Claws (9780545469678) (3 page)

Emma always thought Helena was just pretending that she didn't care when she acted like that, but maybe she really hadn't cared at all. Otherwise, why would she run away, and not tell Emma anything? Why didn't she call or leave a message on Emma's HangOut wall or something?

She wished Helena would come back. Then everything would be right again. Then she wouldn't feel so alone.

CRAG FACT OF THE DAY:

“The average child between two and fourteen years old is one thousand times more likely to be hit by a car than to be eaten by a hag.”

CragWiki.org

“Y
ou know, it wasn't very polite to block up the vent like that.”

Emma sprang up from the box she was sitting on and looked around, trying to figure out where the voice was coming from. Then she saw the thin, ragged-looking cat lounging on the window-sill, half hidden by the curtains. His fur was patchy and so dirty Emma couldn't tell what color it was supposed to be. One of his eyes was missing and there was a pink, sunken scar in its place.

Emma only knew a little about cats, but what she knew wasn't exactly comforting. They could talk, but they rarely bothered to talk to humans. They could change their size and become huge, the size of lions or bigger. And they'd been known to hunt humans, though there hadn't been any incidents in a long time. That anyone knew about.

“You were in my room before, weren't you? You laughed at me,” Emma said. She backed away and looked around for something to defend herself with. “What do you want?”

The cat's voice was deep and lazy, almost bored. “I'm glad you've finally figured out that I'm not a ratter. Perhaps next you'll use those same claw-sharp wits to realize I can't open doors very easily, and you've blocked up my way in and out. I'd rather not have to fight to get back into my own home.”

“You own this trailer?” Emma asked doubtfully.

“Of course I don't
own
it,” the cat said. “What would be the point of that? I live here, so it's my home. At least, for now.”

“But it's our home now. We're moving in today.” Emma hated the way it sounded, but there it was, the truth. Her parents weren't suddenly going to yell “Surprise!” and reveal this was all a big joke.

“Obviously you're moving in,” he said. “But I was here first, so you're going to have to learn to share.”

“I'm not allowed to have pets,” Emma said automatically.

The cat's one eye narrowed dangerously. Emma paled. A cat wasn't like a dog or a gerbil. Saying a cat could be a pet was almost like saying Emma's parents kept
her
as a pet. He was just so much smaller than most other crags, even if he could talk. She back-pedaled quickly.

“I mean, um, my mom wouldn't want a cat living with us. I don't think she likes crags very much.” She hesitated. “Is it all right to call you a crag? Is that an insult?”

“You can just call me Jack,” the cat said. “Anyway, I'm sure she'll like
me
. Everyone does, sooner or later. I'm quite charming.”

Emma eyed his dirty fur. “Are you sure you aren't thinking of some other cat? Like one with both eyes who still remembers how to clean himself?”

Jack laughed. It was a strange sound. Not quite a purr, not quite a human laugh. “You caught me at a bad time, that's all. A couple of other cats have been playing a little game with me. It's called ‘Hunt Jack, Then Kill Him.' I'm afraid I haven't had the chance to compose myself just yet.”

Emma's eyes widened. “Kill you? Not for real, though, right?”

“Oh, I'm pretty sure it's for real. I took something of theirs. Doubtless my charm will win them over and they'll calm down. But until they do, I need somewhere to hide, and this trailer works quite well.”

Emma wasn't sure whether to trust anything the cat said — for all she knew, he was friends with the hag and the snake-man. “Couldn't you just turn yourself into something so they couldn't find you? Cats do that, don't they?”

“Other cats do, sometimes. Unfortunately, these days, I'm without a pride. No pride, no magic. My attempts to correct this have unfortunately only caused me further trouble. It's a sad state of affairs.” He eyed Emma and began to tear lazily at the curtains with one claw. “Though I think an opportunity might present itself soon enough.”

“So, um, where are these killer cats now? They're not around here somewhere, are they?”

“Still looking for me in the forest. If they were nearby, you'd know about it.”

“Oh. That's good, I guess.” Emma sat back down on the box. “I'm sorry you lost your pride and your magic and stuff. I lost someone, too. My sister, Helena.”

“Oh, please. What good is a sister? We're talking about cat magic, the most powerful magic in the world, and you're talking about someone who was in the same litter as you. You can always get more sisters.”

Emma stared at him. “You . . . you can't just say things like that. You can't . . . what if she's been kidnapped? What if something horrible happened to her?”

“Then she should get herself unkidnapped. I don't see why you're worrying about it.” He yawned. “Now, it's a pretty big inconvenience for me having to share my house with you —”

“You do realize my parents are moving in, too, don't you?” Emma cut in.

“— but I might be able to make allowances if you share your food with me. I remember trying something from a little metal box once. It opened at the top, and the smell . . .” He licked his whiskers.

“You mean it was in a tin can? Like tuna or something?”

“Bring me some and we'll see,” Jack said.

Emma sighed. “All right, but my parents can't know you're here, okay? You're going to have to hide in my room.” She eyed his dirty fur. “And you have to clean yourself up if you want to sit on my bed.” Letting him stay might not be the best idea, but if he really didn't have any magic, it was probably safe enough. Safer than being outside with the hag anyway.

She realized then that it was quiet outside. Her parents had stopped arguing. Jack's ears pricked up as footsteps sounded on the metal steps outside the front door. “Hide! Quick!” Emma hissed, but Jack was already on his feet and bolting for her bedroom.

The door opened and her parents walked in.

“Who were you talking to?” her mom asked.

“No one,” Emma said. “I was looking for one of my schoolbooks but I couldn't find it.”

“Well, you'd better make sure you do. We can't afford to pay the replacement fee if it's lost.” Her mom sighed. “I'm going to drive you to school so you don't have to walk, and you're going to have to stay inside, especially after dark.”

“I thought the hag couldn't do anything. If it's so dangerous here, why —”

“She can't,” her dad said. “Your mom just wants to be extra careful, that's all.”

“What about Mr. Simbi? Could he hurt me?”

“Mr. Simbi is safe enough, just a little stuffy,” her mom said. “He seems like a nice enough man. Snake. Coatl. Just . . . try not to bother him, that's all.”

“But don't ignore him if he talks to you,” her dad added. “We don't want him to think we have something against crags. All right?”

“So . . . I'm not allowed to go outside or walk to school, but it's perfectly safe, and we don't want the giant snake-man to think we have anything against crags. Is it all right if the hag thinks we have something against crags?”

Her dad clapped his hands together. “How about we get things straightened up, then I'll make us a nice dinner? Emma, what would you like?”

Emma hesitated. She knew he was changing the subject, but it had been a long time since he'd asked that question. “I dunno . . . maybe garlic lasagna?” It was one of her favorites, even better than
pho
, which was Helena's favorite.

“Hmm. I think I can manage that. It's been a while since we had Italian night, hasn't it?”

For a week after Helena had disappeared, Emma's dad had cooked
pho
every night — just like their grandmother used to make it. As though it would bring Helena home somehow. After that, when there was still no sign of Helena, he'd tried to keep cooking, but everything seemed to go wrong. Like he didn't really care anymore. That's why he'd had to sell the restaurant and they'd run out of money.

Emma's mom smiled. She'd always joked that she married a chef because she liked to eat but didn't like to cook. “I think that sounds very nice. We'll put the table together and move the rest of the furniture, and then you can go to the store. I'll make you a list of some other things we need.”

Emma could almost smell the rich garlic scent wafting up from a pot of cream sauce, could hear it bubbling gently. Her stomach rumbled. She'd missed her dad's cooking. She hadn't even realized how much she'd missed it. Home wasn't really home without it. Or without Helena. Emma's sister would be horrified by their trailer, though. Her room back home had been completely color-coordinated, like it was a photo from a magazine, and it smelled of her cucumber body spray instead of mold and cat.

“Can you get me some tuna?” she said, remembering her promise to Jack.

“Since when do you like tuna?” her dad asked, his brow furrowing.

Emma shrugged. “Since I had some at Marie's house.” She'd have to tell them about Jack soon, but not just yet.

* * *

The next hour was spent dragging furniture around the cramped rooms and stacking boxes in corners until they could be unpacked.

Her parents were in the middle of trying to move a dresser when there was a knock on the door.

“I'll get it,” her dad said.

Emma followed him, weaving between boxes. There was another knock just as her dad opened the door. On the other side stood a short man in a wrinkled suit and sunglasses. He was barely Emma's height, but a lot heavier, with a huge belly and thick arms that strained the seams of his sleeves.

It was a dwarf, Emma realized.

“I'm looking for Mr. Vu,” the dwarf said. “You him?”

“Yes, that's me,” her dad said. “Is there something I can help you with, Mr. . . . ?”

“Heard you were asking around. For information. That you might be looking to talk to certain people about certain business.”

“Yes, that's right,” he said. The hope in his voice was obvious, and painful to hear. “I'm looking for my daughter. I was hoping someone might be able to —”

“Payment first. Gold if you've got it. Or gemstones.”

Her dad nodded and stepped aside to let the dwarf in.

“Hanh?” he called. “We have a visitor. Where's that bracelet we were talking about the other day?”

Emma's mom stopped just outside the living room, her gaze landing on the dwarf. Her shoulders slumped. “Oh. Of course. I'll be right back with it.”

They waited in awkward silence for a few minutes. Then Emma's mom reappeared, a thin gold-and-silver bracelet in her palm. The dwarf fumbled with his sunglasses, stuffing them carelessly into a pocket, then held out his hand. It shook slightly.

“This was my grandmother's,” Emma's mom said quietly as she set the bracelet in the dwarf's calloused palm.

His eyes widened as he ran his fingers roughly over the links. “This is old,” he whispered. “Dwarven-made. Don't recognize the marks, though.” As Emma watched, his eyes changed from a dark gray to a bright, shining gold.

Then he closed his fist over the bracelet and jammed it into another pocket, rubbing his eyes until they were dark gray again. “I can take you to meet some . . . contacts, but you'll have to go into the forest. I'm not promising your safety. Okay?”

“Okay,” her dad said.

“Then get a move on already,” the dwarf said. “Because I'm not getting any younger.” He turned and stomped down the metal steps.

Emma's dad glanced back at her mom and smiled his serious smile. “I'll be back, don't worry. Maybe I can make us dinner some other night.” Then he gave Emma a quick hug and whispered, “I'm not giving up on Helena. We're going to get her back. I promise.” He followed the dwarf out of the trailer.

Emma and her mom worked in silence for the rest of the evening, and dinner was cheap Chinese takeout, the sort her dad always used to complain just gave food a bad reputation. Of course, lately he ate whatever he was given without comment of any kind, like he couldn't taste it anyway. Jack, at least, seemed quite content with the pieces of chicken she snuck away from the table.

* * *

It was late by the time her dad finally came home. Emma was in bed, listening to her MP3 player, Jack curled up beside her. His one eye was closed but she could tell he was awake. She threw a blanket over him so her parents wouldn't see him. Jack growled, and scratched her leg as she stood up.

Emma opened the door to her room and peeked out. Her father's face was drawn and gray. He looked exhausted and his clothes were dirty.