Trix’s jest. No, the grin was back, as disconcerting as ever. The silver green eyes sparkled with delight. Three balls of yarn materialized on the floor before him.
“Your third and final task,” said the cat. “You must choose which ball of yarn is my favorite.”
Trix smirked. If the other two tasks had been senseless, this one was positively laughable. How in the world was Trix expected to choose the right one? And even if he did, who was to say that Papa Gatto wouldn’t lie, or change his mind?
“What does it even matter, anyway?” Trix asked brazenly. “You cannot stop Lizinia from traveling with me, no more than you can stop the sun from shining right through you.”
“Nor can I dip you in gold or pitch for your insolence.” The cat’s eyes seemed to glow brighter. Trix placed a hand over his chest, as if to keep his soul from being examined by those giant, haunting eyes. “But I have allies in the corporeal world, allies that can see that you find your way into a barrel full of snakes and boiling oil and never find your way out. You won’t see my goddaughter—or anyone else—ever again.” The grin returned, and it was just as terrifying as ever. “First rule of the forest, my boy: Never cross a cat.”
The hairs on Trix’s neck rose, and gooseflesh covered his arms. He knew that tone of voice—it was one Mama had only used on him once or twice before in his life. Trix had thought himself clever enough to call the spectral cat’s bluff, but that raspy tenor meant business. Trix might not know when or how or by whom Papa Gatto’s threat might be carried out, but it was indeed very real, and very hazardous to Trix’s health.
It was time to call in reinforcements.
Trix pulled the tooth of Wisdom from his pocket.
Papa Gatto reared up on his short legs with a hiss. “Where did you get that?” he spat.
“From a friend,” Trix said. He held the tooth out before the balls of yarn and said politely, “Dear Tooth, which of these is Papa Gatto’s favorite?”
The tooth said nothing. The tooth did nothing. Trix moved in front of each one of the balls. He pointed the tooth at them. Waved the tooth above them.
Nothing.
Trix pursed his lips in thought a moment, and then came to a decision. “I can only conclude that your favorite ball of yarn is not among these,” he said.
The tooth glowed at that, brighter than the afternoon sun’s light. This time, it was Trix who smiled.
“Cheater!” wheezed the cat.
Trix slipped the tooth back into his pocket. “I do not believe it’s cheating for me to use the tools I have at my disposal. In fact, I’d think less of me if I didn’t use those tools. Wouldn’t you?”
The cat huffed and preened.
“I thought so,” said Trix.
“You may now claim your reward,” the cat said, though Trix had no idea how. A cloud had gone over the sun. The words were there, but the cat wasn’t. The cloud moved and the cat returned. Beside him was a small vial that looked as ghostly as its giver.
Trix picked up the vial. It was made of light, weighing nothing and containing nothing. The label on the vial read KanaLuna in fading script. Trix had no idea what he was supposed to do with this gift, assuming it retained physical form once removed from the square of light cast by the window. “Um…thank you?”
“Drink,” said the cat.
“But there’s nothing in it,” said Trix.
“Then you have nothing to fear.”
Trix smirked at the cat, wishing nothing more than to be done with this nonsense so he and Lizinia could get on with their journey. He lifted the phantasmal vial to his lips and pretended to consume its absent contents. “Are we done now?”
The cat huffed again, and then grinned once more, baring all of those old, scary, pointed teeth. There were no blurred outlines here. “Cats are never done,” he said, and then vanished into the light.
Trix waited a while, just to be sure the cat had disappeared for good. He threw open the front door to
“Your third and final task,” said the cat. “You must choose which ball of yarn is my favorite.”
Trix smirked. If the other two tasks had been senseless, this one was positively laughable. How in the world was Trix expected to choose the right one? And even if he did, who was to say that Papa Gatto wouldn’t lie, or change his mind?
“What does it even matter, anyway?” Trix asked brazenly. “You cannot stop Lizinia from traveling with me, no more than you can stop the sun from shining right through you.”
“Nor can I dip you in gold or pitch for your insolence.” The cat’s eyes seemed to glow brighter. Trix placed a hand over his chest, as if to keep his soul from being examined by those giant, haunting eyes. “But I have allies in the corporeal world, allies that can see that you find your way into a barrel full of snakes and boiling oil and never find your way out. You won’t see my goddaughter—or anyone else—ever again.” The grin returned, and it was just as terrifying as ever. “First rule of the forest, my boy: Never cross a cat.”
The hairs on Trix’s neck rose, and gooseflesh covered his arms. He knew that tone of voice—it was one Mama had only used on him once or twice before in his life. Trix had thought himself clever enough to call the spectral cat’s bluff, but that raspy tenor meant business. Trix might not know when or how or by whom Papa Gatto’s threat might be carried out, but it was indeed very real, and very hazardous to Trix’s health.
It was time to call in reinforcements.
Trix pulled the tooth of Wisdom from his pocket.
Papa Gatto reared up on his short legs with a hiss. “Where did you get that?” he spat.
“From a friend,” Trix said. He held the tooth out before the balls of yarn and said politely, “Dear Tooth, which of these is Papa Gatto’s favorite?”
The tooth said nothing. The tooth did nothing. Trix moved in front of each one of the balls. He pointed the tooth at them. Waved the tooth above them.
Nothing.
Trix pursed his lips in thought a moment, and then came to a decision. “I can only conclude that your favorite ball of yarn is not among these,” he said.
The tooth glowed at that, brighter than the afternoon sun’s light. This time, it was Trix who smiled.
“Cheater!” wheezed the cat.
Trix slipped the tooth back into his pocket. “I do not believe it’s cheating for me to use the tools I have at my disposal. In fact, I’d think less of me if I didn’t use those tools. Wouldn’t you?”
The cat huffed and preened.
“I thought so,” said Trix.
“You may now claim your reward,” the cat said, though Trix had no idea how. A cloud had gone over the sun. The words were there, but the cat wasn’t. The cloud moved and the cat returned. Beside him was a small vial that looked as ghostly as its giver.
Trix picked up the vial. It was made of light, weighing nothing and containing nothing. The label on the vial read KanaLuna in fading script. Trix had no idea what he was supposed to do with this gift, assuming it retained physical form once removed from the square of light cast by the window. “Um…thank you?”
“Drink,” said the cat.
“But there’s nothing in it,” said Trix.
“Then you have nothing to fear.”
Trix smirked at the cat, wishing nothing more than to be done with this nonsense so he and Lizinia could get on with their journey. He lifted the phantasmal vial to his lips and pretended to consume its absent contents. “Are we done now?”
The cat huffed again, and then grinned once more, baring all of those old, scary, pointed teeth. There were no blurred outlines here. “Cats are never done,” he said, and then vanished into the light.
Trix waited a while, just to be sure the cat had disappeared for good. He threw open the front door to
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