Reserved for the Cat

Terror overwhelmed her; she shrieked at the top of her lungs. She tried to bring up her arms to beat on the door of the box, but it was too narrow, and she couldn’t move. There was no fastening on the inside of the box; she tried to get up her foot to kick and couldn’t even do that. The flames were everywhere, and—

Suddenly she realized, in mid-scream, that she wasn’t even warm, that her clothing was not on fire, that she didn’t smell smoke, that the inside of the box was not even warm to the touch.

Whatever Jonathon was doing, this was not real fire! And she was quite ready to kill him at that moment. He might have said!

That was when the trap door beneath her that she had been told about opened, and she dropped down onto a pair of soft mattresses. Her knees automatically flexed as soon as she was falling, so she landed lightly. But fuming.

She stormed across the space beneath the stage and up the stairs to the backstage; her face must have looked like thunder, because even the stagehands scuttled out of her way. With hands balled into fists, she stalked across the stage to where Jonathon had just opened the cabinet with a flourish to show it was empty. At the sound of her feet thumping across the stage—for a ballerina can walk very heavily if she chooses—he turned.

“Now that is the kind of scream I—ow!”

She had kicked him in the shin before he could finish the sentence. He looked at her in astonishment. She kicked the other shin.

“Ow!”

“You might have said!” she shouted. “Merzavets! Lopni tvoya selezenka I ospleni tvoy glaz, nechistaya sila!” The Russian simply poured from her lips without thinking, and she would have been surprised if she had not been so furious. “You frightened me to death!”

“I am a magician! You know it couldn’t have been real!”

Oh yes, and she very much doubted that this was any illusion or stage trick. Those flames had to have come from his powers as an Elemental Mage. But she could not say that, not in public, so instead, she kicked his shin again.

“I would have known if you had warned me, but you did not!” she retorted. “You close me in a coffin, and then, fire! How was I to know it was not some terrible accident?”

“You would have heard someone shouting Fire!” Jonathon barked, heatedly.

“I would have heard nothing!” she shouted back. “I was screaming!”

Silence descended on the stage. Finally Arthur chuckled from his position in the orchestra pit. “Admit it, Jonathon. You wanted her to scream. You gave yourself away when you said that was the kind of scream you wanted.”

Jonathon flushed and looked away.

“Oh!” she spluttered, and kicked his shin again before stomping off the stage.

Behind her, with some satisfaction, she could hear him swearing.

The cat was waiting in the wings, and walked back with her to her dressing room, where she slammed the door closed, sat down, and looked at him.

That was very bad of him, the cat observed. It’s a naughty schoolboy trick.

“He is quite old enough not to play such things,” she said severely. “I am doing my best to be a good assistant to him, and he should not play such things on me. Stage fire is not funny.”

Especially not when you are trapped in a box. The cat sighed. He hasn’t changed. He drove off more young ladies with his pranks than you could imagine.

She looked at the cat oddly. “You know him?”

His assistants, the cat said hastily. The stagehands talked about it.

Ninette turned back to the mirror of her dressing table, but considered, and not for the first time, that the cat sounded as if he knew, or had known, the Fire Master in the past.

But it could be when my father lived here, she thought. There was no reason why the cat should not have been with her father before he came to Paris. Though why the cat should want to conceal this fact, she could not imagine. Thomas was full of mysteries. How had he known to come here, to Blackpool, for instance? How did he know that there was a theater owner here, moreover, one who was looking for someone very like her? But she was not going to pose these questions to him. If he had not told her these things before, there was no reason to think he would do so now, and she was not in a position to force him.

Are you going to rejoin the rehearsal? Thomas asked.

“When I think I have been away long enough to have made my feelings clear,” she said firmly. “That was not funny, and I do not intend to put up with any more such pranks. I am not an assistant that has no choice but to endure that sort of thing.”