The Opera Cats bustled about the fifth floor, waiting for Norb to return. He had gone off to watch part of the humans' operetta to see how it fared. Sometimes, Norb would make changes to the Opera Cats' productions based on the humans' performance. So, the Opera Cats kept themselves busy, performing their duties with an anxious cloud hanging over them. Roxanne had not yet returned, and there'd been no sign of Harry, either.
Olga stopped singing. She and Alfredo were currently practicing atop a wooden fence, the pickets shaking each time they moved. With her nose held high, Olga grumbled, “I don’t care if Roxanne returns. She’s been nothing but trouble since the day she started singing here.”
“I beg your pardon, Miss Olga,” Alfredo meowed, a hint of anger seeping into his voice, “but Roxanne has been nothing but a delight to work with. She has a fine voice and a pleasant disposition.”
Olga’s eyes flared. “And what have I? Do I not possess a beautiful voice and a pleasant disposition? No one compliments me like they do her, the little thief. I have half a mind to leave this place.”
“All right, enough chatter,” Cecil called from below. He tapped his tail against the floor. “Remember, we need to stay on schedule if we want this operetta to be finished. If you two can manage to sing, then everyone will be happy.”
“Not all of us,” Maggie muttered from beneath the fence.
Olga glared at the kitten. “Must you follow me wherever I go and give pointless comments? Be off, you wee beastie!”
Sticking her tongue out at Olga, Maggie scurried out from under the fence and into the throng of cats leaping on wicker furniture.
Uttering a long sigh, Cecil shook his head.
“If we can forget that rat Roxanne, then I shall be able to work!” Olga snapped.
Cecil sighed. “Please, Olga—”
“Eek!” Olga screeched.
“What now?” Cecil grumbled.
Olga waved a paw at Alfredo. “He—he stepped on my tail!”
Alfredo groaned. “My dear lady, I assure you, either on this fence or the floor, I couldn’t step on such a stub of a tail no matter how hard I'd try—”
“But it hurt!” Olga wailed. “Watch where you put your paws! Imbeciles, the lot of you!” Without warning, Olga leaped off the fence. She weaved between the cats, making her way to a large chair with stuffing sticking out of the cushions and long threads dangling to the floor.
“What about practice?” Alfredo asked, staring after Olga with wide eyes.
With a dismissive wave of his tail, Cecil meowed, “Let her go. She needs to calm down. Lately, everyone’s been agitated about one thing or another, and she’s no exception. Why don’t you take a short break as well? We can all use a brief rest.”
From her spot on the chair, Olga watched Alfredo nod before hopping off the fence. He glanced around the room, probably searching for a sign of Roxanne. Sniffing, Olga crossed her paws. What would these cats do if she happened to disappear? Would they worry their little heads off over her like they did Roxanne? She hoped so.
A cold breath wafted over Olga. She shivered. Ever since the first incident when the cold blast occurred in this room, the whole floor made her nervous. She hated being here. Perhaps next time, weather permitting, they could practice on the roof. That would be preferable to this dank cellar.
The cold breath blew over her again. Olga’s fur stood on end. A sharp pinprick pierced between her shoulder blades. Within a second the pinprick became several pinpricks, rending at her back like a paw with unsheathed claws. Blazing heat seared her skin, replacing the coldness from before. Yowling, she leaped into the air, her paws churning in wide circles. The Opera Cats ceased whatever tasks they were currently performing to stare at the eccentric Olga.
Olga flopped on the chair. She rolled from one side to the other, hissing and spitting, not noticing the cats gawking at her. She scratched the cushions, her mind full of ghost cats breathing down her neck and raking her with long claws. All she wanted was to rid herself of the pain in her back. One clear thought rose in her harried mind; Roxanne had been the cause of this cruel prank. That prissy princess wanted revenge since Olga accused her of stealing Star’s necklace! She must have concealed herself behind the chair to enact her trick without the other cats suspecting the culprit. Olga knew what she had to do. She’d spin around and scratch Roxanne’s eyes out, something she should have done long ago.
Hissing louder, Olga spun around to face Roxanne.
But she saw no red face, no green eyes glowing mischievously in the gloom. Instead, over the armrest, a faint white form appeared at the level of her nose. Squinting, Olga tried deciphering the thing she stared at. Slowly, the white form became more prominent, with blazing yellow eyes and a black hole where the nose should have been. And then a cat skull appeared, its sharp teeth glistening in the dim light.
“What—who—who—” Olga whimpered. Her innards curled together. Her eyes grew wide. The fighting instinct welling within her seconds ago evaporated, fear replacing it in every crevice in her body. Her nose wrinkled at the stench emanating from the skull. The thing before her smelled worse than a garbage heap.
As the skull thrust itself forward, Olga, screaming, leaped from the chair. All the cats watched in stunned silence as she flew through the air, her paws flailing as she landed on the tiled floor.
“What happened?” Alfredo demanded, darting to Olga’s side. Other cats clambered around Olga, meowing their concerns, some of them staring at the spot Olga had gawked at.
Olga rolled to her paws before running for the door. “The Ghost Cat!” she wailed as she rushed out of the room in a blur, unsure of her destination but only knowing she had to get as far from that horrid place as possible.
#
After Olga had left in a flurry of paws and a cloud of dust, the remaining cats rushed to the chair Olga had sat on, their eyes wide and their tails puffed up.
“I don’t see a thing,” Cecil said with little confidence.
“There!” a cat cried. “I see a skull!”
Several cats screeched while others ran under old pieces of furniture and other set pieces. Some cats dove behind the chair, their tails the last thing the other cats saw before they disappeared. A few cats fainted from fright. Some ran after Olga, exclaiming they didn’t want to stay in a room with a ghost.
“Calm down, everyone!” Cecil shouted. “There’s no ghost here!” Despite his words, his eyes flicked across the room.
Too late. The cats proclaimed they wouldn’t sing a word until someone brave enough captured the Ghost Cat. Other cats admonished the ones who insisted on capture; after all, how could one catch a ghost? More cats slipped out of the room without so much as a word.
Cecil leaped to the stag’s head. He needed to get the terrified cats under control. “QUIET!” he exclaimed, straining his voice to be heard over the din.
The cats who remained in the room fell silent. Two cats popped their heads up from behind the chair.
Cecil took a deep breath. To the cats behind the chair, he asked, “Did you find anything?”
“Not a thing, sir,” one orange cat replied.
“There’s not even a passage back here,” the other cat added.
“What the hell is going on in here?” someone bellowed from the door.
The sound grated on Cecil’s ears. He hadn’t expected Norb to return so early.
“I’ve got half the company running about the hallway like the devil himself is after them! Why isn't anyone practicing?” Norb exclaimed. He glared at Cecil. "How have you lost utter control over the Opera Cats? Are you all taking some sort of strange holiday?"
“It was the Ghost Cat!” Maggie shrieked. “He made another appearance!”
At the mention of the Ghost Cat, Norb's face fell. “No more Ghost Cat!” he wailed, sinking to his paws. “I’ve had enough of the Ghost Cat to last me a lifetime, or all our lifetimes combined! Please, no more!”
Cecil jumped toward Norb. “It’s true, sir,” he muttered. “Part of it is, anyway. Olga saw something she called the Ghost Cat before running out of the room.”
“See?” Maggie meowed, flicking an ear at Cecil.
Alfredo made his way toward Norb and asked, “Any sign of Roxanne? And where is Harry?”
Cats muttered amongst themselves about Roxanne, Harry, Olga, and the Ghost Cat. Cecil resisted the urge to cover his ears with his paws. This was too much. He wanted to escape the opera house and go to his human’s apartment where he could sleep for a week, but alas, such a respite had to be postponed. Now, more than ever, Norb needed to forget his fears of the Ghost Cat and lead the company out of this frantic state. It was his job after all, not Cecil's.
“Norb, sir,” Cecil began, bending to the Persian, “you’ve got to make a decision regarding the Ghost Cat. Send someone out to search the premises—maybe prove such a specter does not exist—”
At Cecil’s suggestion, the cats began babbling, their voices becoming a cacophony of excited meows.
“We’ve got to do something—”
“This is getting out of control!”
“What do you mean? It’s been out of control for days now.”
“If everyone is leaving, can I go home early?”
“I didn’t see the Ghost Cat!”
“Well, you’re lucky! I caught a glimpse of him before, and he’s truly frightening!”
“Silence!” Norb shouted. The cats snapped their mouths shut. “Alfredo, Cecil! Since you both are leaping out of your fur to do something, you two go after Olga. Spot—yes, you, Spot—and Bella? You round up the other cats who scurried off. I’ll stay here and calm the rest of you lot down, and then we will resume our practice. If we are to ever get this production finished, we need to practice! The next cat who leaves is finished working with the Opera Cats! Understood?”
The cats nodded their heads. Others mumbled assent.
“Good. To your tasks, or else I’ll start firing cats on the spot!” Norb announced.
Alfredo, Cecil, Spot, and Bella (the orange cat from before) ran out of the room, their tails lowered and their whiskers quivering. They had a long night ahead of them, and Cecil wondered when he'd consult with Norb regarding what he'd learned from the humans' performance. At the moment, such information seemed to be extremely unimportant.