Emmy and the Rats in the Belfry (9 page)

“And why do these creatures keep
squeaking
at me as if they're
talking
?” Aunt Melly's voice rose to the level of hysteria. Her hair, loosened from its bobby pins, fell halfway to her shoulders.

“Calm down, Aunt Melly, please!” Emmy glanced at Cecilia, still safe on the tabletop. “If you let Ratty bite your finger, you'll understand everything they're saying. It's just a little nip, Aunt,” she added earnestly.

“Oh, what does it matter?” said Aunt Melly wildly, holding out her finger. “I'm probably going insane, anyway—
OW!
”

“I didn't bite
that
hard,” said Raston. “Sheesh.”

“Hard enough,” Aunt Melly said with spirit and then, shocked—“That rat. He
talks
.”

“Really?” said the Rat, peering down at her. “Are you sure?”

“Don't be sarcastic, Ratty,” said Emmy. “Sissy! Get off the windowsill!”

“Hey, you greasy bat!” cried Raston, leaping from the table to his sister's side. “Get your claws off my sister!”

“Raston! How rude!” Cecilia ducked out from beneath the bat's sheltering wing and straightened to her full height. “Manny was just showing me something.”

“Manny?
Manny
?” The Rat sneered. “What was he showing you, his
bat toys
?”

The bats outside the window stirred restlessly.

“Of course not, don't be silly. Here, look.” Cecilia stepped back to reveal a complicated arrangement of straps and buckles, connected to a multitude of long filaments that looked like fishing line.

“It is—how you say?—a harness!” said Manlio, sweeping his wings wide. “It is for the flying of the rodents through the sky!”

“And why,” said Raston through his teeth, “would we want to fly with
you
?”

Manlio reached into a small satchel and pulled out a folded piece of paper the size of a large postage stamp. “For to see the Rat Mamma, of course! Here is for the letter from her to the most beloved ratlings!”

“Oh!” cried Cecilia. She clutched the paper in her paws and stared at it with longing. “If only I could read it! Oh, Rasty!”

Raston snatched the paper and bent over it. “I need a better light,” he muttered, and scrambled from the windowsill to the counter where a lamp burned brightly.

Emmy and Ana leaned in from either side and peered at the letter, trying to read the tiny printing.

Behind them, on the windowsill, Manlio moved closer to Cecilia. “Would you like for to try it on?” he murmured. “It is the very latest style, Italian leather of course, and the strap color it is so beautiful with the soft gray fur … there, you see? One little strap to fit over the beautiful shoulder … then another … now we buckle under the sweet fuzzy arms.”

“Are you sure it will hold me?” Cecilia whispered.

“
Tesora mia,
my treasured Cecilia! It is to offend, this!” Manlio clasped his wings together at the thumb joint and raised his eyes heavenward. “Would I trust my oh-so
preziosa
Cecilia to the straps if they were not one hundred
per cento
?” He twisted his head to look at the hanging bats behind him and gave a brief nod. A hundred bats roused, unfolded their wings, and began to flutter upward, each trailing a nylon filament attached to Sissy's harness.

The agitation of bat wings sent a slight waft of air against Emmy's cheek. She turned to see Sissy still on the windowsill, now strapped tightly into the harness and beginning to sway as the nylon filaments grew taut.

“Hey!” cried the Rat. “Not so fast!” He launched himself at the windowsill but fell short, smacking hard against the wall. He scrabbled at the sill and hung by his claws, gasping as he tried to pull himself up over the edge.

“Ratty, are you all right?” Emmy cried. “Manlio, don't take her yet. Ratty doesn't want her to go—”

“All together we
lift
the most beautiful rodent, we
fly
her through the air …” Manlio's teeth showed white and sharp, and his beaded eyes were bright in his furry face as the filaments pulled at the harness and Sissy was dragged off the sill. The gray rat dropped briefly out of sight and then rose again, swinging in space as the bats beat steadily upward in a flurry of wings.

Raston grunted with supreme effort and dragged himself onto the windowsill at last, panting.

“Ladies first!” said Manlio. “Handsome-but-weighty gentleman rats next time!” He fanned his wings and launched himself from the sill, just escaping Raston's sudden frantic leap.

“There's only one harness, Rasty!” cried Sissy, swinging in space outside the window. “I'll send the bats back for you, I promise! And I'll tell Ratmommy you're coming!”

Emmy rushed to the window, but by the time she got there, all she could see of Sissy were the bottoms of her feet and a curved tail hanging down.

In a moment the rodent was just a dark blot high above—and then Emmy could see nothing at all but the darkening sky and a pale coin of moon just rising.

A
STREETLIGHT SHONE DOWN
on a narrow building in the old part of Schenectady, turning boarded windows pale and edging the crumbling front steps with a rough glow. Beside the steps, in deep shadow, sat a square box wrapped in brown paper. The paper had been chewed—the box, gnawed open at one corner.

No one watched as a sleek rat backed out of the hole in the box, slung a bag over his shoulder, and hurried up a slender board that led from the ground to a gap in the siding above the foundation.

Cheswick Vole pushed his way past a hanging flap of tar paper and tossed the bag down three inches to a scarred wooden floor. He paused to catch his breath, looking around.

The laboratory's long counters and high stools were thick with dust, but no vandals had broken in during the years Professor Capybara had been away. Everything was as he had left it—the laboratory equipment, the roll-top desk with its manual typewriter, the old-fashioned projector with an educational video still in it from the library, never returned. Professor Capybara used to play videos so the rodents wouldn't be bored, and even the sheet he had used for a screen was still hanging on a wire.

A wall of cages, stacked one on the other, showed where the rodents of power had once been kept. Cheswick remembered having to clean the cages, back in the days when he had been the professor's assistant. It had not been his favorite activity.

But now that he was a rat, he viewed these things differently. And the cages—extra large, with every convenience: water bottles, scratching posts, exercise wheels, play tubes—looked surprisingly attractive.

But most attractive of all was his beloved Miss Barmy. Cheswick lifted his muzzle and sniffed. She was here, but he couldn't see her. He scanned the large room, dimly lit by a single Bunsen burner. Perhaps she was up on the high counter, unpacking the bags of supplies?

He brightened at the thought. Jane wasn't usually the sort to pitch in and help. But here in Schenectady, maybe things would be different!

The black rat hauled the bag over to a leg of the counter where a long string hung looped, its two ends dangling over a hook high above. He tied the bag to one of the ends and yanked hard on the loose end of the string. The bag rose, swaying in the air, and when it bumped against the lip of the counter, Cheswick wound the bottom string on a protruding nail and stepped back, wiping his forehead with a weary paw.

It had been a long and exhausting couple of days. It hadn't been easy, messing up Emmy's room twice, and stealing the formula and supplies from the Antique Rat had been dangerous as well as exhausting. Then he'd had to drag a whole bag of Squirrel Dust up to the rafters, and after
that
, he'd had to poke holes in the ceiling tile!

But it had all been worth it. Miss Barmy, his dearest Jane, had been with him the whole time. He blushed hotly as he recalled how she had lain next to him between the rafters, cheek to fuzzy cheek, as they watched the party going on below. And when he had lifted the bag of Scaly-Tailed Squirrel Dust, and sifted it through the hole precisely above the Addisons—when the dust had swirled, sparkling, landing on their hair, their shoulders, floating lightly in the very air they breathed—oh, at that magical, never-to-be-forgotten moment, Miss Barmy had actually kissed him! Only on his ear, of course, and in her excitement she had unfortunately bitten it a little, but still—it had been
wonderful
.

She hadn't been quite so friendly inside the box, though.

Mr. B had tucked the two rats in the packing box together with their supplies and given them plenty of air holes, a doll's bottle of water, and some sesame seed snacks. He had sent the box express delivery, clearly marked FRAGILE and THIS SIDE UP, and they
had
stayed right side up, mostly.

But even though it had been cozy in the box, and dark, Miss Barmy had stayed well away from him. She said she had a headache.

Well, she had to be feeling better now. The express driver had left them at the doorstep of Professor Capybara's old laboratory, as directed. And the postal bats should be arriving soon, if Guido and Stefano had passed on the message properly.

Yes, everything was going according to plan, Cheswick thought as he clawed his way up a tall wooden stool and scrambled onto the countertop. And such a plan! Carefully thought out in every detail, even down to the final revenge on Emmaline Addison …

Cheswick hunched his furry shoulders and looked down over the edge of the counter, feeling oddly ashamed. Of course Jane knew best. Still, he didn't quite understand why she needed to harm a little girl. Wasn't it enough for her that she was going to grow and become human again? The police couldn't watch her house forever. Soon enough, she would be able to find a new place—maybe out of the country—where she could start over. Perhaps a nice place on the Riviera, in the south of France? Cheswick had never been to France, and he had always wanted to go.

The black rat hauled the last bag of supplies over the rim of the counter and fell back on his rump, hard. Where
was
Jane? He looked past the microscopes, past the test tubes and the Bunsen burner's steady flame, and saw at last the piebald rat. She was up on a windowsill, leaning on the sash with her back to him.

Cheswick watched Miss Barmy as she gazed out through the glass, apparently lost in thought. Her fuzzy cheeks bunched, and he could tell she was smiling.

Was she gazing at the moon? Or the stars? She looked positively
enchanted
…

Ah! Cheswick pressed his paws to his chest, almost bursting with emotion. He understood it now! The sight of such far, high beauty had called up Jane's better self, the nobility that he had always known was there. And now she had no need for revenge, or even to grow human again … She would be content to be his ratty love, with a litter of ratlings in a sandy riverbank somewhere. France would be perfect! They could raise the children to be bilingual!

He leaped to the windowsill in a single bound. He would look out with Jane, side by side. Together, they would look up at the stars, and dream, and hope, and plan …

But no. The window was boarded up. There was no view outside; there was nothing to be seen but darkness.

No, wait—there
was
something. The flame from the Bunsen burner gave a little light, casting a reflection on the surface of the glass. Cheswick could even see his own face! His whiskered muzzle, his pointed ears, and next to him—

Oh.

Cheswick slumped a little.
Now
he could see what Jane had been looking at all this time.

Miss Barmy fluffed her patches of white and tan and arranged the fur between her ears with a skillful paw. Then she curled her tail gracefully over her shoulder and smiled again at her own reflection.

“Chessie?”

The black rat straightened with an effort. “Yes, Jane?”

“I like this lighting. It's very—”

“Romantic?” said Cheswick, with a flicker of hope.

“Flattering,” Miss Barmy finished.

Cheswick gazed at her softly lit reflection, and sighed. He supposed he couldn't blame her. After all, it was a very pretty reflection … if a bit fuzzy.

“There's a nice little breeze coming in,” he said. He put his ear to the gap in the window frame and listened with pleasure to the night sounds of crickets, the peep of frogs from some nearby reeds, and a light fluttering of leaves that sounded like the beating of a hundred thin wings—a hundred
bat
wings—

There was a sharp knock at the siding near the floor, and a flat, fuzzy face poked beneath the hanging tar paper. “We've got her,” said a raspy voice. “And now you must to pay Manlio and the bats, no?”

 

“Twenty-five mealworms,” said Cheswick, counting them out. He folded back the tar paper and looked up into the sky, where a cloud of bats descended in a series of erratic drops. Below them, swaying, was a dark blot the size of a pear, and against the faint light of the moon a slender tail could be seen hanging down.

“Fifty,” said Manlio, watching the squirming white worms drop one by one into his bag. “You forget—there is the brother for to bring, too.”

“The brother?” Cheswick said sharply. “
He's
here?”

“
Certamente,
there is the brother. He is a heavy one—I think maybe we charge
thirty
mealworms for him. But we must to make the special trip for him, see? When the sweet fuzzy one, she is inside with the Mamma, yes?”

“We don't want the brother,” said Cheswick, glancing nervously over his shoulder back inside.

Manlio Bat drew back, staring at the large black rat. “The Rat Mamma, she no want her
son
?”

“Er … not yet,” said Cheswick. “She wants to have time alone with her daughter, first.”

“She want the daughter, but not the son?” Manlio repeated, his thin voice rising. “Is none of my business, maybe, but what kind of Mamma
is
this?”

Cheswick ignored the question, watching instead as the colony of bats settled ever lower, squeaking like a hundred tiny rusty gates. The swaying rat in the harness touched the ground, lifted, then dropped again, stumbling as she tried to land on her feet.

“
Attenzione!
Be careful!” cried Manlio.

“I want the harness,” said Cheswick as Manlio agitated his wings and fluttered to where Sissy lay on the ground, entangled in limp strings.

“Then you will to pay,” snapped Manlio, busily snipping through knots with his sharp small teeth. “A harness, she costs. There, my so beautiful Cecilia, you have had the great adventure in the sky! But now you are back to the earth, and soon you will see the Rat Mamma, no?”

Sissy staggered, clutching Manlio for balance.

“Hey, Giovanni!” Manlio patted Sissy on the shoulder with his wing as a large, hairy bat sidled forward. “Giovanni, he will help you stand until you recover the balance, no? I must to go make the arrangements …”

Sissy glanced up, looking dazed. “And then you'll get Rasty?”

Manlio hopped to the gap in the siding, where Cheswick waited in the shadows. “For the harness, fifteen worms more,” the bat said briskly. “And listen—the little Cecilia, she think her brother is to coming soon. They have much the love for each other, much the—how you say, the feeling
famiglia
?”

“Family feeling,” said Cheswick. “I understand it's considered important.”

“Considered important?
Considered?
Guido, my cousin, he almost to break his wingtips flying for to deliver the message to us, all the way from the Grayson Lake … this, because he my cousin, my
famiglia
! And I, I do all I can—for the honor of the Bats
Postale
! The postal bats,
comprendo
?”

“I comprehend,” said Cheswick sharply. “But what you don't seem to comprehend is that it's none of your business! You have been hired to transport one rat—
one
, got it? And not to give advice when you haven't been asked!”

Manlio sighed. “Is right. Is not none of my business. But the beautiful Cecilia, she will be oh so sad—”

Cheswick glared at him, and the bat fell silent. “Now bring her in, but blindfold her, first.”

“Blindfold?” Manlio's voice rose again.

“Her mother wants to surprise her, see?” snapped Cheswick. “And you give me any more objections, I'll take my business elsewhere! I hear you've got a lot of mouths to feed up there in your belfry, Mister Bat!”

Manlio swirled his wings about him like a cape, and bowed. “
Comprendo,
Signor Ratto—I understand. The sweet fuzzy one, she will break her heart, and the brother will wait and wait, and no one will come for him.”

Cheswick frowned. “Maybe I'd better give you a note to drop in his paws, or he might come looking for her. Wait just a minute.”