And yet, in his fragmented memories, the ones still clawing their way into his head, there was something else. Something he’d never paid any attention to before.
It was a single image of three cats. Banksia, before his disappearance. Aesop, before hers. Nero, proud and disdainful. Why was it, when Boswell thought hard about the past, he saw those three, always together before they were split apart?
What had he missed?
“Nero, you’re not from the thirtieth century,” Lovelace said scornfully. “That’s absurd.”
“I think you’ll find, my dear,” said Nero. “It is completely true. No one’s ever tampered with my memory. I’m the only reliable witness left.”
Lovelace narrowed her eyes. “What makes you so special?”
Nero smirked at her, and at Boswell. He yawned, and stretched…
And grew, before their eyes. Taller, larger than Boswell could ever have imagined. His hackles raised, Boswell took a defensive crouch and saw Lovelace do the same.
“What are you doing?”
“Showing you the truth,” said Nero, now three times his usual size. “Hang on, I knew I was forgetting something…”
And his fur turned purple.
The cell was mint green. Light glowed from the walls, replacing the need for light fittings. Or doors and windows, apparently.
Monterey awoke on a very uncomfortable bench, lurching upwards as he realised he was (again!) without cat.
He saw a flailing movement on the far side of the cell. Oxford sat up, wild around the eyes, wearing a brilliant blue jumpsuit. “Nero!”
“Lovelace is gone too,” Monterey said sourly. “Not to mention all those glowing purple jaguars.”
“I thought they looked more like lynxes.”
“No, they didn’t have the tufty ears.”
“My sister’s gone,” said Fenella, raising her voice to be heard over them. “Had you noticed?”
“Little bit more worried about my cat,” Monterey snapped back. “If we’ve learned one thing over the last batshit couple of days, it’s that your sister can take care of herself.” He leaped to his feet, pacing around. “When did Chronos College get the funding for an army of — whatever those things were?”
“You think they were from the college?” Oxford said in disbelief. “You think my mum set up a glowing feline monster squad to round up truants and troublemakers?”
“I don’t know,” Monterey howled. “She’s Melusine from Admin. I wouldn’t put it past her! Maybe she got some kind of grant!”
“You’re losing your mind.”
“The purple cats were tracking the Anachronauts. And us. It has to be the college behind it. Who else would care?”
And what, oh what was a jade pineapple?
Oxford got to his own feet. “Anyone!” he raged. “We have been rampaging through time, causing all kinds of trouble, creating Events and answering to no one for decades. Maybe someone finally noticed.”
“Someone? What someone?” Monterey swayed a little on his feet. Being unconscious was no substitute for proper sleep. “What do you know, Oxford?”
It was hard to face off against someone when they were so much taller than you.
Oxford didn’t put up much of a fight. “None of this is my fault,” he said quietly.
Monterey frowned. “I never said it was. But now I’m starting to wonder.”
One of the walls sparked into life, rippling like the middle of a time hoop. The ripples coalesced into the image of a cat with metallic silver fur and little dark eyeglasses, like it had wandered in from a Sergeant Pepper memorial tribute disco.
“Detainees,” said the disco cat. “The trial will begin in three hours. Prrrrepare your evidence.”
The screen blinked back into a mint green wall.
“What was that about?” Fenella gasped. “Are we on trial? What crime did we commit?”
“What crime didn’t we commit?” Oxford muttered.
“We’re not Anachronauts,” Monterey reminded him.
“We might as well be!”
“We haven’t broken any rules,” said Fenella.
Oxford laughed bitterly. “Chronos College doesn’t have rules. We’re allowed to go where we like, do what we like… as long as it’s on my mother’s schedule!”
“You know what,” Monterey said explosively. “Time travel should fucking have rules.”
