Claws (9780545469678) (10 page)

“I don't see what your mom's happiness has to do with anything,” Jack said, scratching at the comforter on her bed. “You have claws and magic. They don't. If you really want me to stay, there's nothing they can do about it.”

“You just don't understand families,” Emma said.

“It can't be that complicated. A family's like a pride, only you don't get anything useful out of it.”

Emma just shook her head. She wondered if it was even possible to explain human things to cats. “Just don't let her see you, okay?” she said.

The look of boredom Jack gave her was the only answer she got.

Emma went out to the kitchen. On the small table was the cake, already cut into squares. It was a light, golden yellow and sprinkled with cinnamon. Her dad had made some spaghetti, too, but they ate the cassava cake first. Helena had always insisted that the birthday cake should be eaten first.

“Today is supposed to be about Helena, Emma,” her mom said. “But that doesn't mean we aren't going to talk about everything that happened at school. About what's going on with you. After I get home from work tomorrow, we're all going to sit down and deal with this as a family.”

Everything that's going on with me is already about Helena,
Emma thought. Living here, her school, Jack and the pride. But she didn't say that. Her parents wouldn't understand, not until she found Helena and brought her back. After that everything could go back to normal. They'd move somewhere nice. She'd go to a new school.

They ate their cake in silence. It was sticky and sweet and tasted of coconut.

“We'll have another birthday for her when she comes back,” her dad said. “To make up for her missing this one. You'll see.”

When they were done, Emma said she was tired and wanted to lie down in her room. Her parents didn't argue with her. “Talking things over as a family” meant her parents were going to decide everything first and then tell her about it tomorrow.

“Oh, and Emma,” her mom called behind her, “you need to say good-bye to the cat. I don't want to see you talking to him again. Understand?”

“All right,” Emma said, not wanting to start an argument. But inside, a part of her was thinking:
What
can
they do if I say no?
She didn't want Jack gone, and not just because he was helping her find Helena. With everything that had happened at school, he was the only friend she had.

Jack looked up from his spot on her bed when she walked in. “Well? Are you done wasting time so we can go find your sister?”

Emma shushed him and quickly closed the door. “We have to wait for my parents to go to bed.” They couldn't know what she was planning.

“Nonsense,” Jack said, jumping down from the bed and standing next to the vent. “You've managed to give yourself claws, so now it's on to the next step of your training. All you have to do is turn yourself into a cat and we'll be on our way.”

“I thought lesson two was turning others into something else?” Emma said, remembering what he'd said to her in the forest.

“You're not quite ready for that yet. Anyway, this isn't any harder than giving yourself claws,” Jack said. “Might even be easier, now that I think about it, since humans don't have claws in the first place.”

“I don't think I can,” Emma said, shaking her head.

“Try,” Jack said.

So Emma tried. She shut her eyes and tried to imagine herself as a cat, but nothing happened.

“Well, maybe the ratters will be able to help with that, too,” Jack said.

“I need a nap first anyway,” Emma said, realizing she could hardly keep her eyes open. “I've been at school all day while you've been sleeping. I'm kind of like a cat now, right?”

“Kind of,” Jack agreed. “But you've got a ways to go. Did you tell those fools outside not to kill me?”

Emma nodded.

“Then I'm going to enjoy a little freedom. But don't nap too long. The longer we wait . . .”

“What do you mean?” Emma said.

But Jack was already squeezing himself into the vent, and a moment later he was gone.

CRAG FACT OF THE DAY:

“Harpies have better distance sight than eagles, but find nearby objects very blurry and hard to see. This can make learning to read difficult.”

CraigWiki.org

I
t was dark by the time Emma woke. She tiptoed down the hallway, through the kitchen and living room, and quietly unlocked the front door. Her pride still surrounded the trailer. Jack was sitting by himself by the fence, but none of the other cats had moved to hurt him. They'd listened to her. That was a start.

Fat Leon's tufted ears perked up when he saw her. “Are you ready to try giving us some magic again?”

Emma shook her head. “Not yet. Jack's taking me to see the ratters to see if they know anything about my sister.”

“I wouldn't mind a good ratter hunt,” said Fat Leon. “But you need magic for that.”

“We're not hunting them, we're talking to them,” Emma said.

“Pity. I suppose I'll still come along.” Fat Leon stretched and kneaded the ground with his paws. His claws glinted in the moonlight, which seemed much brighter here in the trailer park than it ever had in Emma's old neighborhood. Or was it her eyes? Come to think of it, she
could
see more clearly tonight. Was she getting night vision, too? That would be so cool.

Jack sidled up to Emma and leaned against her calf. “We're wasting time,” he said. “Take a few cats with you, if you want, but the rest will have to stay behind. The ratters won't like it if we show up with an army.”

“Okay,” Emma said. “Fat Leon, you can come.”

He yawned. “Wouldn't want to miss out on any excitement after all.”

“There won't be any excitement,” Emma said, firmly. “Not that kind anyway.”

“You never know with ratters,” said Fat Leon.

The other cats hissed their agreement, their eyes glowing hungrily in the darkness. The little tabby they called the Toe-Chewer bounded up to her and batted at her jeans with his paws. “What about me? Can I come? Please?”

“No,” said Fat Leon.

“Sure,” said Emma.

“Really?” The Toe-Chewer's whiskers quivered with excitement.

“Are you planning to use him as bait?” Fat Leon asked. “I'm not sure he's good for much else.”

“No one in the pride is good for much else,” Jack pointed out. “You're all so used to having magic that without it you're hardly a match for pigeons, much less ratters.”

Fat Leon hissed at this, his tail puffing out behind him.

“So, how do we find the ratters?” Emma asked quickly, trying to prevent a fight.

“Easy,” Jack said, turning his back on Fat Leon. “There's an entrance to one of their tunnels not too far from here, in the basement of the crag school.”

“Isn't the crag school in the forest?” Emma tried not to sound anxious, but at night the trees looked even more ominous, like they were watching her, waiting for something. She might be getting night vision, but it was happening slowly. She wished she'd thought to bring a flashlight for comfort.

“Not exactly. But enough stalling.” Jack took off along the road that wound through the trailer park, Fat Leon and the Toe-Chewer following. Emma jogged to keep up.

The trailer park was quiet and still. The only sounds were the rattle and hum of window air conditioners and the scraping of Emma's shoes on the concrete as she ran. Old streetlamps gave off yellow, uneven light, creating flickering shadows. The cats moved silently, like shadows themselves.

They left the trailer park and followed a well-worn path along the forest's edge. Emma concentrated on keeping up, on not tripping over rocks or her own feet. She lost track of how long they ran. Maybe half an hour, maybe more. She should be tired, she thought, but somehow she wasn't.

Jack slowed to a walk as a derelict brick building came into view. It was two stories tall, with regularly spaced windows that were occasionally missing glass. A large tree grew out of one wall.

At first Emma thought it must be abandoned, some old place that just happened to be a few yards too close to Old Downtown when the forest started to grow. But then she saw the dirt paths that had been made through the knee-high grass, and the weathered signboard reading
WELCOME TO HOLLOW TREE ACADEMY!
Then below, in smaller letters:
SPRING SOCCER TRYOUTS START IN MAY
.

“Wait a second,” she said. “You said the entrance to the ratter tunnels is in the basement. Are we going to have to break into the school?”

“Unless you have a better idea,” Jack said.

“If we could use our magic, we could turn into something really small to fit under the door,” said the Toe-Chewer. “Like beetles! I always wanted to try turning into a beetle, but our last Pride-Heart never let me use enough magic. I think —”

“Quiet,” Jack hissed. “There's someone here.”

The Toe-Chewer shut up, then chewed on his foot in agitation.

Emma listened. She could just hear a faint hissing sound coming from somewhere nearby. And a voice, muttering softly, too low for Emma to make out any words.

Her cats crept forward, low to the ground. Emma waded through the grass after them, trying to move just as quietly. The sound was coming from the back of the building, past an old chain-link fence that surrounded a playground. Emma squeezed through a gap in the fence, then stopped.

Before her stood a huge bird with an olive-skinned human face and long black hair. A harpy. She was as tall as Emma, but her spread wings were twice that in length, and she was wearing a pair of bulky goggles. One clawed, three-toed foot dug into the ground while the other was held straight out in front, clutching a bottle of spray paint. It hissed, and a green curve appeared on the brick wall.

The harpy looked so ridiculous that Emma had to stifle a laugh, which just made her snort instead.

“
Argh!”
the harpy shrieked, leaping up into the air, wings beating frantically.

The sound was horrible. It seemed to cut right through Emma's ears and into her skull, where it echoed painfully even as she clutched her ears as hard as she could. Distantly, she could hear the cats yowling in pain.

When the agony finally subsided, Emma found she was kneeling, her head pressed into the grass.

“You shouldn't sneak up on a harpy, so it's your fault you got hurt,” came a voice from above her.

Emma's skull ached with the echo of the screech, but the pain didn't return. She looked up to see the harpy perching atop the fence, her goggles on top of her head. Her eyes were strangely flat with pale yellow irises and large black pupils.

“What are you doing here anyway? Is Mrs. Douglas hiring cats to guard the school, or something? If you turn me in I'll follow you around singing, don't think I won't.”

“What? No! We're, um . . .” Emma trailed off, not sure if she should admit what they were doing. Then again, she didn't want to upset the harpy and set her to screaming again. “We're trying to get into the ratter tunnel. Below the school.”

The harpy considered this. “If there's a ratter tunnel under the school, then why don't all the ratter kids use it instead of walking in the street, huh?”

“Just stay out of our way, harpy,” Jack spat.

The harpy stuck her tongue out. “So are you going to break in? If you're going to smash a window, you should try one of those.” She waved a wing toward a row of windows. “The first one's Mrs. Douglas's office. But you can't tell anyone I was here because if you do I'll tell them you broke a window.”

“You don't even know who I am,” Emma said, standing up and brushing the grass from her legs and arms.

“I bet I do. You're that human girl that moved into the trailer park. It's all over the school. Except . . .” she hesitated and squinted at Emma “. . . you don't look exactly human. You're a little blurry, and if I squint, maybe you're a cat.” She blinked and shook her head. “Weird.”

“I'm a Pride-Heart,” Emma said. “So I have cat magic, kind of.”

The harpy laughed. “How do you ‘kind of' have magic? Is that like ‘kind of' being able to fly, until you hit the ground?”

“No, it means I'm not sure exactly how to use it yet.”

“There's nothing to know,” Fat Leon said from behind Emma. He sighed. “It should come naturally to a Pride-Heart. It's too bad. With magic I could leap up on that fence and teach that harpy some respect for cats.”

“Oh, quit your yowling,” the harpy said, rolling her eyes. “I'd just fly higher if you did. Everyone knows cats can't fly. Then I'd scream, and then
you'd
scream, and what would that get you? Another headache, that's what.”

“Let me guess,” Emma said. “Harpies don't like cats?”