Aunt Justine suddenly gasped and looked as if she'd seen a ghost. Her hand covered her throat and pointed at Tierra. Her jade eyes went wide. “Where'd you get that cat?”
“I think I kind of conjured it,” Tierra said, petting the black cat in her arms with long strokes. She looked at Claire. “Can we do stuff like that?”
“I don't know. Let's find out.” Claire pulled the book toward her. “Grim—what do you think of that for a nickname?” she asked everyone. “Rolls off the tongue better than Grimoire, don't you think?”
“As long as the book doesn't care, call it whatever you want,” Aerin said.
“Grim, show me how to conjure,” Claire said. The book flipped its pages. “What do you know. 'How to conjure.'“
“Ask and you shall receive,” Aerin murmured, picking up her glass of scotch and taking a long sip.
“You don't understand,” Aunt Justine said, pointing at the cat in Tierra's arms. “That is no ordinary cat. It was your mother's.” The cat in question hissed at Aunt Justine. “I hate that damn cat.”
“Obviously, it don't care for you much either.” Moira chuckled and weaved in her chair. She'd had a bit too much whiskey already. “That there's a cat with some downright good taste.”
The altercation with Death had put them all in the mood for a drink, or four. Pissing off the Reaper of Souls didn't make for a relaxing evening.
“Wait?” Aerin asked. “Our mother's? How is that fucking possible? She's been dead twenty-six years. Cats don't live even remotely that long.”
“Ask the book,” Justine sneered, arching a brow in irritation.
They all looked at the book.
“The cat is in the Grimoire?” Moira asked, scooting her chair back from the table and looking at the kitty. “What kind of voodoo hoodoo is this anyhow?” The cat narrowed its eyes at her as if to reinforce the edict. “I've never cared for cats. Too much like women, I tell you. Cuddles one minute and then claws the next.” It hissed at her as if it understood what she'd said. “This one strikes me as needing a serious attitude adjustment by the way of a squirt bottle.”
“She's just protective. She seems to like me fine.” Tierra rubbed behind the cat's ear and a loud purr echoed in the room. “See?”
“Legend has it—” Justine started.
“It ain't enough that we got to deal with Four Horsemen and the end of the world.” Moira threw up her hands. “Now we have a legendary feline?”
“We have a prophecy,” Claire said. “Why can't there be a legend about the cat?”
“Next the dead are gonna rise and the seas will boil with blood.” Moira huffed. A sudden breeze stirred through the kitchen. “I didn't mean for that to happen or nothin',” Moira spoke to the ceiling. “I didn't cast no spell, in case anyone's keepin' track.”
“You think?” Aerin lifted an artfully sculpted brow, much in the same manner as Aunt Justine.
“Would you like to hear what I have to say?” Justine continued, her lips pursed in a disapproving line. “No discipline. Witches need discipline.”
“Fine, whatever,” Aerin said. “Just tell us without the lecture.” She looked at Tierra. “I see where you get it now.”
“Hey!”
“Cats are the guardians of the underworld,” Justine said taking the fourth chair around the table.
“I remember watching that in The Mummy,” Moira said.
“This isn't a movie,” Aerin said.
“So I've heard,” Moira returned.
“Would you like to hear this or not?” Justine asked.
“Please, Aunt Justine, continue,” Tierra said. “I'd like to know what we are dealing with.”
“Pour me a glass of the rose wine?” Justine waited until Claire got up and filled a wine glass from the carafe in the refrigerator. She took a sip, let it sit in her mouth before swallowing, and then began. “It originates with the Celtic lore that cats were the guardians to the gates of the underworld.”
“Might come in handy for your deadly boyfriend,” Claire pointed out.
“What happened here tonight?” Justine asked.
Aerin caught her up to date with a few sentences, only hitting the high points.
“Obviously, that is why the cat has appeared once again.” Justine drained her glass of wine and held it out to Claire for a refill. Claire returned to the fridge and this time brought the wine carafe with her, setting it in front of Justine.
“In Norse mythology, cats are sacred to Freya,” Aunt Justine said. “They represent love and peace, and were the original fertility goddesses.”
“What's all the crap about cats being the sign of the devil and witchcraft then?” Tierra asked.
“The Christians are responsible for that one. When they tried to establish Christianity as the only religion, they needed to break the pagan cultures. So the Church instigated what resulted in a thousand years of killing cats.”
“Oh, poor kitty.” Moira reached over to pet the cat, and yanked her hand back as it hissed at her. Moira raised an eyebrow and leaned in, just beyond paw reach. “That hissin' is cute and all, but Cheeto breathes fire, where I come from, cousins are free game.”
“Interesting enough,” Justine continued as if Moira hadn't spoken. “What brought about the appreciation for cats was the plague. The killing of cats stopped, but after they took care of the mice and the plague was obliterated, the Catholic Church once again began its persecution.”
“So you're saying Julian—Pestilence—can be stopped by an ordinary house cat?” Aerin looked skeptical.
“Not stopped. But hindered, yes, as you no doubt witnessed with Death tonight.”
“No help for War or Conquest?” Claire asked.
“As far as I've studied, I'm afraid not. I would go out onto a limb and say that the other two men sound more like dog people to me.”
“They aren't the only ones.” Aerin sneezed.
“Does the cat have a name?” Tierra asked.
“I'm not sure what its first name was,” Justine said. “But legend has it that after the third time it came back from the dead the ancestors started viewing the cat as a curse. From there on it was referred to as Jinx. This will be that damn cat's ninth life, the time with your mother being the eighth.”
“If the cat—Jinx—is a familiar, I figure since we're witches and all,” Claire said, “wouldn’t that make it sort of a protector?” At Justine's reluctant nod, she asked, “Then why didn't it protect our mother?”
“Because someone killed the cat first, right?” Aerin answered first.
“Yes. That is what I assumed happened,” Justine was quick to add. “Either that or the cat died because your mother did.”
Chapter Ten
“You know they're planning something,” Claire said looking out the newly fixed windows.
It had been a quiet two weeks. Too quiet. No sign of the Horsemen in town, no attacks, no weird shit. It was…normal, and the longer time went on without anything happening, the more anxious they became.
Tierra made another cup of lavender mint tea.
They'd been brewing potion after potion, and she was exhausted. Claire had ordered squirt guns from the internet along with water cannons that Tierra didn't know how they were going to utilize. But Claire was in Amazon Warrior mode and if anyone could find a way it would be her.
Aerin was antsy, and Moira was sneaking treats to Jinx. Moira had changed in her thinking toward Jinx once Cheeto took one look at the furry seductress and immediately fell in love. It wasn't often they saw one without the other. Justine avoided both and her four nieces. She'd dived into running the shop, and Sunny had reported that things were going surprisingly well.
The next step in their defense would be to secure Ambrosia's, not only from Nick's farce of a takeover, but from evil entering too. So far, that had been a bit of a problem because it was a public place. To narrow down the evil was difficult. There were many evils in the world. If they protected against them all, she'd soon go out
of business.
After all, there was good and bad in everyone.
Tierra's stomach bubbled, and she feared the stress was getting to her. Slowly she sipped tea, hoping she didn't get sick, but the smells in the kitchen were too strong as Moira cooked lunch.
“What are you cooking?” Tierra asked, needing to know what the vile smell was so she could avoid it in the future.
“Chitlins. Shh… don't let Cheeto know.”
“Chit—what?”
“Pig innards. Ain't much to look at, but once you clean them out and fry 'em up—”
“Stop talking.” Tierra covered her mouth with her hand.
“Feelin' green at the gills? You've been picky for a while now…” Moira trailed off, her eyes going squinty as she examined Tierra. “I'll be a gator's granny!”
“What?”
“This ain't possible.”
“What ain't—isn't—possible?”
“Aerin, Claire! Get your asses in here!” Moira hollered. “You,” she said to Tierra, “sit down.”
“Gladly.” She dropped into a chair near the open window.
Moira turned off the stove and took the pan of what she'd been cooking outside, and returned in hurry.
“What's all the hollering about?” Aerin asked, entering the room wearing a velour track suit that looked way too expensive to work out in.
“We're not under attack again are we?” Claire slid into the kitchen with a water pistol in her hand and one cocked and loaded on her belt. She looked ready for, well, war.
“Y'all better pop a squat,” Moira said. “We might have ourselves one helluva big-ass problem.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Aerin asked though she pulled out a chair and sat. Claire did the same, setting her water gun on the table in front of her.
“Now, Tierra.” Moira took her hand in both of hers, slowly sitting in the last chair.
“You're scaring me, Moira.”
“You're about to get scareder still.” She looked deep in Tierra's eyes. “When was the last time you had your monthlies?”
Tierra went dizzy and the vision of her sisters swam in front of her. “Sorry, I think I'm going be—” She ran to the sink and threw up.
“Oh, fuck,” Aerin said.
“No, I can't be. How can I be?” Tierra's voice went high and shrill. “It was one time,” she rasped out. “It was my first time.”
“All it takes is once,” Moira said. “Didn't you ever take sex ed?”
“Didn't you use—”Aerin started.
“No.” Tierra moaned. She splashed water on her face and rinsed out her mouth. “Sunny gave me condoms, but things got out of hand and we didn't...”
“I'll say,” Aerin muttered.
“Not helpin',” Moira said.
“I think we're jumping to conclusions.” Claire stood, gesturing with her hands. “She didn't sleep with a normal man. This is Death we're talking about. He doesn't create life. He takes it, right? So let's all calm down and work this out.”
“But she's Earth,” Moira pointed out. “The symbol of fertility and life. Maybe that's why the cat really showed up. Didn't Aunt Justine say somethin' about cats being a sign of fertility?”
“Stop, just stop.” Tierra motioned with her hands. “I am not pregnant.” There she said the word. “I can't be.”
“Easy enough to find out,” Claire said. “We'll have Aunt Justine bring home a pregnancy test.”
“NO!” Tierra yelled. Oh goddess, please no. “She can't know…any of this.”
“Is that one of the reasons you stayed a virgin for so long?” Aerin asked. “Because of her antiquated ways?”
“Wow, when you rebel, sister, you rebel,” Moira said.
“Grim must have a way of telling us if you are pregnant or not.” Claire reached for the book.
“First,” Aerin said, “are you late?”
Mentally Tierra went through the calendar. “Y-yes.” Fear slid up her spine. She went hot and then flashed cold.
“How long?” Claire asked.
“A-about ten days, maybe t-two weeks. I didn't even think.” Her hand covered her flat belly.
“Don't do that!” Aerin pointed at her, sliding her chair back and getting to her feet. “Don't get attached. We don't even know for sure if you are…you know…and if you are, what are you pregnant with?” she finished with.
Tierra blanched.
“That is a valid concern.” Claire nodded.
Suddenly Tierra felt too much, everything was too loud, too bright.
She crumpled to the floor in a dead faint.
****
Tierra woke up outside on the grass. There was a cold compress over her forehead and her feet were propped up on pillows from the couch in the front parlor.
“She's coming around,” Claire said from far off. “Tierra, look at me. That's right, focus.”
“What happened?” she asked.
“You keeled over in the kitchen like a board,” Moira said. “You're lucky you didn't bust your noggin'.”
Jinx jumped up on the porch rail as though to oversee what was going on, her black tail curling along the railing. Cheeto plopped his butt down next to Moira, and a black bat hung from the corner of the eves above Aerin.
All eyes were on Tierra.
“We think we found something,” Aerin said, the book laid open on her lap. “You are an earth witch, and therefore you are tied to reproduction—blech—you need to look inside yourself, connect to your uterus—gross—and therefore to the earth.”
“I don't want to do this,” Tierra said, panic rising.
“We have to know,” Claire said. “You have to know.”
She was right.
Tierra took a deep breath and lifted her feet from the pillows. She set them flat on the ground, doing the same with the palms of her hands. Closing her eyes, she opened her third eye, connecting to the earth.
Bees buzzed and birds sang, leaves rustled, and amongst it all a fragile quickening of life fluttered. Tears gathered and fell from her closed lids. Joy also flooded in. There was life inside her.
“Well, shit,” Aerin said.
Tierra opened her eyes. The sun seemed brighter in the azure sky, the green of the trees greener. Everything smelled sweeter.
Moira sat cross-legged on the grass and gathered Cheeto into her arms, kissing his little pink head. “What are we going to do now?”
“Get rid of it!” Aunt Justine yelled, suddenly appearing on the back porch.
Tierra sat up, her head swimming from the action. Moving slower, she covered her belly with her hands. “No.”
“I warned you. You spread your legs, and you'll get knocked-up.”
“Wow, you grew up listenin' to this tripe,” Moira said. “No wonder you were still a virgin.”
“You slept with that man, didn't you?” Justine screeched, ignoring Moira. “The one you left Sirens with. He has friends and they've been asking questions.” Her eyes slid to the Grimoire. “They want the book.”
“They can't have it.” Aerin gathered the Grim to her chest as if that would keep it safe.
“It's just a matter of time now that you let his spawn infiltrate you.”
“Again, wow,” Moira said. “You sure you wasn't a preacher in another life? Cause you sure spread guilt with the best of 'em.”
“Just like your mother,” Justine continued. “Knocked up by the first man that got under her skirts.”
“What?” All four of them said at once.
“You know who our father is?” Claire asked.
“He didn't stick around long once he knew she was pregnant. Like mother, like daughter,” Justine spat.
“All right, let's take a minute,” Claire said. “Aunt Justine, why don't you have some wine?” She gestured for Moira to get the wine and for Aerin to get Justine comfortable.
“Right.” Aerin jumped up, depositing Grim on the patio chair. “Why don't you sit down before you burst an artery or something?”
She hustled Justine into a chair. “We can only deal with one emergency at a time.”
“You doing okay?” Claire asked Tierra.
Was she? “It's better being outside.”
“I thought so.” She smiled at her. “Don't worry, we'll figure this out.”
Sure they would.
She was pregnant by a man who carried souls to the afterworld and who could also change into a raven whenever he wanted. She had no clue what else he could do, or what he might pass on to his child.
Her child.
Moira returned with a tray loaded with iced raspberry mint tea for them and wine for Aunt Justine. Something swirled in the wine, and Moira smiled under her brows at Tierra.
Cheeto's spit.
Should she warn her? It was too late as Justine picked up the wine and drank down the whole glass, pouring herself another from the bottle Moira had brought.
“My, that is refreshing.” Justine smiled.
“Attitude adjustment,” Moira whispered, retaking her seat crossed-legged next to Tierra.
“How much did Cheeto donate?” Tierra asked.
“So much so, she'll probably go comatose.”
They shared a look and then giggled.
“Good to see you girls getting along so well,” Aunt Justine said.
“What?” Aerin started and then clammed up when Moira shook her head. She cleared her throat. “You were going to tell us what you know about our father.”
“That's right. Your mother was so in love with him. I only met him the one time. He left right after the earthquake in 1990.”
“Was our mother sad?” Tierra asked.
“She always got a bittersweet look on her face when she talked about him, which she did often to her belly. Strange that, I always thought.”
“What did she say about him?” Claire prompted.
“Impossible things, like she'd conjured him and he’d suddenly appeared, stepping through the Standing Stones.”
“Standing Stones?” Aerin asked.
“Yes, it was where you were born, and where she eventually died.” Justine's tone turned sour at the memory.
“Have some more wine.” Aerin poured her another glass.
“Thank you, dear. You're not nearly as bitchy as I first thought you were.”
Which Witch is Which? (The Witches of Port Townsend) Page 32
