Claws (9780545469678) (15 page)

Cricket turned her head back to the diner and called out, “Show him the girl.”

A girl appeared in the diner window farthest from the door. Her black hair was streaked with white on one side, and she was wearing a trendy jacket even though it wasn't cold. She looked up and waved. She was smiling. Helena.

“Oh, thank God.” Emma's dad waved frantically. “Helena! I'm here to take you home.”

Emma stared. She couldn't believe it. Her dad had really done it. He'd found Helena, just as he'd promised. They were going to be a family again.

She realized she was holding her breath, as if breathing would somehow break the spell and ruin everything. But when she breathed out Helena was still there, waving at the window. The light on the window was dazzling, like sunlight on flowing water. Then, in the next moment Helena was gone, and the window was blank again.

Emma shook her head. No, she was here. Her sister was here. That was what mattered.

All that stood in the way of Emma getting her life back was Cricket.

She looked around, checking her pride was with her. They stood or crouched in the trees, waiting for the signal to pounce. She couldn't see Chloe anywhere.

Emma's dad ran toward the door of the diner, just as a large creature stepped out and pushed him back with one huge hand. It was a troll — a wild troll, too. Instead of clothes, it was covered in moss and grass that was actually growing out of its rocky skin, and a small sapling grew from its shoulders. It towered over Emma's dad.

“You'll have your Helena back soon,” Cricket said. “But you have to bring the other girl. Alone, without the cats. They've confused her, convinced her to steal something that doesn't belong to her. The Heart's Blood. It's not meant for humans. It's killing the Emma you know, slowly turning her into a cat.”

Her dad started to protest, but didn't seem to know what to say.

“I can help her. You'll have both your daughters back, completely human, and you'll never see another cat again.”

“This Heart's Blood,” Emma's dad said slowly. “Without it she'll be normal again? No claws?”

“Exactly,” Cricket purred. “I'll even deal with the one-eyed cat. He's the worst of them all, you know.”

“And removing it won't hurt her?”

“Of course not. Oh, a cat Pride-Heart wouldn't be able to give up the Heart's Blood so easily. But she's not really a cat, so it won't hurt her at all. If she knew that, she'd probably beg you to let her come here.”

From her hiding place behind the pines, Emma asked, “She's lying, right?”

“Of course,” Jack said.

“Probably,” Fat Leon said.

Thinking about giving up the Heart's Blood made Emma feel strange. She couldn't imagine herself without claws now, without the smells, without the feeling of her pride. Would some of that stay? Would she just be the freak girl with claws that used to have magic? And anyway, did she want her life back, exactly as it was before? She felt confused.

“I just want what belongs to me,” Cricket went on. “What does a human girl need cat magic for? Is this what you want for her, to live in that trailer park for the rest of her life, a place where you humans keep crags?”

Just go, Dad,
Emma thought.
Go back to the trailer to find me, then I can take care of Cricket and the troll and get Helena back.

“But you don't really care about Emma, do you?” Cricket asked. She sounded frustrated. “You let that Heart-Killer live with her. I can take her off your hands and give you back the one you want. One daughter for the other, an even trade.”

Emma held her breath. It was a question she hardly dared to ask herself.

“You're wrong,” Emma's dad said. “I love Emma. I love her just as much as Helena. If she was the one missing, I'd have done all of this for her, too.” He glanced at the troll, then at the window. “And you're crazy if you think I'm going to bring Emma anywhere near you.”

As Emma watched, a lump in her throat, he ran to the window and tried to push it open, but it wouldn't budge. The troll began to stomp toward him. Emma's dad banged on the glass. “Helena, can you get it open from that side?” he yelled.

But the window looked
wrong
. Emma frowned. The reflection of sunlight was back, but it was much too bright. Then Helena reappeared suddenly, too suddenly, and she was somehow rippling, like she was a reflection herself.

The troll was nearly at the window. Cricket leaped on her dad, clawing his arm. He threw the cat off, crying, “Helena, stand back!” then balled his hand into a fist, and punched through the window. Glass flew everywhere. He swore loudly and clutched his hand, then he stopped and stared.

Inside the diner, in the place where Helena should have been, was nothing but a bundle of twigs tied together with gold ribbon.

CRAG FACT OF THE DAY:

“Most trolls actually stink far less than humans, depending on what plants are growing on them. Swamp-dwelling trolls are a smelly (!) exception.”

CragWiki.org

N
o
, Emma thought. She stared at the bundle of twigs.
No. She was there. I saw her.
But she knew she'd only seen what she wanted to see. The image of Helena had looked wrong. She'd believed — wanted to believe — that it was her sister, but it had been a trick. She gritted her teeth. Crying wasn't going to help. It never helped.

Emma's dad blinked and rubbed his eyes. “Helena? Helena, where are you?”

Then the troll swung out its great arm, hitting him in the chest and sending him flying. Emma watched her dad land hard.

She found her claws were extended and she was running from the trees, followed by her snarling pride. She could hear Chloe screeching encouragement from somewhere nearby.

“Leave my dad alone!” she yelled, fury and grief and frustration welling up inside her.

“So he brought you after all,” Cricket purred. “And you brought the rest of the pride, too. How nice. But they'll follow me as soon as I have the Heart's Blood — which you'll give to me, of course, to save your father. Or you can try to fight me. And then my troll will crush both your heads in and I'll have my pride anyway.”

The troll took a step toward them.

“You've decided to become a Heart-Killer, have you?” said Jack. “I'm a little impressed. You were always so disgustingly loyal, I didn't think you had it in you.”

This just made Cricket hiss and spit again. “Look who's talking. I'm not a Heart-Killer if I don't actually kill her!” She glanced around at the other cats. “She's not a real Pride-Heart. She's not even a cat. How can I be a Heart-Killer if I kill a human girl that harbors a murderer and is too stupid to stay out of cat business?”

But the pride was not swayed. They crept out from behind Emma and began to close in, tails bristling, green and yellow eyes locked on Cricket. As long as Emma had the Heart's Blood, they were loyal to her.

Emma looked over at her dad. He was trying to crawl toward the diner's front door, clutching at his side and sucking in air. She would make Cricket pay for that. She wasn't scared of her anymore, like she'd been just a couple of days ago when she'd pounced on her as a mountain lion. Jack, the Toe-Chewer, and Fat Leon were at her side, and she could see Chloe now, partly hidden at the top of a tree but ready for action.

Wild trolls were dangerous, though. She didn't want to put her pride or her new friend in peril if she didn't have to.

“I don't want to fight you,” Emma said. “But I'm not giving up the Heart's Blood, either. Or my cats. Not when I'm so close to finding my sister.” She hesitated, unsure if she was doing the right thing. “Why don't you join me instead? Become a part of my pride. Help me find Helena.”

All of the cats stopped and stared at her.

“You'd never be able to trust her,” Jack hissed. “Better to kill her and be done with it.”

“Better to trust me instead of him,” Cricket said. “Do you really think he gave you the Heart's Blood because he wants to help you? He's a true Heart-Killer. He only knows how to help himself! He's planning something, I just don't —”

Jack was done listening. He darted past Emma, running at Cricket.

“Jack!” Emma yelled, but it was too late. He pounced.

The troll moved like a landslide, faster than Emma would have believed possible. He grabbed Jack out of the air, then threw him almost casually against the wall of the diner. Jack hit it with a sickening thud, splintering the rotting wood, then crumpled to the ground, where he lay quite still.

Cricket jumped up on the troll's shoulders, and looked down at Emma. “You never should have listened to his lies,” she purred, her tail flicking back and forth. “Kill her,” she instructed the troll. “If she runs, kill the other human instead. The one-eyed cat can die, too, but try not to hurt the others. They're mine.” Then she leaped onto the roof of the diner to watch.

The troll looked at Emma with small, ruby eyes. “I will plant your bones in my garden, little one,” he said, his voice a slow, grinding bass that carried no emotion. “Do not be afraid.” Then he thundered toward her, his footsteps cracking the cement underfoot.

Emma didn't — couldn't — move. She'd have as much luck trying to fight a mountain. Her cats leaped at the troll, climbing it and clawing it, sending bits of grass and dirt flying. But he just threw them off, and came steadily forward.

Emma extended her claws, trying to will herself to attack even though she knew it was useless.

“Claws alone won't stop them,” Fat Leon said. He was still standing calmly next to her. “But magic will.”

“I don't know how!” Emma said.

“The Heart's Blood knows,” Fat Leon said. “And so do you.”

A scream tore the air, a sound so horrible it seemed to cut through Emma's skull. She fell to her knees, covering her ears to block out the sound, but it didn't help. All around her, the cats howled in pain, scratching at their ears and rolling on the ground. Even the troll rumbled and shook his head. Cricket clung to the diner's roof, her eyes rolling up into her head, tail lashing out every which way.

Through eyes half closed with pain, Emma saw Chloe fall from the sky and grab Cricket in her talons. The ginger cat hissed and spat and twisted, scratching at Chloe's legs.

“Please. Help me,” Emma whispered to the Heart's Blood. She shut her eyes.
Help Dad. Help Chloe. Help Jack. They're all part of my pride.

Carefully, deliberately, she let her fear fall away and the magic take its place. She felt the tugging in her gut, and stopped fighting it. The magic flowed out of her like a great dam bursting, but she stood in its waters like a rock, still and strong and certain.

“Magic!” the Toe-Chewer cried out giddily, and other cats echoed him, purring, “Magic, magic . . .”

Emma opened her eyes just as Cricket fell from Chloe's claws, spinning in midair out of instinct, trying to land on her feet but crashing to the ground instead.

The whole clearing stopped — human, cat, harpy, troll.
Was she dead?

Then Cricket began to move — and to grow. She was using Emma's magic, too, just like the rest of the pride. Emma didn't know how to stop her. The magic was for all the cats in her pride — and Cricket was still part of it.

The clearing was now filled with deafening roars as enormous lions and panthers and tigers replaced the small cats. Fat Leon looked like himself but ten times larger. The Toe-Chewer had turned himself into some kind of fox. In Cricket's place the mountain lion stood once more, her eyes on Jack, who still lay motionless.

“Help Jack,” Emma cried to the other cats. “Don't let Cricket get away.”

And before Emma could stop him, the Toe-Chewer bounded toward Cricket. He was going to get hurt — or worse. What could a fox do against a mountain lion?

If I can give magic, I must be able to take it away,
Emma thought, desperately. She concentrated on the magic flowing out of her, the different threads connecting her to each of her cats, and with an instinct she hadn't realized she had she felt the thread going to Cricket. With a thought, she stopped it. Cricket yowled as her lion form wavered and shrank.

Emma turned as the troll bellowed behind her. Her pride had pounced on it, digging their huge claws into whatever cracks they could find in its skin, trying to pry it apart. But they couldn't stop it. The troll grabbed one of the cats — a small lynx — with both hands and squeezed.

Emma felt a pang of pain and fear and anger wash over her, and then some part of her faded. Just like that, the cat was dead.

“It's not enough,” she whispered. “Even with magic, it's not enough.”

“You turned yourself into a ratter,” said Fat Leon next to her. “You should be able to turn him into something, too.”