Something rotten

dressed in rudimentary armour and grasped in his powerful hands a shield and sword that appeared to weigh almost nothing. He was a frightening warrior to behold; the sort of hero for whom epics are written — the likes of which we have no need of in our day and age. He was the most alpha of males — he was Beowulf. He made no sound, knees slightly bent in readiness, bloody sword moving elegantly in a slow figure-of-eight pattern.

'Good move, Mr Cat,' said Kaine sardonically, stepping from behind the gondola and facing us across the only open area in the hangar.

'You can end this right now, Mr Kaine,' said the Cat. 'Go back to your book and stay there — or face the consequences.'

'I choose not to,' he replied with an even smile, 'and since you have raised the stakes by invoking an eighth-century hero, I challenge you to a one-on-one invocation contest pitting my fictional champions against yours. You win and I stay forever in At Long Last Lust; I win and you leave me unmolested.'

I looked at the Cat, who was, for once, not smiling.

'Very well, Mr Kaine. I accept your challenge. Usual rules? One beast at a time and strictly no Krakens?'

'Yes, yes,' replied Kaine impatiently. He closed his eyes and with a wild shriek Grendel appeared and flew towards Beowulf, who expertly sliced it into eight more or less equal pieces.

'I think we got him riled,' whispered the Cat out of the corner of his mouth. 'That was a bad move — Beowulf always vanquishes Grendel.'

But Kaine didn't waste any more time and a moment later there was a living, breathing Tyrannosaurus rex tramping the concrete floor, fangs drooling with saliva. It whipped its tail angrily and knocked the engine nacelle on to its side.

'From The Lost World?' queried the Cat. 'Or Jurassic Park?'

'Neither,' replied Kaine. 'The Boy's Bumper Book of Dinosaurs.'

'Ooh!' replied the Cat. 'The non-fiction gambit, eh?'

Kaine clicked his fingers and the thunder lizard lunged forward as Beowulf went into the attack, sword flailing. I retreated towards the Cat and asked anxiously: 'This Beowulf isn't the original, is it?'

'Good lord, no, quite the reverse!'

It was just as well. Beowulf had made mincemeat of Grendel

but the Tyrannosaurus, in turn, made mincemeat of him. As the giant lizard slurped down the remnants of the warrior, the Cat hissed to me: 'I do so love these competitions!'

I wiped my scratched face with my handkerchief. I must say I couldn't really share the Cat's mischievous sense of glee, or enjoyment.

'What's our next move?' I asked him. 'Smaug the dragon?'

'No point. He'd invoke a Baggins to kill it. Perhaps it would be best to make a tactical retreat and introduce an Alan Quartermain with an elephant gun, but I'm late for my son's birthday party, so it's going to be ... him!'

There was another shimmer in the air about us and with a whiffling and a burbling, a bat-winged creature appeared. It had a long tail, reptilian feet, flaming eyes, huge sort of catchy hairy claws . . and was wearing a lilac-coloured tunic with matching socks.

The Tyrannosaurus looked up from its feast at the Jabberwock, who stared back at it while hovering in the air and making dangerous whiffling noises. It was about the same size as the dinosaur and went for it aggressively, jaws biting, claws catching. As the Cat, Kaine and I looked on, the Jabberwock and the Tyrannosaurus rolled around in mortal combat, tails flailing. At one point it looked as though Kaine's champion had the upper hand until the Jabberwock executed a manoeuvre known in wrestling circles as an 'aeroplane spin and body slam' that shook the ground. The giant lizard lay still, moving feebly. An animal that large does not need to fall from very high to break bones. The Jabberwock burbled contentedly to itself, doing a little triumphant two-step dance as he walked back over to us.

'Right!' yelled Kaine. 'I've had just about my fill of this!'

He raised his arms in the air and a gale seemed to fill the hangar. There were several crashes of thunder from outside and a large shape started to rise within the empty framework of the half-built airship. It grew and grew until it was wearing the airship skeleton like a corset, then broke free of it and with one tentacle clasped the Jabberwock and raised it high in the air. Kaine had cheated. It was the Kraken. Wet, strangely shapeless and smelling of overcooked oysters, it was the largest and most powerful creature that I knew of in fiction.

'Now, now!' said the Cat, waving a claw at Kaine. 'Remember the rules!'

'To hell with your rules!' shouted Kaine. 'Puny Jurisfiction agents, prepare to meet thy doom!'

'Now that,' said the Cat, addressing me, 'was a very corny line.'

'He's Farquitt! What did you expect? What are we going to do?'

The Kraken wrapped a slippery tentacle several times around the Jabberwock's body and then squeezed until his eyes bulged ominously.

'Cat!' I said more urgently. 'What's the next move?'

'I'm thinking,' replied the Cat, lashing his tail angrily. 'Trying to come up with something to defeat the Kraken is not that easy. Wait. Wait. I think I've got it!'

There was a bright flash and there, facing the Kraken, was . . . a small fairy no higher than my knee. It had delicate wings like those of a dragonfly, a silver tiara and a wand which she waved in Kaine's direction. In an instant the Kraken had melted away and the Jabberwock fell to the ground, gasping for breath.

'What the hell—?' shouted Kaine in anger and surprise, waving his hands uselessly to try to bring the Kraken back.

'I'm afraid you've lost,' replied the Cat. 'But you cheated and I had to cheat a bit too, and now, even though I've won, I can't insist on my prize. It's all in Thursday's hands now.'

'What do you mean?' shouted Kaine angrily. 'Who was that and why can't I summon up beasts from fiction any longer?'

'Well,' said the Cat as he began to purr, 'that was the Blue Fairy, from Pinocchio.'

'You mean—?' asked Kaine, mouth agape.

'Right,' replied the Cat. 'She made you into a real person, just as she made Pinocchio into a real boy.'

He touched his hands to his chest, then his face, trying to figure it out.

'But. . . that means you have no authority over me—!'

'Alas not,' replied the Cat. 'Jurisfiction has no jurisdiction over real people in the real world. As I said, it's all up to Thursday now.'

The Cat stopped and repeated the two words as if to see which sounded better. 'Jurisfiction —jurisdiction —Jurisfiction —jurisdiction.'

Kaine and I stared at one another. If he was real it definitely meant Jurisfiction had no mandate to control him — and it also meant we couldn't destroy him through his book. But then he couldn't escape from the real world, either — and would bleed and die and age like a real man. Kaine started to laugh.

'Well, this is a turnaround! Thank you very much, Mr Cat!' The Cat gave a contemptuous snort and turned to face the other direction. 'You have done me a great service,' continued Kaine. 'I am now free to lead this country to new heights without the meddling of you and your fictional band of idiots. I'll be free to put behind me the last vestiges of kindness that I was forced to carry in regard of my written character. Mr Cat, I thank you, and the people of the unified Britain thank you.' He laughed again and turned to me. 'And you, Miss Next, won't be able to even get close!'

'There's still the seventh Revealment,' I said rather weakly.

'Win the Superhoop? With that ragtag bunch of no-hopers? I think you grossly overrate your chances, my lady — and with Goliath and the ovinator to help me, I can't begin to overestimate mine!'

And he laughed again, looked at his watch and walked briskly from the hangar. We heard his car start up and drive away.

'Sorry,' said the Cat, still looking the other way. 'I had to think of something quickly. At least this way he didn't win — tonight.'