by Jill Nojack
I run from the behind the counter to the door and burst onto the sidewalk, leaving a pile of clothes behind as my body folds into itself. I don't even glance down the sidewalk to see if there's anyone else around. I don't care who sees.
Damn it! Where did this traffic come from? Cat blasts across the asphalt as soon as the moving cars have traveled on.
But she's alone now, sobbing. He's already skulked out of the back of the alley.
She tells me what happened between gasps that escape as she works to get back under control, clinging to Cat, her tears rolling off his fur where she holds him tight against her shoulder. "He said…he could have me…right here…right on the sidewalk…and not a single cop would move to stop him."
I'm going to kill that bastard.
***
Until I can kill him, I need to make sure Kevin's staying put far away from the shop. After dinner, I tell Cassie I want to film him again, but it's a ruse. What I want is to case the joint for when I'm fully human and can make sure he never frightens her again. I know what he's capable of. I know what he did to Eunice, even if I can't prove it. He deserves to be put down for the rabid dog he is.
It's dusk when I jump to the sill at Kevin's house and my feet slip before they find purchase. The harness adds just enough weight to keep me unsure in gauging my movements. But it's okay; I catch myself with Cat's sharp claws and make only the slightest noise as I start to pull myself up.
I'm too intent on my efforts, too recently reincarnated as Cat for my senses to be finely tuned. I scrabble for a firm hold on the sill and don't notice what's going on inside the house. The screen pops out of the window, and Kevin has me by the scruff of the neck before I realize what's happening and can let go to drop back into the bushes.
I claw and I bite, but a small cat is no match for a grown man.
I hope Cassie isn't too sad when I never come home.
Kevin carries me to the kitchen, careful to hold me out at arm's length to keep himself safe from my claws. He's got a fading purple-black bruise under his right eye. I'm pleased to see I've done him damage even though I'm helpless now. He blats away about his evil plans for me, for Cassie, for the town. Then he opens a cupboard door with one hand and takes out a brown dropper bottle.
He moves his hand around the back of my head and forces a finger in at the side of my jaw. It pries my mouth open slightly but doesn't put his fingers in danger from my teeth. Once he's got me immobilized, hanging in the air from one of his soft, feminine hands with my eyes and mouth wide open, he holds the dropper above my mouth and gives a squeeze. I try not to swallow.
It goes dark slowly, but at least there is no pain.
I take one of Granny's pre-mixed anti-anxiety herbal mixes after dinner, and while I'm alert, I'm able to focus on something other than my worries. I'd used it before big games when I was a kid, and it always did the trick. If life keeps up like it has, I'm going to need a ton of it. Fortunately, I'll be able to make it because while Granny didn't leave a grimoire, she did leave the recipe book for the herbal stuff we sold in the shop. Everything the shop sells is in there including the magical phrases that I always thought were just Granny's eccentricity, but there's nothing other than that. Nothing that would help Tom.
My book is engrossing, and I don't realize it's after midnight. Tom should be home by now. He wouldn't have gone hunting with the harness on. It restricts his movements too much. He would have come home to have it removed before he went back out for the night.
I want to tell him the good news: Gillian emailed today, and she's found the coven Granny joined when she was in France, in a place called Côte-Louanne, which she says is an awful lot like a French version of Giles. She's invited for dinner with the old high priestess, so she hopes she can find something out about Granny's time there. I suppose I can hold onto the news if Tom's still prowling—it'll be just as exciting tomorrow. And I've put a protection net spell up around the house, so I don't need to worry about Kevin. I hope. It won't be as strong as one of Gilly's, but it should get me through the night. Still, I'd feel more secure with Tom here. Maybe I shouldn't have urged him to go.
By half past one, I'm not able to make myself believe that he's still gone because he's doing something fun. I'm stressed despite the concoction I took earlier. I'm looking up from my book every couple of minutes, no longer knowing or caring what it's about. I need to see him slinking into the room satisfied and leap onto the bed, and every time I think I hear or sense movement and look up, another grain of worry drops into the pile because he's not there. I pour a glass of boxed wine in hopes it will help me relax, and it works a little, but the anxiety has gotten hold of me now, and I can't push back the image of Cat crushed under the wheels of a car or torn apart by a raccoon. Then again, that wouldn't put an end to Tom—he'd shift, then regenerate as Cat, wouldn't he? Like he did that night Kevin broke into the shop. Except there was also something about him having only nine lives? I think he told me that.
An hour later, I realize that my staying up isn't going to bring him through that window any sooner. I finish a second glass of wine with more anxiety-soothing powder and take myself up to bed, hoping to wake to a black ball of fur butting me with its head so I can turn it back into a man.
***
In the morning, after a crappy night's sleep, I hurry down the hall to Tom's room. He's not there. My heart hurts and my stomach clenches. I go downstairs, hoping to find him crashed out in the shop window or on the counter or sleeping on a parlor chair, but he's nowhere to be found.
I eat my solitary breakfast, shower, dress, and spend the morning prowling around downtown, looking under porches, and exploring all the nooks and crannies up and down the street for a small black cat before I open the shop. No one comes in for an hour, giving me plenty of time to let my imagination run wild about where Tom might be.
It figures that my first visitor is Kevin. Ever since I learned how truly vile he is, he's almost become a cartoon villain to me with his comb-over and general smarminess. He wouldn't try anything in the shop, would he? I didn't have time to put up another protection spell this morning, but my bat is still under the counter. Maybe he'd like a taste of that again.
"Dear Cassie. I had a visitor last night. It was quite late, and I was concerned for him—your sweet little kitten, what's his name, again?"
I nearly stop breathing, but I force myself back under control. "Just Cat. Like the shop."
"Well, 'just Cat' was prowling around in my bushes, and I tried to catch him because he looked like he'd gotten something caught around his neck, but no—he was far too clever for me and eluded me. I do hope he got home all right?"
I'm quaking inside, seriously quaking, but I don't let him see that. "He's not back yet, but he sometimes doesn't come home right away in the morning." I'm desperate trying to read his expression to figure out the true reason for his visit.
His tight smile doesn't waver as he says, "Oh my, are you thinking of our talk in the alley? And our unpleasant conflict over Eunice's secret stock? There are always losers and winners in business. It can be cut-throat, even in a sleepy little town like Giles. But I've put that unpleasantness behind me. I hope that you can, too."
I just stand there looking at him, appalled that he thinks of everything that's happened between us as a bad business deal.
"Oh well, in time, perhaps. I do hope you find your sweet little Cat. They say that cats have nine lives, don't they? I hope the poor thing's time isn't up."
As he leaves, I have an overwhelming urge to take another shower. And I'm sick with worry about Tom now. I toss the rest of my anti-anxiety powder into the trash. No point in drugging myself. This isn't my imagination running away with me. Tom's in trouble.
I grab my cell and find the contact for Gillian. When she picks up, I don't bother with hellos or pleasantries, I just blurt it out, "Tom's missing. I'm afraid Kevin did something to him. I don't know what to do."
"First, take a breath. Then tell me why y
ou think Kevin did something."
I relate the story of Kevin's visit as Gillian murmurs here and there to indicate she's listening.
"It sounds like you're right to be concerned. However, my dinner with Aurelle Louvelle and her granddaughter, Aurelie, is tonight, and I can't leave yet. With luck, I'll get enough information and can arrange a flight back right after."
"I could use you here right now, Gilly. I feel so alone. I didn't realize how much I'd come to expect him to be here."
Gilly reassures me, and I feel better listening to her soothing voice.
"You need to go to Natalie and enlist the coven's help. They should be able to invoke a location spell to help you find him."
"Are you sure I can trust Natalie?"
"Probably. She definitely has a hatful of hate for Robert and Kevin Andrews. If she could help you do something to spite them, she'd do it gleefully."
"But Tom wouldn't like it. It feels like I'd be betraying his secret."
"I'm sure Nat has sussed Tom out already. She's not a stupid woman by any means, and she's the most powerful witch in the coven now that Eunice is gone. If anyone can help with this until I get back, it's Nat."
We hang up, but my head is still working on what Gillian said. I don't want to admit that I'm desperate with fear for Tom. I don't want the strange life we've shared together for the past few weeks to end. I don't know if he's my cat or my friend, or just a guy I lust after in a weird, furry sort of way. I pick up the phone and call the number she gave me, but there's no answer. I don't want to leave a message, but I do it anyway. It's just a request to call. I can't give her the details this way.
I know he'll be back soon. I know it.
It's Day Two breakfast without Tom now, and Natalie hasn't returned my call. I get up early and search again under every porch in town as soon as the sun comes up. I hang up lost cat posters. Big reward. Have you seen him?
I stop back at the house at noon and grab some lunch, try to call Natalie but end up leaving a message again that I need to talk to her. I can't tell her what it's about in a message. Anyone could listen to it if she's got an old skool answering machine like Gran's. I'm not sure I trust Natalie, but I know I don't trust any random stranger who might hear a message playing because they're hanging out when she picks it up. And she barely even knows me. Why would she jump if I tell her I need to talk?
I decide it's time to find out where she lives and take this bull by its horns. Her address is in the phone book, so I drive to the east end of town where she lives.
Just as Natalie answers the door, my cell rings. I pick up, and Natalie waits with one hand poised, ready to close the door. I get the feeling she's not the most patient woman.
It's Gillian. "I'll be home tomorrow night. We have a lot to talk about. I've got what we're looking for."
My spirits lift, and then I remember that whatever she's got, we have to find Tom before it can help him. I'm not a praying woman, but I'm pulling at the universe to get behind me on this one.
Nat's still looking at me, but her hand is already pushing the door forward. I shove the phone at her. "It's Gillian."
Nat's eyes grow big as she listens to Gilly talk and ushers me into the house.
***
Gillian folds me in a big embrace. "Has there been any news about Tom?"
"No, nothing. I'm crazy worried at this point. Natalie's gathered the coven like you asked. I don't know that I trust them, but something has to happen."
Gillian turns and charges along, following the arrows toward the baggage claim. "Assuming Tom is alive and not being actively hidden from magical forces, the coven should be able to find him. Are you sure Robert isn't involved in this? I doubt he would be, but…"
"No, I'm not sure about anything. How could I be? Kevin didn't actually say he'd done anything. He just hinted, but it made my skin crawl."
"If Robert's involved, he'd be able to hide Tom from a spell, but Kevin doesn't have that kind of casting power. He's more nearly a pharmacist than a warlock."
Gillian fills me in on what she found out while I drive as quickly homeward as I can without killing both of us. "Apparently, shape-shifting was all the rage back in the middle ages in Europe. Members of the coven where Eunice was a novice continue the practice. Witches become one with their animal partners to honor nature, not to control it."
"So, like werewolves? That kind of thing?"
"Werewolves, werebears—wererabbits, if someone's inclined that way. It seems the myths are mostly wrong, but like all myths, they gained power as they were told and retold. The joining is chosen by the witch and requested of the Goddess in a sacred ceremony. Eunice participated in one of those ceremonies with the coven and must have gained the knowledge that way. Except she corrupted the magic for her own uses."
I keep my eyes on the road, but I want to stop and pull all the information out of her. "Corrupted it how?"
"Aurelle said she must have forced Tom to participate in the ritual without his consent, much as she taught you magic without you being aware of it. And to be successful, she had to mix in other magic to bind his power and allows words spoken by another to activate the spell. What do you young people call it? A mashup, right? None of that is part of the original magic. The high priestess is going to talk to anyone who remembers Eunice to see if there are rituals they can think of that Eunice might have learned to create the spell."
"So, you don't really have an answer?" The excitement that was fueling my optimism fades.
"Not yet, sweetheart, but we do have another puzzle to solve that might help."
"Another one?"
"The high priestess believes that when Eunice died, no one else should have been able to make Tom transform. She doesn't understand how you have that power. She wants me to see if I can shift him, because if I can't, there may be something even darker going on here."
"What does that mean?"
Gillian shrugged. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, pet. Just trust me for now and let's focus on finding Tom. None of this has any value if we can't locate him."
She obviously isn't going any further with whatever she hinted at, so I let it drop. At least she's back and convinced that we'll not only find Tom, but she'll be able to help him with his problem, too.
***
When we get back to the shop, six sleepy members of the coven are sipping tea in Granny's downstairs parlor. I hear Natalie rummaging in the kitchen. Although Gillian says Nat likes to take off with other people's good silver, somebody had to make the tea, and I can't worry about anything as meaningless as tableware right now, anyway.
She assures me that with the two of us and Nat, nine can also be a powerful number. She certainly doesn't want Kevin or Robert participating and there are a few other coven members she believes were loyal to Eunice. It's feels so normal and civilized as Natalie comes out of the kitchen with a tray of cheese, crackers, and cookies.
After she plops the tray on the coffee table for people to serve themselves and takes her own seat, Natalie dips a cookie into her tea and says, "Well, Gillian, begin."
Gillian nods and looks to the group. "I need your help. Or more appropriately, my ex-husband Tom needs the coven's help."
Natalie butts in when Gillian pauses. "Most of you knew his grandson was visiting and working in the shop." She cocks an eyebrow, her expression bemused. "But couldn't you just swear after meeting him that Tom Sanders the original had simply been using Eunice's creams to good effect all these years? Because that young man could tell me that he's Tom Sanders' grandson until the cows come home, but I recognized that tight little tush when I saw it. Tom himself has been working the counter." All the eyes in the parlor turn back expectantly toward Gillian.
"Yes," Gillian says. Most of the guests look surprised.
"You've also seen him in the shop every time you visited over the past forty years, because he's been trapped as Cat since he supposedly left town," I say from where I stand behind Gillian.
&n
bsp; This time, there are absolutely startled looks, and one long gasp.
Gillian steps back in. "Cassie discovered the secret when there was a break-in at the shop. Cat was badly injured, and when he died, Tom was revealed. Unfortunately, he quickly returned to cat form."
I'm glad Gillian doesn't tell everyone how badly I reacted when I first met Tom.
She continues. "We've made progress by giving Tom his human form for long periods of time, but now he's disappeared. We think he may be in trouble, and we need help finding him. We'd like to ask for help performing a location ritual with as much oomph behind it as this group can muster."
Voices come from all around:
"Of course, we'll help...."
"We can start right now..."
"I've got a map in the car...I'll go get it."
"Does anyone have a silver medallion with them?"
"Can you believe it? Tom back after all these years?"
It's heart-warming seeing all these people jump in to help. I think Tom would be surprised to know how eager people are to make things better for him. I look around as people start to move to get maps and medallions and to talk to Gillian about what's needed, and I feel the tears coming on. Maybe, just maybe, I'll see Tom again.
At night, in the woods, dressed in black robes, these ordinary looking people take on the look of the extraordinary. I can hardly believe I'm here. My neck and shoulders ache from the tension of wondering what comes next. I could have stayed home while the coven worked their hoodoo-voodoo, but if this is what it takes to save Tom, I'll be a freaking witch just like my Granny wanted.
I've got a robe, a gift from Eunice's closet, over my capris and t-shirt. I've also got a dropper jar of rosemary oil from the shop. Gillian says we'll need it. She assures me that as long as I follow the lead of the others, I can't mess anything up. I better not. Because my heart is beating so rapidly I'm still not sure I won't just cut and run if anything too eerie happens. This isn't like our Tuesday and Thursday sessions. This is serious magic.
