Running up the front staircase, Tenja checked the main entrance. It seemed secure. She bounded over to the rear staircase that led to the door into back alley. It was also secure.

Everything was just as it should be, but her whiskers still tingled.

Is something wrong in the Antique District?

Tenja listened at the back door with ultrasensitive ears. She heard fading footfalls in the alley, then after six heartbeats… nothing. The threat had passed. Her nose told her nothing.

If there is a real problem, Fergus or Sampson or even some nosy kitten will tell me about it. Kittens are good at finding out odd things.

Still alert for a predator, she returned to reading the mystery of the murderous beast that stalked Paris.

A monster was loose in the city.

The cats that nightly patrolled the myriad levels of the metropolis had alerted feline city elders several days ago that something was on the prowl, something never seen in daylight. But the creature could not be traced; even the city’s best hunters were luckless in tracking it. That in itself was alarming.

“I myself spotted an odd intruder just a few hours ago during my usual scouting,” orange Sampson stated to a citizen’s committee. They’d hastily gathered at his call in a pocket park adjacent to a weathered brick office building.

Well respected by the city’s four-footed residents for his prodigious hunting skills, Sampson’s word carried weight in the cat community. Esteemed elders Clem, Isis, Mittens, Tambour, Tatiana, Gwendolyn, Ling, Oswald, Percival, Mooch, Fifi, and Sarah awaited his information.

“What manner of creature did you see?” prompted Sarah.

“It was furry and quadruped,” Sampson said. “It blended well with shadows, which it rarely left. I couldn’t determine if it was canine or rodent, or something else. I saw teeth and claws reflected in the moonlight as it ran past the old City Hall. Its gait is odd. And I caught a glimpse of its eyes.” He shuddered. “I’m sure there was a glimmer of black magic, the darkest sorcery.”

The elders stared at one another in shocked silence.

“We should have detected its mystical presence as soon as this stranger set paw in the Antique District,” Clem finally said. “We’re familiar with all male and female witches in our city. Who among them would summon such a threat?”

No one spoke. None could fathom the interloper’s purpose.

“It must be an infiltrator from beyond the city limits,” Sarah concluded in her soft voice. “It’s the only logical-”

Caterwauls from two blocks away interrupted her.

Catfight!

Curiosity was killing Spriggan.

He was barely beyond kittenhood and still awaited his adult coat, which he hoped would be a shade darker than his current cinnamon hue. He had heard his father Sampson tell Sarah earlier about calling the congregation of city elders to discuss monster sightings.

Monsters mean excitement! His tail flicked with enthusiasm.

Spriggan had tracked his father to the meeting, staying just within sight of the orange hunter. He vaulted between awnings and window sills, remaining, he hoped, unnoticed. Now perching on a high ledge of the old office building, he listened to the elders’ discussion. An odd chill crept up Spriggan’s spine as Sampson described the creature.

Spriggan’s fur leaped upright as the catfight erupted.

He saw the committee rush toward the clash. Keeping to the aerial path of awnings and ledges of the urban real estate, he followed.

“Who’s fighting? Why?” Sarah asked as Sampson zoomed past her.

“We’ll find out soon enough,” he tossed over his shoulder.

The elders arrived within minutes and found the conflict already finished. Sampson had discovered the tall tabby barely conscious.

“Fergus!” Sarah screamed, skidding to a halt beside the hunter.

The reigning poet laureate of the city was injured in a most unfeline manner: No true cat fought with such ugly brutality. His tabby coat was flayed in places, his eyes slashed, and his ears shredded.

“What happened?” Sampson asked, shocked. “Who did this?”

“Fiend,” Fergus sputtered through a bloody cough as the elders gathered around him. “It seeks…

The Book of Apedemak.”

Fergus gasped, and he never inhaled again.

“I’ll inform the Guardian,” Sampson said, turning away. “Warn the rest of the city’s residents.”

After a few moments of mourning, the elders dispersed. Sampson turned toward Clara’s bookshop.

Delavayne sat in an alley and slowly sucked the blood from his claws. The taste was satisfying, but that was a small consolation. He did not have the book.

The residual amber-hued aura from recent contact with

The Book of Apedemak had indicated the tall tabby had knowledge of the ancient tome. You knew Grimoire Hall’s location, Delavayne thought. You had been there, possibly just an hour ago. And you fought to the death to prevent me from discovering it. The tabby had revealed nothing, not even after Delavayne had nearly chewed his ears off, blinded him with claw swipes, and almost gutted him alive.

I’m close now, he grinned. I’ll find other cats with the same aura and force answers from them.

There were other spell books rumored to be in Grimoire Hall that Delavayne also wanted to possess, like

The Felinomicon and The Bast Codex. But The Book of Apedemak-the most complete and powerful of feline spell books, blessed by Apedemak the Lion-God himself-held all the answers he desired. Once he owned it, he’d become master of the arcane secrets of cats.

The sun will rise soon and bring the shift, he thought, stretching long, as only a cat can. I’ll continue my search in a different manner come daylight. The tingle in his toes told him to remain in the Antique District.

I’m close, so very close.

As dawn brightened the sky, the sun triggered the shift. Delavayne strolled out of the alley on two legs.

Tenja was fond of Clara because the short, bubbly human did the cutest things.

She keeps the bookstore free from dirt and cobwebs, but she never cleans the coffee pot, the Guardian mused from her cushion in the display window. Tenja cleaned up mice, rats, silverfish, and anything else that ruined books.

And Clara thinks she owns this old brick building! It was nestled on a bustling avenue of antique stores, curio shops, cafes, taverns, and small offices. The Society of Apedemak had long ago persuaded their humans to invest in and preserve the old buildings in the area known as the Antique District. The Society itself owned the bookstore above Grimoire Hall, also the structures surrounding their treasures.

Clara kept human patrons occupied while Tenja meditated in the early sunlight pouring through the wide window that declared “Clara’s New and Used Books.” Tenja passed the time by reading when she was not actively guarding the premises, or boxing with shadows to keep her muscles and wits exercised. Most cats lacked interest in human authors, but Tenja fancied some: LeGuin, Bradbury, Atwood, and especially Poe were among her favorites.

Tenja could not only read the shop’s merchandise but literally envisioned the spirit of a book. By reciting a spell, Tenja could see true souls, what the ancients called a ka. The spell metaphysically revealed truth, all truth. It also translated literature into a language all catkind comprehended. Tenja “read” books through their spiritual manifestations.

Grimoire Hall’s ancient valuables included The Book of Apedemak. Its tooled leather cover was protected by a fabric jacket woven from hairs of the golden mane of the Lion God himself.

No one touched that book without her approval.

No one. Ever.

Tenja smiled to herself, thinking of the collection downstairs that outnumbered the books on Clara’s shelves by many thousands. It was good to be the Guardian of Grimoire Hall in the guise of a bookstore cat.