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

by Jill Nojack

At our current rate of speed, we should make it to the roof a few days after Christmas. And I've got a ring to slip on a delicate finger when Christmas hits. I'm not missing that for anything.

  I kick up the pace. As the branch gets smaller, it's even more important to make sure I've got a good grip, but not so slow I won't be tucked up in bed with Cassie tonight after I get this tiny glitch in the plan smoothed out.

  I'm nearly there. I reach one of cat's feet toward the roof, claws splayed, and it scritches against a metal gutter and catches. Just a little further and I can drop onto the roof…

  And then I'm sliding. The branch is too thin now, my claws don't stick as the twigs shred under them. I feel Cat's eyes widen until I'm sure they'll pop right out of his head. It's not gonna make a difference this time that he always lands on his feet. They'll break beneath him. The fall is too far, too many stories below. My back foot goes into the gutter, but the claws there don't have the grasping power of the front ones.

  Oh hell, I've lost control of Cat. The feel of his fear burns in our bowels like acid.

  His front legs flail out as he grabs first for the branch that's snapping away from him, then at the trough of the gutter as his body passes it.

  And he manages it.

  Three claws catch, but the pain is intense as he clings to the gutter with the sharp rim biting into his paw. I wrestle control back and pull up to grab onto the wood shake roof with the other set of claws.

  We made it. We've got a solid hold. We scramble onto the roof, ready to rumble.

  Cat has a short memory for fear. Mine is somewhat longer. I hold him back, now that he'll share control again, while I take a mental deep breath and push away the intrusive image of falling to my death while Giles burns.

  The square widow's walk at the peak of the roof is the only flat space, so I take Cat to the top side of the chimney and have him brace himself there before I whisper my shift words. It's not ideal. It's too soon. The pain will be even more intense than before. It has to go quickly, with no noise, so that Nat and her hell hound don't realize we're sneaking up on them. The noise from the carnival below should cover us, but I keep as tight a control on my vocal cords as possible while they twist themselves from something that can voice only a meow to something that can manage speech.

  I feel scraped and raw from the rough brick chimney against my skin, and I'm pretty sure I've got a backside full of splinters from the roofing, but I grab the tightly compressed packet containing my lightest-weight cotton boxer shorts off my collar and scramble into them. I'm not flashing my goodies to the whole town during Witching Faire. The modern cat-shifter needs to be prepared.

  I could creep up the roof quietly on hands and knees, but I don't need more splinters lodged under my skin today.

  What the hell. I stand up and move swiftly toward Natalie, bounding over the foot-high picket fencing easily.

  A bare foot catches. I go down fast, landing on my hands and knees. Too bad I didn't think about what I would do once I got here. I'm on my knees five feet from her without a plan.

  Natalie turns to my crash landing, her eyes blank at first, then registering anger. She heads for me, hands still raised, the sky-magic forgotten as she comes. I scramble up, backing into the fence, but there's nowhere to go.

  She's going to kill me.

  She moves a hand away from the silver tendrils in the sky and reaches for me: I duck and weave, dart around her, and rush the pup who's been trying not to get my notice from behind her.

  Its jaws open wide and it snaps at me, eyes glowing crimson. I feel the dog's pull on my human mind, and I know Nat's turning behind me. I feel the sizzle of her magic growing stronger on my bare skin, and the urge is telling me to turn, to embrace her. I begin my turn, but Cat's not having it. There is no way a dog can override a cat's instinct.

  As he swipes out at our enemy, I come to my senses and remember I have no claws. I grab the beast around the neck and toss it underhand into the air beyond the roof.

  It hits the street with a crunching thud and a truncated yelp.

  The sound of gasps and startled confusion drift up from below.

  "Tom?" I hear behind me. That sounds like Nat. Except a lot less cocky than Nat.

  Man, I hope it's Nat, cocky or not. Because if it's not Nat, I'll be following that dog over the railing.

  I turn, and her face is a mask of horror.

  "Tom. Goddess save us!" She stares up at the silver tendrils swirling above, slowly pulsing outward toward the five points where the other enchanted witches wait. "You don't know what I've done."

  "Something to do with the underworld, we figure. You can stop it, right?"

  "No, I can't. The spell can't be unspelled. The only way to stop it is to keep it from being turned inward at each of the five points of power. If that happens, if that pentagram completes…." She sucks in a deep breath. "No, we have to stop it. But no matter what, it's already doing damage. There'll be places where the veil will open, but it should close again without any major consequences, without staying open and swallowing us whole if we keep just one point of the star from being turned back to the next.

  We have to get to the others—they're placed to deflect the magic just so…." She stops to catch her breath.

  I jump in. "The witches make the points of the pentacle, right? That's what we figured out. Gillian and Cassie were going to get you free and then go for…wait a minute—we thought you'd be at the C on the map, where we thought Cassie was supposed to be. Who's there instead?"

  "Anat. Anat's there. With Darrin."

  My throat constricts. I left my lover and my friend to face Anat alone. And no one even thought about Darrin being part of this. He's a low-key guy, but his calm hides a lot of power. "We need to get off this roof. Now."

  Natalie rummages in her purse and pulls out a slim shard of charcoal and a small yellow candle from a silver cigarette case. She draws a circle on the rooftop with the charcoal, then sets the candle in the center and lights it. She speaks some quiet words, picks up the candle, and blows it out.

  "Offer me your arm, please," she says, setting the candle aside.

  I always do what Nat says, unless she's having a pervy moment. I'm pretty sure even Nat wouldn't decide to have one of those right now. She steadies herself against me as she reaches out to tap the center of the circle firmly with one foot. The piece of roof within the circle falls into the house and lands below with a soft pwuff and then a harder thunk as it bounces onto the hardwood floor.

  We're right above a lumpy old feather bed—a favorite sleeping spot for Cat over the years—that's been stored in the attic for as long as I've lived in the shop. I'm sure it's no coincidence Nat picked this spot for her hatch. Each of us sends up another cloud of dust as we hit the mattress below.

  As soon as my feet meet the floor, I tear toward the stairs with Natalie behind. She calls after me, "I'll get there as quickly as I can. And Tom…with the veil parting, there might be…"

  But I don't hear her last words. All I can think of is Cassie in danger.

  ***

  I'm halfway across town when my brain, and them my body, freezes dead in its tracks. The woman in front of me…it can't be. I say, "Mom?"

  She turns to me. And it's her. Wearing the same awful, blue housedress that she wore in the morning every day when she served me bacon and buttery scrambled eggs for breakfast and packed my lunch before she sent me off to school. She looks older than she did then. I bet she never stopped wearing that housedress.

  "Tommy?" she says. Her face lights up when she recognizes me. "It is you. Are you…" Her face falls. "No, not dead? You can't be. You're so young. I've been waiting for you, sweetheart. Why didn't you ever come home?" She moves toward me, and I wrap her in a hug. She feels so alive: her hair still smells of that herbal shampoo she used. The one I bought her in Eunice's shop before…

  I could tell her about Cassie and how I hope she'll agree to marry me. I could tell her how much I miss her and how I wish I
hadn't disappointed her.

  "I'm not dead. I can't…I love you, Mom," I say, as I tear myself away from her and start toward where Cassie may be in danger. I turn back, unsure, but she's already fading, one hand reaching out to me. I could take it. But I think of Cassie and launch away again, threading my way through the mix of the living in their costumes and what I now recognize as the dead pushing through the veil.

  I can't help the dead, can't be distracted by them, but I can still help the living.

  "Hey, bitch!" I yell. This girl can't hide any longer. Tom's invisibility suit is now safely stowed in my backpack and that granny-stealing demon will know it's me. The suit won't work on a dog, anyway. I also may need Gillian's help, and she's going to need to locate me.

  I call out to Anat, and her eyes cut to me, away from Gillian. They glow like super-hot iron as she turns her head and snarls. Just behind her, Darrin raises his arms to the sky. Of course the town vet would end up in the pentacle—he'd take in a stray in a heartbeat. Darn it! He's such a nice man. He really helped Cat out when he got hurt last summer.

  Darrin's chant is low and insistent. I track his eyes to the sky where the bright silver ball of what can only be magic hangs above the center of the town. Five tendrils reach out from it, waving randomly like an unstuck starfish.

  When I look down at the dog again, she has turned back to Gillian. I guess she doesn't think I'm much of a threat.

  "Cassie, get out of here," Gillian yells, although her eyes never leave the dog's gaze. She's breathing hard like she's exerting herself in some way that I can't see. Her words are labored, forced. "You know she wants you. You have to get away. I don't know how much longer I can resist her. And once she has my power…"

  Something changes then. Her body had been stiff and alert, but now she relaxes, turns to look at the sky where Darrin's eyes had gone before, and she raises her hands toward it. She begins chanting as Darrin falls to the ground. He's not moving, but I hope he's breathing.

  I get it: Gillian is a way more powerful witch than Darrin. And I just screwed up her focus so that Anat could get to her. The Anat-dog's eyes flick my direction briefly: she hasn't forgotten I'm here. She's probably thanking me.

  I move cautiously behind her, out of range of the freaky red eyes she keeps fixed on Gillian, and hope that she let go of Darrin because she only has the oomph to control one person at a time.

  I also hope that poor Darrin, who's been the town vet for like a hundred years now, isn't unwilling to put down a healthy dog, no matter how mentally rabid it's become. Because the thing is, even though I told Tom I could, I just don't know if I can kill her.

  After Blackie, what happened to him, even though I know it had to happen that way…my head still flashes me the image of that poor little guy dying. The feeling it gives me is a stain on my heart.

  When I get to him, Darrin moans quietly as he surfaces from the enchantment. I help him sit up, and he orients himself quickly. When he sees Gillian with her fingers shooting out silver sparks now as the tendrils in the sky lengthen to come meet them, and then Anat, teeth bared and spit dripping from one corner of her mouth, he turns to me with a questioning look in his eyes.

  I put a finger to my mouth to keep him silent. There's no point in drawing Anat's attention. I'm sure that she's got at least a little surveillance of us going on somehow. There's no point in broadcasting our intentions.

  I help Darrin up, and we move away to conceal ourselves behind the corner of a shop. We're both standing with our backs pressed against the side of the building, breathing heavier now that the direct sight line to the enemy has been removed.

  "What the Sam Hill has been going on?" he says.

  "You were enchanted by one of Anat's minions. Gillian thinks it's so she can yank the town into the afterlife."

  His eyes go wide. He opens his mouth but no words come out.

  "It's okay. We've got it handled," I say. I didn't even convince myself with that, but he closes his mouth, and I continue, "We just need to get Gillian back and stop Anat. Any ideas how we can take out a big, goddess-infested dog with really sharp teeth without getting killed in the process?"

  "I don't even know how I got here…let's just say I was hoping you already had something in mind."

  "The veterinary hospital is pretty close, right? Do you have anything we can inject her with that will put her to sleep for a while? That would do it. Give Tom time to get here and deal with her, at least."

  "I do. But how will you get close enough?"

  "You wouldn't happen to have a tranquilizer gun? With the darts?"

  "No. We don't get that many rampaging lions in Giles."

  I roll my eyes. "You just go grab the stuff. You might want to load up a dozen needles or so with the tranquilizer just in case. I'll worry about how we deliver it while you're gone."

  "So, any reason why my great aunt Gertrude, whose head was severed by a tractor blade in the fifties, is having a walkabout?"

  I look in the direction he's pointing. Yep. Fifties lady. Severed head under her arm. "Dunno. I'd hurry, though."

  Darrin rushes off down the sidewalk, eventually getting deeper into the groups of people, some of whom are starting to look overhead or notice the nice lady at the end of the street beckoning to the silvery lightning bolt.

  It's only a matter of time before everyone catches on. I feel the pull of the wind toward the magical light show above us, trying to lift me toward it. This is really starting to suck, in more ways than one.

  ***

  Nothing much changes before Darrin gets back. I stay hunkered down behind the wall of shop, keeping an eye on Gillian and the dog as the magic moves through her. If the same thing is already happening at all points of the star, we're already sunk.

  It almost startles me when Darrin shoves a small, flat, black leather case toward me. I didn't hear him approach over the increasing roar of the wind. "They're in here. You've got six chances to get the contents of one of those into her bloodstream. The dose is definitely strong enough to take down a dog that size."

  I lean in closer so he can hear me. "It won't kill it, though, right? It's not the dog's fault Anat decided to move in."

  He shakes his head. "It shouldn't, unless you hit her with all of them at once. But Cassie…although I'm not completely sure what's going on here, I am sure that if Anat's behind it, and you have no choice, you can't worry about sparing that dog's life…"

  The image of Blackie with a pencil sticking out of his eye socket hits me again. I push it away. I sure won't be effective in a fight with that picture stuck on the internal slideshow.

  "Yeah, I know." I take a deep breath. "Here goes nothin'."

  I walk out on the street and head straight for the goddess who tried to steal my body and my boyfriend last summer and nearly succeeded. Here's hoping I can think and react as fast as my heart can race, because with what's going on inside my chest, I'd out-think and out-react her before she knew what hit her.

  ***

  I go around the back of the building and enter the alley, then I travel through the narrow grassy area between the shops and exit close to where our friendly neighborhood bitch goddess has Gillian under her nefarious control. I creep forward as quietly as I can. I can't tip her off that she's under attack. I picture myself as a cat, moving as soundlessly as Tom would on soft, padded feet.

  It's working. I'm ten feet behind her now. I've got the first needle out and ready to plunge. I thought I'd get as close as possible and then do that repelling thing, but she hasn't turned yet, and getting right up next to her and stabbing it in would work so much better. My aim will be pretty good when I'm standing right next to her, at least.

  I creep forward a few more steps.

  A few more.

  I'm almost close enough to touch her. I clutch the first hypodermic in my hand.

  Gillian turns, her expression a big blob of nothing, one hand still to the sky, the magic streaming into it now. The other falls limply to point right a
t me.

  The dog, which I thought was paying me no attention at all, doesn't even glance my way but coughs out a woofing laugh I know is meant for me. I turn and run for it.

  It's no good running. I'm being pulled down the street. Slowly, but insistently. I turn and lean back against the pull, trying to back myself away with my feet planted firmly one step at a time. But the soles of my sneakers don't have enough grip to fight this force. I slide slowly toward the rift.

  A tendril the color of the magic in the sky winds around my waist. Go-juice spikes into my bloodstream as I dig in and push, but it just gets tighter around my middle, taking me slowly backward in its grasp.

  I claw at it, but my hands just go through. I can't tear it off. I throw myself on the ground, landing on my hoody pocket full of syringes. I hear the crunch as the glass smashes and the precious serum they release soaks into my clothes. I try to dig my fingers into the asphalt street, but there's nothing to get a hold on. I scrape along the ground painfully, slowly, but without any ability to stop myself.

  I lift myself up as far as I can, find Darrin running toward me and shout to him, "Go get Tom. He's at the magic shop."

  Then I turn toward Gillian and push my palms outward with some magic action of my own. Repelling again. This time for a reverse tractor beam effect. I may be a one-trick pony, but it slows my movement down, at least.

  I hope Tom doesn't take too long. Because if he does, I'm going to be the first one among the living to pass through the veil to the underworld.

  "Tom!" Darrin charges toward me, out of breath. I keep up my own pace as I approach him. This can't be good.

  When he reaches me, he bends over, putting his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. He gasps, "It's got Cassie. And Gillian. We tried to knock it out, but…"

  "Where?" I demand. He points to the northern edge of downtown, where one of the tendrils of magic glows stronger than the rest. It looks like it's almost at its target. There isn't much time. And in this crowd of living and some dead now solidly blocking the way down the street past the gazebo, I need to be small and swift.