“Pay attention,” snapped Cosimo. “That notch-” He pointed to a V-shaped cleft in the crest of the hill directly above them. “See it?”
Kit nodded.
“Run for it and don’t look back.” He gave the young man a slap on the back. “Go!”
Kit scrambled for the notch, climbing, leaping, flying over the uneven ground. Shouts rang out in the valley below; he ignored them. Upon reaching the curious gap cut in the rim of the hill, he paused and risked a fleeting backward glance. In the fading light he imagined he saw an enormous cat roughly the size of a small pony, tawny brown with a spray of dark spots across its muscular shoulders and back. The creature was straining at a leash made from an iron chain in the grip of a very large man. A second man of similar size carried a torch. Both wore wide-brimmed green hats and long green coats.
Cosimo pounded up behind him. “Kit! Don’t stop. This way.” His grandfather motioned for him to follow. “Hurry!”
Stretching out across the broad upland expanse, Kit saw a thin trail worn in the grass. He set his feet to it and started running.
“Stay right where you are!” shouted one of the men behind them.
“You know what we want,” came the voice beyond the flashlight.
“Give it to us,” added the voice at the end of the chained cat. “You can walk free-you and your little friend there. No harm done.”
“I don’t have it,” shouted Cosimo, frantically gesturing for Kit to keep moving. “Now leave us alone. We don’t want any trouble.”
“It’s time to pay the piper, old man,” said the one restraining the chained beast.
“I may be forced to use violence,” Cosimo called. “I’m warning you.”
A dry laugh was the only reply he received.
Cosimo moved on down the path with Kit right behind.
“You can’t get away!” shouted the man holding the chain. “Stop, or we’ll let Baby gnaw on your leg bones.”
“One last chance,” called the man with the torch. “Give us the map-and you’ll walk away in one piece.”
“I’ll count to three,” said his companion, “and then I’m going to release Baby.”
“You’re making a big mistake,” called Cosimo over his shoulder. “I don’t have it.”
“One…”
“A very big mistake, indeed.”
“Two…”
“Grab my hand, Kit,” urged Cosimo, his voice a tense whisper. “Whatever happens, don’t let go.”
“Three!”
There was a rattle of chain, and the brute shouted, “Feed, Baby! Kill!”
The huge cat seemed to gather itself, then gave out an ear-shattering roar as it launched itself at them.
Kit, grasping the old man’s hand, felt himself pulled along with such force it nearly wrenched his arm from the socket. The creature bounded effortlessly up the hill and onto the trail, dragging its oversized keeper with it. If not for the man hanging onto the end of the chain, the beast would have been on them in an instant. As it was, the human slowed the animal enough for them to stay a step or two ahead of it-until Kit stepped in a hole, stumbled, and went down-inadvertently releasing his grip.
He squirmed on the ground and caught a glimpse of a curved tooth and the evil glint of a golden eye. He felt the air vibrate with the creature’s roar as it bounded nearer. Hauling himself up, he lurched into flight once more and heard the clatter of the chain and the dreadful rush of great clawed feet slicing through the grass. Somehow, Kit snagged the old man’s hand once more and, holding on like grim death, was yanked farther along the track. The next thing he knew they were running hard into a rising headwind. He felt drizzle on his face, and he could hear cursing and shouting behind them.
“Don’t stop!” cried the old man. “Keep running.”
Their pursuers’ voices seemed to dwindle behind them, growing smaller and farther away.
“Hold on!” cried Cosimo. “Here we go!”
The wild howl of the enraged cat was suddenly swallowed by the shriek of the wind as Kit sprawled headlong into the unknown.
CHAPTER 5
In Which Kit Attends a Lecture at the Royal Society for the Improvement of Natural Knowledge
The next moment was filled with the scream of the wind and blinding rain. It lasted only a second or two, and when he could see again Kit found himself on his hands and knees in yet another coal-dark alley-this one stinking of urine and slops. But the storm that had brought them was quickly vanishing. “Are we…?” he gasped.
“Safe now,” Cosimo reassured him. “We gave them the slip. As soon as you’re ready, we should be getting along.”
Kit spat and raised his head. They were in a space between two clapboard buildings-so narrow, he could have touched either wall with outstretched hands. The passageway was sunk in the deep gloom of night. He dragged himself together and stood, wiping something unpleasant from his hands onto his trousers. “Who were those guys?”
“All will be revealed, dear boy,” Cosimo said, “but not here. Not now. We had best be on our way.” He took off his coat and, handing it to Kit, said, “Put this on.”
“It’s okay. I’m not too wet.”
“It’s not for warmth, dear boy. We have to cover your clothes.”
“What’s wrong with my clothes?”
“We cannot risk drawing the wrong kind of attention.”
Kit pulled on the coat, and Cosimo led them out of the alley and onto a street lit in a haphazard fashion by the soft glow of lanterns on poles and hanging from the windows of buildings. Most of the structures were wooden, of the old half-timbered variety: black-and-white with steeply pitched roofs, tiny diamond-patterned windows, and deep-set eaves over the narrow wooden boardwalks that fronted them. A horse-drawn cart clattered by, disappearing into the night.
Something about the atmosphere of the place felt uncannily familiar. “Is this London?” Kit asked.
“Well done,” commended Cosimo. He fished an old-fashioned watch from an inner pocket. “We’re a little late, so we’ll have to hurry. This way.” He charged off down the deserted street. “And do step lively.”
“After you.” Kit followed and immediately felt his right shoe sink into soft mush; his delicate stomach was instantly assaulted by the sharp tang of fresh, ripe horse manure, and too late he understood what his great- grandfather meant. “Oh, that lively,” he said, scraping his foot vigorously against a kerbstone. “Right.”
They turned onto a larger thoroughfare and strolled along, occasionally passing through banks of wispy fog steeped in coal smoke. Few pedestrians were about, but they were overtaken by the occasional carriage. The comforting clip-clop of horses’ hooves made a rhythmic music as they walked along. Kit marvelled at the monumental facades of buildings that, though mostly made of timber, nevertheless seemed vaguely familiar beneath their thick black patina of soot. He marvelled, too, at how wide and open and empty was the avenue they walked along: absent the customary clutter and congestion of the overcrowded modern city. Gone was the glare of electric advertising; gone the garish storefronts, shop windows, and hoardings; gone the irradiating blaze of streetlight, spotlight, and floodlight. There was no rampant tangle of power lines and telephone wires, no thrusting television aerials or satellite dishes, no utility poles or junction boxes. As with the little fishing village, no taxis, buses, cars, scooters, or other motorised vehicles plied the roads-all of which made for a quieter, more tranquil city, to be sure, but also a much darker one.
This was, Kit decided, how the old dame had appeared once upon a time. “When are we? What year?” he asked.
“Sixteen hundred and sixty-six,” answered Cosimo. “September the second, to be exact.”
