked him. “Is that where you keep your magic? Is it your bag of tricks . . . so to speak?”
Caterwaul smiled and looked into her blue eyes. “My dear, don’t you know there are certain questions that should never be asked? A gentleman never asks a lady her age or what she’s got in her purse, and a lady never ever asks a magician how the trick is done.”
She laughed. “All right . . . you win . . . at least for now, my handsome friend. You can keep your secrets.” She started moving toward a staircase leading upstairs and motioned for Caterwaul to follow.
“So, why do you like being a cat so much?” he asked, following her up to a more private spot on the second level.
“Why do you ask? Do you think it strange that someone could prefer to live as a cat rather than as a human being? Okay, I’ll tell you. It’s because I have never felt so free in all of my life. I wouldn’t change back even if I could. Now I can come and go as I please and lie in the sun all day if I want, and I don’t have to explain my comings or goings to anyone.
“Life is much simpler now. It’s absolutely glorious . . . It’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” She rose up on her hind legs and spun around fluidly, like a dancer.
“But what about your family?” Caterwaul asked her. “Don’t they miss you? What about your parents and your grandparents?”
“I never knew my grandparents, and both of my parents are gone now. I can remember my mother’s face. She was beautiful. One day, when I was just a little girl, a horrible man came and knocked on our door. He said he worked for the queen. Without giving my father any reason, he took my mother away. My father vowed to go after them and to bring mother back, but once he left, I saw neither him nor my mother again.
“So now it’s just me . . . and Pudding, of course. She is, or I should say . . . was, quite the dressmaker. You should see her work, it is amazing . . . well, if you were a human girl, you would think so. That’s how she supported us.
“Anyway, we lived together in my parents’ home. Then one day, we were trying on some new dresses she had made, and when we looked into the mirror . . . Poof! We had both been turned into cats. Sure it was strange at first, but I don’t think either one of us was entirely happy being human. Whatever sorcery it was that changed us I couldn’t tell you, but as it stands, both she and I love being cats.”
Rather than get into a discussion about what might have caused the great transformation, Caterwaul cleverly steered the conversation elsewhere.
“Pudding is a rather strange name for a human,” noted Caterwaul.
“Oh, that’s not her real name, silly,” she said. “Her real name is Henrietta-Leigh, but I think we all agree that is rather a large mouthful for a cat to say. Besides, now that she’s a cat, we both think she looks much more like a Pudding than a Henrietta. Don’t you agree?” She started to giggle.
Caterwaul couldn’t argue with Muse’s logic there. He started to laugh. “You know it really does suit her.” They were now both roaring.
Just then there was a commotion at the door. The music stopped suddenly, and everyone in the old windmill looked in the direction of the entrance to see just what was going on.
“Oh no . . . It’s Gerhard!” Caterwaul shouted.
Limping through the doorway, barely supported by two other cats, was Gerhard. He looked as if he had just been through a war. He was bleeding from any number of cuts and deep scratches. His pale gray fur had been yanked out of his flesh in tufts, so that his skin was bare and raw in many places. His legs were wobbly, and he could not support his weight without help. He looked as though he had been tortured for a long time. His trademark hat was nowhere to be seen.
Caterwaul could see Pudding standing near the beaten cat. She was in a state of near panic. Her eyes darted wildly about the room looking for help. His eyes locked with hers, and he saw her mouth the words “help me.” Immediately he jumped from his place on the second level toward the spot where the beaten Gerhard had been gently set down.
Landing spryly on the ground, Caterwaul ran to his friend. “Gerhard, what happened?” he asked.
Two other cats came running up at that point. The first carried a wet towel and the second a small container of water. They obviously knew him and were his friends. Gerhard took a deep drink of the water and started gasping as the first cat wiped the blood from his cut up face.
“Caterwaul . . . I . . . I’m . . . I’m so sorry,” he said sputtering. “It was the Felinos.” He was choking and sputtering as he gulped the air. Caterwaul suspected that he might have cracked ribs, or worse, a punctured lung. The gangsters obviously had worked him over thoroughly.
“They know you’re here, mate.” He was crying ashamedly. “I gave you up. They did things to me, horrible things. I had to. I’m so . . . so sorry mate. They’re coming for you. They’ll be here soon.”
In the back of the ground floor of the windmill, there was a special room that had been lined with rugs and padded with cushions. There were cushions enough for at least ten cats to rest on comfortably or to sleep off any ill effects which may have developed from their drinking too much of the imported French cows’ milk.
Caterwaul motioned for Pudding to help him get the resting cats up. “Everyone get out of the back area now! Move it! Call the purramedics; we have a cat down!” he shouted.
Once Gerhard had been safely moved to the padded area, Caterwaul asked the wounded tom to tell him exactly what had happened to him. Gerhard told him that he had gone to see Lucius Jr. to sell him information about the queen’s secret policeman.
The injured feline explained that just the casual mention of Caterwaul’s name had enraged the feline underboss so much that he ordered his men to seize him by the forepaws and beat him mercilessly. Caterwaul was worried. He looked behind and noticed that Muse had crept up beside him. She looked frightened. She knew who Lucius Felino Jr. was, and she knew he was one dangerous kitty.
“We’ve got to get out of here,” said Muse.
“I can’t just leave him,” snapped Caterwaul. “Friends don’t leave friends when there’s trouble.”
“But he said that the Felinos are coming,” cried Muse. “We can’t be here when they get here. If they did all this to Gerhard, they’ll kill you.”
The cat who had been wiping clean Gerhard’s wounds spoke, “Go . . . Get away. My brother and I will look after him. And there are others here who are friends of Gerhard. Trust me. My name is Juan. Nothing more will happen to him. Not if we can help it.
“My brother Feliz and I have been friends with Gerhard since he first arrived in the village. We will not let anything else happen to him.” Caterwaul glanced at Feliz. He was a pretty small cat. Juan was not a whole lot bigger, but both animals looked strong and healthy. Still, he wondered how these two average-looking cats would manage to hold off the Felinos’ muscle.
As if he knew what Caterwaul was thinking, Feliz popped his claws out. Caterwaul couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His claws were enormous. They looked like the talons of an animal twice his size, and as far as he could tell, they were sharp as daggers. They were the cultivated weapons of an animal that knew how to handle himself in a fight. Feliz flashed a big old toothy grin at Caterwaul and nodded confidently, letting him know Gerhard was in good hands.
“Come on, Muse, let’s move,” said Caterwaul.
The black cat and Muse started to break toward the doorway. Just then, Pudding came running in, flailing her front paws that they should stop. “Caterwaul, no! You can’t go out that way . . . It’s too late,” she screamed. “The Felinos . . . They’re already here!”