The Outlaw Varjak Paw Page 3

  But as night fell on the city, even Holly looked nervous. They came to a wall with clusters of barbed wire along the top, and thick metal bars. It was scarred with holes. Posters were peeling off it; graffiti was sprayed all over.

  They climbed up carefully and tiptoed forwards, avoiding the wire, keeping their balance on the edge. One mis-step and they’d fall, or be ripped to pieces by the barbs.

  Varjak’s Awareness tingled with danger. At first, he thought it was because of the wire. Then he wondered: was someone following them?

  His fur prickled up. He focused on the sounds. And there, beneath the rumble of the city, he heard paws, padding behind them.

  They were being followed. Whoever it was couldn’t be friendly, or they would’ve said something by now. Varjak’s happy thoughts vanished, like the sun behind clouds. The city wasn’t magical; it was dangerous. You had to fight to survive here.

  ‘There’s someone behind us!’ he whispered, and whirled around. Holly and Tam turned with him.

  Facing them, on top of the wall in the moonlight, Varjak saw three cats he’d never seen before. Tall, thin Siamese cats, with tawny fur and pale green eyes. Their claws were long and curved. They looked lethal.

  ‘It’s the Scratch Sisters!’ whispered Holly. ‘Good fighters—’

  ‘The best fighters in the world!’ declared the leanest, meanest, tallest of them all. ‘I’m Elyza Scratch. These are my Sisters, Malisha and Pernisha. Who are you?’

  ‘I’m Holly – we’ve met before.’

  ‘Holly?’ said Elyza Scratch. ‘Yes, I recognize you now, and your fat friend Tam. But who’s that funny-looking little cat with you? You there: what’s your name?’

  Varjak didn’t know what to say. Who were these cats? He could tell they weren’t Holly’s friends; it was best to be careful. ‘I’m new in the city,’ he said.

  ‘New?’ said Elyza. ‘Where do you come from, then?’

  ‘Mesopotamia,’ he said brightly.

  The Scratch Sisters stared at him, eyes narrow, fur flattening in the wind.

  ‘Mesopo-what?’ said Elyza.

  ‘Messuppa-who?’ said Malisha.

  ‘Messed-up-wherever,’ said Pernisha. ‘He’s obviously not from round here, is he? He looks like trouble. Just look at that cut on his cheek!’

  Varjak tried to smile. ‘Oh, that’s nothing,’ he said. ‘I just – er – fell down some stairs.’

  ‘He’s lying,’ snapped Elyza, polishing her claws on barbed wire.

  ‘He’s a cocky little so-and-so,’ said Malisha.

  Pernisha flashed her claws at Varjak. ‘You disrespecting the Scratch Sisters? You think we’re stupid? Get off this wall – you don’t belong here!’

  Varjak’s heart jumped. He hadn’t meant to, but he’d made them angry. He looked around for a way out. There wasn’t one. He was balanced finely on the wall. On one side was barbed wire; on the other, a long, long fall.

  Elyza’s tail thudded slowly. ‘Well? What you waiting for? We’re the fastest claws in town – and we never, ever back down.’

  ‘Never!’ said Malisha.

  ‘Ever!’ said Pernisha.

  The three Siamese knifed towards him, ghosting past barbed wire and bars as if they weren’t even there.

  ‘Take it easy!’ yelled Holly. ‘Varjak’s my friend – he’s OK! He got that cut fighting Razor!’

  The Scratch Sisters stopped, just a whisker away from Varjak’s face. He could feel their eyes on him, like points of pale green fire.

  ‘Varjak?’ said Elyza at last. ‘You’re Varjak Paw?’

  ‘We’ve heard about you,’ said Malisha.

  ‘They say you fight like the Bones,’ said Pernisha. ‘Try it. Go on, just try it, and we’ll cut your throat!’

  Varjak’s pulse was racing. This was becoming a nightmare. He wasn’t going to fight them, not after what happened with Razor. There had to be some other way to deal with these fierce, proud cats – but what?

  He held up his paws very slowly. ‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘It’s true I can fight like Sally Bones. But that wouldn’t be enough against the Scratch Sisters. No way. You’re too powerful. I wouldn’t stand a chance against you. No one would.’

  The Scratch Sisters blinked, surprised. The fire left their eyes.

  ‘Hmm,’ purred Elyza. ‘Maybe he’s not so bad, after all.’

  ‘He knows what’s what,’ said Malisha, grooming her tawny fur.

  ‘I still say he’s cheeky,’ said Pernisha. ‘But he’s got a bit of respect. Not like her.’

  ‘No. He’s not like her.’ Elyza nodded gravely. ‘OK: we’ll let you live, Paw. But if it’s true you fight like the Bones, you better watch out. She’s been hunting down the toughest cats in town, and beating them one by one. There’s only a few of us left; her gang’s taken almost all the city. It’s not like the old days any more. Watch your back.’

  And with those words, the Scratch Sisters were gone. Faster than Varjak could see, they jack-knifed down from the wall, and ghosted into the evening, tails held high.

  Chapter Six

  TAM TURNED TO Varjak, wonder in her eyes. ‘You made the Scratch Sisters back down!’

  ‘It was me who backed down,’ said Varjak. ‘I didn’t want to fight them.’

  ‘You did the right thing,’ said Holly. ‘We don’t want them as enemies. Now let’s get out of here, before someone really bad comes!’

  She led them down the wall, into the snowy evening. They headed to the river that flowed through the city. Varjak smelled the river before he saw it; he could almost taste the fresh fish. There was a harbour on the river, with boats coming in to dock. Flags fluttered on their masts. Their horns rang out loud, and lights played on the water. Seagulls wheeled and turned above.

  ‘Smell that lovely fish?’ said Tam, licking her chops. ‘It’s Mrs Moggs’s favourite!’

  A row of brown buildings faced the harbour, coated in snow like everything else. A flight of steps ran down between the buildings, to a yard at the bottom. Though bounded by buildings, the yard was open to the sky, with fire escapes zigzagging up. Lights were on in many windows, casting a warm glow. It was a cosy-looking place, but Varjak couldn’t help noticing the fire escapes were the only way out, apart from the steps they’d come in by.

  The yard was bustling with cats. Not gang cats, just ordinary street cats: long-haired and shorthaired, large and small, all different colours and types. Some of them were nosing around a heap of old packing crates in the corner of the yard. Others were clustered together, grooming each other’s fur, gossiping and chattering. A few were lapping at pools of ice on the ground, trying to get at the water below.

  Varjak looked closer. There didn’t seem to be any food here. Though these cats looked cheerful, they were all much thinner than Sally Bones’s gang. They lacked the big, brawny muscles of those who ran the city.

  In the centre of the yard, beside a ship’s anchor and a heap of chain, an old marmalade tabby was telling some kittens a story.

  ‘It’s the most wonderful place,’ she was saying, her bright blue eyes gleaming. ‘It’s always warm, and there’s more mice than you can eat.’

  ‘But if it’s so wonderful, Grandma,’ said a marmalade kitten in the crowd, ‘why don’t we go there right now?’

  The old tabby combed her long whiskers. ‘Well, it’s not easy to get there, Jessie. It’s protected by fearsome guardians, and there’s the most disgusting smell you can imagine, so most cats don’t even know about it! But we sheltered there, years ago, when I was just your age. There was a great fire in the city, see, and we had to hide . . .’

  Above the yard, seagulls rose up on the river breeze. Harbour lights winked into the night.

  ‘That’s Mrs Moggs,’ whispered Holly, but Varjak had guessed as soon as he saw her. ‘She told us that tale when we were kittens. Remember, Tam?’

  ‘I remember! If only it was true.’

  Mrs Moggs looked up at the steps, alert despite her years. ‘But
it is true, young Tammie, my dear,’ she said. ‘Every word.’

  ‘I – I didn’t mean it wasn’t—’

  ‘Tam!’ cried the marmalade kitten. ‘And Holly!’ She bounded out to meet them on the steps. ‘Look, everyone – they’re back! The Vanishings didn’t get them, after all!’

  A buzz went round the yard. The street cats stopped doing what they were doing and looked over, their ears and tails perking up with excitement.

  ‘Well, now,’ said Mrs Moggs, as Jess led the three of them down to the anchor in the centre of the yard. ‘Holly and Tam, it’s mighty good to see you two again! We was so worried about you. But who’s this with you?’

  ‘He’s my friend,’ said Holly. ‘His name’s Varjak Paw. He’s the one who saved us from the Vanishings. It’s thanks to him they’re all over now.’

  The buzz of interest intensified. The street cats were smiling and purring at Varjak, welcoming him to the harbour yard. They were so different to Sally Bones’s gang or the Scratch Sisters; so open and friendly. Already, he felt at home here.

  ‘I’m Jess,’ said the marmalade kitten. ‘And if you’re the cat who solved the Vanishings, we should give you a welcome feast, like a hero!’

  The street cats all nodded at that, murmuring happily and licking their lips – all except one of them. A skinny old cat with a sour look on his face, like he’d eaten something rotten.

  ‘Solved the Vanishings?’ he sniffed, peering at Varjak. ‘He don’t look big enough—’

  ‘Who cares how big he is?’ said Jess. ‘Just ignore Old Buckley, Varjak. He’s a horrible grump!’

  Varjak didn’t mind; he was enjoying himself. ‘Well, Old Buckley’s right. I couldn’t have done it without Holly and Tam, and our friend Cludge. And it’s great to meet you all!’

  ‘What a nice young cat,’ purred Mrs Moggs. ‘I like your friend, Holly.’

  ‘He’s my friend too!’ piped up Tam. Everyone laughed. In the harbour, a ship’s horn sang out into the night, rich and brassy. The yard was bathed in warm sounds. ‘And guess what else?’ said Tam, encouraged. ‘Varjak’s been standing up to her gang. He fought Razor – and beat him!’ A gasp went round the yard.

  Varjak shook his head. ‘Tam – don’t—’

  But little Jess was looking at him with her bright blue eyes like no one had ever looked at him before. There was a kind of faith there that made his scalp tingle.

  ‘You beat that mean old Razor?’ she said. ‘Grandma’s always saying someone should stand up to the Bones gang! If I was bigger—’

  ‘Don’t get your hopes up!’ said Old Buckley. ‘He don’t look like no fighter to me.’

  ‘Varjak is a fighter,’ insisted Tam. ‘A great fighter.’

  ‘I’m not,’ said Varjak. ‘It’s not true. I don’t want to fight anyone.’

  ‘Why do you think the Scratch Sisters backed down?’ said Tam. ‘They could tell—’

  ‘Them cats never back down!’ breathed Jess. ‘I wish you’d stick around, Varjak – we could use your help.’

  ‘Stick around?’ spluttered Old Buckley. ‘Him? Think about it, Jessie! If he really beat Razor, they’ll come looking for him. Haven’t we got enough trouble as it is? I wish he’d get out of here and leave us alone!’

  Mrs Moggs shook her head. ‘Sometimes I wonder about you lot,’ she said. ‘Jessie, that’s enough talk about fighting. Varjak’s our guest. We don’t ask guests to get into fights on our behalf. And we certainly don’t insult them, Buckley!’

  ‘Pff,’ sniffed Old Buckley. ‘I wasn’t insulting no one. Just speaking my mind.’

  ‘I’m sorry about him, my dears,’ said Mrs Moggs. ‘He’s scared, that’s all. You can’t blame him. It’s unnatural, what’s happening in this city. We’ve seen things we never thought we’d see.’

  ‘It’s all right,’ said Varjak. ‘I know what you mean. We saw something strange last night – didn’t we, Holly? It was like some kind of cat, only it didn’t have a tail, and its head was the wrong shape—’

  He stopped talking, for the atmosphere had shifted again. Suddenly, no one was laughing any more, or purring, or even moving. Everyone was looking down at the ground. An uncomfortable silence fell on the yard. Mrs Moggs shook her head.

  ‘Strange days indeed,’ she said. ‘I wish we could welcome you properly. I’d put on a good old-fashioned feast for you, like Jessie said – only we got no food.’

  Tam’s face fell. ‘No food? Really? But – I thought – how can you have no food?’

  Mrs Moggs sighed. ‘This winter’s so hard already, see, there’s precious little to go round as it is, and now them Bones cats are taking what we got, and calling it the law. The fish from the harbour, that lovely fresh fish you can smell? They come every night and take it from us. Anyone what says different – well, we know what happens to them. Sally Bones’s punishment.’

  The silence deepened. Varjak scratched his head. He was probably the only one who didn’t know what Sally Bones’s punishment was. Maybe Mrs Moggs would tell him – but Jess spoke up again before he could ask.

  ‘What was Sally Bones like, Grandma? Before she beat all them other gangs, and took over the city?’

  Mrs Moggs dropped into a conspiratorial whisper. ‘No one knows. The Bones weren’t always in this city, see. They say she came out of the North, and she’s been wandering the earth for a hundred years, changing her name wherever she goes—’

  Old Buckley laughed out loud. ‘Tales!’

  ‘– and have you noticed?’ Mrs Moggs carried on. ‘You only ever see her at night. It’s because she’d burn up in daylight, she’s that evil!’

  ‘That’s the stupidest tale I ever heard!’ scoffed Buckley. ‘Sally Bones is evil, all right, but she’s just a cat – no different to you or me. But next, Old Moggs’ll be telling you there’s a secret city, what no one else knows about—’

  ‘There is!’ she cried. ‘I was just saying!’

  ‘And I always believed you,’ said Holly. ‘But if it’s true – then where is this city?’

  ‘Well now,’ said Mrs Moggs. She drew back and took a deep breath, like she was about to tell another tale. But before she could, a pair of kittens came barrelling down the steps into the yard. They were out of breath; their eyes were round with fear.

  ‘What is it?’ said Mrs Moggs.

  ‘It’s them! The Bones gang! Luger and that lot – they’re in the harbour!’

  Panic ripped through the yard like winter wind. Varjak looked up the steps, and saw them coming. Ten of them or more. This was no ordinary patrol. It was a deadly fighting force from Sally Bones’s gang.

  A claw of panic cut into his guts. Cold fear spilled out, flooding his body. Jess was looking at him, eyes glowing. She thought he was a hero. She thought he could take them on and win. She was wrong. His power wouldn’t be enough against all those cats. The Way couldn’t help him; it only brought trouble.

  ‘You’d better hide, my dear,’ said Mrs Moggs gently. ‘It’s you they’ll be after.’

  Varjak nodded; he couldn’t speak. His legs felt heavy, his head felt light.

  ‘Let’s use the fire escapes!’ said Holly.

  ‘Too late,’ said Mrs Moggs. ‘They’ll see you, and chase you, and it’ll be worse. No, you better hide, and fast.’

  ‘But where?’ choked Tam. ‘Oh, we should never have come, Holly, I told you—’

  ‘Them crates in the corner,’ said Mrs Moggs. ‘Do it now!’

  Crates? Varjak didn’t understand – but Holly did. She dragged him and Tam over to the pile of old packing crates in the corner of the yard. The crates were discarded, broken, covered in snow. One of them had a crack just wide enough for a cat to slip through, so they nosed into it, and huddled together in the dark.

  They could hear Mrs Moggs, calling out to the street cats in the yard. ‘Now don’t panic! We done nothing wrong. Let’s face them with dignity, for once.’

  But the panic was contagious. It swept through them all like a storm. A
s he hid in the crate with his friends, Varjak’s heart hammered in his chest. Tam shivered beside him. Even Holly was silent.

  Because through the crack, he could see them coming down the steps. The roughest, toughest cats in town – and it looked like they meant business.

  Chapter Seven

  IT WAS DARK in the crate. It was full of buzzing flies and it smelled of rotten fruit. The ground was slimy-sticky under Varjak’s paws.

  He peered out through the crack, heart pounding. Sally Bones’s cats were stalking down the steps. They walked in line, a tight disciplined line, each guarding the others. They looked so much bigger and stronger than the street cats. They looked very well fed.

  They were led by Luger, the grey cat with emotionless eyes. Behind him came Razor, strutting tall as ever, despite the fight. After Razor came Uzi and Shane and six others. Each one was terrifying. The street cats cowered away from them, and clustered round Mrs Moggs, by the anchor.

  ‘We’re looking for a cat called Varjak Paw,’ snapped out Luger, cold as ice. ‘He’s new in town. Who knows where he is?’

  Varjak’s heart lurched. One word, one look, could give him away. But the street cats didn’t say a thing. They didn’t even glance at the crates.

  ‘This cat is small but dangerous,’ said Luger. ‘He’s an outsider, not from round here. He doesn’t respect our laws. He was hunting mice in the city dump, which belongs to our gang. Then he attacked one of us, totally unprovoked. Isn’t that right, Razor?’

  Razor’s tail swished behind him. ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Sally Bones wants him, dead or alive,’ said Luger. ‘He’s an outlaw, and so are his friends Holly and Tam. We know they’re your friends too. Where are they?’

  Varjak’s insides felt like liquid. Outlaw? Dead or alive? How had this happened?

  Out in the yard, Mrs Moggs spoke up. ‘Well now, Luger,’ she said, quiet but firm. ‘First of all, I do believe the dump is part of the city centre. It’s neutral ground. It don’t belong to your gang.’

  Luger didn’t blink. ‘And what else?’ he said.