by Jill Nojack
"Okay. Come back to the table and finish dinner with me. Then I'll say the magic words so he can go out hunting. Because this is a great meal, with good company, and I don't want it to go to waste."
Tom comes to the table, his eyes sad, but the hungry, crazed look is gone, at least for now. They really are beautiful eyes. Oh blast. I'm turned on again.
After dinner, I tell him what a bad Tom he is, and in a moment, a sweet-faced kitten pushes his way out of the pile of Tom's clothes and purrs endearingly as he rubs the side of his face against my ankles. It's nice but weird, given my current state of horn-dogginess. Then again, he doesn't know about that. I think I'll just keep it to myself.
I walk to a downstairs window and open it wide enough for him to get out. There are sliding bolts on either side to make sure that an intruder can't lift it more than seven inches or so. That's all Cat needs to get back in. I slide the bolts in place and go into the kitchen to take care of the dishes.
Okay, so I'm adapting, right? I'm apparently a witch, and there may be a psycho warlock trying to take everything I have. Plus, my new house comes furnished with a magical werecat. And how do I know I'm taking it in stride? Because suddenly I'm daydreaming about hooking up with some guy who wears bell bottoms because he was around the first time they were cool. With nothing underneath. Because there wasn't a single pair of men's underpants in the house.
Aargh! I so did not mean to think that.
When I wake up, Tom is snuggled into the small of my back, sleeping soundly. I'm not sure if that's weird or not. I mean, he's a cat, but...
Well, at least sleeping with a cat snugged up against my back doesn't turn me on. I'm pretty sure it would if he was spooned up against it in human form. And now I'm thinking about snuggling against Tom in a whole other way. Note to self: I really have to stop thinking like this. I haven't even gotten over Dan yet.
Dan. Well, that helps. Now I'm sad again. I slide my feet off the side of the bed and get in a half-hearted stretch. Cat wakes up and stretches, too, his pink tongue showing through his sharp, white teeth as he yawns.
I go to the closet and grab his red robe, which I lay out for him in the hall just outside the door. He rubs against my legs and looks up at me expectantly. Cat wanting a scratch? "Outside the room, please." He pads along obediently.
He disappears around the corner, and I say the words. "Good Tom."
After a decent interval, Tom appears in the doorway, mostly covered up in his robe, but it's open enough at the top that I'm treated to a front-row view of his man-cleavage. He says, "Thanks. I'm feeling more centered this morning. Cat needed that."
I can't stand it. Tom, despite the unstyled sixties hair, is so freaking sexy. He just is. There's something about him. How am I supposed to put up with living with him day to day when I want to pet this man until he purrs? And I'm not talking Tom the kitten here.
I manage to pull my eyes away from him and say, "You can have the shower first." He turns and walks off to the bathroom.
I go downstairs and start a pot of coffee in granny's old coffee pot. It smells amazing. I focus on that instead of my percolating lust.
Tom has to go. I have so many things to work out about what I want for my life, about Dan, about my inheritance—I don't need to deal with constant lusty thoughts about my filthy old Granny's sex slave on top of everything else.
***
"Look, Gillian, you know what he looks like, right? And he's great. He made me this fantastic dinner the other night. Of course, he also ate a bug, which was gross. But overall, he's totally hot. I can't keep living in such close quarters with him. It's torture. I can't control what's going on inside my head." I lean on my elbows at the kitchen table in her sparkling kitchen.
Her face is a blank as she cuts into a huge pecan roll, and her tone is flat. "I can see how that could be a problem. Tom always did exude sexuality."
"Yep. My libido just pushes aside that he's been a cat and my granny's lover for over forty years. I mean, my gran's lover! Even that part where he ate a spider? Yeah, turned me off for about five minutes."
Gillian sighs. "You might as well indulge yourself. I wouldn't hold it against you, sweetheart. Well, I would just a tidge, but not for long. He's not my Tom any more."
She says it, but her words are sharp by the end. Plus, I definitely wasn't looking for her blessing.
"Gillian! That's not helping! Get jealous or something! Slap me or appeal to my common sense. I always had good common sense before this."
I think hard about how I can express what I've been thinking without my attraction to Tom getting mixed up in it, and when I think I've got it straight, I say, "The thing is, me and Tom together would almost be the same for Tom as it was with Granny Eunice—he's still trapped in the house, and I'd control when he's a man and when he's a cat. He'd just have a nicer owner. Help me get him free of this house so he can move on."
I can see she's thinking on it, her brow furrowed. Then she says, "Have you found any handwritten books or old manuscripts? Eunice should have a grimoire or two somewhere. We all do. But to be truthful, I'm not sure I want to help. I've a good mind to leave the two of you on your own. Ever since I found out about Tom, it's been more of a sore spot than I want to admit."
"But, it wasn't Tom's fault."
"Oh bloody hell, it certainly was!" she barks.
I step back from the fury in her eyes and let her anger recede before I give her an apologetic smile and open my big mouth again.
"You're right. It was Tom's fault. And my grandmother's fault. But, Gilly, not a single bit of the fault was mine." Her face relaxes, compassion replacing anger. I try to keep the desperation out of my voice when I ask, "So, will you help? Because I'm a big, giant mess."
***
Tom looks up, and a grin spreads across his face when he sees Gilly and I entering the parlor. He's watching TV, or, to be more exact, he's channel surfing through shows with the remote. I've noticed he does that a lot. I don't know if it's because he still has the attention span of a cat, or if it's because he has the attention span of a man. Either way, as long as he doesn't do it when I'm trying to watch something, I don't care.
He silences the TV with the power button and goes to Gillian, wrapping her in a giant hug. "It's so good to see you. Catch me up! How are you?"
"I was here two days ago. Nothing much has happened since then." She's got that wall up again.
"I know. But I haven't had many visitors over the years. I'd be more than happy to hear about every little minute of your day."
And then it hits me. How stupid am I that I didn't realize this before? How very, very lonely he must be. Knowing that, what I'm going to say won't sound very nice, but I say it anyway.
"Look Tom, you need to get out there and have a life of your own." I look to Gillian for confirmation. "I asked Gilly for help, and with a little pleading, she agreed."
Tom's shoulders drop. "I understand. Who'd want to be stuck with me? The things I've done…"
"Tom, it's not like that. It's, well, it's weird, isn't it, when I wake up and find a kitten snuggled up next to me, but later in the day, he's a fit twenty-something guy who's making me cocktails?"
"I don't mean to confuse you. Cat's a cat. He does cat things. I mean, I'm in on it, but the decisions are right for him."
I shrug. "I may be way too normal to even try to understand that."
Gillian steps in. "Tom, let me put it another way. When you were young, you had that Jim Morrison I'll-do-what-I-want swagger, but now you're acting like you're still enslaved. And you're not. Cassie didn't take over where Eunice left off."
"I..."
"No, I'm going to finish. I hope you've learned something during your captivity about how to treat the people who love you, but even if you haven't, I don't like seeing you this way, either. The most important thing is to help you find autonomy again."
I jump back in. "Yeah, what Gilly said. That's what I meant…so until we can figure out how to remove t
he spell or the curse or whatever it was that put you here, there are still things you could do despite your limitations."
"Really? How? Because I can only leave as a cat."
"But I'm not stuck here," I point out. "There's no reason the two of us need to spend every waking hour cooped up in the same space. So, I'm offering you a job in the shop—for minimum wage, which should be enough to get you modern clothes and start putting together walking around money for later—and I'm going to spend more of my time away."
"A job? I accept! I know everything about the shop. I've been hanging out in it for long enough."
Gillian nods. "I said you'd like the idea. It may not be as good a fit for your skills as cooking at the café was, but since that's not an option..."
I interrupt with the next part of the plan. "Believe it or not, Robert says he'd still be interested in having me work at the art gallery. Says I could do it part-time. And Gilly's convinced me that in the Andrewses' case, the Kevin apple fell far from the Robert tree. She says he's safe."
Tom opens his mouth to protest, but Gilly stops him. "I know why you don't like him, Tom. He was competition. That, on its own, doesn't make him evil. Robert's ambitious, but he's not his son."
Tom closes his mouth and pulls his shoulders back stiffly under her barrage.
Gillian continues, "In fact, Robert may be the only person other than Eunice who was ever able to keep Kevin under control. Which means Cassie needs him on her side. We'd be fools to think he's no longer a problem just because he's been quiet."
"Okay. It's not my decision anyway. Just don't tell everyone who I am."
"Why not?" I ask. "I mean, from what Gilly tells me, your being a magical cat-guy would be pretty normal for Giles."
Tom mumbles without looking up. "Because of what I did. All the spying. I gathered information on just about everyone in this town for Eunice, all disguised as a friendly cat."
"I think people would forgive you." I say.
Gillian puts a hand on my shoulder. "Some. Not others. Tom may be right."
Yeah, maybe I'm naive. Around this town? No maybe about it—I'm beyond naive. "Could you be your own grandson?"
Tom looks up again. "My grandson? Not a bad idea."
"Gillian's not going to be the only person in town who recognizes you, right? And you yourself think that Robert knows who you are. So give yourself an excuse for looking like you do."
"Hmmm…so what would I call myself?" Tom asks.
"Did you have a name you wanted as a kid?"
"I did want to be Roy Rogers and ride a horse while singing cowboy songs." He looks toward Gilly and asks, "Remember?" They exchange a glance, and something intimate passes between them before he turns back to me. "Don't I look like a Roy?"
"Yeah, no...you really don't," I say. "Not at all." And, of course, I haven't got idea one who this guy Roy Rogers is, but I'm suddenly having a steamy "cowboy Tom" fantasy anyway. Geez, give my busy little brain ten seconds, and suddenly I'll never look at a bandanna the same way again. I shake it off and focus on what Tom's saying.
"Well, then, why can't I just be Tom Sanders the Third? Might as well start a family tradition."
"Brilliant," says Gillian.
Yes, brilliant. He gets more freedom, and so do I, but I know I'll still wake up mornings to find him curled up in a ball with his warm little body pressed against my back. I need a cure for that as soon as possible.
Gillian asks, "Tom, do you know where Eunice kept her grimoire?"
"Nowhere. All in here." He taps the side of his head. "She said the written word had too much power to bind to keep any records of her magic."
"It figures. But the knowledge she used to trap you can't have died with her. I'll reach out to my contacts to trace where Eunice went in Europe when she was young. Hopefully, I can locate the coven she was involved with. If the witch's grapevine doesn't yield results, there's always the Internet. Plenty of young witches are active online."
"You'd put that much work into it for me?" Tom asks softly. He looks at her with such a loving expression, I feel like I'm intruding on something personal between them and kind of want to duck out.
Gillian is matter of fact, though. It's like with that look he gives her, she slammed a fence right up in front of it. A big, brick one. With a steel overlay. "Of course. But Cassie's agreed Eunice's funds are paying for it if there are any costs involved. So, we'd both do that for you. You should have your freedom. You did something very stupid a long time ago, but you shouldn't suffer for it forever. I'll also be here every Tuesday and Thursday night after my yoga class to get Cassie started learning magic. With Kevin still a possible danger, we'll start with protection. You'll need to stay out of the way while we work. There's nothing you can contribute."
Wow. Cold. But I am so looking forward to the magic.
The kid from the paper drops the Free Times into the metal distribution rack just outside the shop door. While Tom keeps his eye on the two multiply-pierced teens who are oohing and aahing over the selection of black candles and goth jewelry, I go out and grab a copy.
I can't believe what I see right on the front page. I call to Tom after the girls leave. "Hey, Tom, listen to this...'Cat's Magical Shop is a mish-mash of touristy items meant to lure passersby on their way to Salem. In Eunice Grandby's day, the shop was the stopping place of not only tourists but the rumored practitioners of black magic. Recently, Mrs. Grandby's granddaughter, Cassie Grandby, was discovered with a storeroom full of exotic items. Our source says the shop has been linked to illegal trade in traditional Asian and African medicines involving the slaughter of endangered species. Although the Free Times has asked Miss Grandby for comment, none has been forthcoming. Summer visitors will want to avoid the premises until the legal inquiry has been completed." I look up from the paper. "I'll give him a freaking comment."
"I expect he'd dig that. Probably get it on tape and play it across the loudspeaker at the next town meeting." Tom gives a wry smile. "How many tourists read the Free Times, anyway?"
"I don't know. They've always disappeared from the rack, although I've never seen anyone take one except Natalie. She paints and picks them up in big bundles. I think she uses it as a drop cloth."
"Right on. Kevin thinks he's a much bigger fish than he is."
"You're a wise man, and I'm not going to waste time on worrying about Kreepy Kevin today. And on that note, do you mind if I wander over to the gallery? I'd love some art time. We're going to talk about when I can start."
"Go ahead. I'm ready to solo. Take as long as you want." He gives me a hug, and I pull back quickly because his body heat will have me warmed up in all the wrong places in no time if I don't. "Thanks for trusting me with this," he says.
***
Natalie approaches along the sidewalk with a copy of the Free Times in her hand. Behind her are a few of her friends, talking quietly to each other, expressions of concern on their faces.
"Is it true, young lady? You were caught with illegally smuggled items?"
I decide to test how much Gran's old cronies know. "Natalie, you knew Eunice. What do you think?"
"I think she could have been up to anything and that Kevin was probably in on it with her. My question is, why is he making a stink about it now? Have you rocked the boat, my girl?"
"If by 'rock the boat' you mean did I stand up to him when he broke into the shop? Did I stand up to him when he tried to manipulate me into selling up and leaving? Yes, I did those things." I look directly into each of their faces in turn, defiant, for just a moment before I say, "Anybody have anything to say about that?"
"Oh, we certainly do." Natalie raises a hand and laughs, "What is it you youngsters do? A high five? I want one of those. You do have spunk! Eunice always said you had no backbone at all. But I can see she read you wrong. You're more than welcome in this town. Do you know about our choir, dear?"
"I do now. Gilly told me your code word. And I know more about Granny Eunice than I ever wanted to, t
oo."
"Yes, well, Eunice had her uses. She pushed back on the Andrews boys when needed, and it prevented either faction from taking total control and riding roughshod over the rest of us. She usually let others go about their business as long as no one got into hers."
"That explains a few things that I've been learning lately. I assume you needed the less shady things she stocked in the shop?"
"Oh yes, still do. And even a few things that ride along in the gray areas. Will you be keeping it open? Have you decided?"
"Yes, I have. I've even hired a new employee."
"Really? Someone from town?"
"His grandfather was, apparently. He drifted into the shop because he's been visiting the places his grandfather talked about when he was a kid. Cat's Magical Shop was one of them. He needs a job for a while, so what the heck, I hired him. Plus, you know, a generous helping of eye candy at the counter can't hurt, right?"
Wow. Those lies rolled off my tongue super easy. I'm not sure getting involved with all these secrets is such a good thing. I don't understand what Tom could have done that's so bad. I mean, it's not like he had a choice.
Natalie turns to her little band of grannies and beckons them to follow her. "Eye candy, you say? Come on, girls, I just remembered something I need to pick up at Cat's."
I should drop Tom a quick call and warn him that he's about to be the object of a bunch of elderly admiration, but I think better of it. I'm sure he would have known Natalie back in the day, and now he'll get his chance to deal with being recognized. I think he'll handle it fine. He's been doing the lying and secrets thing a lot longer than I have.
And besides, I've got a date with a wall full of east coast modern.
***
"New clothes?" I ask once I'm back at the shop, approving of the fit of Tom's new outfit. The shaggy mane prevents him looking too modern-boy, but I like the way the slim fit of the slacks accentuates his well-shaped shoulders which are now clad in a loose, white v-neck tee.
