Blonde With a Wand

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  Luck seemed to be on Anica’s side tonight. The street was deserted except for a couple passing on the other side. The pair hurried along, not looking in her direction, as if wanting to get out of the cold wind.

  She hoped she wasn’t close enough to the apartment to be within range of Julie’s camera. Julie had been saving up for a zoom lens. Anica prayed she hadn’t been able to afford it yet.

  Anica had worn her do-me shoes with the stiletto heels on this date and now wished she’d chosen her black boots instead. On these ice picks she had to be careful not to turn an ankle. If she’d been wearing the boots she could have made her escape much faster, and she and Jasper might never have had the confrontation that had gone so wrong.

  He continued to squirm inside the bundle of clothes, and she hugged him tighter, determined not to let him escape. He yowled in protest.

  “Rescuing a cat, are you?” said a voice behind her.

  Anica didn’t stop, but she half turned to acknowledge Edna Shoumatoff, the seventy-something woman who lived two doors down on her floor. Edna had never married and had a low opinion of men.

  Judging from the small paper sack Edna clutched to her chest, she’d stepped out for a burger and fries and was on her way back to eat it in front of her TV. For winter outings, Edna wore a Russian Cossack hat, a red quilted jacket, and sweats.

  “Hi, Miss Shoumatoff. Yeah, I saw this cat wandering around with no collar and decided to keep it from getting run over.”

  “It doesn’t seem to like being captured.”

  “That’s because he doesn’t know what’s good for him.” She wasn’t sure whether as a cat Jasper could understand everything she said, but she hoped so. Maybe he’d stop struggling if he realized she was doing the best she could to remedy the situation.

  “So it’s a male, then?”

  “Yes.” An arrogant, entitled male who had pushed her into an action she deeply regretted. She would make everything right, but losing her temper like that wasn’t her style. She’d been furious with him but also at herself, because even knowing his true nature she’d felt a dangerous tug of sexual excitement when he’d pulled her close.

  That’s why guilt plagued her. She might have turned him into a cat partly out of fear that she’d fall under his spell again and lose all self-respect. After all, Sheila had been willing to take him back. He’s that good. Anica shivered.

  Maybe Jasper did understand that she was trying to help him regain his human form, because he settled down a little, making him much easier to carry.

  “I wouldn’t have anything but a female,” Edna said. “Males are nasty, and I’m not just talking about cats.”

  Anica had listened to Edna’s anti-male rants many times before. The best response was no response.

  “Dollars to doughnuts that cat you found is not fixed.”

  “Uh, no, I’m sure he’s not.”

  “I hope you’re planning to take care of that immediately. I can’t abide a male cat that’s not fixed.”

  Jasper suddenly went very still.

  “I know what you mean, Miss Shoumatoff,” Anica said. “I’ll take him in pronto.” It was the only reasonable response, after all.

  With a screech, the cat turned into a dervish again, fighting harder than ever to get loose.

  Edna laughed. “You’d think he understands English.”

  “I have a feeling he does.” That could be both good and bad. She was breaking new ground, and she wasn’t sure she wanted Jasper to know all her secrets. The spell was an old one, something she’d read years ago in one of her history of magic books. Of course there would be a counterspell. Of course. She ignored the uneasy fluttering of her stomach.

  “Your other cat’s a male, too, isn’t it?” Edna said.

  Orion. Anica had forgotten her obstinate, pudgy tabby cat. She’d adopted him thinking he had a touch of magic in him, but Orion had turned out to be an ordinary cat. She loved him to pieces, anyway, and he would hate having another cat invade his territory. “Yes, he’s a male. I may have to keep them separated temporarily.” Until I get the spell reversed.

  “An orange tabby, if I remember right. You got him fixed, I hope.”

  “Of course.”

  “What color’s this stray?”

  Anica had no idea. Once the spell had taken effect, Jasper had quickly disappeared into the mound of clothing and had been hidden the entire time, so he could be any shade, any breed.

  She’d better improvise for Edna’s sake. “It was too dark to see very well. He was . . . sleeping under this mound of clothes.”

  “I thought you said he was wandering around?”

  “He was . . . earlier. I noticed him earlier, before I went to dinner. Then I heard him yowling under this bundle of discarded clothes and decided to take action.” For a person dedicated to truth-telling she was cooking up a pretty good lie. The irony wasn’t lost on her.

  Edna glanced at the bundle in Anica’s arms before she started up the cement steps leading to their apartment building’s front door. “Pricey coat to be somebody’s discard.”

  “It’s amazing what you can find at Goodwill these days.” Anica had been wishing Edna hadn’t happened along, but now she was grateful for her neighbor’s presence. “I’m glad you’re here to get the front door. I’m afraid to let go until I’m inside my apartment.” With all this talk of neutering, she couldn’t afford to loosen her grip on the cat. She’d done this deed, and she had the responsibility for setting it right.

  “All right.” Edna opened the main door. “I can help you into your apartment, too, if you want.”

  “That would be great.” Anica and Edna climbed the stairs to the second floor. “My keys are in my purse.” Moments later, as Edna took her purse from her arm and started fishing around, Anica wondered if that had been such a bright plan.

  “This is a strange-looking thing.” Edna held up Anica’s wand. “Is it a pen? I don’t see any point.”

  Anica laughed. “Oh, that. Just a piece of driftwood I picked up and polished because I thought it was pretty. Then I saw something on TV about using a sturdy pointed object for self-defense, so I decided to carry it.” The more she had to lie, the less comfy she felt.

  “We wouldn’t need to defend ourselves if men were all neutered,” Edna said darkly. Eventually she located Anica’s keys and opened the door to her apartment. Orion was at the door, paws prancing in delight. Then he sniffed the air and backed up, growling. Obviously he’d smelled Jasper.

  “Don’t forget. First thing, get him fixed,” Edna said.

  “To be sure. Thanks for the help, Miss Shoumatoff.” Anica stepped into her apartment and shoved the door closed with her hip. Orion was gone, probably hiding in the cupboard underneath the kitchen sink.

  As she began to lower her bundle to the floor, Jasper gave a mighty heave and broke free, wiggling out of his confinement. Dropping globs of chocolate mousse on her beige carpet, he streaked toward the nearest open door, which happened to be her bedroom.

  She ran after him. “No! Don’t go under the . . .” A smear of chocolate mousse on her white Belgian lace bed skirt marked Jasper’s passage. She dropped to her knees beside the bed. She thought he might be black, although the mousse all over his coat made it hard to tell.

  She’d forgotten all about the mousse, but the take-out carton must have been under the pile of clothes. She’d scooped up cat and mousse together. Someday she might have the distance from this horrible experience to laugh about that. But this wasn’t that day.

  Lifting the bed skirt, she peered under the bed. “Jasper, please come out.”

  Jasper was nothing more than a dark shadow hunkered under the exact middle of the double bed.

  “We have to clean that mousse off.”

  He didn’t move.

  “I can’t work a spell to change you back to a man unless you come out.”

  No response.

  “Look, I can see why you wouldn’t trust me. You may not believe this, b
ut I’ve never turned a person into an animal in my entire career as a witch. I’m not proud of losing my temper like that, but what’s done is done. Now I have to fix you.”

  Jasper growled.

  “Sorry, bad word choice. I have to transform you. I won’t let anyone near you with a scalpel, I promise. Now, come on out, like a—” She stopped herself before she called him a good kitty. Jasper was not a cat, no matter how much he might look like one at the moment.

  Or act like one. That maneuver of running under the bed was very catlike. While she was mostly horrified at what she’d done to another human being, she couldn’t help being curious about how this transformation had affected Jasper.

  Would he still think like a man or would he think like a cat? Would he develop a taste for cat food or would he crave a human diet? Would he hate the idea of a bath and prefer to lick the mousse off himself?

  Yikes. Chocolate was fine for people but potentially bad for cats. “Listen, Jasper, if you feel the urge to lick that mousse, don’t. Some cats have a severe reaction to chocolate. It makes them very sick.”

  She believed he understood human speech, so she decided to add a clincher to the warning. “If you ingest the chocolate, you could end up at the vet, and I’m sure my vet would insist on vaccinating and neutering you.”

  Jasper hissed his disapproval but didn’t change positions.

  She was getting nowhere. Maybe she should go to her living room bookshelves and find the musty old book where she’d first read this transformation charm. She could research the counterspell while sitting here minding the cat.

  “I’m leaving to get the book I need to help you, Jasper.” She stood and took off her coat. “I’ll only be gone a minute, and I’ll close the bedroom door so Orion can’t get in.” Laying her coat on the bed, she walked toward the door. “And remember, don’t lick.”

  Lick himself? Eeeuuuwww! Jasper was convinced he was in the middle of a sickeningly real nightmare and he’d wake up any minute safely lying in his king-sized bed in his condo, with his clock radio playing his favorite rock station. But even though none of this nonsense was actually taking place, he wouldn’t lick the mousse coating his fur. Gross.

  He liked the idea that he had claws, though. He wouldn’t mind using them to scratch the hell out of the woman who had put him in this condition.

  But he was dreaming. Of course he was. His dash under the bed had been pure self-preservation, and now that he was under here, he wasn’t coming out until he woke up.

  The whole date with Anica must have been part of this crummy bad dream. He could hardly wait to wake up so he could laugh about it. The part about Sheila being at the restaurant—he could figure that out. Apparently he had a secret fear that she’d arrive unannounced and mess up his deal with Anica.

  As for Anica being a witch, maybe it was the black coat that looked like a cape. Or maybe it was that chance remark his buddy Fred had made the other day at work that Anica seemed to have cast a spell over him. The brain was amazing. Somehow it had put the cape and Fred’s remark together and come up with witchcraft.

  The cat transformation wasn’t so tough to decipher, either, now that he thought about it. He’d always considered himself something of a tomcat, a man about town. All that talk about neutering was pretty scary, though. A shrink would probably have a field day with that part.

  The door opened and closed. His hearing had improved considerably in this dream, and his sense of smell was outstanding. He knew Anica was in the room even before she spoke.

  Her spicy perfume had seemed faint in real life. The scent was so much stronger now. Other smells assaulted him, as well, but two caught his attention. One he identified as belonging to another cat, the one he’d sensed when he’d first arrived in the apartment, and the second distinctive aroma was Anica’s. It came across as strongly as if he’d had his nose buried between her breasts.

  “Still under there, Jasper?” She was in her nylons, so she must have taken off the sexy black heels.

  Kneeling down, she lifted the lace bed skirt and peeked under the bed. “I brought the book.” She laid something as big as an unabridged dictionary on the carpet. “I should be able to find the counterspell, no problem.”

  Now that his panic had eased, Jasper felt like making some sort of response. What came out was a very ordinary meow. It didn’t sound particularly manly, either, so he tried again, determined to make the sound deeper. Still too high-pitched for his taste.

  “So you’re talking! Does that mean you’re ready to come out?”

  No way, José.

  “When I start to do the spell, I’m sure you’ll want to be somewhere other than under my bed. I don’t think you’ll fit once you’re human again. Plus you’ll be—uh—naked. You might want to be somewhere you could grab a towel, like in the bathroom.”

  Maybe this nightmare could turn into a good dream, after all. If his cat self transformed into his naked man self, and Anica was still part of the equation, they could have dream sex. Sure, she’d turned him into a cat, but it was all a dream, so he could forgive her.

  “Jasper? Come on. Don’t be stubborn.”

  On the other hand, this spot under the bed had served him well so far. Tucking his paws under his body, he prepared to wait her out.

  Cats were good at waiting, he discovered. The space under this double bed was very small. He smelled old wood and lemon oil. It was probably an antique. This dream was the most detailed one he’d ever had.

  “I really can’t leave you under there. I’m going to levitate the bed.”

  Holy crap! Could she do that? She was a witch in this dream, so anything was possible. Jasper tensed, his tail twitching, as he wondered if his hiding place would rise up to the ceiling. He’d run again if it did. There had to be other hidey-holes in this apartment, and he’d find them. A cat, he was discovering, could fit in very small spaces.

  Anica murmured something in Latin, but the bed didn’t move. “Huh. That always worked when I needed to vacuum up the dust bunnies.” She chanted again. Still the bed remained on the carpeted floor.

  She sighed. “All right. For some reason that spell has a glitch in it. I might as well quit fooling around and do this the normal way. Be right back.”

  Jasper didn’t know what the normal way entailed, but when Anica returned, he found out. She shoved a broom under the bed.

  He freaked. Rationally, he shouldn’t freak. It was a broom, for chrissakes. As a man, he didn’t have a single negative reaction to a broom. As a cat, he hated brooms. He hated this one in particular, which had a thick, round handle with carvings on it. Without knowing for sure, he decided it was a witch’s broom.

  “I need you to get out of there,” Anica said. “Come on. Go.” She moved the broom back and forth under the bed.

  Jasper tried to hold his ground, but in the end he bolted. He ran for the bedroom door, but that was shut tight. He tried to squeeze under her dresser, but no dice. The sliding mirrored closet doors were closed, too. The only escape was through the bathroom door, and that was a dead end.

  He knew that but he had no choice. Racing through the door, he leaped into the tub and hid behind the shower curtain, which was, he belatedly noticed, decorated with glittery stars. The bathroom door closed and he was trapped.

  Her voice took on a crooning, seductive quality. “Poor Jasper. You were a louse about Sheila, but no guy deserves this.” She peeked around the edge of the shower curtain.

  He cowered in the corner, hating that he cowered, but he couldn’t seem to help it.

  “Looks like you’re an all-black kitty, with the most beautiful golden eyes. That makes sense, I suppose, with your natural coloring. Well, enough chitchat. Let’s see what counterspell I need to invoke.”

  The sound of Anica flipping through pages of her book was the only noise in the room, except once when the heat switched on. That was the other thing Jasper had noticed when he’d transformed—the bitter cold of a Chicago March night. He’d been cover
ed by a pile of his clothes, but even so, the sidewalk had felt like ice under his paws.

  Of course, that hadn’t stopped him from struggling to escape when Anica had picked him up to take him home. Better to be freezing and in charge of his life than to be a prisoner sitting in a warm apartment, depending on someone else to provide food and shelter. Jasper hadn’t liked that feeling as a kid and he didn’t like it now as a cat.

  His parents had controlled his every movement until he turned eighteen. He realized now it had been out of concern, but he’d felt smothered and had rented his own apartment the minute he could save enough money. Staying in control was important to him, which made this dream his ultimate nightmare.

  “Hm.” Anica flipped a few more pages. “Maybe in the index,” she murmured to herself.

  Jasper didn’t like the sound of that. He hadn’t heard an aha of discovery yet. What if she couldn’t find a counterspell?

  Then he chastised himself for being a fool caught up in this fantasy. Whether she found a counterspell or not, he would eventually wake up and all this would be forgotten. A nightmare might seem to last forever, but they all had to end sometime. The clock radio would click on at six thirty and he’d hit the snooze button to give himself another five minutes.

  Then again, he might not hit the snooze button this time. Not if going back to sleep meant returning to this wacko dream.

  “That’s weird,” Anica said. She sounded puzzled.

  Despite knowing that nothing really mattered, Jasper felt his gut tighten. Without him willing it, his tail twitched from side to side. The tail part intrigued him. Swishing his tail was a much better stress buster than drumming on the table with his fingertips.

  He became aware of Anica’s breathing, which wasn’t as steady as it had been when she’d first settled down to read the book. He would bet a hundred bucks that she wasn’t finding what she’d expected to, and she was becoming agitated. When she closed the book with a bang, he knew for sure.

  “I’m an accomplished witch.” She said it as if trying to convince herself. “I can create my own counterspell. Okay, Jasper. Showtime!”