Cat's Paw (30 page)

‘Last warning!’ Jeep’s lighter flamed.

Ben yelled, ‘
Do they still dream that you come home?
’

Jeep lit the banger’s blue touch-paper. He staggered and fell to one knee. Thomas had chopped him, hard, in the neck. Hannah darted forward and plucked the banger, spewing sparks, out of
the blasting cap and flung it away.
Bang
. Jeep roared and his knife flashed. It never reached its target. Ben slipped free of the slack cords and let his inner wildcat take over. His hand
jabbed twice, a leopard’s crushing paw, and even before his enemy had crumpled to the floor Ben was spinning clear, scanning the rooftop for Geoff.

But the Geoff he knew was gone. In his place was something terrible. Some furious white-masked human beast that carved the air with shredding blows, piling into Martin Fisher like a natural
disaster. Fisher reeled backwards. And there, leaping the guardrail at the edge of the roof, was Tiffany, a sleek black missile aimed straight at the polecats. The vanquished Cat Kin suddenly
showed they were not so vanquished after all. Yusuf lashed out at the two pinning him down. Daniel squirmed free of Gary and Dean. And as Kevin arose to crush this alarming rebellion, Tiffany
hurtled into him and bowled him off his feet.

For a whole second Ben did not know which way he would go. If Tiffany was fighting Kevin she would need his help. But now Geoff’s ferocious onslaught had burned itself out. Fisher was back
on the attack, his bloodied face all snarl, his mink tunic flapping where Mau claws had ripped it to ribbons. To go in that direction was to run into a fire. But sometimes someone came along who
could make you do just that. He hadn’t come this far to let Geoff stand alone.

At full sprint down a residential street, Ben could trigger speed cameras (a trick he sometimes played on his French teacher’s car). He crossed the rooftop in a flash. In that instant a
savage kick sent Geoff rolling away. Ben felt his hair stand stiff as a brush and he found, to his horror, that instead of leaping on Fisher’s blind side he was skidding to a halt right under
his nose. The long fingers sought Ben’s throat.

He had noticed before how the moments before certain death could last – well, a lifetime. And with a lifetime to think, he could have some very bright ideas. Ben knew what to do. He dived
under Fisher’s hands, reached through the rips in the mink tunic and plucked out the rag that was nestling within.

Tiffany thought she’d have a chance against the big red-haired youth, so long as she could keep dodging. She feinted and kicked to put him off balance, then scissored with both hands in a
Ratbane Lunge. Her mistake. He ensnared her arm in the crook of his elbow and she knew she was in trouble. Not only was the chief polecat well trained, he was taller, heavier and strong enough to
fling her down with brutal force. She hit the gravel and lay there, stunned, waiting for the killing blow. It never came. Tiffany peered up through her flickering eyelids. The gang leader stood
over her, statue-still. She craned her neck to follow his gaze.

Geoff was huddled in the corner, clutching his ribs. There was Ben, there was Fisher, they were face to face. Ben was backing off, moving like a bullfighter, brandishing a cloth that wriggled in
the wind. Such a scrappy thing it was, she might never have noticed it, but for its effect on Martin Fisher. He was spellbound. Tentatively, fearfully, he inched towards it, as a man in the desert
dying of thirst might approach a mirage. Yet his eyes blazed at Ben, lasers of hate.

Ben said something. Tiffany couldn’t catch it. Slowly Fisher reached for the rag. Then he seized Ben by the neck and yanked him off his feet. Tiffany heard choking. The rag fluttered. Ben
seemed desperate to give it to Fisher, waving it in his face, but Fisher was murderous, blind. The rag slipped from Ben’s fingers. A gust of wind snatched it aloft and off the edge of the
roof.

Martin Fisher hurled himself after the scrap of cloth. With arms flung out like useless wings he clawed at the wind, screaming like a fisher no more but like a child in despair. His red-haired
henchman stood frozen in shock as he plummeted out of view. Tiffany scrambled to the guard rail. Fisher’s falling shape was the size of a raven… a blackbird… a beetle. His
scream sank to a low moan, ending in a sound she had never heard before and hoped never to hear again, for she guessed it was a human body hitting distant paving slabs.

Someone made a strangled noise, halfway between a sob and a laugh. The chief polecat had joined her at the rail. Together they watched the ownerless rag circle downwards. With another cry the
tall boy broke away and ran stumbling for the stairs.

Tiffany was still groggy from her battle. It had all happened so fast. Something troubled her, something was wrong. When she realised what it was, her heart fell through her bones. When Fisher
had leaped off the building he’d been holding onto Ben.

‘Ben!’ she screamed. And again. And again. There was only blackness below. She was gathering her breath for a wail of grief when she caught one short, strained word:

‘Here.’

She leaned over the edge, sharpening her night-sight. A human shape hung by its fingertips from a balcony wall, three floors below.

‘Ben!’ she yelled again, joyfully. He didn’t answer, nor did he move. His fingers, she saw, had grabbed at bare concrete. It amazed her that his Mau claws worked on it at all.
One thing, though, was certain: they wouldn’t work for long.

‘Geoff!’ she shrieked. ‘Geoff, help!’

‘I’m here.’ Geoff bent over the rail. The bristles on his face were crusted with blood but he seemed in one piece. He took in Ben’s plight at a glance.

‘Can’t get to him from here. Down the stairs.’

Between them and the cabin lay the scrum of polecats and Cat Kin, apparently fossilised in mid-brawl.

‘You lot!’ Geoff roared. ‘Clear off!’

The polecat gang scrambled for their lives. Tiffany charged through them before the Cat Kin could get to their feet. She took the stairs in suicidal leaps, knowing already that she was too late.
Ben would fall. He would fall and at this height he would break upon the stones, whether he landed on his feet or not. Her own Mau claws never lasted this long, even on soft stuff like wood.
Ben’s were no better. Already he had used up his ten seconds… twenty… twenty-five…

He did not move. He did not breathe. Apart from gasping that one word,
Here
, he made no sound. He did not even think. All his strength, all his being, was pouring into one thing
alone.

Ptep – Mandira – Kelotaukhon – Parda – Oshtis – Ailur
.

Blue, green, copper, gold, crimson, indigo. The cat’s eyes flashed in the blackness of his mind, the wheel of catras, spinning. The wheel was a generator, charging up his Mau body with the
force it needed to make physical claws. He didn’t feel the ache in his shoulder muscles, the knives of cramp in his fingers. He just kept that wheel turning.

Ptep – Mandira – Kelotaukhon – Parda – Oshtis – Ailur
.

A gust of wind made him gently swing. His hands were numb as clay. Copper, gold, crimson, then the wheel of colours juddered. What– what next? His Mau claws boiled away. The concrete
skinned his finger pads as he slipped down with a scream.

And then he was dangling. His wrist was clamped in a wrinkled hand. A matching hand joined it and one tremendous tug lifted him up and over the side of the balcony. Flat on his back Ben stared
up at a familiar face, too shattered to realise that he had been saved.

‘Hello, Ben,’ said Mrs Powell. ‘You look pleased to see me for a change.’

I strike quicker than the serpent

The sight of those two on the balcony would stay with Tiffany always. Ben’s face was classic, but then, it would be. He hadn’t seen Mrs Powell for over six months, and now this.

‘About time you showed up!’ said Tiffany. Joy had made her cheeky. ‘You picked a fine time to slope off for a nap.’

Mrs Powell stayed poker-faced. ‘I was where I needed to be. You seemed to manage well enough without me. As I suggested you would.’

‘Oh, hang on a sec!’ Putting her pupils to the test was one thing, but risking their lives just to make a point… she wouldn’t do that? Tiffany spluttered and eventually
said, ‘But you would have helped, right? If we’d really been in danger?’

Even as she asked the question, she remembered Mrs Powell’s Mau garden, with its Eth-walking posts like spears. Put a foot wrong there and you might be skewered.

Ben gave a shaky laugh. ‘Do you hear me complaining?’

Tiffany helped him up off his knees. He sucked at his grazed fingers and gave her a strange look. Then his old mischievous grin flashed out. It amazed her, like some fragile ornament left intact
after an earthquake.

‘I see you tracked her down.’

‘Yes.’

‘Nice one.’

‘Thanks.’

‘No, really. That was not bad.’ And he hugged her. It was almost as if he’d lost his balance and had to lean on her a moment, for he stepped back just as quickly and examined
his grazed hands. But a hug it definitely was.

The sky behind him was lighter, showing up his split lip and a cut on his temple. ‘You’re hurt.’

‘Hadn’t noticed.’ He tried another smile and winced. ‘Look’s like someone’s been hitting you too. Where is he? I’ll kill him.’

‘He’s gone,’ Daniel called. ‘They’re all gone.’

Susie and Cecile appeared in the hollow hall.

‘They’ve skedaddled, one and all,’ crowed Susie. ‘We scared them out of their mangy skins.’

‘We didn’t scare them,’ said Ben. ‘It’s because they’re not scared anymore. They only stayed together ’cos they were terrified of Fisher. Now he’s
gone.’ He rubbed his eyes and yawned. ‘Let them go.’

‘And we should be gone,’ said Mrs Powell. ‘Before daybreak.’

Cecile beamed. ‘Hallelujah.’

Tiffany said, ‘I’ll round up the troops.’

Seeing Ben safe had made everyone a bit wild. Yusuf and Geoff had rushed back to chase the polecats from the roof, and Olly, of all people, was so fired-up that he’d joined in. Searching
for them up the stairs, Tiffany met Geoff hurrying down. He had cleaned the blood off his face and seemed to have recovered from his duel.

‘Hey, well done,’ he said.

‘Oh,’ she shrugged. ‘I didn’t do much.’ She paused. ‘Geoff. I’m sorry.’

‘Sorry? What for?’

‘All that stuff before. I didn’t much like it when you took over the class. And it stopped me liking you.’

‘It’s okay. I’ve had worse.’

‘Well anyway.’ She was blushing. ‘I hope you stick around. Stay with us a bit. You will stay, won’t you? You’re a great teacher.’

‘Aw.’ Geoff waved her away. ‘You’re forgetting about the real hero.’

‘I know. Ben was incredible. The way he –’

‘I’m talking about you,’ said Geoff. ‘You did what I could never have done. You found Felicity and brought her back to me. Thank you.’

‘You mean that?’

‘I do.’ Geoff moved past her, seeming fidgety. ‘What a night. Nearly over though.’