by Helen Harper
‘I don’t care. I’m on a mission. I’m going to strangle that dratted cat.’
‘How are you even going to find him?’
‘I will find him if it takes me all night. He’s taken the Angel, I know he has. Clearly, he’s been playing the long game and has been planning to bring down the Order from the beginning. He’s hated me all along. He has a better vocabulary than I do but he’ll barely use five words when he speaks to me. The only reason he’s probably not shown his true colours until now is because he was waiting until he could bring down all witches, not just me. How do I know my cat is plotting to kill me? His damn name is Brutus and he’ll stab me in the back the second I’m not looking.’
I heaved in a ragged breath and picked up speed, scanning the ground for paw prints or any sign of Brutus in the snow.
‘I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation…’
Winter’s words barely registered. ‘How do you fancy roast cat for Christmas dinner this year instead of turkey?’
‘Ivy…’
Just then I caught something flashing past from the corner of my eye. ‘There!’ I spun round, my slippers sliding on a patch of ice as I did so. I almost went flying onto my arse with my legs and arms akimbo but Winter caught me just in time. I grunted out a thank you before heading after what I was sure was Brutus.
I ducked under a snow-laden bush and squeezed along a tiny path between two of the Order buildings. Not only was my own familiar responsible for all this crap but he was making me act like some kind of chubby Indiana Jones. Muttering and huffing, while I was sure Winter was trying not to chuckle behind me, I pressed on. There was a definitely a trail of paw prints to follow.
I squeezed out of the narrow gap at the end of the alley, my eyes scanning the trail. The feline prints led to a small lean-to shed, barely noticeable against the clump of trees which hugged the wall of what I belatedly realised was where the small Department of Familiars was housed. Brutus was clearly trying to be ironic.
Exhaling a cloud of angry breath, I had only taken three steps forward when the blasted cat himself appeared, snaking out from under a gap in the little shed’s wooden door. He turned his implacable yellow gaze in my direction and sat down, giving his ears a wash.
‘You freaking feline!’ I yelled. ‘You’re the one who took the damned Angel. Right? You bastard!’
Brutus didn’t even blink. He did, however, stop licking himself, his tail flicking in irritation from side to side. ‘Mind your language. There are children present.’
‘Don’t patronise Winter, you sodding cat burglar!’
Brutus sighed dramatically, his eyes flicking past me to where Winter was standing.
Winter frowned. ‘Hmm.’ He walked past me, past Brutus and towards the shed, then fiddled with the lock until the door opened. I watched while he put his hands in pockets and stared inside with a frown.
‘Well?’ I demanded. ‘Is the Angel of the Order there?’
For a moment, Winter didn’t answer. When he finally spoke, his voice was oddly strained. ‘I think you should come and see for yourself.’
I glanced back at Brutus. He’d stopped waving his tail and was holding himself strangely erect. Warily, I stepped past him and peered past Winter’s shoulder into the gloom of the shed.
High on a shelf the little silver statue of the Angel gleamed down at us, a peaceful benevolent expression on her frozen face. The snowflake ornament I’d seen Brutus steal was propped up next to her. ‘I knew it,’ I spat. I looked down at the floor. ‘And there’s the remnants of the cafeteria’s posh salmon.’
‘Mmm.’
‘And look. That’s my scarf. He even took my damned scarf.’ At that moment the scarf moved. I blinked, my eyes adjusting to the dim light. In that moment I forgot all about the Angel. ‘Is that…?’
‘Meow.’ Two green eyes opened and gazed lazily up at me. I didn’t recognise their owner but she had the sort of sleek fur and intelligent expression that I knew Brutus went for.
Winter knelt down and gently pulled away the rest of the scarf. There, hiding underneath, were five kittens. They were all curled up asleep against their mother’s belly. They were absolutely tiny.
Something brushed against my leg. I looked down to see Brutus gazing up at me, a flicker of something akin to anxiety in his familiar yellow eyes.
‘They’re yours?’ I asked.
His whiskers quivered. ‘They are.’
‘You took the salmon to feed your…’ Girlfriend? Wife? Baby mama?
‘I did.’
‘And you took my scarf to keep them comfortable.’
‘It’s warm. It smells of you.’
Something pricked at the back of my eyes. Goodness. It must have been the cold weather getting to me.
‘And the Angel?’
‘It’s a symbol of protection.’ Brutus spoke gruffly.
‘So it is.’ I knelt down next to Winter and gazed at the litter. ‘Five kittens,’ I breathed. ‘Wow.’
He put his arm round me. ‘Merry Christmas.’
‘Are we keeping them?’
A low growl emitted from Brutus and Winter pressed his lips together as if to stop himself from laughing. ‘I suppose we are.’
I tried and failed to imagine what it would be like having five mini-me Brutuses scampering around the house. Sure, they were tiny now but they’d grow. Their eyes would open up. They’d follow me around, snuggle up to Winter and me in the evening, play with balls of string and generally be as cute as could be.
‘Merry Christmas indeed,’ I murmured back.
Just then one of the kittens stirred, wiggling around. It opened its mouth, obviously seeking its mother’s milk. ‘Food,’ it squeaked.
The ginger kitten next to it woke up. ‘Food!’
A heartbeat later all five of them were at it. ‘Food! Food! Food! Food! Fooooooooooood!’
Brutus bared his teeth in what I assumed was a proud father’s beam and Winter and I exchanged glances. ‘We’re not going to get any peace ever again,’ I whispered in horror.
He planted a big kiss onto my lips. ‘Maybe not,’ he grinned. ‘But there’ll be more than enough goodwill for all of us.’
Brutus began to purr. ‘Happy Holidays.’
There was a pause before he added with a hopeful wink, ‘Fooood?’
Acknowledgments
In 2016, I was lucky enough to be able to travel from Malaysia to the USA to attend a conference – and have a holiday. My best friend came along with me and, as we wandered out of a workshop, she remarked that it would be a great idea to have a series where the main character was very lazy. From that germ of an idea, Ivy Wilde was born. I had to partake in considerable research – lying on my sofa and binge watching television is a dirty job but someone had to do it. However, there are a whole host of other people who have helped to bring Adrianna’s idea alive.
Huge thanks must go to Karen Holmes from 2QT for her sterling editing, as well as to Clarissa Yeo for her wonderful covers. For this series she mocked not one but two different sets which Facebook followers then voted on. If that was you, then thank you so much for your input! I have to also thank all my family and friends for their continued invaluable support. Without them, none of this would ever be possible.
Finally, a special mention has to go to Scout, Mavis and Lara – three cranky Malaysian cats who have provided no end of inspiration for Brutus. If they could talk, I have no doubt about what they would say. Most of it would indeed involve foooooooood.
About the Author
After teaching English literature in the UK, Japan and Malaysia, Helen Harper left behind the world of education following the worldwide success of her Blood Destiny series of books. She is a professional member of the Alliance of Independent Authors and writes full time, thanking her lucky stars every day that's she lucky enough to do so!
Helen has always been a book lover, devouring science fiction and fantasy tales when she was a child growing up in Scotland.
She currently lives in Devon in the UK with far too many cats – not to mention the dragons, fairies, demons, wizards and vampires that seem to keep appearing from nowhere.
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