by SM Reine
The door opened faster than I’d expected and my reflexes were somewhat slower. I tumbled out of the room.
And rolled up against a pair of work boots.
I looked up at a human woman with gray hair in a thick braid over her shoulder and human clothing much plainer than what my mummies liked to wear. Either she was scentless or my nose was dulled to human-strength. Her skin was an unremarkable pink-white. Quite humble by all visible metrics.
It must have been Gwyn, the neighbor who was meant to look after me while I was alone.
She squatted at my side with her elbows on her knees and said, “Huh. Okay. So I guess you’re Mr. Poe. They didn’t tell me you’re a shapeshifter.”
3
Kittensitting
That’s all there is to that part of the story. I swallowed the Ring of Bau and promptly became a human shifter. I adored my mummies, but as they say, opposites attract—I had no desire to be like them. It gave me no delight to figure out how to operate my limbs properly when Gwyn marched me into my mummies’ bedroom.
The bed that had been a vast pillowy field would no longer have fit a hundred of me. I calculated that I could still sleep between Suzy and Izzy, but the idea of so many long limbs, hairless skin, and bony knees perturbed me. They would be too repulsed. If I didn’t find a way to eject the Ring of Bau, I’d never get to snuggle them again.
Cats are naturally much more practical than noncats. I accepted this fact and filed it away for later analysis, once Gwyn stopped pulling clothing out of the closet and holding it up to my body.
“What are you doing?” I asked. Talking like people wasn’t hard at all. I was already very good at it.
“I’m figuring out how I’m going to dress you in clothes owned by two adult women,” Gwyn said. “Humans don’t walk around naked. You’ll make everyone clutch their pearls.”
I did not want to be a human. I did not want clothes. I wanted to sleep in bed with my mummies.
Dropping to all fours, I began hacking in an attempt to vomit.
Gwyn watched me. “What are you doing?”
I hacked and gagged. Nothing came up. So I stood up, walked away, and licked my hand coolly to preserve dignity. “I ate something that made me change. I want to change back.”
“We can try peroxide at my house,” she said. “Used to work on my cows when they ate something funny. But first, clothes. Suzy’s stuff oughta fit. Got any problems with dresses? Nothing else is gonna stay up on this skinny little waist.”
“I’m going to turn back into a cat right now,” I said, offended. “I’m not going to stay like this!”
She folded her bony old lady arms. “All right. Change back.”
Vomiting seemed a nonstarter, so I squeezed my eyes shut and focused hard. It shouldn’t have been difficult. My body should have been a cat’s, and I’m a sensible kitty, and there was just no need to get into more complex nonsense.
Nothing happened.
Gwyn manhandled me, stuffing my limbs through one of Suzy’s ephemeral white gowns. “Human boys need clothes. You’re a kitten and a child, and I don’t like the thought of you in this big house alone. You’re staying with me until Izzy and Suze come back.”
I tried to protest this by raising my hackles and puffing my tail, but to no avail. I no longer had a tail to puff.
The dress was so long that it puddled around my feet. Gwyn gathered it at the waist with a belt so that I could walk without tripping.
Of course, I had no intention of walking. I attempted to crawl under the bed.
She grabbed my ankle before I could disappear.
It seemed that I was sized as a human child, in much the way that I was still a kitten, and Neighbor Gwyn was significantly larger than me. “Don’t bother trying to bite me,” she said, dragging me out the front door and locking it behind her. “I’m a zombie. Can’t be hurt. It’ll heal right fast.” She tapped her necklace, which was a glass bauble containing a delicate bird skull.
“You’re like Izzy?” I asked.
“That’s how we got to be friends,” Gwyn said. “It sure wasn’t Miss Draconia’s Knitting Circle.” She shot an ugly look at a house further up the street. All the homes in Haven were smaller than they’d looked as a kitten. They were nonetheless elaborate human constructions. They had multiple levels and multiple roofs, which presented appealing climbing, sitting, and staring opportunities. Their lawns all had such lush grass perfect for sheltering the fattest mice. Everything in Haven was perfect.
“Who is Miss Draconia?” I asked.
Gwyn glanced at me, eyes pinching at the corners. That was how cats smiled but I couldn’t read her facial expression. Her ears didn’t even swivel. “Miss Draconia is that old vampire hag who keeps reporting me to the homeowner’s association for my chickens escaping—which they’re not, mind you! I keep my flock in hand! She’s just bitter I reported her for doing blood spells. She’s all Mary Sunshine on the outside and Henhouse McCarthyist on the inside!”
She was distracted by glaring at the vampire’s house (which was violet-walled and spindly). I took the opportunity to dart across the street, aiming for the safety of the shadows underneath my mummies’ bushes.
The outdoors were less overwhelming as a human than in my natural form. I took in virtually no information through the sinuses. I felt deafened by my little conch ears. Only my eyes seemed slightly improved, as there were new colors in my surroundings.
But my feet were so slow.
I barely made it two steps before Gwyn lassoed me again, holding me under one arm so I couldn’t reach the ground no matter how I flailed. “You think you’re the first little shifter I’ve had to keep in hand?” she asked. “I’ve raised enough litters that I could run a football league with ‘em! Nothing you do’s gonna bother me. You’re sticking close so I can keep an eye on you until Suze gets home.”
“I want to be home,” I hissed, thrashing.
She tossed me into her house.
Gwyn’s home had much more wood in its construction than mine. It was small and cozy with chicken-patterned curtains. A teapot whistled on the stove. She cursed under her breath and turned it off. “Can’t believe I forgot that again… Oughta find a necromancer to check the charm on my brain.”
“Why is this so different from my house?” I asked, staring around at the space. I could smell no other cats, but that wasn’t telling in my altered condition.
“Haven’s a temporary retirement community for immortals,” Gwyn said. “Time here runs a lot faster than it does out there, on Earth, so you can vacation for a few decades in peace with other immortals. Builds a community. Keeps folks busy, safe, and away from mortals. We’ve all made our houses to suit our fantasies too. You want some coffee?”
“No, but I would enjoy tuna,” I said.
“You can’t have too much tuna. Too much mercury content for a kitten your size.”
I patted my stomach. I was much larger than I used to be. “Perhaps just the juice?”
“Mercury in the packing water too. None for you.” Gwyn grumbled to herself while shuffling through her cabinets. My ears were no longer capable of picking out the words.
I gazed in wonder at the foggy, colorful world around me. I looked up at the chicken curtains more closely. There were very fine cotton threads. They were held back by strings that swayed faintly.
My fingertips brushed the string. It moved faster. I swatted it again, and it bounced harder, and I enjoyed myself playing with it. When it brushed against my face I nipped it too.
Gwyn cleared her throat from the doorway.
I dropped my hands.
“Here you go, darlin’.” She handed me a bowl. There was something meaty in it, but it didn’t smell like fish. “Canned chicken. I’ll see about getting something more nutritionally appropriate for you. Maybe catch some rats. What are you doing?”
I’d stuck my face into the bowl to lap at the meat.
She handed me a silver thing.
“Humans
use these,” she said. “It’s called a fork.”
“I know what forks are,” I said, offended. Magic meant I also knew that a kilometer was a thousand meters, chickens were avians, and that dogs were terrible. I was clearly a genius.
I tried to use the fork to get the meat out. It fell on the floor. I got down on all fours and continued to eat, though I used my fingers instead of directly applying face to food.
Gwyn sighed. “Eat up fast. I’ve got a busy day planned and you’re coming with me. You gotta learn to be people now.”
4
Yarn and Hexes
The errands began with a visit to the place that Gwyn called a Farmer’s Market. It was a collection of simple stalls at the heart of Flynn Bay, the one and only city in Haven. It was sheltered by trees heavy with pink spring blossoms, which snowed with every breeze. The blossoms floated millimeters atop the surface of the packed dirt road. I tried to dart after them but caught few under my bare feet, having refused to wear Gwyn’s shoes. My human skin slapped against the ground.
The scents of the Farmer’s Market were more vivid than elsewhere in the Haven. Previously, things like pumpkins, cherries, and blackberries had held no appeal to me. Now the scents made my tummy grumble.
“Why are we going to the market? What’s here?” I asked. A spider skittered under a bundle of wood. I leaped on the stack, but it was already gone.
“Farmer stuff is here,” Gwyn said. “Stop chasing bugs. Hold my hand.”
“I would rather take a bath,” I sniffed. But I did walk at her side, waiting when she stopped and resisting the urge to swat sun catchers.
There were fruits and vegetables all around me, and while they didn’t look all that appealing, I wouldn’t have minded to chew on some of the stems. She didn’t idle long enough for me to explore, though, and I was catching too many interested looks from the humans with the money to steal anything. My hands were so frustratingly clumsy.
I pawed Gwyn’s shirt. “Do farmers know magic? Could somebody here turn me back?”
“I’m not putting you in some sorcerer’s hands. Suzy’d never forgive me, not when she’s friends with the best mages in the world. No, you’re stuck like this until they come home.”
“I don’t want them to know!” They thought I was absolutely perfect in my natural state. Both loved to rub my toes between their fingers (jellybeans, Izzy called them) and stroke the fur on my belly and allow my twitching tail to slide along their ankles. Over and again, they had told me: You’re our perfect boy, Mr. Poe. They would be rightfully disgusted by this weird body.
“You’re changed, darlin’,” Gwyn said. “This is a secret I can’t keep. You’re a kid now, at least sometimes, and folks need to know so they can take care of you.”
“Please don’t tell them,” I said. “Please help me.”
She nudged me away with the steel toe of her boots. It seemed that Gwyn, with her silver braid and hard eyes, was not a woman to repeat herself. “I need my yarn. Can’t show up for Miss Draconia’s Knitting Circle without yarn. Not like she can’t share one of her thousands of skeins, heck no. I gotta keep my own sheep, shear them, and hire Penny to spin their wool out into yarn so I can... Oh! Penny!”
A small brick building bookended the otherwise wooden stalls. The trees couldn’t grow above the building because a big plume of smoke coming out the back.
A burly blacksmith worked the forge inside. At the sound of her name, she turned. Her skin was dark-green and one large horn spiraled out of her hair, which had much softer curls than mine. She was a particularly bulging example of a noncat. Very well developed, like the bulldog that barks at my window every time he walks past.
“Hello Gwyn,” greeted Penny. She had very large tusks and double sets of vampire fangs. “Who have we here?” She set down her fire-reddened tongs to kneel in front of me. Even on one knee, she was possibly the biggest noncat I’d ever seen. Nonetheless, I was unintimidated; noncats were always much larger than me. All the better to sleep upon.
“What are you?” I asked her instead, reaching up to grab her horn.
She giggled. “I’m a vampire and an orc. That’s why my teeth are pointy and my skin is green.” She turned to Gwyn and asked again, “I haven’t seen any little kids around in ages! Especially not one with such cute eyes. Shifter?”
“He belongs to—” Gwyn began. She was about to tell my secret. I threw myself at her legs, wrapped myself around her ankles, and bit. “Hey!”
Strangely enough, these people laughed in response to my attack. Stranger still, these pathetic teeth of mine couldn’t even penetrate Gwyn’s pants to injure her leg. I was useless.
“It’s my great-grand-nephew,” Gwyn said tightly. One of Penny’s big hands closed on the back of Suzy’s dress and lifted me onto my feet. “He’s barely domesticated,” Gwyn added, slinging me under her arm again. “Tell me that the yarn’s done, Penny.”
“Spun out beautifully. But it looks like you’ve got your arms full. Why don’t I just bring it to Miss Draconia’s tonight?” Penny stepped back when I swiped at her, laughing again. “Assuming you’re coming.”
“And let Miss Draconia hold my absence over my head at our next HOA board meeting? Oh, she’d love that. I’ll be there even if I have to bring my ‘nephew’ in a damn basket.”
That wasn’t necessary. I stopped fighting once I had a few minutes to regain my dignity.
There were bicycles free to borrow all over the Haven, but Gwyn insisted we walk the forest trails back to her house. We left Flynn Bay behind quickly, though the forge’s merry puffs of smoke spiraling into a creamy blue-gold sky remained visible for meters.
I chased pebbles up the road, darting from one side to the other in pursuit.
“You can’t tell my mummies anything about what happened to me,” I said. “That means you can’t tell anybody else either.”
“We’ll see about that,” Gwyn said.
A woman with a hunched back and wild eyes lurched up the road. She was holding hands with another woman, much younger, with many of the same facial features.
“Ah, better step aside here.” Gwyn moved among the trees to make space.
I went nowhere. I had seen the hunched woman outside my window many times, and I always thought she’d looked friendly. She fed the birds a lot. I wondered if she’d feed me tuna.
Her sagging eyes fixed on me. “Ooh, pretty kitty,” she said. When she spoke, I saw thick, short fangs in her mouth. “Here, kitty kitty. Come here, kitty!”
I looked down at myself reflexively. There was no alteration to my form; my body was still human. Somehow, she saw through my skin to the feline within.
“Hi little guy,” said the companion, the taller noncat. The hair on her head was sparkly curly black. “What’s your name?”
“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” I said matter-of-factly. I didn’t mean to be rude, but I wasn’t fussed if that was the outcome. Again: cats are much more practical than noncats.
“Well, I’m Mavis and this is my great-grandma Catherine. Catherine’s mind isn’t as clear as it used to be. Sometimes she says confusing things. She’s usually quite friendly, though,” Mavis said. “Don’t get too close or she might pet you. If she says you’re a cat, she really believes it.”
“Is she immortal, like everyone else?” I asked. “Or is she a mortal pet?” I did not add, Like me, and also the bulldog who lives down the street.
Mavis looked puzzled. “Catherine is immortal.”
Movement among the trees caught Catherine’s attention. She swung around to spot Gwyn trying to step past them, unseen.
“The dead!” gasped Catherine. “The dead!” She clutched at Mavis and began weeping. She was in hysterics. The yowling was so sharp and sudden that it sent me bolting for the side of the road, crawling up Gwyn’s back until she beat me down with her yarn bag.
“Control yourself,” she said gruffly. “I’m sorry, ladies. Didn’t mean to cause a stir. Come on, kid. Let�
�s give Mavis some space.”
“Killer! Killer!” the kindly old lady continued to cry.
Gwyn hurried me along. I kept watching over my shoulder as Mavis sobbed. She looked as fearful as a mouse right before getting its skull crunched in my teeth.
“Some vampires have powers,” Gwyn explained under her breath. “Hers is seeing everyone’s true nature. That’s how she knows you’re a cat. For some reason she’s scared of other undead. She’s even more scared of other vampires than zombies. I try to steer clear of her so she’s not bothered, but sometimes it’s hard to manage.”
“Why let Catherine live among other immortals when so many will inevitably be undead? She must present a high risk of community disruption.”
“I hear she’s a hoot with some of the more obscure immortals. Really friendly lady when you’re not undead,” Gwyn said. “She’s part of the community, not a disruption, and we’re lucky to have her around.”
I watched Mavis and Catherine until the trail twisted and separated us, and I could not help but wonder how one vampire might become afraid of all others.
5
Miss Draconia’s Knitting Circle
Though Miss Draconia’s resplendent mansion down the street was surely spacious enough to host the neighborhood’s biweekly knitting circle, they held it in the community park at the heart of town. It was a pleasantly crisp night so everybody donned sweaters and hats before heading to the gazebo.
A wine cellar had been built underneath the gazebo. It was not too cold once inside the cellar, but the route on foot was long, and I had no choice but to wear a hand-me-down knitted monstrosity from Gwyn. It hung over Suzy’s dress to my ankles, so I looked more like some animate sweater than a werehuman. I could barely move around, but I was certainly warm.
The whispering and clucking began as soon as the noncats bottlenecked into the wine cellar, hurrying to get the best seating on the mismatched couches. There was a fireplace on the very far end of the room, along with a few sparse bookshelves and chairs. The wine was set far back into cubbies with crypt-like masonry framing the racks.
