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Stella NovaDreamSpace OneThe Claw Of Timeby Matthew Pavletich,
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The rain splattered on the cobbled path, gathering into rivulets between the stones, forming streams in the gutters, cascading down the drains. Occasionally, it caught in long scratches, like claw marks on the cobblestones.
A woman strode down the path. Her wide-brimmed hat seemed somehow to repel the droplets, so that not more than a sprinkling of rain sullied her long old-fashioned brown dress. Abruptly she lifted her head and her golden eyes fastened upon a sign on the stone wall of the building opposite. "Thurrowby Museum", she read. A faint smile flickered across her lips. She had found the place she sought. The place where something was... out of time.
She marched up to the entrance, and without hesitating, rapped sharply twice on the solid oak door. After several moments, the door creaked open, and a man wearing a rather disgruntled expression, poked his head out.
"We're closed," he said. "Come back in the morning."
"I have business here," the woman answered.
"I'm sure it can wait until tomorrow. We'll be open at nine o'clock."
"My business cannot wait. It has waited too long all ready," she added cryptically.
"Really," he answered skeptically. "And just who do you think you might be?"
"I am Amber," she stated. "And you would do well to let me enter this place. You can have no idea of the danger."
"Look here, lady," his voice rose in irritation. "I don't care what kind of bee you've got in that over-large bonnet of yours. The museum is closed."
He slammed the door in her face, then locked it, and shot the bolts home. Amber listened to his angry footsteps gradually becoming fainter, until their sound was obscured by the constant patter of the falling rain.
When she was certain the custodian had returned to his office, Amber lifted her hands to chest-height, palms facing the door. She closed her golden-brown eyes momentarily, and when they opened, they glowed a brilliant powder-blue. The lock emitted a series of clicks, its tumblers turning of their own accord. The bolts slid back. The door opened silently. Amber entered.
The hallway was pitch-black, but Amber strode on, not hesitating for a second. Unerringly she walked through the darkened corridors. She turned the last corner, and then she stopped. Light spilled out onto the corridor floor from a doorway on her left. She heard voices.
"...but these don't have emotive influence," came a light female voice. "It must be something else causing the problem."
"Then it is not in this room," a male voice stated positively.
"You're right, it isn't," Amber said, entering the room. She paused.
"Good evening, Amethyst, Argon," she added, nodding to each in turn.
The couple in the room slowly turned to face her. Amethyst smiled faintly in greeting. Argon's expression was neutral.
"Do you know which room we should be investigating?" asked Amethyst.
"Or are you going to keep us in suspense?" inquired Argon, pointedly.
"Follow me," said Amber, with a sweeping flourish, her long dress rustling as she briskly turned and marched out.
Amethyst drew up level with her. "Custodian?" she asked.
Amber smiled. "How did you guess?"
Amber led the way down the corridor, and opened a door on the opposite side. She waved a hand, and the lights came on. Argon strode past, and halted in the middle of the room. He tapped his chin with one finger.
"There's nothing here," he said flatly.
"There has been," said Amber, joining him. "It was in the Custodian's mind. Something was here."
"Perhaps he just doesn't like cats," remarked Amethyst.
Indeed the room was full of cats. Pouncing cats, prowling cats, poised cats, feline ornaments of every description. Glass, ceramic, porcelain, wood, stone, there seemed to be no limit to the materials used. Amber and Argon began to wander round the exhibits, prying into corners. Amethyst remained standing in the centre of the room, letting her mind roam, seeking out traces of emotion.
"The problem is that we have no idea what the problem is," murmured Argon.
"But there is someone who does," exclaimed Amethyst. "Someone not very far away."
Amethyst turned to face the door. The others followed her gaze. There, framed in the doorway, was a small boy.
"What are you doing with Grandma's cats?" he demanded, sounding slightly scared.
Amethyst smiled. "I'm Amethyst, and these are my friends Amber and Argon." She beckoned the others to join her.
"You're dressed funny," said the child, looking up at Amber, who frowned slightly and shot a faintly accusing look at her colleagues.
*Am I?* she directed at them. They did not answer.
"Young man, why are you so concerned about your Grandmother's cats?" asked Argon.
"People keep breaking them," the boy said indignantly.
"Like the one in the niche over there," interrupted Amber. The others looked at her curiously. She led them to an alcove towards the rear of the room. An empty display stand stood forlornly amid a pile of debris.
"Oh no," cried the boy, rushing forward to pick up the shards, his eyes filling with tears. "Not Blackie. He was everybody's favourite. Grandma said he was made in Italy, a long time ago."
Amber took a shiny black fragment from the stand, absently brushing off a few hairs. *Can you show me what this looked like?* she asked Amethyst silently.
The image of a beautifully regal feline, molded from fine black porcelain formed upon the stand.
"That's Blackie," the boy said, looking in wonder from the pieces in his hands to the image upon the stand. Amethyst took the shards gently from his hands, and glanced at Amber questioningly. Amber nodded. There was a flurry of motion, and a sound like breaking glass, somehow reversed. As the sound died, there sat cradled in Amber's hands the pieced together statue. Argon stepped forward, and seemed to stroke the porcelain cat. The cracks vanished. But there remained marks, like the slash of claws.
"That's amazing," exclaimed the boy. "How did you do that?"
Amber opened her mouth to reply. Forestalling what promised to be a lengthy explanation, Amethyst asked hastily, "Why is it different? What are these markings?"
"I don't know," said the boy. "It looks like it's been scratched."
Argon decided it was time to speed up the flow of information.
"What's your name?" he asked the boy pleasantly.
"Jason," the boy answered, without taking his eyes off the statue.
"Well, Jason, what can you tell us about these... cats?"
"They're my Grandma's collection. She left them to the museum when she died."
"Are any of them unusual in any way?"
Jason looked blank. "The oldest is that one," he said after a moment, gesturing to the reddish-brown figure of a cat, sitting by itself on a pedestal in an alcove on the opposite side of the room.
"Grandma brought it back from Egypt. I always thought it looked kinda weird."
Amber and Amethyst walked over to the statue.
*Anything?* asked Amethyst.
Amber shook her head. *Nothing. It's made of sandstone. No aura. And you?*
*Strange,* replied Amethyst. *Most people are repelled by it. Some are strongly attracted. Almost compelled... to worship.*
"Worship?" interrupted Argon, suddenly interested.
"Yes," added Amethyst. She took another step forward, and peered at the legend on the pedestal. As she read silently, Argon recited the text from the other side of the room.
"Bast, Egyptian Cat Goddess. Found Colonel Forrester's site, Valley of Kings. 1929."
He stopped reading and met Amethyst's eyes with what would have been a smile on anyone less formal. Then he turned back to Jason.
"What brought you here tonight?" he asked.
"There was the broken cats, and then the other things."
"What other things?"
"People complaining of hearing cats fighting. Inside the museum. We thought that maybe some wild cats had been getting in here, and that how the statues got broken, but cats seem to avoid this place. I thought I might just have a look, anyhow. Then I saw that lady, Amber. She left the door open."
Amber had half turned to listen when she heard her name. Then something unseen, but perceptible to her arcane senses, alerted her. She spun back. The cat's eyes suddenly blazed green, and without a sound it sprang straight for her. Reacting instinctively, she teleported.
Reappearing almost on top of a fairly new display case, she regained her composure with difficulty. Just in time to see Argon throw his power at the cat, evidently trying to freeze it. Nothing happened. The cat disappeared. Argon frowned, and exchanged a baffled look with his surprised colleagues. Jason's eyes were huge.
Suddenly there was a screech, like a thousand cats all howling at once in anger. Followed by a very human scream, filled with fear and pain. Horrified, they raced down the corridor. A greenish light flickered from the room where they had first met.
Amber reached the doorway first. There, in the jade green luminescence she saw the cat, its paw raised to strike once more at the hapless custodian, who lay on the floor, in a spreading pool of blackness. Blood. It looked up at her. She reached out both hands. Her whole body seemed to glow. She spoke one word.
"Stop!" she commanded. But it didn't stop. Instead, it simply vanished. The room darkened. Amber's hands dropped to her sides.
*I could not hold it. My stasis power had no effect on it,* she sent.
*No more than I could halt it,* replied Argon. *It is more than a mere spirit. It is a manifestation of time itself. Time is using this link with the past to break through into the present.*
*Then that is why we have been sent,* reflected Amethyst.
Amber bent over the custodian's body.
"He is not yet dead," she said. "Is he meant to die?"
"Not here, not now," answered Amethyst. "His life-thread stretches many years into the future."
"Then... he should live," stated Amber. She knelt, ignoring the blood upon the floor. Reached out and placed her hands upon the man's ravaged neck. Her eyes glowed, as she exerted her power. Blue light welled up from beneath her fingers, as the tissues knit back together.
"He is healed," she said, standing up. "But he will not wake until the morning. Jason, would you like to stay here with him? I believe that the rest of us have a cat to hunt down."
Jason sat down by the custodian. He had seen too much. Too much of a mixture of nightmare and miracle. Too much to be real. He looked up at the three people.
"I don't understand any of this," he said, almost adult in his seriousness. "I don't know who or what you people are. Angels, maybe. But thanks for saving Pete. He is a good man, even if he gets a bit stuffy at times. Thank you, Amber."
"Goodbye," said Amber. "You will never forget this night..."
"But you will never want to speak of it to anyone," added Amethyst. They turned and followed Argon from the room.
They walked down the corridor, outwardly relaxed, inwardly seething, all senses preternaturally alert. None of them dared to vocalize their very real apprehension. They might be able to find the thing, but what then? How would they stop it?
*Here,* sent Amethyst finally. *I sense its anger. It's in this room.*
They entered cautiously. Argon switched on the lights. Amethyst stepped into the centre and looked around. The room was full of antique furniture.
*I know it's here. But I can't locate it.*
And then, suddenly, a great cat-shape leapt from the top of a wardrobe. It sprang straight for Amethyst. She threw up her hands to shield her face. Amber and Argon, standing further back, saw the cat pounce. They reacted, each in their own fashion.
"Stop!" shouted Amber, blue radiance streaming from her figures.
Argon exerted his power. White lightning met blue, coalescing into a sphere blazing with blue and white brilliance, surrounding the cat-thing. Abruptly, the light faded. A solid sandstone cat clunked to the floor at Amethyst's feet.
"Amethyst, a passage back to this cat's time in Ancient Egypt, if you please." Argon's voice and face were tight with suppressed emotion.
Amethyst took a deep breath. She brought her hands up, palms pressed together. Slowly, she opened her palms, fingertips still touching, and then reversed the action, until her fingers were splayed outward.
Then she moved her hands apart.
Amber waved one hand at the statue. Her face was white with the strain this last small exertion of power placed on her. But the statue left the floor, and shot into the nothingness between Amethyst's hands and vanished. Amethyst clapped her hands together, sealing forever that hole in time. Amber slumped to the floor.
"I'm glad that's over," she said.
The rain pattered down onto the cobbled path. Gradually the claw marks faded, and were gone. The street lights reflected wetly from the smooth stones. Somewhere, softly, a cat mewed.
THE END