Nine Lives: A Paranormal Adventure (Bad Tom Series Book 3)

by Jill Nojack

  I flip the toast briskly to dust the other side. "I can't seem to get anything right for the past few days." I don't look at her when I say it, and I don't turn when she responds.

  "I don't know why I'm overreacting to everything, either. I'm sorry," she says.

  Okay, now I can turn and still be manly. She's admitted there's a problem between us so I don't have to. I flop her breakfast onto a blue ceramic plate, top it with a huge pat of butter, and set it in front of her.

  She looks down at her breakfast, approving, as she picks up her fork and turns her eyes back to me. She continues, "But I'm kind of glad we've had our first fight—really our first two fights, I guess. Aren't you? I mean, things will always be more complicated for us than other people—witch and werecat and all that—but I'm not sure why every little thing is setting me off."

  She gets up and slides around me suddenly, and opens the fridge, leaving her breakfast untried. That isn't like her. She should be shoveling it in by now. She stares in at the fridge contents for a minute. "What do you think a puppy would like to eat?"

  "You're feeding it?" I work to keep the frustration out of my voice.

  "It won't have to dump over people's garbage cans if it's getting enough to eat."

  Maybe she's right. But it intentionally went for those panties. It's trying to break us up.

  Right. And now who's overreacting?

  ***

  I look over when the shop door opens just before closing time, and it's Robert. Good. I'm tired of new age housewives today, to tell the truth. I extricate myself from the one I'm explaining the healing properties of amethyst to and go to greet him.

  "What brings you in, Robert?"

  "I need a jolt of that herbal painkiller I use for my arthritis. It's almost effective, and I need to stay limber, what with Gillian around, expecting me to get into the strangest positions."

  "What is it they say these days, Robert? Too much information?"

  "Yoga, Tom, yoga!"

  I shrug. "Of course. Exactly what I was thinking. I'll just go grab those pills."

  As I ring up the sale, he asks, "Did you talk to Cassie about the diner?"

  "She's all for it. We can talk about it tonight."

  "After dinner, yes. It's an excellent excuse to have a brandy, send the girls to the kitchen to do the dishes, and talk business. That should go over well."

  We grin at each other. Neither one of us minds that we will more likely discuss it over the dishes while our partners retire to the study to add to Cassie's store of knowledge about magic. They meet a couple of times a week, but Cassie wants as much time learning as she can get. She's already mastered Gillian's specialty of magical breaking and entering, and now they've gone on to wards and protection. She says she never wants to have to feel helpless again. With our recent history, I don't see a single reason to protest.

  I walk Robert to the door and we grasp hands in a goodbye shake. "See you in a few hours, then," he says.

  "Natalie's not coming tonight?" Cassie asks as we sit down to dinner. "I was looking forward to seeing her."

  "I'm afraid not, dear," Gillian says, as she sets a huge roast surrounded by artfully arranged vegetables down on the middle of the table. "She's a little put out with us right now, but she'll get over it." Then she takes her seat next to Robert and glances to him, looking giddy and girlish. "We have an announcement."

  "Yes, indeed we do." He smiles and places his hand over hers on the table. "Gillian and I have decided to live in sin as a full time thing." He squeezes her hand, and then continues. "Truthfully, she never quite moved out after the Anat fiasco, but it's ridiculous that she has to keep running over to her place to look after Polly, so she's bringing the bird along, too, and we're making it official. Neither one of us has enough time left that we want to waste any of it."

  Cassie jumps up and runs over to grab Gillian around the neck in an enthusiastic hug. Robert and I stand to enjoy a manly round of back-patting and hand-shaking. Also enthusiastic.

  I'm glad for both of them. They deserve to be happy. It's easy to see that they are. Maybe not stars-in-their-eyes in love like me and Cassie, but you can see the glow between them.

  Dinner and the company are both pleasant. Cassie sometimes wishes we had more friends our age, and I don't remind her that Gillian, Robert and Nat are my age. But I get her point.

  After dinner, the girls take off to do their thing, and Cassie's giggle wafts in from the living room every so often as Robert and I talk. I don't think it's the magic that's got them so wound up. And I'm glad Cassie has proof now that there's absolutely no way that anything would be going on between me and Gillian. I mean, what more proof could she want? Gillian is all smiles every time Robert looks at her.

  After we guys wash the dishes, just like I'd predicted, Robert goes into his study and comes back with two cigars, already trimmed and ready to be lit. He inclines his head toward the back door. "New rules, I'm afraid. No stinking cigars in the house." He sighs. "Women!" But he's still got a smile on his face.

  We don our jackets and head for the back deck, where we sink into a couple of chairs and Robert throws a blanket over his knees to keep them warm against the evening chill. A black pup comes bounding up the deck's stairs and jumps onto his lap like he's expected. "You again?" he says, scratching its ears. "I'm sure I told you that I can't have a dog now that I'm going to have a Polly. You need to go home where you belong."

  "We've got one just like him hanging around the shop. Nasty little thing. Can't be the same one, though."

  "I wouldn't expect so. This fellow's too young to travel that far. He's sure a nice one. Has some Lab in him, I'd guess," he says, scratching at the dog's ears. "I had one like him when I was young. If it weren't for Gillian moving in, I think this pup might have found himself a home. I need to put some effort into finding out where he belongs, I suppose. I couldn't stand to see him ending up at the pound." He looks at me pointedly.

  "Look, my days of turning in strays to the pound are done. I got the one I needed, so now it's live and let live." I've actually started to feel a little guilty about my stray dog clearing adventures a few months ago. It doesn't stop me from glaring at the pup, though. "I have to tell you, despite wishing it no harm, I'm not happy to be so close to it."

  Robert looks at me a little sharply for such an innocuous comment. Then he raises his eyebrows and relaxes them, his expression normal again. "I guess that makes sense, given the circumstances."

  "It's instinct. Cat's. Not mine. I had a dog or two of my own back in the day. But now? They just make me want to hiss and spit."

  "Glad to see you're restraining yourself." He sets the dog down and gives it a push in the direction of the stairs. "Go on, go home. There's no place for you here, boy."

  I watch the dog disappear into the darkness at the edge of the yard.

  And then, oh dear Goddess, please let that be a possum: for the briefest moment, I'm looking into a pair of glowing red eyes.

  I bolt out of my chair and run toward the two spots of red.

  They wink out before I reach them.

  ***

  "I saw it, Robert! Don't try to calm me down. It was that dog, the one from the ritual grounds. The one that Anat took over. She must have gotten out of the pound somehow. These pups, they must be hers. She'll never, ever leave me alone."

  Robert stays calm. Robert always stays calm. "Tom, it's been quiet for a couple of months. And you yourself made sure she got what she deserved. If she could do anything to you, even if she did survive the pound, don't you think she would have tried something already?"

  "How would I know? Why did Anat ever do anything? It was all just on a whim with her."

  "I'm only suggesting that I don't think there's a reason for alarm. Anat depended a lot on the power of the witch she possessed and the power she could steal from others within the choir. We know that now, and we didn't before. I don't think a dog has what it takes to power her magic."

  "Do you know
how happy I am right now, Robert? And how much Anat would love to interfere with that? I mean, don't say anything to Cassie, but I've bought a ring, and I'm going to get down on one knee and beg her to marry me soon."

  A smile splits his face from ear to ear. "She's going to make an honest man out of you, then? Good for the both of you!"

  "But don't you see? It won't happen. Because that bitch—and she is, literally now, a bitch—will never, ever let me have that kind of happiness."

  "Do you want to talk to the girls about it? Get their take? I think you're being paranoid, but if you want another opinion…"

  I think about it and realize that if Robert's alarm bells aren't going off, then maybe I'm going to wreck everyone's celebration tonight for no reason. He suffered because of her, too. She took his son. He wouldn't just shrug it off if he thought there was a possibility what I'm saying has merit.

  I shake the anxiety. "No. Not while everyone's so happy. I can't."

  And he's right. I know he's right. Anat picked both Eunice and Cassie so she'd have access to their power. She wouldn't have picked a non-magical, and she definitely wouldn't have picked a dog if she'd had any other choice. "I'm sure you're right. And what's a dog going to do to me, anyway? Sniff my crotch to death?"

  ***

  When we go back into the house, our filthy cigars extinguished and the agreement about the diner made, Cassie beams at me. "Gillian agreed to manage the shop if Natalie will help. I think this can work, don't you?"

  No, I'm not mentioning my stupid fears to her when she's so full of glow. This will allow her to spend more of her energies on the art she loves. I probably didn't see anything at all out there. Cassie and I have been through a lot recently. I'll keep my paranoia to myself.

  I go to her and put my arms around her, glad to have her this close, wanting to get her home to make up for what we missed last night. Robert has his arms around Gillian, and they're looking into each other's eyes as well, thinking the same thing I bet.

  Oh goddess, I didn't need to think about that. That cools my jets a little. A lot. Now I've got this picture of Robert and Gilly going at it like a couple of amorous weasels stuck in my head. Someone needs to knock me unconscious right now.

  I distract myself by asking, "Would you be able to start next week, Gilly? I'd love to get into the diner as quickly as possible. Start planning for the holiday menu, that kind of thing. I'm thinking about taking the offerings back to old fashioned comfort food but with a modern twist."

  She smiles and says, "I think there are a lot of older residents in Giles who'd welcome a change from the foody nonsense that's been going on there for the past few years, don't you, Robert?"

  "Yes, I do. I remember Tom's mother's cooking very fondly. And, as I recall, there were some quite good senior prices?"

  Here I am at Robert's huge mansion of a house with its wood, leather, and elegant old brick, and I just have to shake my head. He's a skinflint to the core, like a lot of our generation in this state. He wants to save his buck on lunch even though he's worth a bundle. But I guess that makes it even more generous what he's doing for me with the diner. "Yes, there were. And maybe there will be again—or just a discount for special friends."

  They walk us to the door, and I wave goodbye as Cassie backs the car down the drive. I'm happy for them.

  But my thoughts aren't on the happy couple any more when I'm sure I catch a flash of red glinting in the bushes before we're out on the open road.

  Paranoia. That's all it is.

  When Gillian said she'd love to work at the store when Tom and I had dinner at their place, I was over the moon. I'm even more over the moon now that it's two days later, she's here for her first day of work, and she's brought Natalie with her. I guess they've patched things up—either that, or Nat isn't going to let Gillian increase her influence in the witching community by managing the shop on her own. Whatever the reason, it takes a huge load off my shoulders with Tom heading for his first day at the diner this morning. I just need to remind them of a few things before I leave them alone and take off myself for the gallery.

  "Okay, so…you guys know where most things are, but I don't think either one of you have been down in the basement where we keep some of the non-perishables or into the storeroom where we have a little work area for things that can't really be prepared on the workspace at the counter. You won't need either of those areas today, so I'll give you a better orientation before you do. The biggest thing is no mammal parts—like the fetal pig for your lotion, Nat—should ever be on display in a customer area without being thoroughly ground up and unidentifiable. Reptiles and birds are okay, but people get weirded out about other species. Obviously, our customers who need items that aren't on display know what to ask for."

  "You'll still be making my youth masque, won't you, dear? I have no talent for that particular magic," Natalie asks.

  "I mean, yeah…but, it's an example, you know what I mean. Use common sense."

  Nat goes behind the counter and stows her red purse beneath. "Do you really think that the high priestess of the Giles coven needs lessons in common sense from a whippersnapper like you?"

  I stand my ground. I love Nat dearly, but if she gets on a roll, worse things than fetal pig could show up on display on the counter top. "You know what I mean." I glare. Her lips quirk beneath a glare of her own.

  "I do. But I've been using magic since before your father was born. And coming into this shop for almost as long. So, unless you plan to stick name tags on us, go on with you. We've got it handled."

  "Yes, dear, we're fine," Gillian adds. She waves a limp hand at the door, shooing me away. "I'll make sure she doesn't turn any of the punters into toads."

  Wow. I know when I've been dismissed. And Dash is expecting me. Plus, I want to stop by the diner and see how Tom is doing. I'm sure they can manage it if they don't end up in a duel with wands at ten paces and accidentally send the shop into an alternate universe or something.

  The stray puppy—I think of him as Blackie now—is outside the door waiting for me, and I can't resist rubbing his belly when he rolls over all cute like that. The time just flies away while we play, and I end up running down the street with no time to stop in and see Tom at the diner like I said I would.

  I'm sure Dash is just about to say something about my tardiness, but then he sees Blackie behind me and says instead, "I see you've brought your friend."

  "Yeah, he's cute, isn't he? He keeps following me around."

  "I think he'll make a fine pet for you. Jon and I adopted an older dog ourselves a couple of months ago. We simply felt compelled, and now we find her companionship enlightening."

  He doesn't even mention me being late.

  ***

  I want to get away on break to check how Gillian and Nat are doing in the shop—I'm sure they're doing fine, but if either of them has the ability, they could also be throwing lightning bolts at each other over a disagreement about where to put the herbal teas. They seemed fine when I left, but you never know when one of them might say something that rekindles bad feelings now that their rivalry for Robert's attentions culminated in Gillian walking away with the prize.

  I wasn't around for most of it, being possessed by a demon-goddess and all, but Gillian filled me in. It apparently took Tom forever to catch on. I don't think he really wanted to think of Gillian as having moved on from him.

  Nuts. I promised myself I wasn't going to think about Tom and Gillian like that. It's way in the past. Way, way in the past. There's absolutely no reason that I should be jealous.

  Just as we're getting ready to close up the gallery, Greta Mason, who's some kind of bigwig on the city council, and her husband come in. Dash looks disappointed, like he doesn't want to stay, and I don't mind staying a little late. I give a quick call to Gilly, and she says they'll have no problem at all closing up without me. Which means the shop is still standing, at least.

  I send Dash home and manage to sell Councilwoman Mason a nice
modern bronze that Dash recently marked down. I know the artist, he's local out of Boston, and he's going to be so pleased.

  Blackie walks me home. I forget to stop in the diner again, but by the time I'm back to the shop, there's no point in going back down the street to check in with Tom. I head upstairs to take a nap. I'm suddenly feeling exhausted.

  ***

  I wake up when Tom's voice breaks into my dreams, "Cass! You brought that dog into our bed? I told, I…I mean, if you really want a pet, we could get a cat—the full-time kind, not the me kind."

  I don't even remember him coming with me, but Blackie is definitely sleeping by my side. He's so warm where he snuggles against me.

  "Sorry. I'll get him out of here. I must have been really tired. I don't know how he got in."

  I don't think Tom believes me about that one. He's a fine one to talk, given what he recently left in the bed. My bed companion is a whole lot more savory.

  Blackie whines and looks so sad when I set him out back, saying, "Look, you gotta go home. I know you must have a home, because you're well fed and looked after. So, go on."

  He turns and trots down the alley.

  "I thought you were going to stop by today," Tom says when I join him in the kitchen. He doesn't turn to me. He keeps rustling around in the fridge instead, but I hear the disappointment in his voice.

  "I meant to. But then it got busy at the gallery—I sold that nice bronze, by the way. Remember, the one with the delicate birds around the base? The artist will be thrilled. We've had it so long that Dash has been making noise about sending it back unsold."

  He must have looked at everything in the fridge at least twice by now. Finally, he asks, "How hungry are you? Is salad okay? I've been cooking all day, and I don't think I can face one more skillet. I wanted to bring home some of the stew I made for the daily special, but it got slurped up long before the dinner crowd. I think Giles is more than ready for a shift back to honest food."