The Prince of Magic

"MISTOFFELEES, you're CHEATING!" cried Coricopat, throwing his hand down on the battered old box that served as a table.
"Cheat? At cards? Me? Never," A small, thin, sparkling black tomcat with a white face, chest, paws, and tail tip smiled innocently across the table at a black and white tabby. He was young...not much older than a kitten.
"Oh, fleas, Magician," spat a large black tom with a wild mane and leopard spots. "You cheat every time."
"Now, Tugger, where would you have gotten an idea like that?" laughed the cat called Mistoffelees, glancing sidelong at the larger tom.
"Misto, someday..." threatened Munkustrap, a well-muscled, lithe tabby tom with black, silver, and white markings. He smiled in amusement at the younger cat's antics.
"Boys, boys...we mustn't quarrel," giggled a flaming red queen. "Just be glad you aren't playing with Macavity."
"Who's worse, Bombalurina," asked a small white queen, younger than Mistoffelees. "Macavity...or the show-off over here?"
"What is this?" Misto said with a pout. "Gang-up-on-Mistoffelees night?"
"Of course, Sparklypants," said a kitten named Etcetera, with a giggle.
"That's Mr. Sparklypants to you," Mistoffelees said with a scowl. "See what you've started, Tugger?"
"Ah, it's all in fun..."
"That's only funny to you." Sparks danced between the black Jellicle's claws.
"Oh, Misto, relax. You're sparking all over the place. Give Tugger a break -- he can't help himself." Alonzo's black and white body appeared from behind a garbage can.
"I resent that," Tugger muttered, giving the black and white spotted tom a dirty look.
"You're far too uptight, Sparkles," laughed Pouncival, gazing at Mistoffelees' stormy expression.
"Don't CALL me that," Misto snapped, growing frustrated.
"Relax, Misto, relax..." The white queen, Victoria, stroked his headfur, running a paw down and around his neck and ears, playing with his tail. His eyes drifted closed, and he purred loudly in delight.
Tantomile, Coricopat's sister and his telepathic twin, grinned. "Misto!"
"Huh! What! I'm awake!" His eyes jerked open. There was a burst of laughter, and Mistoffelees blushed furiously. 
"Show us a trick, please, Mr. Mistoffelees, sir," said a small kitten named Jemima.
He brightened. "Like this?" His coat began to twinkle, as though it was full of stars.
"Oooh," whispered the kittens in fascination.
"Show us big kitties a real trick, Misto," Demeter, a yellow tabby queen, challenged him with a smile.
"Watch this," he said with a mischievous grin. He leaned over and kissed Victoria playfully, blushed, and murmured, "Now you see him...now you...don't!" and disappeared in a flurry of sparkles.
"How does he do that?" Pouncival said in amusement.
"That's for me to know...and you to try and guess..." called an unseen voice. "Goodnight, all!"
There was laughter as Pouncival grew white as a sheet, the muttered angrily, "Magicians."
"So," said Rum Tum Tugger with a devilish grin, "What are we going to do to our favorite magician?"
"What do you mean?" asked Munkustrap, puzzled.
"He means," Bombalurina said, her eyes twinkling, "What trick should we play on Misto to get him back for cheating?"
"Spray 'is coat a diff'ernt color!" This, of course, from Mungojerrie, one of the two tiger-striped cats whose practical jokes made life...exciting... at the Junkyard.
"Nah, make 'im watch the kittens! For two 'ole days!" Rumpleteazer, Mungo's sister, and the other tiger, added with a smile.
"Snatch his precious old rags...you know, the ones he sleeps under? He'll freeze!" Coricopat said with a chuckle. "He's always cold."
"Cori, no. Nothing that will damage him...too badly, anyway," Munkustrap muttered. "He's cold 'cause he's a shorthair. You know that. And he's little, so his body heat doesn't keep him warm. You freeze him, and we'll have one sick Jellicle on our hands. And the last thing I need is a sick magician."
"I know," said Victoria shyly.
"Oh, Vicki, go on! You know 'im better'n most 'o us. What'll make 'im look really foolish?" Mungo's eyes glittered.
Victoria grinned broadly. "He never touches catnip. He's too dignified to get Nipped -- so he won't touch it, or anything with catnip in it. Fed him some awhile ago, just to see what'd happen...made him absolutely loopy! He acted so kittenish...it was so funny! And in broad Moonlight, with everyone watching?" She nearly fell over with laughter.
Tugger's face glowed. "Purr-fect! We'll get Jelly to make something...with a ton of catnip in it. He'll never know!"
"What am I making?" Jellylorum asked as she scampered up to the group.
"Catnip caviar," Tugger said. "For Misto."
"What?" Jelly looked confused.
"Why caviar?" asked Munkustrap.
"He loves it. He'll eat the whole thing," said Rum Tum.
"Why?!" Jelly cried.
The group explained their plan, and slowly Jelly broke into a huge smile. Everyone in the Junkyard, at one time or another, and been outwitted by the clever magician. It was about time someone made him look foolish.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Ready?" whispered Tantomile. Jelly and Vicki nodded.
"He's coming," hissed Munkustrap. The whole tribe was hidden around the area. No one wanted to miss Misto looking silly.
"Jelly! Vicki! What's going on?" The black Jellicle appeared at the edge of the yard.
"Mistoffelees, come and try this!" Jelly beckoned him.
"What?" Misto looked suspicious.
"It's caviar, Stoff," Victoria said. "It's spiced. It's really good."
"STOFF?" said Tumblebrutus with a giggle. Pounce snorted. "Spiced caviar?"
"Shush," said Tugger, but he was grinning too.
The tux licked his pearly teeth and scurried forward. Vicki handed him the bowl. He set it down slowly, sitting daintily, and with perfect manners, licked his paws and gracefully licked the "catnip caviar" from the dish.
He glanced up almost halfway through. "Vicki," he said, almost drowsily, "What exactly is this?" She just smiled.
When he had almost finished, he looked up again. "Jelly...Vicki..." he giggled and rolled on his side. "There's...there's...catnip in this!"
"Yeah," Vicki said with a laugh. "Like it?"
"Oh, Vicki...not catnip, not now..." he blinked around drowsily. He scratched an ear and arched his back. "Catnip...oh...drat!" He shook his head playfully, standing up slowly.
Suddenly he laughed. "Oh, who cares?" he said with a smile. She pushed him, and he staggered back, tripping over his tail and falling heavily to the ground. Seeing the white tail tip, he spun around in a feeble attempt to catch it.
He rolled sideways, laughing. Right into Tugger's foot.
"Hi, Tug," said Misto, a slight slur to his velvety voice. "She put...catnip..." He giggled.
"I know."
"Catnip...ugh..." He lay on his back, wriggling from side to side like he itched.
"Dance for us, Misto," said Coricopat with a snort.
"Me?" Misto looked up, then stood. "Why?"
"I wanna see it, too!" Tumblebrutus chimed in. Grinning from ear to ear, the small young tom bowed, then sprang like a jumping bean around from cat to cat, jumping and swinging. His agility, even when he was Nipped, earned awed glances from the surrounding tribe. Suddenly, he stopped dead, kissed Victoria, and collapsed in a heap at her feet.

"Oooohh," moaned Misto, rubbing a paw between his ears, trying to alleviate the awful headache. "Where am I? What happened?"
"Too much catnip," Munkustrap said, trying not to smile.
"Catnip? But I..."
"Don't eat catnip? 'ow 'bout...sp... spiced...c-c-caviar?" Mungojerrie said with a laugh. He was rewarded by a groan.
"Vicki, Jelly, ooh, no!" Misto buried his head in his paws. "Tell me I wasn't Nipped last night?" He looked to Munkustrap. Not able to contain himself longer, Munkustrap burst into laughter.
"Nipped? You were half-dead," Tugger cried.
"Uuuggghhh..."
"Tell me, Stoff, is Vicki nice to kiss?" That from Coricopat.
"Ooooooo.... I hate catnip..." Mistoffelees blushed. 
"She's a nice dame, eh? And nice dancing," Pounce added.
"Oooohhh..." Misto's ears were bright pink. "Come ON! I was Nipped!"
"Mistoffelees -- Nipped! Something I thought I'd never see," Munkustrap added with a chuckle.
With a groan, Misto rolled over and fell back asleep. He knew he'd never hear the end of this.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Mistoffelees touched the silver wrapped box with a paw. "What is it?"
"A Christmas present," Demeter said with a small smile.
"For me? Who from?" Misto looked surprised that he'd received a gift. He'd never gotten one before... but he'd never been old enough to go to the Christmas party, either.
"You're not supposed to know. All you know is you got a gift from whomever drew your name. But you have...two...and we're not sure why." He tossed the magical tux another, plainer, box.
"Open the plainer one first," said Bombalurina with a smile.
"Hmm," the young tom purred with a grin, "wonder whom it could be from?"
Bombalurina laughed. "Not me."
Tearing open the paper, he extracted a small golden ball. He shook it. Something jingled inside. "Oooo. What's in there?"
Bomb shrugged. "A mystery for the mysterious Jellicle. You figure it out; you're the magician."
Misto held it in his teeth and shook his head. Cling, jingle, tinkle. He scratched his head in puzzlement.
"Open the other," Tugger said impatiently.
"You're in a hurry, Tugs," Mistoffelees mumbled around the ball in his jaws.
"His gift's next," Munkustrap explained.
"Ah," the tux replied, spitting out the ball. Carefully, he removed the silver paper...only to find a silver box inside.
"Wow... Someone likes you, Misto," Jelly said. "Look at that fancy thing."
He opened the box gently. When he peered inside, his eyes widened in astonishment and delight. 
"What? What's in there?" asked Tantomile urgently.
Slowly, he drew out a collar, silver and studded with tiny amethysts that served as the centers of miniature engraved stars. Also engraved in the collar were swirls and, in fancy italic script, the word Mistoffelees.
"It's beautiful!" Rumpleteazer cried.
"Well, well." The Tugger looked astonished. "You've caught some queen's attention, Misto." The black tom blushed. "Maybe she saw you dancing for Vicki and Jelly," he added with a chuckle. Misto glowered at Tugger. The "caviar" joke was still going strong.
"Here, let me help you put that on," Demeter said. Reaching out, she took the collar and unclasped it. Very carefully, she re-clasped it around Misto's neck. It fit perfectly, and looked stunning.
"It's perfect." Misto announced. "How did you know?" He gazed around the room in bewilderment. No one replied. "Well, thank you, anyway," he murmured, smiling proudly.

"Eggnog, Stoff?" asked Mungojerrie, as Mistoffelees wandered over to lay next to the tiger-striped siblings, who were sprawled by the fire.
"Why not? Merry Christmas, Mungo, Rumple." He flopped down, albeit gracefully, near the pair.
They looked at each other and amazement. "Seriously, Misto? Catnip 'n all?" Rumpleteazer glanced at the magician curiously.
"Why not?" he repeated. 
"If ya say so, Misto," Mungo said, puzzled. He didn't understand why the young tom would want anything resembling catnip after the...incident...a month ago. He shrugged and handed the tux a saucer of eggnog. Misto licked daintily, purring contentedly. The collar around his neck felt warm.
"Can ya show us a trick er two, Misto?" Rumple asked.
"What do you want to see?" Misto queried obligingly.
"Can ya do that li'l thingie with the lightnin'?"
"No problem. That's one of the easiest. I can only go between paws while I'm inside, though, OK?"
"That'd be fine."
Standing, the small Jellicle stretched and shook himself vigorously. Grinning, he brought his paws together. Slowly, his claws began to glow, then spark. Separating his paws, he shot a little bolt of lightning between them. It remained there, like a thread of electricity, and slowly began to morph, changing first its color, then its shape. Neither of the tigers nor Mistoffelees noticed the amethysts in his new collar begin to glow.
Misto suddenly felt exhausted. It was as though the power he was sending to the little energy bolt was tapping his magical reserves -- but that shouldn't be! He hadn't worked any serious magic for days, and he wasn't tired...so why would such a simple casting seem so difficult? 
There were two ways Misto could work magic. The easiest was to tap his white, or silver, moonmagic, which was so abundant that at times it sparkled in his eyes and fur. But when that reservoir of power grew dry, or when he was tired, the Jellicle could call on the black of his coat to work magic. The color -- deep ebony -- was uncommon among Jellicles, and usually signified magical ability. In truth, the color itself was what was magical, not necessarily the cat himself -- it was different than the coal black of Bustopher Jones; this was a raven color, that shone in the moonlight. Its black magic could be tapped for use, but normally Mistoffelees kept it in reserve for two reasons. One, using the nightmagic of his coat usually bleached the fur to a silver or a white for several days afterward, which looked positively ridiculous; and two, those who used nightmagic on a regular basis usually either became feral, wild and evil, or died. It simply wasn't worth the risk.
But tonight, suddenly, there seemed to be no magic -- of either kind -- to tap. Mistoffelees swayed with exhaustion, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't end the spell, couldn‘t break away from the force that drew his power from his body like water from a well. Someone was using him. He felt it.
"Misto? What's wrong? Are ya tired? If ya don't feel well, ya shouldn't do magic..." Rumple's voice seemed far away. I can't...Misto mouthed. Black spots prickled at the edges of his vision, and he felt faint. He couldn't seem to get enough air to breathe. The black spots grew and smothered him, and then he felt nothing.
"Mistoffelees!" Mungojerrie cried, springing up to catch the black magician as he swooned and crumpled to the floor. Munkustrap leapt to his feet at Mungo's cry, scurrying over to the fireside, where Mungo was easing the unconscious Misto back into a huge (human) armchair.
"What in the name of the Heaviside happened?" Munkustrap asked, looking uneasy. Jellylorum handed Rumple a wet cloth and the young queen lifted Misto's head into her lap and gently pressed the cool fabric to his brow, stroking his headfur.
“‘E was showin’ me that li’l lightnin’ trick, when ’e just...started to kinda sway a li’l, and then ‘e collapsed.” Rumple's eyes were fearful. "Will 'e be okay?"
Misto groaned. "I'm fine!" he snapped, opening his eyes. "What happened? Where am I? Rumple, what are you doing?" He gazed up at her, then glanced around at the cats clustered around the chair. He made no move to get up, and closed his eyes suddenly in exhaustion. 
"I'm sorry I snapped..." he mumbled. "What's gotten into me?"
"You collapsed." Munkustrap said. "Any idea why?"
Misto's eyes opened again. "Ooh, my head is throbbing. Why? I was doing that trick for Rumple...and... then it felt like...like I had no magic left. I couldn't break the spell, though, and I couldn't breathe...and I don't remember anything after that."
“‘E did ’ave a few licks ‘o eggnog, but not enough ta do nothin’,” muttered Mungo.
"Eggnog? What was I doing with eggnog?" Misto whispered. His throat felt parched. "I don't like eggnog."
Munkustrap's brow wrinkled. "Are you all right? You sound strange."
"My throat..." rasped Misto. "What was I doing with eggnog?" He shook his head in puzzlement. Then he blinked drowsily, yawning widely.
"Maybe you ought to stay here for the night," Bombalurina offered. "Skimble's staying too, because it's his night off."
"Maybe..." he yawned again. "I'm so tired..." 
"You can sleep on the couch." 
"Thanks, Bomb."
"No big deal. My humans are gone for a few more days, anyway."
"I..." Misto crept up onto the couch. He never finished his sentence, because his eyes closed even before his head touched the cushion. 
The cats looked at him in concern, and Munkustrap murmured to Bomb, "Keep a very close eye on him. This is unusual behavior, even for him...make sure he's okay."
"No prob, Munk. I'll watch him."
"Thanks. If anything funny happens, I'll be over at Demeter's. Only because it's snowing," he added when Bomb gave him a funny look. At that, she relaxed. Munkustrap wasn't a house cat; in fact, he didn't even have any humans. Which was all right -- until winter came. Or it rained...

The house was dark and quiet. Bombalurina savored the silky blackness. Despite her...rather extravagant display of...feline femininity...and her loud, outgoing personality, she loved the peaceful stillness of the early morning. After all, even Jellicles had to sleep.
"Skimble?" she whispered as she passed the couch where Mistoffelees and Skimbleshanks were sleeping. She knew the Railroad Cat would be awake; he rarely slept in the early morning, usually taking short catnaps frequently and whenever he could during the day.
"Yes?" A pair of emerald eyes gleamed down at her from the arm of the sofa.
"How's Misto? Any changes?"
"No. He seems fine. He's dreaming, talking in his sleep, but other than that, normal." Bomb saw the gleam of ivory incisors when Skimble smiled. "I'll be up all night, so I'll let you know if anything changes."
"Thanks. G'night, Skimble."
"G'night."
"G'night, Misto," she whispered softly. No reply.

"It's over...there, by that...come on, Pounce, by the...get it...hurry, Pounce, it hurts..." Mistoffelees murmured in his sleep, laying on his back, and sunken deeply into the soft velvet cushions of an old sofa.
"There...it's...Ah!" He sprung up out of his dream with a yowl, his fur standing on end. Skimbleshanks was lying on the arm of the couch, gazing down at the young tom. 
"Skimble! What's going on?" Misto shook his head.
"Absolutely nothing. What on earth were you dreaming about?"
"Is that really relevant?" The amethysts on his collar flared, but Skimble didn't notice.
"No, but I was curious. Over there, Pounce...it's...and then you spring up like something bit you!" Skimble said. Is that relevant? What had made the young Jellicle so sour all of a sudden?
"Funny. I don't even remember..." He looked disconcerted. 
"What's wrong?" 
"I always remember my dreams. Why can't I remember? It's important!"
The black Jellicle looked distraught.
"Why is it so important?" Skimble asked.
"I'm magical. My dreams are sometimes...oracular. I remember all of them because some are so important...but I can't remember...." Misto looked around, panicked.
"Don't worry. You'll give yourself an ulcer. You're probably just upset about last night and it put you off balance a bit."
"Yeah...I'm just off because...what happened last night scared me. That's it." But Misto still looked shaken.
"Maybe you should go see Munkustrap."
"What's he going to say? He doesn't know anything about prophecy or magic."
"Just tell him. He should know."
"You think?" Skimble nodded. "Okay. Well, could you tell Bomb thanks, for letting me stay?"
"Sure, Misto." When he turned around, the magical cat was gone.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Munkustrap?" A harsh whisper from above jerked Munku from a sound sleep. Startled, he sat up too quickly, earning a bang on the head from the underside of the stove, where he was curled to stay out of the wind. Demeter's humans had come home early, and he had been forced to flee.
Rubbing his ears tenderly, he slunk out from under the stove. "Who is it?" 
"Me," came a familiar voice. Looking up, Munku spotted to source of the voice -- Mistoffelees, sitting in the snow, his face paler than usual, if that was possible when you had a white face to begin with, shivering and looking downright miserable.
"What in the world are you doing out here in the cold?" Munku demanded, angry that the young tom wasn't laying down. He looked about ready to fall over.
"Looking for you." Misto croaked. The sore throat had only worsened as the day had progressed. "Can we talk?"
"It doesn't seem to me that you can talk at all," Munku said grimly. "But if we must, let's at least get out of this blasted cold."
"We can go...to my pipe..." Misto got out around a cough that racked his slim body.
"All right. Let's hurry. You shouldn't be out in this weather in your condition, anyway." The two toms picked their way through the deep drifts of snow across the yard to Misto's pipe. It was blocked by snow, save for a hole about a foot wide.
"Come on," Misto said, when Munku hesitated. The little cat slid through into the pipe that lay at the end of the tunnel.
"Will I fit?" Munku asked incredulously.
"It's bigger than it looks," Misto got out, looking pained at the effort necessary to speak. Munkustrap drew a breath, then quickly slipped through the tunnel and into the pipe. He got through with no problem. The pipe, surprisingly, was warm.
"How do you keep it so warm in here?" he purred inquisitively.
"Insulation," whispered Misto, with a smile. He sank down on a pile of blankets. "Please, sit down," he said, gesturing to a cushion near the other side of the pipe. "The snow keeps it warm, believe it or not," he continued.
"Snow?" Munku raised an eyebrow.
Misto nodded as he rose to grab a blanket, which he wrapped around his lean, dancer's body in an attempt to quell the shivering. "It's cold, but it stops the wind."
"Clever," the tabby muttered to himself.
"Well, I am supposed to be quick, you know," Misto mumbled, coughing.
"Will you be all right? Do you need anything?" Munku asked in concern.
"No," Misto replied hoarsely. "It's just a bit of a cold. Don't worry. At least...not about that..."
"Is there something I should worry about?" Munku questioned the black Jellicle.
"Well, I suppose...I mean...well, in a way, maybe...I...yes."
"And?"
"It's just...last night I had eggnog. I hate eggnog. Why would I do something so ridiculous? And then I couldn't cast that simple trick...to the point where I passed out! From that simple little thing! And then...I always remember my dreams, Munku."
"Dreams? What about them? Is something wrong?"
"Well, my dreams are...oracular, in a way. Premonitions. I've always been able to remember every dream I've ever had. Until last night."
"You can't remember the dream from last night? Are you sure you had one?"
"Yes! That's what makes me so uneasy. Skimble asked me what I was dreaming about. I remember I didn't want to tell him, and I asked him why he cared. When he asked me again, I was about to tell him, but...there was nothing!"
"Are you sure?"
"Positive! I knew what the dream had been about -- it was like my mind went totally blank! I can't remember any of it!" Misto was trembling.
"Calm down, calm down." Munkustrap grasped one of the magician's trembling paws firmly. 
"B-but I..."
"Don't worry so much about it. Get some sleep. I don't want to see your face until tomorrow, understand? If it happens again, come to me right away."
Mistoffelees nodded tremulously.
"And Mistoffelees?" The tom looked up.
"I was serious about you getting some rest. No performing tricks for kittens, no little visits to Victoria's, nothing. Got it?" Munkustrap grinned.
"Got it, sir!" Misto replied with a sharp salute and a smirk. He wasn't going anywhere; Munku didn't need to worry. As soon as the Jellicle "leader" took his leave, Misto buried himself in his blankets and slept.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Ah, little magician," spat the battered ginger tom. "Having some trouble with your new present?" He laughed bitterly, shaking his tattered head. 
"Well, before long you won't be able to keep my minions or me from destroying your precious tribe. I have your magic now...and there’s nothing you or that old fool Deuteronomy can do about it! I wonder...will you die of illness, or will you vanish first?" The ginger cat hissed, then turned and limped off, back to the old warehouse on Mancetta Street.

The collar was glowing...burning, in fact. Misto writhed under its heat, but didn't wake.
"MACAVITY!" Suddenly the tux sprang up, fangs bared and hair on end. He was alone. Shaking his head, he growled at the hot pain in his throat and the throbbing headache. Desperately, he tried to remember what he had dreamt about...and why he had woken. Nothing came.
"Fleas," he spat. Why couldn't he remember? Munkustrap. I have to talk with Munkustrap and Old Deuteronomy. Maybe Tantomile and Coricopat, he thought to himself. He stood slowly, his whole body stiff and achy. All the pain seemed to emanate from his throat. The collar? he thought. But that's ridiculous! Who in this Junkyard would want to harm me? And who would know how to cast an enchantment like this, anyhow? Who had the power? Only Tanto and Cori had any kind of magical abilities, and they were limited to telepathy and minor transportations. No one within a ten mile radius (and that's a long way, for a cat) was anywhere near as powerful as Mistoffelees -- so who could have created a spell strong enough? No one. You're paranoid, Misto, relax. With that, he turned and trotted off toward the stove to find Munkustrap.

"Where're you going, Misto?" asked two voices in unison.
"Tanto! Coricopat! Come with me. I need to talk to you. Help me find Munku -- and then we're going over to the Vicarage."
"Why?" The two cats chorused.
"I need to talk to Deuteronomy about what's been happening to me lately. Maybe you two could give some insight, seeing as you have some magical background."
"But, Mistoffelees, we only...." began Coricopat.
"...speak mind-to-mind and do minor magics," finished Tantomile.
"Why ask us?" Coricopat continued.
Misto sighed. "I don't know what else to do."

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Old Deuteronomy?" Munkustrap approached slowly, touching the old cat respectfully.
"Hmmm?" The cat's eyes opened slowly, and he eased himself up.
"I am sorry to disturb your repose, Old Deuteronomy," Mistoffelees said, his manners flawless as usual, but his voice tremulous. "But I am in need of your wise council."
"Ah, Mistoffelees," the ancient cat said in surprise. "You are troubled. What bothers you?" He rested a hand on the lithe cat's shoulder. "You are trembling. What in the Heaviside has gotten you so upset?"
"My...my powers...they...desert me. I can't cast, without...side effects...and I can no longer remember my dreams." Misto was blushing.
"And you are ill. Your voice?"
"I have a slight cold. Nothing major."
"It troubles you, nonetheless."
"You are very perceptive, Old Deuteronomy, in your wisdom. Yes, I am disturbed. It does not seem to be a...natural illness."
"Ah," the old cat muttered. "Have you any suspicions?"
"None."
Munkustrap, Tantomile, and Coricopat glanced at each other in surprise. Misto hadn't made any mention of anything "unnatural" about his cold.
"Well, have you attempted any magic since yesterday?"
"No, sir."
"Try."
"Excuse me?" Mistoffelees looked baffled.
"Try. It may simply have been a fluke."
"No, sir, I am positive it..."
"TRY!" thundered Old Deuteronomy. Munkustrap's eyes widened. Misto must not be himself, to question Deuteronomy. The impeccably-mannered, reserved tom, had he been feeling well, would have never dared to...
Misto’s movement distracted him. Slowly, he brought his paws together. His claws began to glow, then spark. Carefully, he shot a bolt of sizzling blue electricity from his left to his right. He began to look pale. "Deut..Deuteronomy...I..."
"Continue, Mistoffelees. Pick your target." Munkustrap raised an eyebrow. Obviously, the black tom was feeling poorly. Why did Deuteronomy insist?
Misto turned to a garbage can and pointed. There was a large flash and the garbage can rolled away, smoking. But when Munku glanced back at Mistoffelees, his jaw dropped. The young Jellicle's fur was sparkling with blue energy, and he was swaying precariously. He glanced at Munku, pleading, and toppled. The energy vanished.
"Mistoffelees!" cried Coricopat, reaching for the young tom.
"CORICOPAT!" boomed Deuteronomy. "DO NOT touch that cat!"
Munku flinched. "But, Deuteronomy, obviously he is ill..."
"He is. And he is spelled. Wait a moment." Deuteronomy gazed at Misto. "Now."
Coricopat lifted Misto's head and put it between his knees. "Wake up," he whispered. "Misto."
"Mmm. What?" Misto jerked up. "What? What happened?"
"You're not well, Misto," Munku said. "You collapsed again."
"Oh. Mmm," he rubbed his head tenderly. "Deuteronomy?" 
"I cannot do anything for you, Mistoffelees. I have never witnessed anything this...crippling. I can offer no advice other than to rest."
"Oh." Misto's eyes clouded. He seemed near tears. "Cori? Tanto? Any ideas?"
"Find the source of the spell." Tantomile suggested.
"It's the only way to stop...whoever it is...from keeping you an invalid -- or killing you."
"Hmm." He stood stiffly. "May I...go home, Deuteronomy?"
"You may."
Misto turned and trudged sadly away.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Now. The magician could no longer hold his own. Simple parlor tricks had become difficult for him -- now was the time to strike. Nothing could defeat the huge horde of Macavity's followers, save the Jellicle fighters -- if the young magician aided them. Without him, they were helpless. Smiling mirthlessly, Macavity gave the signal to strike.

Mistoffelees jerked awake. MACAVITY! The ginger tom was approaching. His body ached, but there was no time to worry about himself now. If he didn't act soon, the Jellicles would become a memory quicker than anyone wished.
"MACAVITY!" he yowled, leaping up over the pipe and scrambling to the stove. Blasting it with lightning bolts, he screeched out, "JELLICLES! RALLY! RALLY NOW!"
Exhausted from the expenditure of power, he sagged against the stovepipe. When the cats appeared, he stood shakily and leapt down.
"There!" he cried to Munkustrap. "By the gate!" A tide of rats and dirty alley cats and strays streamed towards them. In comparison, the two dozen Jellicle fighters seemed pitiful -- but proud.
"Mistoffelees -- can you cast?" Munkustrap asked urgently.
"I can." He replied, knowing he had just uttered his death sentence. But he would fight.
Standing proud, he gathered what he could of his power and let it loose in a terrifying storm of bolts and shards of energy. The whole two ranks of rats -- some four dozen -- died instantly, and many of the first ranks of alley cats dropped back, badly wounded. The Jellicle fighters cheered. "MISTO! MISTO! MISTO! MISTO!"
Munku glanced back as he leapt into the fray, to see a black Jellicle slump to the ground, his fur rapidly turning silver. No! His mind shrieked. Misto was killing himself -- using the night magic of his coat to save the Jellicles. Oh, Misto. A tear ran down his cheek, and he fought harder. They would win -- for Misto.
Two kittens supported Mistoffelees as he stood and readied himself. Gathered power -- and released! His coat shone white, as did his eyes -- there was no coloring about him at all. But the alley cats -- all of them -- disappeared. Cheering, the Jellicles pressed forward. All that stood between Macavity and the Jellicles was his core of well-trained strays. The Jellicles were badly scratched and torn, but they fought furiously.
Meanwhile, Jellylorum and Bombalurina were holding Mistoffelees up as he shot down strays. Lightning sizzled, and the smell of burnt fur permeated the air.
Gasping for breath, Misto looked at his paws. They had grown numb, and...he gasped.
"Jelly! Bomb -- my paws!"
"What -- oh, by the Everlasting Cat! You're disappearing! Misto, for Heaviside sakes, stop casting!!" Bombalurina shrieked. His paws were silver -- glittery sparkles that seemed to move at an incredibly fast pace. But they weren't solid.
"NO! I'll not give up! Jelly, Bomb! Good-bye! Tell Munkustrap I'll miss him -- and the Tugger. Remind Skimble I borrowed his mirrors. I'll miss you. I'll be waiting for you -- in my next life!"
"NO! MISTO, NO!" Jellylorum shrieked. She threw herself forward as Misto broke free and gathered himself for his last spell.

Alonzo, Tugger, and Munkustrap had gotten through the core to Macavity. The ginger tom dashed away to another spot, forcing the three Jellicles to follow -- away from the battle. Munkustrap glanced back, trying to catch sight of Mistoffelees. There! A white cat was preparing to cast another spell, his silver collar glinting -- no! The collar -- it was glowing! MAGIC! Thought Munku desperately. Oh, Misto, that collar's killing you!
But he couldn't abandon Alonzo and Tugger now.
"Macavity!"
"Ah, Munkustrap. You, too, Alonzo. And of course, the Rum Tum Tugger." Macavity circled them, chuckling.
"You think you have me, Mmm? Well, I'm going to let you in on a little secret, before I go." At Munkustrap's wide-eyed look, he laughed.
"Munku, so perceptive! I do believe you have guessed my little scheme. Yes, but it's too late to save him now, isn't it? At this moment, he prepares to cast the spell that will be his end!" Macavity laughed cruelly.
"For the benefit of Alonzo and Tugger, here, I'll explain it in full. Your Magical Mister Mistoffelees has been greatly enjoying his Christmas gift. As well he should! It cost me quite a bit to purchase that collar -- and the spell was harder to find. But isn't it a beauty? Slowly, it saps his magical power. His physical strength. It makes his irritable, because he knows what the problem is -- but he can't remember how to remove the spell! ! He quickly determined that the collar was making him ill, but he is so easily comforted. In fact, Munku, you may have been his ultimate demise! You who convinced him his "cold" was something normal! But it is not. Slowly, the collar he wears sucks away at his life force, his spirit, and his very will to live. He draws purely on his soul to cast this last magic -- and he will not survive. His knowledge and power are mine, and when he is dead I will be able to use them -- to destroy you! The very Jellicles he works to save will in time be destroyed by his own gift." Macavity crept backward toward the electric fence. He had realized he could not escape, and in that moment a shadow of fear crossed his torn face.
"You will not have me, Munkustrap! All will be denied you -- your chance to destroy me, and your friend's life!" And with that, he leapt sideways into the fence. When his limp body fell to the ground, Munkustrap sniffed his in disgust, turned and leapt away. 
"If I can't have you, Macavity, I will save Mistoffelees!" He cried out, scrambling away toward the white cat as fast as he could. But Macavity's plan had worked perfectly. Munkustrap had been distracted too long. He felt as though he were running in slow motion as he watched Misto raise his paws and shout a word. Then there was a tremendous flash and a boom that sent all the cats flying. Munkustrap dove to the ground for less than a second, then was up again and running, flying through the bodies of the still-stunned Jellicle fighters. To his astonishment, all the strays had vanished.
Then he spotted Mistoffelees. His unmoving form lay sprawled on the ground, transparent and flickering. He was close to death, his ribs barely fluttering. The Jellicles had begun to revive, and crept over to the place where Misto lay.
"Mistoffelees!" Munku reached the still body and with shaking paws, tore the collar from his neck. Nothing. The cats looked on as Munku dropped to his knees, sobbing.
The form stopped flickering, but remained transparent. Then, to Munku‘s horror, the ribs rose once, slowly, and stilled.
"NO! I won't lose you!" Munkustrap cried, his voice cracking with pain and sorrow. He heaved the collar to the ground, where the amethysts shattered. 
Slowly, oh, so slowly, the collar turned to a fine silver mist and swirled around the thin body of Mistoffelees. The form grew solid. Slowly the form grew black, and the tux markings on the Jellicle's body were restored. Munkustrap gazed at him in wonderment, his eyes blurry with tears. The body stirred, and the young tom gasped for air, choking. As Misto began breathing normally, his frantic gasps slowing, a hoarse voice whispered, "Munkustrap?" A murmur of joy rippled through the group of battered cats. 
"Misto..." Munkustrap's heart leapt. The little tom's eyes blinked open. 
"Munku? What happened? I feel strange. Did I...did we...is Macavity...?" He tried to sit up, but moaned and sank back, his eyes closing.
"We got him. Don't worry. You've done enough," whispered the tabby tom, lifting the small black Jellicle and carrying him away to Jelly's box, preparing himself for the dawn and the desolation it would bring -- with the news of how many Jellicles were lost.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Three. They'd lost three Jellicles -- Carbuckety had been killed instantly when a stray had ripped out his throat. Cassandra died later that night of a deep slash on her shoulder. And earlier that morning, Pouncival...there was nothing they could do. The bright young tom had simply lost too much blood. Munkustrap sat alone by Mistoffelees' side, weeping. Jelly was uneasy about the black Jellicle's condition -- he had not woken since two nights ago. Skimbleshanks was badly hurt, with a broken forepaw, and Rum Tum Tugger had lost an ear. Bombalurina's shoulders were badly torn, and Demeter's tail had been cropped to half its usual size. Munkustrap himself was not well either -- a deep gash in his side would keep him from serious activity for some time. But he felt responsible for the others. No one had escaped unscathed, but Tantomile, Coricopat, Alonzo, Etcetera, Mungo, Rumple, Plato and Victoria had escaped without much damage. One or two rats that had escaped Misto's blast, and Victoria, Etcetera, and Jemima had quickly dispatched them -- the kittens were quite proud of themselves, proudly displaying their small battle scars to any older cat well enough to listen. At his side, Mistoffelees' eyes fluttered open. They were fuzzy, but no longer fever bright.

"Munkustrap?" Misto muttered.
"What? Are you ready to stay awake now?"
"Yes! I feel like I've slept for weeks! What day is it? I'm starving! How are you? Any major injuries? Any..." Misto gulped. "Casualties?"
"You've only been asleep two days. It's half-moon. I'm fine, but this little scratch," he bared the long cut to Misto -- "will keep me grounded for a few weeks. I was lucky. Tugger lost an ear --"
"Oh! So much for vanity," Misto said with a grin.
"Nah," Munku replied. "He loves it. Says it makes him look tough." Misto laughed, then began to cough.
"You shouldn't do much for a few days yet." Munku said seriously.
"Any other injuries? Please tell me we didn't lose anyone?"
"Like I said..." Munku looked away. "I was lucky. Demeter lost half her tail, Bomb's shoulders are pretty cut up, and Skimble won't be doing too much walking for a while -- his left forepaw's broken." Munkustrap sighed and braced himself to continue.
"We lost three."
Mistoffelees looked at him dazedly for a moment. "What?"
"Three fighters -- gone." Munku's eyes grew vacant.
"Who?" Misto whispered in disbelief, not really wanting to hear.
"Carbuckety, Cassandra, and Pouncival."
"Oh, no...no, Munku, no..."Misto looked distraught. "What happened?"
"Carbuckety...some stray tore out his throat. At least he didn't suffer, which is more than I can say for the others. Cassandra's shoulder -- the wound was too deep. She wouldn't have made it. And Pounce ---" He broke off, unable to go on. When he had calmed, he looked up at Misto again, his eyes full of grief.
"He was just too badly cut up. He'd lost so much blood. There was nothing we could do."
"Oh, Munkustrap. Poor Pounce. Cassandra...Carbuckety...oh..." Misto touched a sympathetic paw to Munku's shoulder. "Munku, it wasn't your fault. It was never your fault. They died doing the same thing you and I were doing -- defending their homes. They wouldn't have wanted it any other way. And they've gone on to someplace new. We'll see them again."
"You're right, as always. I don't know what I would have done if I'd lost you. Or any of the others."
"Well, no need to worry, because you didn't." Mistoffelees yawned widely. 
"You ought to get some sleep, you know." Munkustrap told him firmly.
"Mmm..." Misto laid his head down wearily and was asleep in moments.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

It had been nearly two years since the loss of Pounce, Cassie, and Carbuckety. Though the three cats were mourned for a long time, life had gone on. Oh, had it!
"Let go, you little..." came an irritated voice from the car. A black tux rolled off the roof, landing hard on the ground, a small brown and black tabby kitten clinging to his neck.
"But Mister Misto..."
"Off!" The magician thundered. "Demeter, Munkustrap! Get this little terror away from me! Before I am tempted to turn her coat a different color!"
Munkustrap grinned. He and Demeter were the proud parent of a litter of four, Tugger and Bomb had a young daughter, Tantomile and Tumblebrutus were expecting kittens soon, and Mistoffelees and Victoria were still beating around the bush, neither wanting kittens but each undeniably attracted to the other.
"Likka, leave Mistoffelees alone."
"But, Da, he..." The little sprite gave her father a perfectly innocent look. “...started it."
"Me? Come now, aren't I a bit old to do something like that?"
"No! You aren't any older than Etcetera. She told me so! You're only two and a half!"
Munkustrap grinned. "As opposed to being four, like your ancient father?"
"Yup!" Likka chirruped.
"Your kits bothering Misto again?" came a voice from around the corner. Skimble sauntered in, smiling.
"How's the paw?" Munku asked.
"Fine. Aches a little yet, when it rains, but fine."
"What about me?" Tugger yowled, springing down.
"What?"
"My ear. You never ask." His face grew pouty.
"You like it that way," Bomb said, with a giggle. 
Tugger laughed. "So do you."
The pair wrestled, laughing loudly. Munku and Likka hugged, watching, and Skimble smiled. From his perch on the hood of the car, Mistoffelees grinned. Victoria was curled near him, purring. Life was good, he thought. And judging by his friends' faces, they agreed.