Kip yawned. He had been sleeping for a long time, but he didn’t feel up to leaving the green room yet. During performances, singers waited in the green room when they were unneeded, and at the moment it stood empty, which suited Kip fine. He figured he’d have to leave soon, though, when night fell. The humans’ schedule proved hard to memorize, so Kip had no way of knowing if the green room would be used tonight or not.
Suitable for its name, the round room was almost all green. A thick green carpet covered the floor, green vanities lined the walls with green chairs, and green wallpaper decorated in decoupage stretched from the floor to the ceiling. It made Kip feel as if he were lost in a forest.
Try as hard as he might, Kip’s thoughts kept returning to Orpheus. There’d been so much more he hadn’t shared with Harry.
Kip’s mind soon turned to the first time he’d met Orpheus, long ago after his internship with Fishbone had ended. His eyes becoming heavy yet again, he allowed himself to drift down into old memories...
He’d been hunting on the sixth floor for a week now, and in a strange way, the humans proved a small source of comfort. It turned out he wasn’t as alone as he had first thought. The humans never noticed him, and he paid them no attention in return.
An explosive clang erupted throughout the sixth floor, thrumming through the floorboards and making Kip’s legs shudder. Several humans ran toward the source of the sound, and deciding he could leave his post for a brief moment (and curious himself), Kip darted after them.
A large male human knelt over a dark blue piece of heavy-looking fabric. Beneath the human, something writhed and yowled. Kip froze. It sounded like a cat. An extremely angry cat.
The male human shouted to those gathered, spittle flying from his mouth. Some humans muttered strange sounds before returning to their previous tasks. Others remained. One knelt by the male, whimpering softly. The cat, hissing louder, leaped beneath the fabric, scratching a small slit with its claws.
The scenario of a cat getting caught by humans hadn’t been discussed in Fishbone’s long lectures. Rat catchers made sure to never make their presence known to humans; doing so endangered all of them. So, the cat ensnared in the fabric wasn’t a rat catcher, that much Kip knew. It might be one of the Opera Cats. The Opera Cats, Kip had learned, weren't as careful about staying hidden as the rat catchers.
The cat being held captive possessed the loudest voice Kip had ever heard. The yowls pierced his ears, making him cower in his hiding spot. He swore he could almost feel the voice reverberating through the floor and up his paws. Oddly enough, it made Kip want to free the cat, simply to see the face of the owner of such a unique voice.
Without giving it a second thought, Kip flung himself at the male holding the cat hostage. He'd broken the most important rule the rat catchers abided by, but he realized that, at the moment, he didn't care. Kip unsheathed his claws and pierced them into the human’s flabby face. The human screeched, stood, and swatted at Kip. He shook his head about in a large arc, throwing Kip to the floor with the motion. Kip darted around the wailing human’s feet, always a step ahead of its meaty hands. The other humans screeched, some darting out of the room. Out of the corner of his eye, Kip saw a black blur race past the melee he had caused and into an open vent.
Something slammed into Kip, sending him sailing across the room. Kip thudded to the floor, his vision swimming from the impact. The humans’ voices, angry and loud, filtered through his daze. When he could see clearly, he saw the male human doubled over, blood streaming from his face. Another human crouched beside him with a thick book in his hands, staring wildly about the room as if waiting to strike something else with it. That had been the thing that had hit Kip. A woman saw Kip and, screaming, pointed a trembling finger at him.
What made these humans act as if a cat proved the worst thing they’d seen? Had they never spied a rat before? Those were the creatures they should be crying and shouting about, not a cat. Hissing, Kip darted through the cluster of humans and dove into the open vent the other cat had disappeared into. The human who had swatted Kip with the book slammed the vent cover back on, shouting and spitting at the ground…
Kip stretched and yawned again, coming out of his reverie for a moment. The green room replaced the opera basement he’d been remembering. He shuddered at the mere thought of the rest of that day when he had seen the cat he’d saved. Why Orpheus showed himself and why he began talking with Kip, he had no idea. Perhaps it had been because Kip had freed Orpheus, and that had been the kindest act shown to the hideous cat in his miserable life. After all these years, the inner workings of Orpheus’s mind remained a mystery to Kip, and he supposed they always would.
Of course, Kip had no way of knowing Orpheus's motivation for speaking with him for certain, but if he had seen Orpheus’s face before he’d been captured, would Kip still have saved him? If Kip was being honest with himself, he didn’t think he would’ve rescued the hideous cat. That day had begun a strange relationship with an even stranger cat.
Kip settled on his paws again. He thought about Orpheus’s one positive, his one beautiful, attribute. Orpheus’s voice, much to Kip’s surprise, was the most magnificent voice his ears had been graced to hear. Living alone in the basement, the sounds Kip was accustomed to were humans shouting and the roar of various human machines or the squeals of rats. Not the most pleasant noises, Kip thought.
Kip’s reminiscing turned to the Opera Cats. When he saw them or passed them by in secret, he heard them speak of ghostly voices and of items vanishing. After the very first incident regarding Orpheus and the Opera Cats, Kip had started keeping an eye on Orpheus as best he could. If only it could have prevented the Roxanne ordeal.
Nothing could have prepared Kip for that mess. Fighting the rats seemed like a long-ago nightmare. Kip shook the loose skin between his shoulders, trying to rid himself of the shivers rippling up and down his body. He’d decided to give himself a respite from hunting rats, at least for a little while. He knew he couldn’t face even a single rat by himself given his current mental state. He needed rest.
Staring at the decoupage surrounding him, Kip wondered why such an ugly cat had been gifted with a sublime voice. His thoughts became more convoluted, and soon the flowers on the wall swirled in his vision, making him dizzy. He closed his eyes. He’d never asked Orpheus about his life before the opera, but he suspected it had been an unpleasant one due to his…unique visage.
In a groggy voice, Kip asked himself, “Was there something I should have done and did not do?” His eyes widened. The croaking of his voice startled him. It sounded as if he’d aged ten years during the night. After clearing his throat in order to chase the hoarseness away, he whispered, “Should I have stopped Orpheus a long time ago? Should I never have saved him?” Kip shook his head. There’d never be answers to such difficult questions.
As Kip closed his eyes again, a heavy thumping sound forced them wide open. He lifted his head and glanced around the room. When his gaze fell on the entrance, his body stiffened.
There, plodding into the room, was Orpheus, panting with the effort.
Despite the many aches in his body, Kip sat up and glared at the cat. He no longer felt tired. “It took you long enough to release Harry and me from that rat room of yours. A second longer and we both would have died.”
“I never intended...to let either of you...out of that room,” Orpheus growled, gasping for breath between words. He flopped on the green carpet, his eyes—now a pale yellow—gazing at the ceiling.
Kip shivered at the sight of the hideous head. He couldn't stand to look at it, so he stared at the wall behind Orpheus. But the more he ignored the skull head, the harder the task became. Sighing, he gave up the endeavor.
“Then why did you let us go?” Kip snarled.
“Roxanne,” Orpheus whispered, his voice reverent as if speaking of some benevolent goddess. The film that served as Orpheus’s eyelids slid over his eyes, a slimy sound accompanying it. The eyes reminded Kip of a small snake he’d encountered in the opera house when he’d been a kitten. “It was she who saved you, not I. True, I pulled you and that insufferable Harry out of the room, but I wouldn’t have dreamed of doing so if she hadn’t intervened.”
Kip’s shoulders sagged. The way Orpheus spoke made Kip wonder if the ugly cat had much time left. It had been the same way with his mother before she had passed. Speaking in a low voice. Dim eyes. Unable to move. Indeed, Orpheus’s breathing sounded raspier than usual, and he had walked with difficulty when he’d entered the green room. Those thoughts had to wait, however; there were more important questions to ask, and Kip sensed time was short. “What did you do to Roxanne? And Harry?”
“Full of questions, aren’t you?” Orpheus asked, heaving himself into an upright position, his legs trembling as he did so.
“When two cats’ lives are potentially at risk, yes.”
“Think about it—if you are here, alive and well, then in what state do you think Roxanne and Harry are in?”
Kip bit his bottom lip. He hated admitting that Orpheus had a point. But Kip knew Orpheus to be a crafty cat prone to lying. “Humor me,” Kip said, trying to maintain a calm demeanor that he didn’t feel.
After nestling his skull in his long neck fur, Orpheus took a deep breath. Kip felt sure the large cat glared at him, although it proved hard to tell.
“Roxanne swore she’d stay with me if I freed the two cats in the rat room. I knew it was you and that Harry, but she had no idea which two cats were trapped. Still, she promised, and it was because of her promise that you are alive. When I dragged your limp bodies out, Roxanne…” Orpheus lifted his face toward the ceiling. Kip forced himself to remain silent, nervous that if he interrupted, Orpheus would refuse to continue his story. When Orpheus spoke again, his voice sounded strained. “She was distressed, but not surprised. She loves that young cat, you know, although I don’t understand why.”
“Yes. I am aware of their feelings for each other.”
“I asked her if she regretted her decision. I expected her to become hysterical, to try to persuade me to let her go with you two.” Orpheus lowered his head, another long sigh issuing forth.
Not wanting another delay in Orpheus’s explanation, Kip urged, “And what did she say, then?”
“She became calm.”
“But what did she say?”
“Be patient, please,” Orpheus growled, sounding like his old self. “She told me she intended to keep her promise. I didn’t know what to think or what to do, so I did the one thing I thought best—drag your bodies to a different room.” Upon seeing the shocked expression on Kip’s face, Orpheus wheezed, his entire body shaking. It took Kip a few seconds to realize the wheezing was Orpheus chuckling. “There are several rooms on that last floor. They’re all mine. They are the kindest little gift the humans could leave me. I put you in a rat-free room, so rest assured.”
Kip blinked. After gaining some sense of composure, he croaked, “What made you decide to take us up here?” He glanced around the green room.
Orpheus shrugged. “I didn’t know what to do with you in the long term. I needed to have you both in a location where I could keep an eye on you. Yet I knew if I returned you to the surface, you would invade my home again. But I couldn’t keep you in my home for fear Harry would steal Roxanne away when I least expected it. It was for Roxanne’s sake, after everything that transpired, that I brought you here. The whole ordeal drove the poor creature to tears.”
As the clock chimed, Kip realized the humans soon would be issuing forth inside the opera house if they intended to perform tonight. He couldn’t let Orpheus’s enigmatic silence stretch on much longer. “After everything—do you mean the rats, Roxanne’s vow to keep her word, or something else?” Kip prodded.
“Patience!” Orpheus insisted. He lowered his head to the floor again. When he spoke, his voice sounded so quiet, Kip had to lean forward to hear him. “You do not need to know everything that transpired between Roxanne and me, or what Roxanne said. The things she told me I will never tell another soul, not even you. I will die with her words in my heart.”
Another pause. Kip irritably tapped his tail. If he wanted the rest of the story, he had to be patient as Orpheus asked him to be, despite their limited time. He wanted to know what Roxanne had said, but he knew pressing Orpheus would lead nowhere. Meanwhile, Orpheus sighed, but it came out as a sob. More sobs followed, frustrating Kip. He waited for the ragged cat to compose himself.
After Orpheus’s sobs had subsided, Kip asked, “Well? Then what?”
“Must you know everything down to the last detail?”
Kip raised an eyebrow. “Must I repeat myself?”
“Humph,” Orpheus grunted. He stared at the mirrors surrounding the cats. Reflected in them was a multitude of brown cats and black cats with skull heads. Orpheus shook his head before he spoke. “I will share this with you: Roxanne truly was willing and wanting to stay with me. Eventually, I told her to stop crying. Then I let her go."
Kip narrowed his eyes. “That’s difficult for me to believe, you know, after everything else you’ve done, and there’s plenty of that! Roxanne barely knows half of the crimes you’ve committed.”
“What you say is true. But you shall see Roxanne soon, I think, with that Harry fellow. They’ll be here tonight for the humans' performance, and you will see for yourself they are very much alive and well.”
“All right,” Kip said without much conviction. “I suppose I’ll do that.” Still, he didn’t believe the haggard cat before him.
But Orpheus’s next words made Kip think differently. Orpheus took a shallow breath and said, “I see you doubt my tale. Roxanne was too beautiful, too good, to remain with a monster like me. Because she wanted me to feel happiness—because my plight moved her to feel something for me other than hatred—I let her go. That’s why she is free.”
Another sob rent Orpheus’s body. This time Kip felt a twinge of guilt for pushing Orpheus to speak. He wondered what thoughts ran through Orpheus’s mind.
Shaking his head, Orpheus said, “I feel death upon me, Kip. I’ve given my heart to someone, someone who has lifted me from my hellish solitude and given me a taste of heaven. It’s not possible to live much longer after having been loved by someone in such a way.” Orpheus stared at Kip. "Perhaps, dragging you and Harry all over the opera house has not benefited me, either. I'm an old cat, you know, and you are not exactly what I would call light."
While a coughing spell overcame Orpheus, Kip analyzed all that he'd just heard. Orpheus seldom told the truth. Yet here Kip sat, alive. Aside from some scratches, he was fine. No reason remained to doubt Orpheus’s story about Harry and Roxanne being safe. Besides, Kip didn’t think there were any cats capable of acting as sick as Orpheus at the moment. It looked too real. He reluctantly admitted to himself that he believed what he’d been told.
After Orpheus composed himself again, Kip asked, “When do you think you will…Well, I suppose I shouldn’t ask…”
“You’re curious to know when I will expire,” Orpheus said in his typical haughty way. He shut his eyes and sighed. “If it were any other cat that asked me that question, I would not answer. I’d probably scratch their tongues out. But you saved my life a long time ago, and if not for you, I would never have met Roxanne. For that, I am grateful.” Orpheus raised his bulky form, grunting with the effort. “Tonight, I think. I shall go to an empty box and watch the humans perform one last time. It’s The Dream Girl, the operetta the Opera Cats are practicing. I dare say the humans will have done a better job of it at this point unless Norb selects Roxanne to sing the lead, which I have my doubts about. But I suppose my job with Roxanne is complete. I have taught her well.”
“It seems rather dramatic, dying in an opera box during a human performance,” Kip admitted, unsure of what else to say. He felt compelled to offer condolences, but he knew if he said such things out loud, he would sound ridiculous.
Orpheus trudged to the door. When he reached it, he craned his head around and asked, “Will you do me one favor, Kip?”
“Certainly.” Kip hoped it wasn’t something he’d regret.
“If you do not hear from me in the morning, notify Roxanne of my death. Then she’ll be able to live her life in peace.”
“I’ll tell her,” Kip whispered.
As Orpheus stepped out of the room, Kip remembered something he meant to ask him. “Orpheus!” he called.
Orpheus turned around, flicking an ear at Kip.
“There’s one last thing I need to ask you,” Kip began. “About Stripe’s death—was it you? Did you intentionally murder that cat?” For himself, Kip figured it didn’t matter if it had been direct murder or a trap Orpheus had set for security. Either way, a cat had died. But he knew the ordeal bothered Harry, and he wanted to give him an answer should he ask for one.
“Ah! That,” Orpheus said, raising his gaze to the ceiling again. Kip had stared at the ceiling earlier and had no idea why Orpheus found it fascinating. “It was a silly accident. You see, the hook had been left there by some careless human a long time ago. Someone had come to repair the ventilation system, if I remember correctly. I decided to leave the hook there as an extra measure of protection for myself. You may not know it, but that air duct leads to the passage you and Harry took on your way to the rat room.”
Kip swallowed. “I didn’t know.”
“Well, when the cat—Stripe, you say—saw me, I wasn’t wearing my mask. Gave the poor thing a fright. I ran ahead of her, hoping I’d lose her in the dark passage. She ran into the hook. It was a simple accident.”
“That’s all I wanted to know, I suppose,” Kip muttered.
A gleam passed over Orpheus’s eyes. Kip couldn’t tell if it had been from amusement or anger, but whatever the reason, Orpheus turned to leave.
“Farewell,” Kip said, stretching his neck to watch Orpheus.
Orpheus flicked his tail as a sign he’d heard Kip, then disappeared.
Kip watched the door for a few seconds, half expecting Orpheus to return, but the haggard cat had, indeed, left. Then another thought occurred to Kip, and he silently swore to himself. He'd wanted to ask Orpheus about how he'd managed to mask his odor when he'd first encountered Roxanne. Kip smiled ruefully. Orpheus most likely would have refused to tell him. Perhaps, Kip realized, he did not need an explanation for every small detail between Orpheus and Roxanne. There were many secrets Orpheus would be taking with him to his grave, and this last mystery would be one of them.