"Ah, little magician," spat the battered ginger tom. "Having some trouble with your new present?" He laughed bitterly, shaking his tattered head.

"Well, before long you won't be able to keep my minions or me from destroying your precious tribe. I have your magic now...and there’s nothing you or that old fool Deuteronomy can do about it! I wonder...will you die of illness, or will you vanish first?" The ginger cat hissed, then turned and limped off, back to the old warehouse on Mancetta Street.

The collar was glowing...burning, in fact. Misto writhed under its heat, but didn't wake.

"MACAVITY!" Suddenly the tux sprang up, fangs bared and hair on end. He was alone. Shaking his head, he growled at the hot pain in his throat and the throbbing headache. Desperately, he tried to remember what he had dreamt about...and why he had woken. Nothing came.

"Fleas," he spat. Why couldn't he remember? Munkustrap. I have to talk with Munkustrap and Old Deuteronomy. Maybe Tantomile and Coricopat, he thought to himself. He stood slowly, his whole body stiff and achy. All the pain seemed to emanate from his throat. The collar? he thought. But that's ridiculous! Who in this Junkyard would want to harm me? And who would know how to cast an enchantment like this, anyhow? Who had the power? Only Tanto and Cori had any kind of magical abilities, and they were limited to telepathy and minor transportations. No one within a ten mile radius (and that's a long way, for a cat) was anywhere near as powerful as Mistoffelees -- so who could have created a spell strong enough? No one. You're paranoid, Misto, relax. With that, he turned and trotted off toward the stove to find Munkustrap.

<

"Where're you going, Misto?" asked two voices in unison.

"Tanto! Coricopat! Come with me. I need to talk to you. Help me find Munku -- and then we're going over to the Vicarage."

"Why?" The two cats chorused.

"I need to talk to Deuteronomy about what's been happening to me lately. Maybe you two could give some insight, seeing as you have some magical background."

"But, Mistoffelees, we only...." began Coricopat.

"...speak mind-to-mind and do minor magics," finished Tantomile.

"Why ask us?" Coricopat continued.

Misto sighed. "I don't know what else to do."

"Old Deuteronomy?" Munkustrap approached slowly, touching the old cat respectfully.

"Hmmm?" The cat's eyes opened slowly, and he eased himself up.

"I am sorry to disturb your repose, Old Deuteronomy," Mistoffelees said, his manners flawless as usual, but his voice tremulous. "But I am in need of your wise council."

"Ah, Mistoffelees," the ancient cat said in surprise. "You are troubled. What bothers you?" He rested a hand on the lithe cat's shoulder. "You are trembling. What in the Heaviside has gotten you so upset?"

"My...my powers...they...desert me. I can't cast, without...side effects...and I can no longer remember my dreams." Misto was blushing.

"And you are ill. Your voice?"

"I have a slight cold. Nothing major."

"It troubles you, nonetheless."

"You are very perceptive, Old Deuteronomy, in your wisdom. Yes, I am disturbed. It does not seem to be a...natural illness."

"Ah," the old cat muttered. "Have you any suspicions?"

"None."

Munkustrap, Tantomile, and Coricopat glanced at each other in surprise. Misto hadn't made any mention of anything "unnatural" about his cold.

"Well, have you attempted any magic since yesterday?"

"No, sir."

"Try."

"Excuse me?" Mistoffelees looked baffled.

"Try. It may simply have been a fluke."

"No, sir, I am positive it..."

"TRY!" thundered Old Deuteronomy. Munkustrap's eyes widened. Misto must not be himself, to question Deuteronomy. The impeccably-mannered, reserved tom, had he been feeling well, would have never dared to...

Misto’s movement distracted him. Slowly, he brought his paws together. His claws began to glow, then spark. Carefully, he shot a bolt of sizzling blue electricity from his left to his right. He began to look pale. "Deut..Deuteronomy...I..."

"Continue, Mistoffelees. Pick your target." Munkustrap raised an eyebrow. Obviously, the black tom was feeling poorly. Why did Deuteronomy insist?

Misto turned to a garbage can and pointed. There was a large flash and the garbage can rolled away, smoking. But when Munku glanced back at Mistoffelees, his jaw dropped. The young Jellicle's fur was sparkling with blue energy, and he was swaying precariously. He glanced at Munku, pleading, and toppled. The energy vanished.

"Mistoffelees!" cried Coricopat, reaching for the young tom.

"CORICOPAT!" boomed Deuteronomy. "DO NOT touch that cat!"

Munku flinched. "But, Deuteronomy, obviously he is ill..."

"He is. And he is spelled. Wait a moment." Deuteronomy gazed at Misto. "Now."

Coricopat lifted Misto's head and put it between his knees. "Wake up," he whispered. "Misto."

"Mmm. What?" Misto jerked up. "What? What happened?"

"You're not well, Misto," Munku said. "You collapsed again."

"Oh. Mmm," he rubbed his head tenderly. "Deuteronomy?"

"I cannot do anything for you, Mistoffelees. I have never witnessed anything this...crippling. I can offer no advice other than to rest."

"Oh." Misto's eyes clouded. He seemed near tears. "Cori? Tanto? Any ideas?"

"Find the source of the spell." Tantomile suggested.

"It's the only way to stop...whoever it is...from keeping you an invalid -- or killing you."

"Hmm." He stood stiffly. "May I...go home, Deuteronomy?"

"You may."

Misto turned and trudged sadly away.

Now. The magician could no longer hold his own. Simple parlor tricks had become difficult for him -- now was the time to strike. Nothing could defeat the huge horde of Macavity's followers, save the Jellicle fighters -- if the young magician aided them. Without him, they were helpless. Smiling mirthlessly, Macavity gave the signal to strike.

Mistoffelees jerked awake. MACAVITY! The ginger tom was approaching. His body ached, but there was no time to worry about himself now. If he didn't act soon, the Jellicles would become a memory quicker than anyone wished.

"MACAVITY!" he yowled, leaping up over the pipe and scrambling to the stove. Blasting it with lightning bolts, he screeched out, "JELLICLES! RALLY! RALLY NOW!"

Exhausted from the expenditure of power, he sagged against the stovepipe. When the cats appeared, he stood shakily and leapt down.

"There!" he cried to Munkustrap. "By the gate!" A tide of rats and dirty alley cats and strays streamed towards them. In comparison, the two dozen Jellicle fighters seemed pitiful -- but proud.

"Mistoffelees -- can you cast?" Munkustrap asked urgently.

"I can." He replied, knowing he had just uttered his death sentence. But he would fight.

Standing proud, he gathered what he could of his power and let it loose in a terrifying storm of bolts and shards of energy. The whole two ranks of rats -- some four dozen -- died instantly, and many of the first ranks of alley cats dropped back, badly wounded. The Jellicle fighters cheered. "MISTO! MISTO! MISTO! MISTO!"

Munku glanced back as he leapt into the fray, to see a black Jellicle slump to the ground, his fur rapidly turning silver. No! His mind shrieked. Misto was killing himself -- using the night magic of his coat to save the Jellicles. Oh, Misto. A tear ran down his cheek, and he fought harder. They would win -- for Misto.

Two kittens supported Mistoffelees as he stood and readied himself. Gathered power -- and released! His coat shone white, as did his eyes -- there was no coloring about him at all. But the alley cats -- all of them -- disappeared. Cheering, the Jellicles pressed forward. All that stood between Macavity and the Jellicles was his core of well-trained strays. The Jellicles were badly scratched and torn, but they fought furiously.

Meanwhile, Jellylorum and Bombalurina were holding Mistoffelees up as he shot down strays. Lightning sizzled, and the smell of burnt fur permeated the air.

Gasping for breath, Misto looked at his paws. They had grown numb, and...he gasped.

"Jelly! Bomb -- my paws!"

"What -- oh, by the Everlasting Cat! You're disappearing! Misto, for Heaviside sakes, stop casting!!" Bombalurina shrieked. His paws were silver -- glittery sparkles that seemed to move at an incredibly fast pace. But they weren't solid.

"NO! I'll not give up! Jelly, Bomb! Good-bye! Tell Munkustrap I'll miss him -- and the Tugger. Remind Skimble I borrowed his mirrors. I'll miss you. I'll be waiting for you -- in my next life!"

"NO! MISTO, NO!" Jellylorum shrieked. She threw herself forward as Misto broke free and gathered himself for his last spell.

Alonzo, Tugger, and Munkustrap had gotten through the core to Macavity. The ginger tom dashed away to another spot, forcing the three Jellicles to follow -- away from the battle. Munkustrap glanced back, trying to catch sight of Mistoffelees. There! A white cat was preparing to cast another spell, his silver collar glinting -- no! The collar -- it was glowing! MAGIC! Thought Munku desperately. Oh, Misto, that collar's killing you!

But he couldn't abandon Alonzo and Tugger now.

"Macavity!"

"Ah, Munkustrap. You, too, Alonzo. And of course, the Rum Tum Tugger." Macavity circled them, chuckling.

"You think you have me, Mmm? Well, I'm going to let you in on a little secret, before I go." At Munkustrap's wide-eyed look, he laughed.

"Munku, so perceptive! I do believe you have guessed my little scheme. Yes, but it's too late to save him now, isn't it? At this moment, he prepares to cast the spell that will be his end!" Macavity laughed cruelly.

"For the benefit of Alonzo and Tugger, here, I'll explain it in full. Your Magical Mister Mistoffelees has been greatly enjoying his Christmas gift. As well he should! It cost me quite a bit to purchase that collar -- and the spell was harder to find. But isn't it a beauty? Slowly, it saps his magical power. His physical strength. It makes his irritable, because he knows what the problem is -- but he can't remember how to remove the spell! ! He quickly determined that the collar was making him ill, but he is so easily comforted. In fact, Munku, you may have been his ultimate demise! You who convinced him his "cold" was something normal! But it is not. Slowly, the collar he wears sucks away at his life force, his spirit, and his very will to live. He draws purely on his soul to cast this last magic -- and he will not survive. His knowledge and power are mine, and when he is dead I will be able to use them -- to destroy you! The very Jellicles he works to save will in time be destroyed by his own gift." Macavity crept backward toward the electric fence. He had realized he could not escape, and in that moment a shadow of fear crossed his torn face.

"You will not have me, Munkustrap! All will be denied you -- your chance to destroy me, and your friend's life!" And with that, he leapt sideways into the fence. When his limp body fell to the ground, Munkustrap sniffed his in disgust, turned and leapt away.

"If I can't have you, Macavity, I will save Mistoffelees!" He cried out, scrambling away toward the white cat as fast as he could. But Macavity's plan had worked perfectly. Munkustrap had been distracted too long. He felt as though he were running in slow motion as he watched Misto raise his paws and shout a word. Then there was a tremendous flash and a boom that sent all the cats flying. Munkustrap dove to the ground for less than a second, then was up again and running, flying through the bodies of the still-stunned Jellicle fighters. To his astonishment, all the strays had vanished.

Then he spotted Mistoffelees. His unmoving form lay sprawled on the ground, transparent and flickering. He was close to death, his ribs barely fluttering. The Jellicles had begun to revive, and crept over to the place where Misto lay.

"Mistoffelees!" Munku reached the still body and with shaking paws, tore the collar from his neck. Nothing. The cats looked on as Munku dropped to his knees, sobbing.

The form stopped flickering, but remained transparent. Then, to Munku‘s horror, the ribs rose once, slowly, and stilled.

"NO! I won't lose you!" Munkustrap cried, his voice cracking with pain and sorrow. He heaved the collar to the ground, where the amethysts shattered.

Slowly, oh, so slowly, the collar turned to a fine silver mist and swirled around the thin body of Mistoffelees. The form grew solid. Slowly the form grew black, and the tux markings on the Jellicle's body were restored. Munkustrap gazed at him in wonderment, his eyes blurry with tears. The body stirred, and the young tom gasped for air, choking. As Misto began breathing normally, his frantic gasps slowing, a hoarse voice whispered, "Munkustrap?" A murmur of joy rippled through the group of battered cats.

"Misto..." Munkustrap's heart leapt. The little tom's eyes blinked open.

"Munku? What happened? I feel strange. Did I...did we...is Macavity...?" He tried to sit up, but moaned and sank back, his eyes closing.

"We got him. Don't worry. You've done enough," whispered the tabby tom, lifting the small black Jellicle and carrying him away to Jelly's box, preparing himself for the dawn and the desolation it would bring -- with the news of how many Jellicles were lost.

Three. They'd lost three Jellicles -- Carbuckety had been killed instantly when a stray had ripped out his throat. Cassandra died later that night of a deep slash on her shoulder. And earlier that morning, Pouncival...there was nothing they could do. The bright young tom had simply lost too much blood. Munkustrap sat alone by Mistoffelees' side, weeping. Jelly was uneasy about the black Jellicle's condition -- he had not woken since two nights ago. Skimbleshanks was badly hurt, with a broken forepaw, and Rum Tum Tugger had lost an ear. Bombalurina's shoulders were badly torn, and Demeter's tail had been cropped to half its usual size. Munkustrap himself was not well either -- a deep gash in his side would keep him from serious activity for some time. But he felt responsible for the others. No one had escaped unscathed, but Tantomile, Coricopat, Alonzo, Etcetera, Mungo, Rumple, Plato and Victoria had escaped without much damage. One or two rats that had escaped Misto's blast, and Victoria, Etcetera, and Jemima had quickly dispatched them -- the kittens were quite proud of themselves, proudly displaying their small battle scars to any older cat well enough to listen. At his side, Mistoffelees' eyes fluttered open. They were fuzzy, but no longer fever bright.

"Munkustrap?" Misto muttered.

"What? Are you ready to stay awake now?"

"Yes! I feel like I've slept for weeks! What day is it? I'm starving! How are you? Any major injuries? Any..." Misto gulped. "Casualties?"

"You've only been asleep two days. It's half-moon. I'm fine, but this little scratch," he bared the long cut to Misto -- "will keep me grounded for a few weeks. I was lucky. Tugger lost an ear --"

"Oh! So much for vanity," Misto said with a grin.

"Nah," Munku replied. "He loves it. Says it makes him look tough." Misto laughed, then began to cough.

"You shouldn't do much for a few days yet." Munku said seriously.

"Any other injuries? Please tell me we didn't lose anyone?"

"Like I said..." Munku looked away. "I was lucky. Demeter lost half her tail, Bomb's shoulders are pretty cut up, and Skimble won't be doing too much walking for a while -- his left forepaw's broken." Munkustrap sighed and braced himself to continue.

"We lost three."

Mistoffelees looked at him dazedly for a moment. "What?"

"Three fighters -- gone." Munku's eyes grew vacant.

"Who?" Misto whispered in disbelief, not really wanting to hear.

"Carbuckety, Cassandra, and Pouncival."

"Oh, no...no, Munku, no..."Misto looked distraught. "What happened?"

"Carbuckety...some stray tore out his throat. At least he didn't suffer, which is more than I can say for the others. Cassandra's shoulder -- the wound was too deep. She wouldn't have made it. And Pounce ---" He broke off, unable to go on. When he had calmed, he looked up at Misto again, his eyes full of grief.

"He was just too badly cut up. He'd lost so much blood. There was nothing we could do."

"Oh, Munkustrap. Poor Pounce. Cassandra...Carbuckety...oh..." Misto touched a sympathetic paw to Munku's shoulder. "Munku, it wasn't your fault. It was never your fault. They died doing the same thing you and I were doing -- defending their homes. They wouldn't have wanted it any other way. And they've gone on to someplace new. We'll see them again."

"You're right, as always. I don't know what I would have done if I'd lost you. Or any of the others."

"Well, no need to worry, because you didn't." Mistoffelees yawned widely.

"You ought to get some sleep, you know." Munkustrap told him firmly.

"Mmm..." Misto laid his head down wearily and was asleep in moments.

It had been nearly two years since the loss of Pounce, Cassie, and Carbuckety. Though the three cats were mourned for a long time, life had gone on. Oh, had it!

"Let go, you little..." came an irritated voice from the car. A black tux rolled off the roof, landing hard on the ground, a small brown and black tabby kitten clinging to his neck.

"But Mister Misto..."

"Off!" The magician thundered. "Demeter, Munkustrap! Get this little terror away from me! Before I am tempted to turn her coat a different color!"

Munkustrap grinned. He and Demeter were the proud parent of a litter of four, Tugger and Bomb had a young daughter, Tantomile and Tumblebrutus were expecting kittens soon, and Mistoffelees and Victoria were still beating around the bush, neither wanting kittens but each undeniably attracted to the other.

"Likka, leave Mistoffelees alone."

"But, Da, he..." The little sprite gave her father a perfectly innocent look. “...started it."

"Me? Come now, aren't I a bit old to do something like that?"

"No! You aren't any older than Etcetera. She told me so! You're only two and a half!"

Munkustrap grinned. "As opposed to being four, like your ancient father?"

"Yup!" Likka chirruped.

"Your kits bothering Misto again?" came a voice from around the corner. Skimble sauntered in, smiling.

"How's the paw?" Munku asked.

"Fine. Aches a little yet, when it rains, but fine."

"What about me?" Tugger yowled, springing down.

"What?"

"My ear. You never ask." His face grew pouty.

"You like it that way," Bomb said, with a giggle.

Tugger laughed. "So do you."

The pair wrestled, laughing loudly. Munku and Likka hugged, watching, and Skimble smiled. From his perch on the hood of the car, Mistoffelees grinned. Victoria was curled near him, purring. Life was good, he thought. And judging by his friends' faces, they agreed.