Act 1, Scene 1

Roxanne opened her eyes. Several cats surrounded her, and when her vision cleared, she realized she was in Lady’s dressing room.

“Simply magnificent!” the white Persian cat leaning over her exclaimed.

Roxanne smiled at Norb, the Opera Cat director. It was the only response she could manage at the moment.

“You were amazing!” Maggie exclaimed. Several cats meowed their agreement.

“Wait until Olga finds out how beautiful your voice is!” some other cat shouted. A few cats snickered. Others whispered under their whiskers at how distasteful the comment had been.

“Why haven’t you let her sing before, eh, Norb?” another cat called from the commotion. Other cats mumbled about how hiding such a talented singer was surely a sin against all felines.

Norb puffed his chest out. “Ahem!” he meowed, narrowing his blue eyes at the crowd.

“When is Olga returning?” a slim white cat asked. “As the conductor, I would like to know. I have to prepare for our upcoming operetta.”

“You need not worry any longer, Cecil, for Olga has finally recovered from her illness,” Norb said with a sigh. His shoulders fell. By outward appearances, one would have thought Norb had been the cat suffering from some illness. “Her human is also returning to the opera. Apparently, the woman had some sort of malady along with Olga. But tomorrow night, they return!”

“How did you know Olga’s human was sick?” Roxanne asked as the other cats in the dressing room discussed the Olga matter amongst themselves.

Norb pursed his pink lips together as if offended by the question. “Olga sent me a message. One of the alley cats—Harry—delivered it a month ago. Coincidentally, it had also been Harry who informed me she’d soon be returning. Now we can proceed with our operetta. You realize Olga would have sung tonight if she’d been well. Since you’re her understudy, you were an acceptable replacement. But don’t fret. Tomorrow you need not worry about singing in front of an audience again! Your stage fright must be controlled, my dear.” Norb gave Roxanne a knowing wink.

Roxanne’s shoulders sagged. She wanted to tell Norb that her stage fright had been controlled… at least until she’d fainted. Nothing regarding her aria had gone amiss. But her body yearned for rest, and fighting with Norb seemed pointless. She only hoped the last few months’ sessions with her teacher hadn’t been a complete waste. Perhaps her teacher could give her advice on how to better conceal her stage fright.

Norb turned to address the cats. “All right, everyone! Let’s leave Roxanne alone. Lady will be arriving soon!”

The cats scurried out of the room. Some slipped out the window or under loose floorboards. Others left via the secret space in the wall behind the vanity. Soon Roxanne found herself alone. The tired cat rested her head on her dainty paws and thought about her mysterious teacher.

He’d made himself known to Roxanne a month ago, right after Olga had left. Roxanne had been alone in the dressing room, as she was now, and a voice—a voice so lovely she wept when she first heard it—wafted from the walls and enveloped her. The voice had promised her it would teach her and help her become the lead singer in the Opera Cat Company.

Roxanne sighed. Tomorrow she’d be in the chorus again. So much for becoming a prima donna. Norb didn’t feel confident in her capabilities, perhaps due to her stage fright. Roxanne had been a placeholder, nothing more.

“Roxanne.”

Roxanne lifted her head at the sound of her teacher’s voice. Her eyes roved the dressing room. One lamp by the door flickered, casting a pale light over everything with each flash, before it went out and shrouded the room in darkness. Roxanne squinted at the corners of the room and sniffed. She had seen nothing when the light flickered, as usual. Despite the dark, she knew her teacher remained hidden… if he possessed a physical form to hide, which Roxanne suspected not to be the case.

Sitting up, Roxanne called, “I’m here.”

“You sang beautifully tonight, Roxanne. Your voice was almost perfect. It still requires some work, along with you overcoming your fear of singing in front of an audience, but—”

“Olga’s returning,” Roxanne blurted. She shuffled her paws. She never interrupted her teacher, but she couldn’t help it. They had worked hard together for this night’s performance, and it had been for nothing.

It sounded as if the voice sighed, not in sorrow, but as if it had anticipated Olga’s return and dreaded it.

“I shall be in the chorus again,” Roxane added, unsure of what else to say, half-hoping her teacher might have some advice to offer her. Perhaps something that would keep her out of the chorus.

“Don’t worry about Olga.” Roxanne’s teacher spat the name out with so much anger Roxanne flinched. “I shall ensure you will sing the leads, my dear Roxanne. Olga can’t sing worth a hoot. That director of yours should be acutely aware of that fact!”

“But Norb wants her back,” Roxanne insisted, “and she’s not that horrible of a singer. In fact, she’s quite good—”

“If one enjoys the croaking toads produce, of course she’s not horrid in that case,” Roxanne’s teacher grumbled.

Roxanne sighed. “She doesn’t sound that bad. At least she doesn’t fear singing in front of a crowd.”

“Do not worry about your stage fright. Trust in your teacher,” the voice said, soft and gentle. “I’ll make sure everything works in your favor.”

“How?” Roxanne stood, staring at the ceiling where it sounded as if the voice emanated from.

No answer came.

Roxanne sensed that her teacher had gone. He often left their sessions without warning. It was something Roxanne still hadn’t become used to.

As she fell into her basket, she wondered how her teacher—a mysterious voice in the wall—could ensure she’d get leading roles. The voice sounded beautiful, but as far as Roxanne knew, a beautiful voice wafting from the walls held little sway over opera functions.

Perhaps not, though. Now that Roxanne pondered the matter, she remembered past incidents that had terrified the other cats. One cat had been pushed off the top of a set piece by invisible paws. Another cat had said he’d seen an apparition crawling on the catwalks, black as night and silent as a cemetery. Such incidents were attributed to the Ghost Cat, a phantom that haunted the opera house for as long as anyone remembered. Yet another incident involved Olga, who’d reported an emerald collar stolen, as well as one of her human’s emerald necklaces having vanished. Roxanne often wondered what the Ghost Cat needed a human necklace for; certainly, such a theft was the result of a human, not a spectral feline. Thus Roxanne had learned about the Ghost Cat and its tricks via whispers through what she considered second-paw news. No cat ever spoke directly with her about it. It made determining which stories were true from those that were false more difficult.

Thank goodness she hadn’t encountered the Ghost Cat. Roxanne chuckled. When she’d first heard her teacher’s soft voice, she’d wondered if he was the Ghost Cat. She had considered asking the voice but realized that the Ghost Cat probably didn’t care for opera one way or the other. The antics of the Ghost Cat were cruel and creepy; teaching singing lessons was as far from cruel and creepy as anything could get.

Such thoughts filled Roxanne’s head as she drifted off to sleep.