Guardian Cat: Malkins & Mages, #4

By Virginia Ripple

Can a broken hero put his past behind to save an innocent feline from being executed?

Toby, a magical talking cat, wants nothing to do with his old life, but someone isn't letting that happen. When an old friend begs him to help keep an innocent feline from being executed for a murder he didn't commit, Toby must choose to put his past behind and catch the real killer or risk losing everything that meant anything to him—including his best friend.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Virginia Ripple
• Release date: Nov 6, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386993469

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Guardian Cat

Malkins & Mages Book 4

Chapter 1

The little nut-bagger was so close he could have reached out an armored paw and snagged its tail. He waited a moment more, tensing his hindquarters for the spring. A twig snapped. The squirrel leaped away, skinning along the ground toward the nearest tree.

Not this time. He shot from under the bush. In one heartbeat he gathered his legs under him. The next sent him flying, claws extended, fangs parted. Half a heartbeat later the squirrel’s carcass hung from his jaws, filling his nose with the delicious smell of fresh meat.

He wanted to dance all the way back to the group home. Finally, the hunting lessons were paying off. He considered taking the dead rodent to a taxidermist, then his stomach rumbled. Better hurry home. The thought of fresh squirrel meat almost made him drop the little beast to devour it under a bush. He narrowed his eyes. Just what they’d expect.

No he’d run all the way home if that’s what it took to keep his dignity. It was all he had left. If it hadn’t been for the new laws he would have been home long ago, satisfied and taking an early nap, but he wasn’t allowed to hunt like that anymore. No, humans were jumpy now and the least little thing set them off. Best to hunt like any other beast, like the Normals that crowded under the King’s Bridge at the edge of the city.

He shuddered. The powerless, speechless creatures may not cause the humans to squirm, but they were half-starved at best. But they’re free. He set the squirrel down to lick the drool from his lips. He stared at the little corpse, wondering if freedom was worth an empty belly. His stomach rumbled again and he sighed. Rock and a hard place, old boy. No use mewling over lost prey.

He bent to pick the squirrel up. A foul stench brought him up short. He glared at his catch, wondering if he’d waited too long and it had gone sour. The instructor’s lessons rolled through his mind. He’d done everything right, so unless the rodent had some kind of disease it shouldn’t smell bad.

The breeze shifted, bringing with it the gag-inducing smell. His eyes watered. Whatever it was, it wasn’t his kill. Curiosity burned in him. On soft paws, he padded in the direction of the putrid stink, ducking under bushes and pushing through overgrown weeds until he located the culprit.

The human had to have been lying in the weeds for at least a day, enough for a sensitive feline’s nose to be knocked over by the death smell. He padded closer, pausing every few steps and swiveling his ears. Something about the clothing struck a chord, but he couldn’t put his paw on it. Holding his breath, he stretched his neck toward the body, not knowing if it were a desire to identify this anonymous expired human or morbid curiosity that pulled him onward.

A scream wrenched his attention away. He stared at the woman, knowing the horror-stricken look for what it was. Without a backward glance, he raced away, leaving his hard-won catch forgotten in the bushes behind. His only hope was to disappear amongst the Normals under the bridge before the guardians caught him.

***

David sat on his haunches, staring at the dead body. Something wasn’t right about this, besides the fact that there was a corpse lying in a public park. He scanned the surrounding area. The body would be just visible from the well-worn path below them, but only if someone happened to be looking up the hill. Even then it would be easy to mistake it for just another mound of the tangled weeds bordering it. Beyond them the hill rose toward large trees, the green grass obviously clipped recently. It was an odd place for a robbery gone bad, if that’s what this was. David looked up at his partner. The large Highland cat was staring at glowing strands of air hovering above the victim’s chest.

Anything?

Nothing, the large cat said, his thick Highland accent telegraphing his frustration.

You mean there’s no evidence of his attacker?

The cat turned wide golden eyes on him. I mean there’s nothing. Not even a trace of who this man once was. It’s like his entire being was re-set to when he was a wee babe.

How is that even possible? David asked, standing. This guy was clearly young, but unless my eyes are playing tricks on me, he’s well beyond childhood.

Indeed. However, the magic signature is that of a toddler at best.

David rubbed his chin and stared into the blank eyes. Something beyond mere death had already distorted the young man’s features enough to make identification difficult. Without a magic signature, it might be impossible to tell who this person was. His gaze traveled down to the dark stain on the victim’s robe, a rough circle the size of his hand over the man’s heart. The torn fabric testified to the likely weapon being some type of blade. He glanced down to where their witness was sitting, hunkered under a blanket, sitting beside an Office of Kingdom Guardianship guardian. She’d told them she was taking an early morning stroll and had happened across the cat poised over its kill. When she screamed it ran. She’d ran to check on the victim, then, finding the man was dead, had run to the nearest mirror and called for help. She’d hid nearby after making the call to see if the cat came back. It hadn’t.

David looked down at the body again. The wound didn’t seem to fit with her statement. Why would a cat use a knife to kill someone? And if it were a human assailant in a robbery gone bad, why wipe all magical signatures? David frowned. He needed a better idea of what happened.

Tell me again what the witness told you, he said.

Age is creeping up on you, my friend. We just went over her statement thirty minutes ago.

David waved the insult away and closed his eyes. It just helps to hear it again. Lets my mind paint the picture instead of focusing on the words.

The silence stretched until David opened his eyes to glare at his partner. The large tom’s whiskers had widened. He knew that look.

What have you got hidden in your fur?

Actually, it’s not me this time, the cat said. "At least, not entirely me."

His partner’s tail twitched and his whiskers stretched a knuckle wider. Malkins might have more brains than Normals, but in David’s opinion they were every inch as mischievous as any ordinary cat. He waited. In the end, his partner’s feline patience out distanced his own.

Out with it, Aaron, David growled.

It seems Master Sylvester’s curiosity is as deep and wide as any cat’s. He’s also a most clever master artificer. The tom waved with his tail to one of the guardians standing at the perimeter monitoring passing foot traffic, then continued, As we all know ever since we discovered K’Dash Shyam was a mind reaver, eye witness accounts have been suspect.

Yeah and you know it’s been a pain in my arse ever since, what with all the new Reaver Laws. Got my men spread thin enough as it is without somebody muddling up a robbery or committing random murders or whatever the demon’s eyes this is. And don’t get me started on--

Someone cleared their throat behind David. He turned to see a young man carrying a cat-sized box on a tripod.

Where would you like this, sir? the young man asked.

Set it up just past this poor soul’s feet, lad, Aaron said.

David watched in fascination as the guardian balanced the gadget on its three spindly legs, pushing spiked levers into the ground to keep it in place. A thin metal rod that ended in a metal ball extended between its legs, pointing to the earth. Once the guardian had finished setting the device up and stepped to the side, David paced around it, noting the round opening facing the same direction as the body and the hand-sized crank on the left side. He raised an eyebrow at his partner.

He calls it a Spectral Magetizing Viewer. Sylvester thinks it will render eye witnesses unnecessary.

I doubt that, David said, remembering the Light Intensifier Machine the master artificer had built that had nearly caused the end of the world once Shyam had gotten his evil black paws on it. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to push down the hair that was standing up.

So what does this new device do? David asked, shoving the ill feelings aside. He gestured toward the body. Don’t tell me it can read a dead man’s last thought.

Aaron shook his head. Sylvester’s good, but not that good. No, it can read the thought impressions in the surroundings.

Come again?

I admit I don’t fully understand it, Aaron said with a shrug, but apparently it works on the same principle as the stones we use to store information.

David looked around the clearing. The tall grass was trampled in places from early gawkers. Leaf bare trees stood sentinel near the top of the hill, watching over the hard-packed earthen path below them. Not a single stone of any size was visible, let alone one that would fit in the small box. He turned back to his partner.

And what stone were you planning to use?

Aaron patted the ground beneath his paw. The earth beneath us is made of multiple layers of rock. According to Master Sylvester, we’re essentially living on a giant mage stone.

I always knew the old man was crazy, David muttered. He put his hands on his hips and straightened. Well, let’s see this new gadget of his in action. If it works as you say it does, it may be the best lead we have at the moment.

If you would be so kind as to turn the lever, Aaron said to the young guardian.

The young man stepped to the rear of the SMV and began turning the lever on its side. David waited, not sure what he expected. Sylvester’s machines, as he liked to call them, were often unpredictable. After what seemed a sufficient amount of waiting time, he checked his wrist clock--another one of Sylvester’s unusual devices that made telling time on the go a simpler task. Several minutes of nothing had passed.

Well? he asked, turning to his partner.

Aaron shrugged. I’m not sure. Perhaps Sylvester forgot to mention a step in his instructions.

That seems likely. It’s too bad the old goat isn’t here to show us how his new gadget works.

Indeed, but we both know the High Council has demanded he make Reaver Suppression his top priority.

David growled. As much as he hated being out here on a possible murder investigation, it was preferable to sitting on his backside trying to stay awake as council member after council member droned on about matters they knew nothing about, matters that would be best left to those directly involved--namely the Office of Kingdom Guardianship.

Be that as it may, it seems we’re going to have to do this the old fashioned way and track down our lead suspect.

I’ll send out the notice to all available guardians, Aaron said. He turned to the young guardian standing by the SMV. Pack that up and take it back to Master Sylvester. Let the Master Artificer know I want to speak with him at his first free moment.

David watched the young man pop the stakes free on the machine’s legs and hustle away with it. He frowned and ran a hand over his graying hair as he stared down at the victim.

This whole thing leaves me queasy. Too many questions.

Like why would a cat use a knife when he’s clearly capable of killing with magic? asked Aaron.

Among other things. Having this happen so close to the election of the High Council Grand Master Mage may be a coincidence, but my gut says otherwise.

Agreed. Let’s hope our prime suspect can shed some light on this once we catch him.

David stared in the direction their witness had reported the cat had fled.

"If we catch him."

***

Although he sat, nose pointed toward the hole gnawed in the wall, Toby knew the mice were gone. The scent had faded days ago. By all rights, he should tell Mr. Tucker, but doing that might mean he’d be forced to find another job. A lie of omission is still a lie. The maternal whisper was a claw in his heart. You’re dead. I have to survive and if that means lying, then so be it.

Silence.

If his mother had been alive, she would have shredded his ears for insolence. She’d given everything for his future, including shielding him from the truth about his uncle’s psychopathic plan to rid the world of humans. Even after her death, she’d reached out in spirit form to try to teach him about forgiveness in the hopes that forgiving his uncle would help him move forward in his life.

A growl escaped his throat. So much for that plan.

The sound of conversation drifted his way, making his ears twitch. If he sat still, maybe they’d ignore him like another tool in the stable. From the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of familiar knee-length rust colored robes as two humans passed the stable door, presumably headed toward Mr. Tucker’s office. A stab of curiosity twisted in his mind. Why would OKG officials be here?

The memory of his ex-partner lying unconscious on the ground flashed through his mind and his stomach clenched. No. Lorn was safe behind a desk now. Without him, his old friend had no choice if he still wanted to be a part of the Office of Kingdom Guardianship. Only human/cat partners were allowed in the field, though that might change after the election.

Toby shook his head until his ears popped and sat back, staring out the stable doors. None of my business. He looked back at the mouse hole. If he didn’t come back with a mouse soon, Mr. Tucker might see through his lie and sever their ties. He didn’t want to try finding another job. It’d been hard enough to get this one, thanks to the ever increasing strangle hold laws regarding feline rights the High Council was passing out like holiday treats.

Toby’s tail jerked. Regardless who won the upcoming election, it didn’t bode well for Malkins as far as he was concerned. He shook himself from head to tail, then lowered himself back down in front of the abandoned mouse hole. Not my problem. He batted a pebble from paw to paw on the ground as he ran through possible solutions to his predicament. Find a mouse.

He flicked the pebble into the hole with a paw. Shouldn’t be too hard to find one in the fields outside the corral. Mr. Tucker wouldn’t know the difference. If he went out the back way, he wouldn’t be seen.

Toby stretched, arching his back and extending his claws, then padded toward the back stable doors. As he trudged past the stalls he automatically cataloged the familiar scents of local work horses, Mr. Tucker’s rentals, fresh turned straw and peat, corn, packed earth and--

He stopped and lifted his nose. The smell was decidedly feline--male--but there was something sharp about it. He opened his mouth, letting the smell wash over his scent glands. Fear. Toby swung his head left and right, drawing in several breaths to locate the scent’s direction. Two stalls down. Whoever this cat was, he was between Toby and his goal.

His mind rolled over possible scenarios. He could walk past the tom’s hiding place, ignore him completely. He shook his head. Tempting, but what if this interloper were planning to take up residence in the stables? Toby might find himself constantly at odds with this free-loader and end up jobless.

He could chase the tom away, send him fleeing with his tail in shreds. His whiskers widened for a moment, then he flattened his ears. This cat was afraid and cornered. There was the very real chance Toby would be the one running away. Once again, he could end up looking for employment elsewhere.

Toby sighed. There was one way to solve this. His lip lifted in distaste as he stalked to the empty stall. A flash of mottled gray and brown streaked across the floor, followed by the soft hiss of straw shifting.

Don’t bother hiding. I smelled you from half-way down the aisle.

A dark gray face emerged from the pile of straw. Are you going to turn me in?

That depends. Toby sat and cocked his head. Are you planning to stay here and cause me grief?

I’m just passing through.

Then you best be on your way.

Toby watched the tom, waiting for him to wriggle out of the straw. The dark gray face and golden eyes wavered, replaced by black fur and baleful green eyes. The fur along Toby’s spine rose in a ridge and he scooted back. In the next heartbeat his enemy’s face disappeared, becoming the dark gray tom once more. Toby’s tail jerked and he narrowed his eyes. Footsteps drew his attention away.

You there, cat, said a young blond guardian striding toward him. We’re looking for a fugitive in a murder investigation. Have you seen anyone suspicious lurking around the stables?

Toby raised his paw, slowly drawing his barbed tongue across the back, and cast a surreptitious glance at