A Witch's Work Is Never Done

by Kate Moseman

  Damn witches.

  George removed his glasses and stowed them in the antique jacket. “Cosmo?”

  Phoenix attempted to stare Cosmo down while simultaneously drinking from the bottle. It didn’t work very well. He managed to dribble champagne down his neck in the process.

  Cosmo tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. “Something’s affecting you. If not a spell, it’s your witch, Raya.”

  Phoenix righted the bottle and coughed. “She’s not my witch. I’m just mad at that stupid mortal, Nathan, for being such an arrogant prat.”

  “Takes one to know one,” said George.

  “Shut up, George.” He finished the dregs of the champagne. “I know what I’m going to do. I’m going to find that witch, Nathan, and terrorize him to the point where he’ll never dare to insult a demon again.” Phoenix stood up. Anger bloomed inside him, warming him like a fire. It felt wonderful. “I’ll teach him some manners.”

  Cosmo sprang up and put a hand on his shoulder. “Maybe that isn’t such a good—”

  Phoenix shook her off and ran for the window. His wings exploded to full length as he dove through it and into the night.

  Finding Nathan’s hotel was child’s play. Raya had mentioned it in passing, and Phoenix knew Paris from the inside out.

  Now he just had to wait for the witch to fall asleep. Surely he would be exhausted from the party on the boat.

  Phoenix perched on the roof, wishing he could talk to his friend Andromalius, currently ensconced with his mortal lover, Erin—in a poky little town in Florida, of all places. He and Andy had viewed Paris as their own, spending many a night raising hell throughout the arrondissements.

  Instead, he banked his anger to a slow burn and waited, deep in the shadow of a garret, for his chance. He might be flighty, but no one would ever accuse him of not having the patience to wait for the right moment to wreak havoc on someone who had offended him.

  The moon crept across the sky. Phoenix remained motionless, a handsome gargoyle of pain and anger, on his rooftop perch—until he sensed Nathan drop into unconsciousness in one of the rooms below.

  He smiled to himself. This was going to be fun. Mortals were at their most vulnerable in dreams.

  Phoenix descended into Nathan’s dreaming mind, appearing in what looked like a shadowy forest. He considered transforming into a hideous monster, but discarded the idea, preferring for Nathan to know exactly who haunted his dreams. He would rue the day he’d ever spoken to Phoenix, and he’d think twice about ever insulting a member of demonkind again.

  Through an opening in the trees, Phoenix spotted Nathan.

  Nathan stood with his back to Phoenix, seemingly caught up in his own dream, unable to sense the demon silently stalking him.

  Phoenix glided noiselessly through the dream woods, preparing to seize control of Nathan’s dream and twist it to his own purposes. Should he chase him mercilessly? Or just drag him shrieking into the sky and drop him like a rock, until he awoke drenched in the sweat of his own terror?

  So many choices.

  He was almost upon Nathan. Oddly, the surroundings seemed more solid than the average mortal’s dreamscape. His rage flared again, wiping out any thoughts of hesitation or loneliness or Raya.

  Then Nathan turned around and raised one hand.

  Phoenix collided with what felt like a brick wall. He recoiled, then struggled as he realized he hadn’t just been hit by a brick wall—he’d been surrounded by one.

  What was happening? Mortals weren’t usually this powerful in dreams. Suddenly, the realistically detailed landscape made sense.

  He had unwittingly flown right into a trap.

  Nathan calmly regarded his struggles. “Hello, Phoenix.”

  “What—what did you do to me, you little bastard!” Phoenix twisted and pushed at the invisible restraints.

  “Such language.”

  Phoenix spat a baker’s dozen of foul curse words. It didn’t help, but it certainly felt better than bowing to Nathan’s reproof.

  “Such an unpleasant personality, too. And yet Raya keeps you around.”

  “You keep her name out of your mealy mouth, witch.”

  Nathan ignored him. “That’s the question, isn’t it. Why does she keep you around?” He circled Phoenix, examining him from every angle. “You must be valuable.”

  Phoenix tried to turn his head to follow Nathan’s movement but found himself nearly paralyzed.

  The walls had closed in.

  He rolled his eyes in a show of bravado. At the moment, they were the only thing he could move, other than his mouth. “She doesn’t keep me around. I’m not bound to her.”

  “And yet you sought her out.” He leaned into Phoenix’s face. “To tell her you were lonely.” His voice rang with contempt. “Maybe you were bound—in a manner of speaking.”

  “Go to hell.”

  Nathan’s lips twisted into a smile like he knew he’d scored a direct hit. “If you were bound with a spell, she might have noticed if someone stole her pet demon. But now, she’ll never know.”

  “You can’t do anything to me in a dream.”

  Phoenix really hoped Nathan couldn’t do anything to him in a dream.

  Nathan crossed his arms. “No?”

  If Phoenix could have sweat, he would have done so in buckets at the amused look on Nathan’s face. He argued the point anyway. “You’re asleep. You’ll wake up and I’ll be gone. Free as a bird.”

  Nathan’s lips quirked. “Really. You don’t seem very sure of that.”

  Phoenix was not at all sure.

  “You’re only partially correct.” Nathan stared at Phoenix like he was deciding which part of a Thanksgiving turkey to carve first. “It’s true that I can’t bind you to my service in a dream. But I can put you away until I’m ready to make use of you.”

  “Put me away? You mean banish me?” Banishing wasn’t harmful to a demon, but it resulted in disappearing from the mortal world for an unpredictable amount of time. The thought frightened him. No one would know where he had gone.

  No one would even know he needed rescuing.

  Nathan shook his head and pulled a wand from his pocket. “No, I’m not going to banish you. Too hard to call you back. I’m going to hide you until I’m ready to summon and bind you in the real world.”

  Phoenix scoffed. “You can’t hide a demon.”

  Nathan leveled the wand at Phoenix.

  “Wait! I have powerful friends—if you do this, a legion of demons will come after you and tear your soul to shreds!”

  Nathan smirked. “Would these be the demons who have a secret hideout in Paris?”

  How the hell did Nathan know about that? “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he bluffed.

  Nathan’s eyes glinted. “They’re next.” With that, he released a wave of power from the dream-wand.

  The spell enveloped Phoenix, covering him in a pulsing ultraviolet web that smelled of ancient magic torn from deep within the earth. The magic folded him like an ethereal piece of origami paper. His vision blurred and the ground rushed up at him.

  As his sight cleared, he looked up. Why was Nathan so tall? He spat a few more curse words for good measure, but heard only hisses and yowls.

  Nathan knelt and hooked a finger into something around Phoenix’s neck. He tugged it once, making sure it was secure, then stood up. “Au revoir.” Nathan walked into the forest and disappeared.

  The forest collapsed into darkness. Phoenix’s consciousness shot out of the dream, back to the rooftop and the real world. He balanced himself on four paws to keep from falling off the smooth metal roof.

  Paws?

  Damn it all.

  The witch had turned him into a cat.

  16

  Phoenix shuddered in an attempt to spread his wings. Nothing happe
ned. He clumsily pawed at the collar around his neck, to no avail. He called for help, but what came out sounded like a yowl and earned only an answering meow from a nearby alley.

  He padded on quiet paws to the darkened window of the garret. The moonlit reflection showed his appearance: a diminutive black cat with a snug collar.

  Phoenix sat on his haunches on the windowsill.

  This was bad.

  This was very, very bad.

  Also, there was no way he was going to sit around and wait for Nathan to decide he was ready to capture his own pet demon.

  Phoenix picked his way across the rooftop and found a rickety fire escape. A series of careful steps and jumps brought him back to the ground. He didn’t know if he could be seriously harmed in this form, but he didn’t want to find out the hard way.

  Despite being unable to feel tired in a physical sense, Phoenix felt overwhelmed by spiritual exhaustion.

  If demon cats could sleep, he would have curled up for a catnap right then and there.

  But there was no time for that.

  Could witches still sense him? Would other demons still recognize him? He paused as he considered his options. Without the ability to fly, navigating Paris would take a lot longer than usual.

  He was closer to Cosmo’s bar than Raya’s hotel.

  Decision made, he padded out of the dark alley onto the relatively well-lit sidewalk.

  Thanks to the late hour—or early hour, depending on how you looked at it—pedestrians were scarce. No one noticed a small black cat who crept from shadow to shadow.

  The street led to a great roundabout where swerving cars dodged each other in a hellish dance around the Arc de Triomphe.

  Phoenix retreated from the traffic and darted down a nearby sidestreet. What had been an easy jaunt through the air, just hours before, had turned into miles of slogging on little cat legs.

  By the time he got halfway to the bar, there were noticeably more people on the street. He had to be careful to avoid being scooped up by one of the well-meaning early risers.

  Now was not the time to get adopted by a sweet little old grand-mère.

  Trucks rumbled to life in the backstreets as dawn approached. He dodged the deliveries, slipping under parked vehicles and around trundling carts of goods.

  In the neighborhood of Cosmo’s bar, he had more to worry about from street toughs than grand-mères. In normal circumstances, he would have been more than a match for any ten thugs, but without the ability to fly, he didn’t want to take any chances.

  He found the street-level door. He pressed against it with all of his feline strength but couldn’t budge it. He scratched at it with his paws, which did nothing but carve tiny grooves into the wood.

  He dashed around the corner to the alley under the bar window just in time to see the first rays of the sun burst across the sky. He watched helplessly as the demons in the bar took to the sky from the window, returning to their own personal haunts and leaving the bar empty until the next night.

  No matter how he leaped and yowled, not a single one noticed the tiny kitten down in the alley. Phoenix howled in frustration, too upset to care that it came out as an ungodly caterwaul.

  But there was still Raya.

  So what if she’d told him to go away. He’d been acting like a maniac, swooping in on her in front of the other witches like that. Surely she’d forgive him. And turn him into himself again.

  Phoenix ran as fast as a cat could run.

  By the time he got to Raya’s hotel, the sun beamed down from the high angle of midmorning.

  If—no, when—he got his wings back, he’d never set foot on the ground again if he could help it.

  He crept closer to the hotel entrance, hoping to intercept Raya on her way out. He settled on his stomach like a Sphinx to watch the door.

  Absorbed in his sentry duties, he didn’t notice the footsteps behind him until it was too late.

  Firm but gentle hands scooped Phoenix from the ground. “Es-tu perdu?” He repeated the question in English. “Are you lost?”

  Phoenix considered slashing the man’s face and running for it, then thought better of it. This man, if he recalled correctly, worked inside the hotel. Perhaps this would be an improvement on watching the door.

  Phoenix purred and nuzzled the man’s hand.

  “You have a collar. Someone must be looking for you.”

  Phoenix mewled.

  “Poor thing! You are all alone in this world.” He cradled Phoenix in the crook of his arm and scratched his head.

  Phoenix purred some more and hoped no one ever heard about this. Ever.

  “Do you want some milk?”

  No, he did not. But he would pretend he did if it got him closer to liberation. He extended a tiny, pink cat tongue and delicately licked the man’s hand.

  He chuckled. “Come on, then.” He carried Phoenix into the hotel lobby. “Where can we put you?”

  “Ahmed! There you are.” Raya ran down the last few stairs and approached the man holding Phoenix. “I was wondering if you could help me.”

  “Of course. Let me find somewhere to put my new friend for the moment, yes?”

  “Do you want me to hold him? I love animals.”

  Clearly, Raya didn’t recognize him.

  Phoenix stared at Raya’s face, so open and loving in contrast to her usual demeanor with humans. Or demons. This side of her he’d seen only with her dog, Blaze, back at home.

  “That would be very helpful. Give me just a moment to get a place set up for him.” Ahmed carefully handed him to Raya.

  “Oh, isn’t he a precious baby.” She scratched under his chin and petted his silky head.

  This was getting a little out of hand. He meowed in protest.

  Raya changed the position in which she was holding him. “Are you a little prince? A little prince who doesn’t like his little kitty head scratched?”

  Her lilting baby talk was insulting but strangely soothing. It had been a long night. Phoenix gave up protesting and nestled in her arms.

  “Attaboy,” she murmured, smoothing the fur down his back.

  Just as Phoenix got used to lolling in Raya’s embrace, Ahmed returned.

  “I found a closet for him.” He reached for Phoenix.

  Raya pulled back. “A closet?”

  “Just for now. I put in a little bed, some newspaper. Until we can find his owner. Or a new home.”

  Phoenix felt Raya’s body relax.

  “That’s all right, then.” She transferred Phoenix to Ahmed’s arms. “What about tonight, when you’re not on shift, though? Will you take him home?”

  “My wife—she’s allergic.” He paused. “Perhaps one of the staff?”

  Phoenix reached out a paw toward Raya and meowed pitifully.

  “I know! He could stay in my room.”

  Ahmed looked doubtful. “The management might not like it.”

  Raya bent level with Phoenix. “But he would. Wouldn’t you, my little dark prince?”

  Phoenix purred like a sports car.

  Ahmed hesitated.

  Raya touched the wand in her hair. “I’m sure it will be fine.”

  That minx. She was spelling the poor man.

  Ahmed blinked, then smiled. “You’re right. It will be fine. So helpful, really.”

  Raya gave Phoenix one more caress. “See you tonight, dark prince.”

  17

  Spending the day in a hotel broom closet was no one’s idea of fun, but Phoenix endured knowing the end of Ahmed’s shift would bring him back to Raya’s side.

  In cat form, still—but it was better than nothing.

  The door to the closet creaked open.

  Ahmed poked his head through the doorway. “Kitty cat? Where are you?”

  Phoenix stood up, stret
ched, and meowed, making himself easily seen and heard.

  Ahmed scooped him up. “Time to visit your new friend.” He scratched between Phoenix’s ears.

  Phoenix didn’t resist. It was actually quite hard to scratch that spot on his own.

  Ahmed carried him upstairs along with a few supplies and knocked on Raya’s hotel room door. “Madame? It is Ahmed.”

  The door opened.

  Raya let out an uncharacteristic squeal of delight. “My little prince!” She reached for Phoenix.

  Ahmed handed him over and set the box of supplies just inside the doorway. “I will call you in the morning when I get here.”

  Raya nodded, no longer paying much attention to anything but the little black cat she snuggled in her arms. “Thanks, Ahmed.” She scooted the box of supplies out of the way with her foot and shut the door. “Aren’t we going to have such fun!”

  Phoenix nearly lost his focus. It was embarrassingly easy to slip into the role of a pampered cat, especially when it was enhanced by the novel experience of Raya doing the pampering.

  He shook his kitty head so hard his ears flapped.

  Raya smiled and set him down on the floor. “Aren’t you too cute! Look at your funny little ears.”

  Was there anything he could do that wasn’t adorable?

  Raya scratched that hard-to-reach spot on his head and cooed.

  Apparently not.

  He gave up and flopped on the floor like a rag doll. He had to figure out a way to communicate with Raya that didn’t involve snuggling. It wasn’t getting him any closer to freedom.

  Although it was kind of nice, for a change.

  Phoenix exiled those addled thoughts to the back of his mind.

  He had to focus. He stood up and looked for Raya’s wand.

  It rested in its usual place in her hair. He had no idea how to get at it, or to encourage her to use it. Perhaps if he could, she would be able to notice that something was amiss.

  To do that, he’d have to get closer.

  Which meant more snuggling.

  How had he gotten back to snuggling so quickly?

  Never mind—it was for a good cause.

  He padded closer to Raya and bumped her hand with his head.