Chapter 24: Evocation of the Master
“I want my beloved, the Master, to be returned to me at once, this very second,” said Margarita, and she was convulsed with a spasm.
“I want my beloved, the Master, to be returned to me at once, this very second,” said Margarita, and she was convulsed with a spasm.
Many miles away, the two strip lights in room 118 began to flicker violently, and with a brilliant flash, one of lights failed, plunging the window into darkness, so that only the moon’s light illuminated the Master’s bed through the iron crossbars (one of which was bent from his long-forgotten escape attempts). A small black kitten dropped in through the window and a cooing voice came from beyond the bars, “Now now, you can’t just go wandering into people’s rooms! There’s a protocol you see; first you must make a truly spectacular entrance.” A large dark shadow appeared, blocking the moonlight completely, and grasped the bars of the window.
“Like a fish in ice,” purred the large cat, as the first bar disintegrated in his paw.
“Like a fly in tar” went the second.
“That’s our fate - so it’s been written” and the third bar crumbled before his eyes. The kitten jumped happily into the room and scrambled up onto a chair.
“Class” roared the cat at the kitten, “Have my teachings been useless? Eyes on me, I will show you how it’s done.”
The tom jumped into the room, illuminated by the spotlight of the moon, and the brass sound of a hundred monkeys crept along with him. The tom was unusually well dressed, sporting a top hat and a cane with a large snake head under his paw. Behemoth tapped around with his stick in front and on both sides of the Master’s feet in time to the quick jazz that filled the air.
“This evening’s entertainment will include one talking cat, one tantalising display of power and one sickening substance!” announced the tom fantastically. The Master rose to his feet as he began to respond, “I’ll need you to fully explain yourself, not what you are, but why you are here.” But before he could finish this previous sentence, the tom had put his cane to the Master’s chest and pushed him back onto his bed.
“Questions. Questions. Always questions! Why must I keep giving answers?” Behemoth reclined slowly into a chair opposite the bed, and the sweet jazz left through the window as it had come in. “Let me ask you a question.” The tom paused slowly as the kitten jumped into his lap, purring to itself. Idly stroking the kitten, Behemoth looked with large eyes at the Master. “How have you remembered and forgotten so much?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.” The master replied earnestly.
“ I am likewise afraid! I have affected so many! I’m a talking cat! And yet you, the devil knows why you are not driven to insanity by my presence” The tom pondered briefly, tickling the ears of the kitten in his lap. “Besides, it’s refreshing to be asked why not how, and so I will oblige you in your moment of query: Why am I here? Well, in…” Behemoth removed a thoroughly broken pocket watch, and examined the face with mock intensity, “…precisely 2 minutes and 34 seconds, I am to bring you to our apartment.”
The Master examined the spectacle before him for seemingly the first time.
“I’m thirsty.”
“It won’t be long now! And truly, listen to me; you shall be in our paradise.”
“But I cannot leave the asylum. Without me here, they know not what to do.”
The cat laughed to himself. “That’s what I thought, yet look!” Behemoth picked up the kitten by its neck and dropped it to the ground where it immediately meowed and darted back out through the window. “So will it be for you.”
“So it is finished?” asked the Master tentatively. The cat nodded solemnly. “And again, it is the same way.”
“But you mustn’t dwell on it! I’m not very good at this persuasive dialogue. They really shouldn’t have sent me to talk to you. We have 2 minutes and 33 seconds left! What do you want to do?” asked the tom, bouncing cheerfully on his seat. “I shall grant you a wish! Perhaps you want your book back?”
The master reclined once more, watching the shadows move across his moonlit body. He thought back to those nights by the fireside, his anger, his sickness, his continual urge to destroy the manuscript. And then he thought of Margarita, and her unquenchable thirst for his writing, her pretty face and her soothing voice. “The book is no longer mine.” He said, looking thoughtfully still lit fixture on the ceiling above him.
“But it can be! I can arrange it, you see! I can arrange anything! Watch! Do you want a drink now? Here!” Behemoth reached behind him and pulled out a full glass of clear water.
The Master looked at it and sighed, “No I do not want it.”
“Very well then!” The cat dropped the glass and it sank slowly into the floor. Then as the tom theatrically cupped his hands together and blew into them, a warm glow lit up his face. Opening his hands, the fire fell to the floor, setting the water alight. Behemoth fell to his knees and began to make whooshing sounds, wriggling paws back and forth. He soon noticed that the Master, far from being impressed, was still staring absentmindedly at the ceiling lamps. Behemoth immediately extinguished the flame and crossed his arms into a pouting position.
“Ahem. It seems I am not appreciated here. Well! Would you look at that?” The cat reached into the top pocket of his fine jacket and once again removed the smashed pocket watch to gaze at the face. “It’s easily time to go. But before we do, are you sure there is nothing that I can do for you? No wish that you haven’t fulfilled?
The Master gave Behemoth a curious look and answered slowly, “The material desires of earth cannot supersede those for a greater good.” The tom brought his paws up to his ears and started humming loudly. “And yet!” the Master continued, “There is one thing that I will ask of you.”
Behemoth dropped his hands to his legs and froze attentively.
“I wish only that my other greatest desire shall be fulfilled.”
The cat leapt to his feet, “Of course, my good sir, it shall be done momentarily. Here, take this glass of water and drink it.” Behemoth reached behind him and pulled out a second glass of clear liquid. The Master's hand extended towards the Behemoth's paw, but at the last second, the tom quickly avoided his hand and put it on the table next to him. "Drink up!" The Master drank the glass and fell backwards onto the bed in pain, flames of Behemoth's fire crackling from all his extremities. His head alight, the Master suddenly sat up with a demented look in his eye. Behemoth rose to meet him crying, "Into your hands I commit my spirit!"
The Master's glowed with fire and he laughed loudly, "Why did it come to this?" He struck out at the table until it burst reluctantly into flame, billowing a grey cloud of smoke that extinguished the remaining ceiling light.
"Quick! Water!" cried the tom and threw more water over the bed, which proceeded to explode into one great fireball, engulfing all the remaining furniture in the room and blasting the Master's bed against the window, blocking any remaining light. "Let us fly!" yowled Behemoth and moved towards the blocked window. Out of the dark, acrid smoke came a shadow, and the Master's arms momentarily cleared the smoke to heave aside the monstrous bed. Pivoting the bed aside, the light came streaming into the room and the thick smoke quickly started to pour out. Lost in the exiting smoke were the silhouettes of a large black cat and a man in thin hospital robes, soft slippers and a black cap. Reaching the edge of the balcony, the cat and man leapt off in the sky, a trail of fire following them.
As this strange duo flew across the city, the slipper-adorned, flying madman swept low across the streets, sending jets of flames across the late night diners and men and women returning home from bars in the early hours of the morning. Scattering the people like ants from a foot, Behemoth joined in with the fun, taking swipes at street signs and unfortunate groups of drunkards with his claws.
Later that morning, the news would be full of stories of the previous night's events. The fire in the asylum would be blamed on a faulty fuse that had blown out a ceiling lamp and then set fire to the room. Reports of low flying aeroplanes and shooting stars would be found to be completely unrelated to the fire in the asylum and the product of a few drunkards’ imaginations (who would, incidentally, be admitted to the very same asylum).
It would take much longer, however, to explain why no remains were found of the Master in his room, although top scientists would come forward to announce the high scientific probability that all the remains had been completely obliterated by the flames, and were now just indistinguishable from the ashes of the furniture in room 118. The pair's arrival at the foreigner's apartment would not be given any coverage at all, but I can assure you of the story. The large black cat quickly and graciously directed the Master to the nearest window, which led to a dim, candlelit room.
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