Major Magic
Lily was wrapping up her weekly yoga routine when she got the call from Madam Barrington Sunday afternoon. She liked exercise, or being sweaty in general, about as much as she liked bad grammar or public speaking: that is to say, not at all. Yet, it was important for good health, so she’d picked yoga as the least uncomfortable exercise option. Sir Kipling, having always watched her yoga sessions in rapt fascination, now reveled in his newfound ability to make sarcastic remarks about her ridiculous contortions. He especially enjoyed mimicking her positions as he cleaned himself, pointing out that cats invented yoga and giving her pointers on how to get her foot behind her head. Thus, she eagerly abandoned her cow face pose—where in the world they got such names, she had no idea—to answer the phone.
“Good afternoon, Miss Singer. I am afraid I have rather unfortunate news,” Madam Barrington said, voice clipped and to the point. “It is quite impossible for the museum to close the exhibit early. A fundraiser gala is planned for this coming Saturday, and the Tablet of Eridu is one of their star exhibits. Mr. Baker, of course, welcomes us to add further magical protection as we deem necessary. He has already alerted the appropriate authorities of the possible threat, but that is all that can be done.”
With a sigh, Lily thanked her mentor and they agreed to meet the following morning to put additional wards in place. She then texted her assistant, Penny, that she would be late for their Monday meeting.
Sitting down at the kitchen table, Lily massaged her temples. She had a sinking feeling the gala would the thief’s entry point. It would be noisy, flashy, and crowded, thus straining the wards that normally only dealt with a few odd museum-goers. The question was, why hadn’t the thief struck before now? Though the museum had a few security guards, it wasn’t exactly Fort Knox. Was it simply because the job hadn’t been open before? But what had changed recently to make the mastermind behind it move now? These questions bothered her, but there was no way to answer them.
“You know they’re going to do it during the party,” Sir Kipling commented.
Her head came up to see him perched on the back of the sofa, examining her through the archway to the kitchen. “How did you…” she started, shifting uncomfortably.
“I’m a cat.”
“Kip,” she said in a warning tone.
“If you would just use your head…” he said, then switched tacks at her dangerous expression. “Fine. I have good hearing. And as I’m sure you’ve already logically concluded, the party provides the perfect diversion as well as access point.”
“But you’re a cat. How would you know anything about robberies?” Lily asked, arching an eyebrow.
“Well, you’re a human. How would you know anything about cats?” he shot back.
“Because I have one.”
“And yet you clearly don’t understand them. Why do you think some robbers are called cat burglars?”
Lily paused. He had a point. “Well, never mind,” she said, waving a hand in dismissal. “I still have reading to get through if I’m ever going to finish my ward bracelet. I should get busy. Though, speaking of wards…” She eyed Sir Kipling, remembering what she’d read about animal familiars and their enchanted collars.
“How do you feel about wearing a collar?” she asked, and explained her idea.
Sir Kipling was not pleased.
* * *
Monday, being Monday, did not start out well. Lily hadn’t slept much the night before, plagued by vague dreams that left her apprehensive without knowing why. Everything about her morning felt off, and she was relieved when she finally made it to her car, rushing to get to the museum by nine. Halfway there, she glanced in her rear view mirror and saw—
“Sir Edgar Allan Kipling! What in the world are you doing in the back seat? How did you get in the car?” She twisted to stare at him, barely believing her eyes. At his meow of alarm, she turned back just in time to slam on the breaks and avoid a rear-end collision. When she glanced at her rear view mirror again, Sir Kipling’s claws were dug into the seat and his hair was standing on end.
“Might I suggest you do more driving and less shouting,” he offered, his meow sounding high-pitched.
“Well, what did you expect?” she bit out, heart thumping from their near miss. “You are seriously trying my patience.”
“Well, what did you expect?” he said. “I am a—”
“—cat, I know,” she finished for him. She considered turning around and taking him back, but she was already late. “What am I supposed to do with you? You’ll get hot staying in the car and I can’t take you into the museum. No pets allowed.”
“Well, isn’t it convenient that I’m not a pet? I can look after myself. No one will notice.”
“People will most certainly notice a cat in a museum. Why would you want to go in there anyway?” she asked, eyes narrowing as she glared at her rear view mirror.
“I have my reasons,” he said evasively. Lily gave him The Look, the one parents use on misbehaving children. He twitched his tail and elaborated slightly. “I’m curious to see what all the fuss is about.”
“Madam Barrington will spot you if you so much as set a paw near that tablet.”
“No she won’t,” he assured her with a smug expression.
“We’ll see,” Lily grumbled, and fell silent. Obviously intelligence hadn’t made Sir Kipling any less cat-like; there would be no controlling him. She could only hope he stayed out of trouble. One thing was for sure: he was no pet anymore.
* * *
True to his word, Lily saw neither hide nor hair of her fluffy feline in the museum. She and Madam Barrington worked together casting extra protections around the exhibit hall and on the tablet’s pedestal, including an anti-breaking spell for the glass. Her mentor even put a conveyance spell on the tablet itself. Such spells could transmit sensory input, whether audio, visual, or tactile, from one item to another, even over great distances. She would know if the tablet was touched. Variations of this spell class could be used for many things, even a wizard version of the mundane cell phone.
Lily wondered what good a conveyance spell would do if her mentor were all the way at home, but Madam Barrington gave her a knowing look. “In addition to warning Mr. Baker, I took the liberty of acquiring two tickets to the fundraiser. I am not fond of parties, especially late ones, but as this is for a good cause…”
Lily frowned. “Only two? What about Sebastian?”
“I see no reason for him to accompany us,” Madam Barrington said, her posture stiffening.
“With all due respect, Ms. B., he has every reason to come. He’s a witch.”
“Yes. That is what concerns me,” the older woman said, tone dry as paper.
“I know he’s done foolish things in the past…well, he still does foolish things. But the point is, if we’re dealing with a witch, he’ll know how to counter them better than either of us would.”
Madam Barrington looked away, busying herself with a minor adjustment of the spell she’d just cast.
Lily held her breath.
Finally, her mentor looked back, expression resigned. “Very well. I shall request a third ticket. I only pray he has learned a modicum of sense since he was under my roof.”
“He has,” Lily assured her. She only hoped she was right.
* * *
Unlike their previous visit, Mr. Baker had no pressing engagements and welcomed them into his office for a cup of tea once they finished their work. To Lily’s delight, he even served digestives, that British biscuit which didn’t actually help digestion but allowed you to eat cookies under the guise of being healthy. As they sat, sipped, and ate, Mr. Baker explained the extra precautions the museum would be taking for the gala.
“We’d originally planned for one of our regular security guards to cover the fundraiser. But in light of your news, which Madam Barrington assures me is reliable—” Lily glanced at her mentor, eyebrows raised. Madam Barrington had gone out on a limb, saying that
. “—we have contracted with private security for the event and notified the university police to report anything suspicious. Besides that, and your extra wards of course, there isn’t much to be done. It is an open fundraiser. Anyone who buys a ticket will be admitted.”
They both thanked Mr. Baker and took their leave. On the way out, Lily happened to glance toward the exhibit hall entrance and caught sight of slight girl wearing a neon shirt, ripped jeans, and doc martins disappearing into it. With a start, she recognized the girl’s pixie haircut. Hurrying forward, she tried to catch another glimpse, but when she rounded the corner, the girl had vanished. Several pairs of people and a family with small children were quietly browsing the exhibits, but the girl was nowhere to be seen.
“Great, more people who can vanish into thin air,” she muttered, turning to leave the museum.
“Looking for someone?” came a voice by her feet.
Lily jumped so high she nearly lost her balance.
“Sir Kipling!” she hissed at the cat who had materialized out of some dark corner. “People can see you.”
“Nobody’s looking at the moment. That girl you were following didn’t disappear, by the way, she just ducked into one of the other rooms. Is she important?”
Ignoring the question, Lily hesitated, wanting to pursue the girl but not knowing what she would say should she find her. Wheedling information out of someone was more Sebastian’s specialty. Besides, she was already late for her meeting with Penny. “I’ll explain later,” she finally answered him. “Now, go do whatever you did to get in here unnoticed. We’re going home.”
* * *
On the way back to McCain Library and a full day of work, Lily called Sebastian and told him about the gala. When she mentioned the pixie-hair girl, he agreed it was odd to see the same person there two weeks in a row. So, Lily suggested he visit the museum for the day to keep an eye out in case she reappeared. There was no way to know if she were the thief, but perhaps he could dig something up.
For an activity as boring as a stakeout, Sebastian was suspiciously enthusiastic. At his reaction, Lily liked the idea of him being around this mysterious girl less and less. Yet, there was no way for her to join him. She had several important meetings that day and couldn’t skip work just because she was…what? Jealous? She pushed the thought away. It was a ridiculous notion. Sebastian was smart—usually—and capable. He would be fine by himself.
Later that night, after a relaxing bubble bath, Lily was getting some reading done when Sebastian called back to report.
“No sign of her,” he said.
“Hm. It was worth a try. For all we know she’s a student doing a project and had to go back for more research.”
“Maybe,” Sebastian said, but he sounded skeptical.
“Well, if you’re worried about, it you can always conduct more stakeouts.” Lily suggested, ignoring her rebellious emotions.
“I’ll see what I can do,” he promised.
She spent the rest of the evening buried in ward research. It was time to buckle down and finish that bracelet. Something told her she would need it on Saturday.
* * *
Tuesday evening after work, Lily spent hours in the Basement perfecting the dimmu runes meticulously carved into the aluminum beads that would make up her bracelet. It was draining work, and by the time she’d dragged herself home it was after midnight. Her back, eyes, and head ached. To her surprise, Sir Kipling was waiting for her on the garden wall, tail twitching furiously in feline annoyance.
“Out a bit late, aren’t you?” he asked, jumping down to sniff at her shoes and rub on her leg. “Humans aren’t supposed to be up at all hours, even I know that. I was about to come looking for you.”
Despite her weariness, she couldn’t help smiling. “What are you, my mother?”
Apparently satisfied she was in one piece, his worry gave way to the usual sarcasm. “No, you’re my human. Besides, I can see the bottom of my food bowl. I might have starved if you’d stayed out much longer.”
“Perish the thought,” she muttered, mounting the steps to her apartment, Sir Kipling following behind.
* * *
On a hunch, Lily peeked in her car’s back window before she left for work Wednesday morning. Sure enough, there was Sir Kipling, crouched on the floorboards behind the driver’s seat.
Jerking open the back door, she gave him her sternest glare. “Out!”
Caught red-handed, he sat up and started casually cleaning a paw as if he’d meant to be found all along.
Lily sighed. “You can’t come to work with me, Kip. Now shoo, or I’ll be late.”
He jumped up on the back seat, but made no move to exit the vehicle. “I see no reason why I can’t go. You’re going, after all.”
She bent slightly so she could fix him with a glare. “You’re a cat. I’m a human. Pets aren’t allowed on campus.”
“Neither are men.”
“I—what?”
“You complain all the time about Sebastian visiting when men aren’t supposed to be wandering around campus. If I let him ignore rules more than I do, I wouldn’t be much of a cat, now, would I?”
“It’s not a competition, and I’d get in trouble if you got caught.” She stood up, hands on hips.
“O, ye of little faith,” he quipped.
Lily rolled her eyes. “You can’t follow me around everywhere. You might as well get used to that now.”
“I don’t follow anyone. That’s a dog’s job.” He sniffed, his disdain evident. “I’m simply keeping an eye on you.”
“Thanks, but I’ve taken care of myself perfectly fine up until now.”
“Things are changing. Who says it’s you I’m worried about?” he said cryptically.
About to protest, Lily stopped, thought about what he’d said, and closed her mouth. She wanted to ask what he meant, but knew it would be a waste of breath; she’d have to take his word for it.
“Fine,” she said, throwing up her hands and closing the car door. She climbed into the driver’s seat and turned around to fix him with a stern look. “But no wandering around the library. You stay outside. I can’t risk someone seeing an animal loose inside a school building.”
Sir Kipling made no reply, simply settled down on the back seat with a smug look.
* * *
Despite her fears, no one burst into her office demanding why she’d brought a cat to school. In truth, Penny was the only one who would recognize him as Lily’s cat, anyway. She needed to make that ward collar soon, though, and get tags for it if he was going to be wandering around on a regular basis. It wouldn’t do for someone to mistake him for a feral cat and call animal control.
After work, she again descended the steps into the lower-level archives and headed for the closet that doubled as the magical entrance to the Basement. Only because she was half expecting it did she catch sight of Sir Kipling’s gray form slipping into the closet with her.
“Oh no you don’t!” She snatched him up, intending to deposit him outside the door. “The Basement is no place for a cat, especially one that’s already gotten himself into trouble messing with a magical artifact.”
He squirmed vigorously, so she dropped him rather than let him claw her blouse in an attempt to escape. Turning to sit just out of reach, he glared up at her, unblinking.
“No.” Arms crossed, she tried, and failed, to stare him down.
He remained silent, waiting.
Lily huffed out a breath. “Look, you managed to get enchanted or some such nonsense after licking a measly clay fragment. If you think I’m going to let you anywhere near a room full of magical artifacts, books, and fragile instruments, you’re insane.”
“Why can’t you humans keep your facts straight?” he finally said, his expression one of long-suffering. “I was gifted, not enchanted. It had nothing to do with me and everything to do with you. You’re the one getting involved in dangerous plots. You’re the one who needs help. Well, I’m it. Why won’t yo
u let me do my job?”
With those words, a soft glow began to emanate from him, barely discernible at first but growing brighter and brighter. As the glow increased, Lily’s eyes widened till they were as big as saucers.
“Um, Kip, you’re glowing,” she said, clutching the doorframe for support, knuckles white.
“Am I?” He looked around at himself. “How fascinating. Apparently I had a point to make. The question is, have you gotten it?”
Lily nodded. Anything to stop whatever strangeness was going on. As soon as she did, the glow vanished, leaving Sir Kipling looking as surprised as she felt. Weary, confused, and worried, she closed her eyes and tried to think. Whoever or whatever had given Sir Kipling intelligence had an agenda. It seemed the agenda was to protect her, like some sort of guardian spirit. But what did she know? Maybe it was using Sir Kipling for some other end. Yet he’d said it was “good” and here to help.
It came down to whether or not she trusted her cat, as ridiculous as that sounded. How many people had to ask themselves such a question? Looking into those yellow orbs, she saw confidence, certainty, and mystery. She thought about how warm and safe she felt when he curled up beside her as she fell asleep. Then there were his constant attempts to groom her, despite loud and vociferous protest on her part. He kept her company, listened patiently when she complained, and always made sure her clothes were thoroughly covered in cat hair. They were family. He was her cat; she was his human. It seemed crazy, but that was enough.
“Fine,” she said, reflecting on how frequently she used that word these days. “But no scratching any of the furniture, no licking, no jumping up on things, no opening drawers or cabinets—” she’d never seen him do it, but it was safer to assume he could “—and do not touch anything. Got it?”
He blinked at her. “I promise to be perfectly civilized.”
Throwing up her hands, she turned, knowing that was the best she could expect. He darted in to join her in the dark closet, and she opened the magical door to the Basement. Before she could wonder if she’d have to carry him through, he’d already disappeared into it.
Love, Lies, and Hocus Pocus Revelations Page 5
