Reserved for the Cat

something other than what it was.

Then had come grudging acceptance, as first Arthur, and then Nigel had voiced their own opinions on the subject.

Then, interestingly, when the mention of Ninette’s many admirers came up, the cat had seen acute annoyance flash across Jonathon’s face. In fact, it was akin to the annoyance that Thomas himself felt.

Fascinating . . .

Of course, if Jonathon was attracted to the dancer, he would do his best not to show it. Not because he had any ridiculous ideas about the moral inferiority of his fellow entertainers, but because he would know how often disastrous flirtations within a theatrical company could be. And Jonathon, from all that Thomas knew about him— which was a great deal more than Jonathon was aware!—thought of himself as a confirmed bachelor.

Nor did Thomas himself particularly want Jonathon attracted to Ninette.

On the other hand, if the choice was Jonathon—or one of those fellows that filled her dressing room—well, then the cat would fervently welcome Jonathon.

All of them made their way to the ground floor, and out the private entrance, without encountering anyone else. It appeared that despite the row that had gone on in Ninette’s sitting room, the other tenants had remained blissfully unaware of any unpleasantness. That was good, because otherwise the ruckus would have been very difficult to explain.

When they stepped out into the cool, damp, dark summer night, with the scent of wet brick and growing things on the air, Thomas took the opportunity to glare up at Nigel, Arthur, and that wretched bird. And then he coughed, politely.

Arthur and Nigel took the hint, and swiftly outdistanced the two of them, rapidly moving through the patches of light where the streetlamps stood, until they turned a corner and moved out of sight. Thomas could feel Jonathon’s eyes on him, and sensed the frown.

“Well, get on with it,” the Fire Master said impatiently. “What is it you wanted to tell me that you couldn’t say in front of the others?” Without waiting for an answer, the Fire Master strode out in the footsteps of his friends.

Largely—my motives, said Thomas, reluctantly. Let us start with the question, “Why Blackpool?” The reason is simple, really. I know Blackpool. I am a native of this area. That was how I knew that an Air Master was the impresario of this particular music hall. Since I came from this part of England, I made it my business to keep track of the Elemental Masters here.

“You—what?” The cat felt a certain smug satisfaction. He had managed to surprise the magician. Well, there were more surprises to come for Jonathon Hightower. The magician wasn’t the only one who was good at keeping things up his metaphorical sleeve.

I said, I know the city because I lived here, about twenty years ago, more or less.

“What a surprise, you hardly look a day over ten,” came Jonathon’s sarcastic reply. “You are a remarkably well preserved cat.”

The cat bristled, the hair on his tail poofing out a little. Like uncle, like nephew. Were all the Hightower men born with acid wit, or did they learn it from one another? Do not mock me, Jemmie Hightower, he snapped. And keep a civil tongue in your head. I knew your uncle, and I knew you when you were still in nappies.

The magician stopped dead in his tracks and swiveled to look down at the cat. His voice shook a little. “No one—has called me ‘Jemmie’—since—”

Precisely why I used that name with you. You surely don’t think I am an ordinary cat.

“Well of course not! You’re a magical—” Jonathon stopped, and a dumbfounded look came over his face. “No magical construction could be half as clever as you. Most of them could never even think for themselves, much less some up with the wild plans you have. What are you?”

I am a cat, replied Thomas, primly.

“You are as much a cat as I am a Bartholomew Faire conjurer. I say again, what are you?” The cat looked up and saw Jonathon’s eyes narrow. “Or is the right question not what, but who?”

Thomas sat down on his haunches, and wrapped his tail tightly around his legs. You must swear never to tell Ninette. If you do, I swear I will scratch your eyes out, and pee in all your stage props.

Warily Jonathon nodded. “All right.”

The cat sighed. He hated letting these secrets go. He had hoped to carry them to the grave. I was as human as you are, and no, I am not reincarnated in cat form, as Wolf claims to have been. I was an Earth Master, and this is a permanent transformation. I lost a magician’s duel, and my opponent froze me in the last shape I took. Not surprising, really; she was a truly vindictive and jealous wench, and she never forgave me for running away from her—and even less was she inclined to forgive me when she tracked me down and discovered I had married someone else. He still remembered the look on Helen’s face when he told her. The fury— it had been enough to make him take a step back at the time. And if he had thought for a moment that he might be able to run away from her again, that expression had utterly disabused him of the notion. They say hell hath no fury like a woman scorned . . . I am inclined to think they are right. Kipling also says that the female is more deadly than the male. I am in a position to corroborate that.

He could almost see the thoughts running through Jonathon’s head as the Fire Master ran through all of the Earth Masters in the last forty or so years he had ever heard of that came from hereabouts—sorted out all the ones that had gone missing or that could not possibly have known his uncle or clapped eyes on himself as a baby—then eliminated all those too young to be the one in question—

Thomas recognized the moment when Jonathon put all the clues together. His jaw dropped.

“Thomas Dupond?” the mage gasped incredulously.

The cat sighed. The same.

“But—” another clue floated to the surface, and Jonathon almost reeled. “But—you must be Ninette’s missing father!”

Now you know why I did what I did. The cat’s tail lashed angrily. I did not abandon my wife and child! I was ambushed, and they were threatened. Helen Waring tracked me to Paris, sent a private detective to find me, and confronted me literally no more than a block from my home. She threatened to make life unendurable for Marie and Ninette, and you know very well that she could have, and would have, and she would never have had to use a bit of magic to do so. The only way I could distract her was to call her out in a magician’s duel. Which, as you must have deduced, I lost.

“But now we know who the magician that is trying to kill Ninette is!” Jonathon crowed. Thomas sighed.

You are leaping to far too many conclusions, the cat told him. No, in this case, you are quite wrong. Helen Waring is not the Earth Master we are looking for.

“Why do you say that?” Jonathon demanded.

Because she is dead, Thomas said flatly.

Silence for a moment. “How can you be sure?” Jonathon asked, after a pause.

Because I killed her.

More silence. Then Jonathon cleared his throat awkwardly. “Ah . . . how did that come about?”

She intended to go through with her threat to torment my wife and child. I expect she had some idea of capturing me as well, but I got over the shock of finding myself permanently a cat a great deal faster than she had thought I would. I crept into the hotel where she had rented a room that same night, Thomas told him, reining in the anger and hatred that still lashed him whenever he thought of that cruel, cruel woman. How he despised her still! Had she been a man, her evil nature would have been uncovered and dealt with long before it had come to this pass by her fellow Elemental Masters, but since she was a woman . . . they had laughed at what they called her “folly,” and had never taken her seriously. Perhaps that was why she had obsessed over Thomas; he had taken her seriously. He had known she was, or at least one day would be, a menace. He had realized that she was dangerous to him, when he had begun finding her creatures spying on him. And she had money, a very great deal of it, being the only child of a shipping magnate who had left her his entire fortune, while he was as poor as a