The End (8/11)
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Munkustrap couldn’t leave the Jellicles. Deuteronomy was dead, none of the other guardians were prepared to be Protector (though Alonzo was close), and Tugger had missed the events of the past week. Munkustrap knew that Macavity and Leviticus would leap at the opportunity to wipe out the Jellicles. He had to go back. He had to protect his family.
That was the only reason he was doing this. That was the only reason Munkustrap was returning to the junkyard, one of Etcetera’s collars around his neck. Swinging from one of his paws, Etcetera dangled by the scruff of her neck, wearing the second collar.
Please let this work…The junkyard had completely changed overnight. The Monniks now lounged around in all the best spots. Two large toms were stretched out by the canal, occasionally laughing and pushing something beneath the filthy water. Leviticus was sunning himself on the tire, looking half asleep. Monnik tomkits growled and wrestled in the clearing, watched over by a handful of Monnik queens. No Jellicle was in sight.
As Munkustrap stepped through the Monniks, the other cats lifted their heads, glaring at him, hissing and growling. No one was approaching him, though. Carrying a decapitated head was apparently a good deterrent.
By the time Munkustrap stepped onto the tire, most of the Monniks had gathered behind him. Leviticus lazily opened his eyes, looking not at all happy to be disturbed, nor did he look concerned over the cat before him. “Can we help you, stranger?”
Munkustrap tossed Etcetera at Leviticus’ feet. “I want to rejoin the tribe,
Father. I brought you a gift.”
There was a growl, a hiss from beneath his paws. Munkustrap glanced down and almost had to do a double-take. Tugger was
inside the tire, beneath the metal center. He looked ruffled and disgruntled, but he was otherwise in one piece. Munkustrap was grateful for that.
Leviticus sniffed the disguised Etcetera and frowned. “You killed him.”
“It wasn’t hard.” Munkustrap sneered. “He practically begged me to. Said something about being a failure.”
“I wanted him alive,” Leviticus replied coolly. “He would have been an asset to the tribe.”
“An asset? A cat like that?” Munkustrap curled his lip in disgust. “He was nothing more than a sniveling kitten at the end, cowering and begging for his death. Whatever happened to drive him from the tribe broke him. And if he hadn’t been broken, he would have put up such a fuss. He was too damn
Jellicle for his own good. You’re better off without him.”
“And with
you in his place?” Macavity’s honeyed voice interrupted the conversation as the ginger tom parted the crowd and mounted the tire. Cringing along behind him, Demeter’s ears were plastered to her head and her tail was tucked between her legs. She looked absolutely miserable. Her face was streaked with tears and her fur was ruffled. Munkustrap had to clench his paws to keep from reaching for his beloved queen.
“Naturally,” he said, tearing his gaze from Demeter to answer Macavity. “I’d be a better addition to the Monnik tribe than Munkustrap any day.”
Macavity bared his fangs as he stalked around Munkustrap. “And who are
you, exactly?”
“What, you don’t remember me?” Munkustrap growled at Macavity. “I’m hurt, Mac. Not even a hug for your baby brother, Kinny?”
Munkustrap identified a brief moment of surprise in Macavity’s eyes before the other cat quashed the emotion. “Ritzkin is dead.”
“Oh, yes, and you would know, because you’re the one who tore out my throat!” Munkustrap gestured at the scar across his neck. “But you failed, Mac.
I didn’t die.” Telling the truth after keeping it a secret for so long felt strangely liberating for Munkustrap. He watched Macavity with a dangerous focus, wanting to see that moment when Macavity realized he wasn’t actually lying.
“That is impossible,” Macavity scoffed, but he was interrupted by none other than Burelle.
“No, it’s true.” She dipped her head to kiss Leviticus in greeting before reaching out to take Munkustrap’s paw. “I found him, Macavity. I found him bleeding, barely alive, and I healed him. I nursed him back to health and sent him away, to keep him safe from you.”
“Ritzkin…” Leviticus murmured.
“Prove it!” Macavity snapped. “Prove you are who you claim to be!”
“How?” Munkustrap asked with a scowl. “Summon sparks to my paws? You stole my magic, Mac. Or would you rather I told you how we killed our siblings – Noilly, Wiskus, Mizra, and Apollinax? Or your last words to me – ‘Rest easy. I’ll put your magic to good use!’ Or is there some other way you want me to prove my identity?”
“Do you believe him, Macavity?” Leviticus asked.
Macavity stared at Munkustrap, and there it was, that moment of recognition. Munkustrap stared evenly back at Macavity, refusing to even blink. “Yes… yes I do.”
“Excellent.” Leviticus raised a paw toward Munkustrap. “Welcome back, Ritzkin. We’ve missed you.”
Munkustrap forced himself to smile and kiss Leviticus’ paw without a grimace. “Thank you, Father. I’ve missed you too.”
Macavity turned away with a growl that was cut short. “What is this… Kinny, did you do this?” He pounced on Etcetera, holding her toward Munkustrap. She was doing a very good job of staying still and impersonating a dead head.
Munkustrap nodded and shrugged. “Just a little gift to get me back into the tribe…”
Macavity laughed and through the illusionary head at Demeter. “Here you are, bitch! Here is your lover, come to save you!”
Demeter instinctively caught what was thrown at her, and she screamed when she identified it as a cat’s head, dropping it immediately. She screamed again when she recognized the head to be Munkustrap, collapsing to the ground, sobbing into her paws.
Beneath them, Tugger snarled and attacked the tire, dragging his claws across his prison. “Stop it! Pick on someone who can actually fight back!”
“Hush.” Leviticus swatted Tugger’s paws when he poked them through the tire’s hub. “Macavity, keep him silent.”
Macavity twitched a paw in Tugger’s direction, immediately muting the Jellicle’s protests.
Munkustrap took this opportunity to poke his nose near Tugger’s gage. “What’re you planning on doing with him, or the other Jellicles?”
“Keep them,” Leviticus answered, wrapping his arms around Burelle and pulling her against his chest. “They’ll provide fresh blood for the kittens. First, though, we must break their spirits. Any Jellicle putting up too much of a fight will be killed.”
Munkustrap made himself nod in understanding, but he kept his eyes on Tugger. His friend was hissing silently, but he met Munkustrap’s gaze with his own pleading,
hopeful one. He knew the truth. He knew Ritzkin was Munkustrap. He was begging Munkustrap to help.
He didn’t need to worry. Munkustrap would free the Jellicles if it killed him.
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Fitting in with the Monniks was easier than Munkustrap had thought it would be. All he had to do was swagger around and pick fights to be accepted, and winning fights boosted his reputation. Within a few days, Munkustrap was almost as feared and respected as Macavity. More of Munkustrap’s questions were also answered.
Etcetera had snuck off at the first opportunity, pulling off the collar and making a run for it. If things went according to plan, she would turn up on Jennyanydots’ doorstep and be safe. Munkustrap didn’t dare to check in on her, though.
Deuteronomy… his body was left to rot, unburied. It was behind the tire, picked over by the flies and gulls, but left untouched by Fleepit’s fleets. Munkustrap was grateful for that.
Most of the surviving Jellicles were kept in Deuteronomy’s old den, the grand piano. The queens were occasionally pulled out for a bit of fun for the Monnik toms (Bombalurina and Cassandra were continually chosen), but the guardians did their best to keep the younger queens safe, at least (Tumble sported a tattered ear now from his successful defense of Victoria).
Demeter shared Macavity’s den, which was Munkustrap’s old den. When she wasn’t at Macavity’s side, she could be spotted burrowing into the bed, breathing deeply, probably to get the faint lingering traces of Munkustrap’s own scent.
Tugger was kept under the tire. He was occasionally taunted but mostly ignored, which irked him even more than the tauntings. Sometimes, though, at night, Munkustrap would see Burelle slipping him food. She knew him from Munkustrap’s stories as he recovered in her care.
Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer had fled before the Monniks really took over, and Macavity kept sending out scouts to try and find the elusive thieves. Apparently, Mungojerrie never had been forgiven for making off with Rumpleteazer, Macavity’s promised mate.
Of all the Jellicles, Quaxo was the worst off. Of the other Jellicles, only Demeter even knew that he was still alive.
As a conjurer, Quaxo was the most dangerous. Not only was he equal in power to Macavity (if not a little stronger), but Macavity had conditioned the Monniks to fear magic. However, he was too valuable to kill. Quaxo was a pretty cat (could make pretty kittens, especially queenkits), he had Scabees blood (a completely different bloodline than most Jellicles – absolutely no incest issues would arise), and he was magical (theoretically, that meant there was a better chance of magical kittens).
Leviticus didn’t want Quaxo dead, but unlike the other Jellicles, Quaxo couldn’t just be corralled somewhere. He’d be able to break out with his magic. Macavity had found a solution, though. He had seen Quaxo’s weakness – water – when the Monniks arrived in the rain and Quaxo could barely stand straight. When the Monniks took over, the first thing they did was throw Quaxo into the swollen sewage canal in the center of the yard. Quaxo couldn’t perform his magic while surrounded by water, and the Monniks weren’t letting him out. There were always at least two guards on him at all times, keeping him from escaping. Quaxo would cling to the edge, fighting to just keep his head above the water. Occasionally, one of his guards would shove him beneath the surface, causing no small amount of amusement to ripple through the guards.
Munkustrap approached the canal, wanting to check in on Quaxo himself. Currently, the guards were ‘feeding’ him. They would rip chunks of flesh off a rat (not Fleepit, Munkustrap was relieved to see) and offer them to Quaxo. When the tired tom reached for the food, the guards would toss the meat into the canal and laugh.
Munkustrap watched Quaxo struggle to get even a bite. Water drained his energy. He had told Munkustrap that once. If he was constantly wet (trapped in the rain or floundering in the river (or a canal)) for hours, he would get hungrier and more tired much faster than normal. If he got trapped in the rain, he could starve to death in a third of the time it would take for a normal cat.
The Monniks didn’t know that.
Quaxo was starving.
Munkustrap stepped forward, shoving the guard currently ‘feeding’ Quaxo aside, and took his place. He pulled out the rat’s liver and held it up, brushing the morsel against Quaxo’s lips. “Look here, pet.”
Quaxo looked, obediently lifting his gaze to Munkustrap. His eyes widened in recognition.
Munkustrap held up the liver. “Want it, pet?” Quaxo nodded weakly, licking his lips. Munkustrap grinned, trying to put as much malice into the expression as he could, instead of the disgust at this whole scene. “Beg me for it. Beg your master for a bite.”
Quaxo stared at Munkustrap. Cats were, by their very nature, masterless. To force a cat to call another ‘master’ was the height of insult. Around Munkustrap, the Monniks nudged each other and grinned.
After a moment, Quaxo closed his eyes and swallowed. “Please,” he whispered. “Please… master, please may I have a bite?”
How humiliating. Munkustrap’s heart went out to the miserable young tom. Up to his ears in sewage and needing to beg for food like a Pollicle. Munkustrap touched the liver to Quaxo’s lips again, but didn’t pull it away this time.
Quaxo opened his eyes, hesitating only a second before he snatched the liver from Munkustrap’s paw, barely bothering to chew. Munkustrap reached out, caressing Quaxo’s filthy ears. “Now, what do you say?” he purred.
Quaxo set his ears back, but he looked up again at Munkustrap, gratitude shimmering in his dark eyes. “Thank you, master.”
Munkustrap rubbed Quaxo’s chin and forced a smile. “That’s a good pet.” He picked up the rest of the rat and shoved it into another Monnik’s paws. “Make sure he eats it all,” he growled. “We don’t want him to starve.”
“Why not?”
Munkustrap sighed, rubbing his face. Monniks. Idiots, all of them. “Leviticus wants him alive,” he answered, something he had said many, many times in the past few days. He was trying to make the Jellicles’ plight a little easier, but it was so hard to not give himself away.