There were cats in the lane, too; cats leaping out of open car doors and cats suddenly appearing in the lane as people vanished. Soon there were more cats than people; in the flash of headlights dozens of pairs of eyes flashed. Cats and humans moved together toward the Catswold Portal. Braden saw Terrel Black in human form. He watched Terrel push in through the portal and watched the dark, quick shapes of cats slip in past his ankles, cats only half-seen in the fragmented light.
“How the hell did Terrel know? Melissa didn’t tell him. How did he know to come here?”
“Terrel came back to the gallery. He wanted to know where Melissa lived; he wanted to know if she lived here with you. He remembered the door from the times he’s been to the studio. He talked about the cats carved on the door.”
More car lights were going dark like huge pairs of eyes winking closed. Soon most of the parked cars were dark. A few last figures hurried after the others up the garden and through the portal, pushing into the tool room which was, like the airlock in a submarine, the anteroom to another world.
Morian said, “Can they open the wall?”
“I don’t know. Back there on Farrel Street, she didn’t tell them how. Christ, I don’t know if they can open it.”
“What did she tell them, Brade? Exactly what?”
“She told them—how to change into cats. It was a rhyme. A spell. Christ, this isn’t happening—it can’t be happening.”
She moved away from him and picked up her keys from the dining table. She took his hand and led him out and down the steps and across the dim garden toward Anne’s darkened house. He watched the lane, the portal, trying to figure out what to do. He felt numb, incapable of thought.
Morian unlocked Anne’s front door and pulled him inside and across the dark living room toward Tom’s room. The room smelled closed and musty. She leaned over the bed and shook the boy awake. He came up fighting and crying out, and she clapped her hand over his mouth. “Shut up. You don’t want to wake Anne.” She pulled him out of the bed, holding his hands so he couldn’t fight her. “Get dressed. Hurry up.”
“Go to hell. Why should I get dressed? Leave me alone.”
She twisted his arm behind him. “If you don’t get dressed at once I’ll wake Anne. I’ll tell her the truth—all of it.”
The boy subsided and stooped to rummage on the floor for the pants and shirt he had dropped when he went to bed. He pulled them in angry jerks, glaring at them. When he was dressed and had tied his shoes, Morian propelled him out of the dark bedroom and out through the unlit house, down the steps and down through the garden. They entered the tool room and pushed through the crowd toward the stone wall, through the flickering light of an oil lamp. The boy stared at the crowd of people and cats as if he walked among snakes. Morian faced him toward the wall. “Open it.”
He stared at her white-faced. “What are you talking about?”
She twisted his arm until the boy dropped to his knees. “Open the wall.” When he didn’t move or speak she pulled him upright, shoved him against the wall, and slapped him. The crowd of Catswold folk watched her silently, intent and predatory. After seven slaps the boy began to whimper, soon he choked back a cry. Braden was growing alarmed for him when finally he whined, “I’ll open it. Stop hitting me and I’ll open it.”
Morian smiled. She seemed to have no pity for the child, as if the fact of his youth did nothing to deceive her perception of his true nature. “Hurry up and open the wall. What is your name?”
Braden said, “He is Wylles, prince of Affandar. Melissa told me that.”
Wylles’ eyes raked Braden. But he whispered the words, his voice furtive and nearly inaudible. The wall swung away, revealing the black tunnel beneath the hill.
Cats leaped past them. A man pushed through, then two women. The smell of damp earth breathed out cold from the hollow blackness. Terrel hurried through swinging a lantern, glancing shyly at Braden. Someone behind Braden in the tool room said, “There are more lamps,” and soon five lanterns had been lit. Braden found he was gripping Wylles’ arm hard. He grabbed the canvas bag he had dropped earlier, when Melissa had slammed the wall in his face, and dragged the boy into the tunnel behind Terrel and the cats. Already the crowd of Catswold had disappeared into the dropping blackness. Digging his fingers into Wylles’ shoulder, Braden paused to look back into the tool room, at Morian.
She stood beside the table, her dark eyes reflecting wonder and fear. She looked at him deeply for a long moment, then she turned away.
“Close the wall,” Braden said hoarsely.
Wylles’ spell swung the door closed with a hush of compressed air. They were in darkness. The faint light of the lanterns was fast disappearing ahead.
Chapter 64
