The Cat's Meow

by Stacey Kennedy

  I hadn’t expected my coldness, either, but I would never have killed the Bryon I loved, the man who had made me feel special and appreciated. But that Bryon died the night he betrayed me. This warlock in front of me was a stranger who had gone against white magic, and for that he could never be forgiven.

  The second the magical band hit the skin of the warlocks, they exploded in a bright light that evaporated them. The hiss of Kale’s magic swirled through the air before silence settled in. I stared for a long moment at where Bryon had stood, seeing nothing there now, and emotion rocked into my body as the reality of all that happened burst into my soul.

  Done.

  Over.

  Dropping to my knees, I gasped for breath, and it wasn’t until moisture touched my cheek that I realized I was crying. I sniffed and attempted to force those tears away. Not only was I affected by the realization that Bryon was gone, but I had betrayed my morals. The Goddess wasn’t angry at me—I sensed she was on my side—but no matter, I still bound a Prince of Hell to me, a ritual only done with black magic.

  Kale knelt down at the spot where Gregor had fallen and touched the grass. “My dear friend, may you be protected and find peace.”

  My throat tightened and I shed more tears as both Daryen and Alistair joined him. All three said a prayer. I turned away, unable to watch. I couldn’t make sense out of all that had happened. I wept, and allowed myself to feel the pain of what Bryon had done. The past hurt from him, the road of evil he traveled, and the fact that someone I’d been close to no longer lived.

  Sometime later, once my sobs quieted, a hand on my shoulder startled me. I glanced back to find Kale with the two High Priests next to him. It was clear they’d watched me cry…for a while. They must have said their good-byes, and been satisfied with them, as no despair showed in them now. I wiped the tears off my face and sucked in a deep, ragged breath, trying to force myself to hold it together. In front of the strongest warlocks, I didn’t want to appear weak.

  Kale’s eyelids lowered. “Let me explain now.”

  It took me a second to clue into what he had to explain. So much had happened in…minutes? But I was reminded by the worry in his eyes that I was owed an explanation, and that this was far from over. I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the truth now.

  His lips parted, and then he sighed as if he didn’t know what to say, which bothered me. Maybe it was better if I didn’t know.

  Alistair studied Kale with a long look, and then turned to me. “You should know the situation with the cats wasn’t expected to lead to this.”

  Now that made me blink. “The cats?”

  Daryen nodded. He seemed the most serious out of the bunch—his expression stern and dark. “The cats were planted here in Charleston to give you a case to work so we could watch you.”

  The Goddess sent a round of hot tingles through my veins as I stared into Daryen’s eyes. “You killed cats?”

  “The cats were already dead when we obtained them,” Kale said, his voice low and regretful. “But we needed a reason to get me alongside you, so we set up a false case for you to work.”

  Oh yeah, I heard him, and again, I wished I hadn’t. My blood boiled, fists tightened, and now I understood why he needed forgiveness. Too bad for him, he’d wait a long fucking time to get it.

  I could’ve handled Kale being a High Priest and a cold-blooded killer, even secrets about his past that might be dark, but the secrets weren’t about Kale…they were about me. “You tricked me?”

  “Out of necessity,” Daryen replied, as if that would appease me. “The magic sensed at the deaths was placed there after we gathered the felines from the animal shelter.” He lifted a lazy shoulder. “Of course, we had to open them up some to make the scene worse than it was, and to place the magic upon them, so you’d work it like a typical case.”

  I stared at Kale, my mouth open in total disbelief. “Wait.” I shook my head, trying to knock some sense into it. “Why?”

  “To study you.” Heady emotion flashed over Kale’s face.

  After a moment of examination, I nailed it. Guilt—a whole shitload of it. Damn him, he should feel horrible. Nothing could have prepared me for this—nothing at all.

  He drew in a sharp breath, and then went on, “We needed to determine the abilities you hold and see if your talents could be grown.”

  “You did this to watch over me?” Kale had seemed intrigued by my spells and this explained why, and it had nothing do to with my damn coven, or because I interested him, but to see if I fit into the Alchemy’s mold. “This was all a test?” My voice rose higher, as did the eyebrows of the men around me. “You could’ve asked me what powers I have.” I didn’t care about the strength of these men, or that it was inappropriate to lash out at the High Priests, especially Kale.

  He exhaled, long and deep. “Could have, but I’m afraid that wasn’t an option.”

  The knowledge that he was a High Priest was enough of a lie to send steam out of my ears. To know that this whole time Kale had set me up to be in the grips of the fucking Alchemy cut deep. The lie wasn’t about him, but to get me for his personal gain. Just as my father thought of himself, as did Bryon, Kale had repeated the same attack.

  Once again a warlock had fucked me sideways and thought of his needs over mine with little care of how this would affect me. It was cold, cruel, and unforgivable.

  More than that, something else made me furious. “I could have died tonight.” At Kale’s wince, I continued on a yell, “You knew of the danger involving the Alchemy. You should have told me all the details. You kept information from me and endangered my life.”

  “You’re right, I should have.” Kale’s voice remained calm, but his features were twisted. “But that choice wasn’t a personal one for me to make. The Alchemy was under a serious threat and we needed your abilities to aid us.” Pride flashed in his eyes. “Tonight only proves how much we do need you. We all would have died, Libby.”

  “Yes,” I retorted on a sneer, unmoved by his explanation. “But that’s your choice.” Eyebrows rose even higher because nobody ever yelled at them, but I didn’t give a shit. “You chose to work for the Alchemy. I didn’t.”

  My hands trembled as wicked fury raced through my veins, but I wasn’t nearly finished. “You know my history, Kale.” Yes, that’s what hurt me the most. I poured my heart out to him and told him about my personal betrayals. “Yet you did the same fucking thing.”

  The pain of my words was a slap across his face, and I enjoyed it when he flinched, and then he whispered, “Libby…”

  Alistair looked between Kale and me, interjecting with a chuckle. “I know you’re angry now, but that will pass, and the Alchemy welcomes you.”

  “Did you not hear me?” With my fury out front and center, my defenses came up and my voice was exactly how I intended it to be—cutthroat. “I’m not joining.”

  “An attitude is something the Alchemy has in abundance.” Alistair patted my shoulder and offered a pleasant smile. “You’ll do fine. You were outstanding tonight. Be proud of yourself.”

  “I’m. Not. Going,” I shouted, not caring of his pride or Kale’s.

  Daryen stepped toward me and it took all my strength not to retreat. “You’ve been called upon and chosen. The Alchemy is under fire and your abilities are needed, and that is your duty.”

  “No,” I snapped.

  The meaning behind the Goddess’s warning when I was questioning if I should use the spells was now clear, and the life-changing moment I wondered about was now upon me.

  Using the spells made me strong, and my desire to prove to my coven I was kick-ass—which was so far from the truth it was almost laughable—made me work harder than I ever had before. That, mixed with the spells in the book, made me stronger than I ever dreamed possible and put me on the level of those who worked for the Alchemy. The Goddess had it right: this was a huge life change…and I didn’t want it.

  Daryen looked at me as if I were the Devil. Alistai
r might be amused by my outburst, but Daryen was not, and this High Priest wasn’t one to piss off. Not like that stopped me.

  Screw him! Screw them all!

  I glared at each of them, even the kind-of-scary Daryen. “I’m not being forced into anything. Maybe if you had told me about the Alchemy troubles and not played all these games with me I would’ve agreed, but this?” I sucked in a harsh breath and my body vibrated with wrath. “This is how you went about it?” I snarled at Kale. “Each of you—and don’t even bother with those powerful stares that should intimidate me—can go straight to hell. Got that?”

  “Libby,” Kale said…again, as if he had no other words to offer.

  “Stop, Kale.” I stepped back until I was behind the tombstone.

  One warlock—my father—had lived by his own agenda, Bryon had repeated the same offense, and now Kale had done far worse. He got me to care for him, knew my weakness and made me want to trust him, and even made me forget why I stayed away from warlocks, right before he ripped my world apart. “Stay away from me.”

  He shook his head. His eyes were warm, but his lips were set into a firm line. “I can’t do that.”

  “Guess what, warlock?” I said with slow precision and spat out the latter to display my contempt for his kind. “You don’t get the choice because I’m doing it for you.”

  At his cocked eyebrow, I centered my thoughts on one of the spells I had read in the book. The Goddess always protected me and now I understood the importance of the spell, to save me in this exact moment. On a quick breath, I called, “To the Goddess, I do pray. Grant me power, strength to flay.”

  “Libby. No.”

  Kale reached for me, but it was too late. A loud rush of air swirled around me as blackness sucked me in and my body squeezed in pure agony as I tumbled into darkness…again.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The world solidified around me. I grunted and then keeled over in an attempt not to vomit on Peyton’s garden. The teleportation spell was hard on the stomach with Kale. Alone, it was worse, and I’d think twice about using it again.

  When my stomach stopped doing cartwheels, I lifted my head and stood in front of Peyton’s green door. I drew in a long, deep breath, not sure what I’d tell her, but I figured now that the dangerous part in all this was done…for now, she was owed the truth.

  I opened the door to find Peyton sitting on the couch, and it pleased me to see she seemed more put-together than the last time I saw her. Her eyes were no longer red and she didn’t shake. In fact, she seemed happy.

  “Hi.” She beamed, turning off the television. “Why are you here?” Her nose scrunched up. “And why is your hair such a mess?”

  I sighed, shut the door behind me, kicked off my shoes, and dragged my feet along her brown carpet while I fixed my rat’s nest of hair. “Oh, I have some news.”

  At the couch, I dropped down next to her and reveled in the comfort of my best friend. To be near a witch who didn’t live by her own agenda and whom I trusted wholeheartedly was more than welcome. “Where’s Jace?”

  Peyton tilted her head, regarding me, and finally said, “He called ten minutes ago and told me he was on his way home from a case.” She smiled, and it warmed the coldness out of me. “All safe and good.”

  “Glad to hear it.” Goddess, I sounded so damn sad it bordered on pathetic.

  Shifting on the cushion to face me, she pulled her legs up underneath her, and her gaze became quizzical. “What happened?”

  Peyton loved juicy gossip and this was probably the best we’d ever had in Charleston. Maybe I did feel bad I kept it from her, even if it was in her best interest. I rubbed my eyes, blew out a long breath, and then laid it out for her. “So, it all began with the cats…”

  That started a very drawn-out conversation, which made me feel more tired with each word that spilled from my lips. By the time I finished, without a single detail left out, Peyton’s mouth dropped open.

  “You summoned Baal?” she whispered.

  I rolled my eyes. “Of all the things to focus on, you focus on that.”

  “It’s just…” She swallowed hard. “I’m amazed.” Giving her head a good hard shake, the surprise cleared from her eyes as she studied me from head to toe. “I don’t sense any darkness around you or anything, so that’s good.”

  I snorted. “Very good.” Even the thought caused icy shivers to crawl up my spine. Sure, at the moment it had been a quick decision based on worry, but now it made me sick to think of what I’d done. Summoning a demon had never been a thought that had crossed my mind…ever.

  Peyton must have read the conflicted emotions on my face—she patted my leg and smiled. “The Goddess’s magic wouldn’t have worked if it was wrong. Don’t punish yourself. Besides, it sounds like these spells have been used long before tonight, so you have nothing to feel guilty about.”

  There was that. “I’ve tried to remind myself of the same thing, but it’s hard to wrap my mind around this. We never learned anything like this before.”

  “No, we certainly didn’t,” she agreed. “But maybe it’s time you should. We both know your abilities need to flourish.”

  “Meaning…?”

  Her look became pointed. “Your gifts exceed anything I can do, and I think we’ve all known that for a long time. Maybe it’s good this happened and will lead you into something bigger, where your gifts can grow.”

  As much as I could’ve denied it, the Goddess swirled within and sent hot waves over my body in agreement. Maybe I knew it too, since the spells and the power contained in them all seemed right to me. “I guess.”

  She twirled her hair around her fingers, eyeing me. “All right. That’s settled.” What was she doing, checking off the list of how to settle crazy Libby? “So, Bryon was the one behind it all?” At my nod, her eyes became sad. “And he’s gone now?” I could only nod again, and Peyton took my hand. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m okay. Bryon turned not only on me, but on the Alchemy, so he deserved the punishment.”

  Peyton nodded. “Good, I’m glad you see it that way.” Then she sighed, and squeezed my hand. “Besides, I’m not really all that surprised he turned out to be bad in the end. Look what he did to you. No good warlock could have done that.”

  There was that, too. Somehow that knowledge made me aware that I had been putting warlocks into one category, when maybe I shouldn’t have been. Jace, a damn good warlock, would never have done what Bryon had.

  “Okay, so past that,” Peyton continued, “Kale’s a High Priest and you’re mad at him?”

  Understatement of the century! “I’ve been played by him. Of course I’m pissed.”

  Peyton glanced over my face for a moment, and her brow furrowed with an expression I’d seen before, way too thoughtful and insightful. “I don’t blame him.”

  “How can you not?” I gasped, irritated to my very bones that she’d side with him. Where was the loyalty? “He tricked me.”

  “It’s not like he had a choice, Lib,” Peyton defended with a hard look. “He’s a High Priest for Goddess’s sake. He has responsibilities and I’d imagine they’re searching for a way to stop the uprising against them, which you shouldn’t have kept from me, by the way.”

  I nibbled my lip. “I…”

  She squeezed my hand again. “I know why you kept it from me, but you shouldn’t have. I’m not fragile.”

  “I know that.” Not really; she was fragile, but I didn’t feel the need to spell it out for her. I looked down to our held hands, avoiding her. Maybe I protected her when she didn’t want it, but heck, wasn’t that what friends did? Like take each other’s sides when talking about irritating warlocks? “You’ve just…”

  “Been through enough.” Her voice sounded so sad, and her expression mirrored her tone as she went on, “Yes, I know, but leaving me out isn’t good either. You shouldn’t bear all this responsibility alone. It’s why I’m here, right? To make things easier for you like you want to for me. It’s
a two-way street, Libby.” Her features firmed. “Seems to me you’ve been doing exactly what Kale has.”

  “I have not,” I retorted, so flustered my voice was snappy. “How can you say that?”

  “He’s not the only one who has kept secrets, is he?” Her eyebrows rose. “He isn’t the only one who has hidden something because he wanted to protect someone…or something.”

  “I…” I clamped my lips shut and processed that, good and hard. Was it different? I kept the Alchemy business from Peyton because of my worry and love for her…and her possible breakdown. Kale kept secrets for his concern about the Alchemy. “Okay, maybe it’s kind of the same.”

  “I’d say it’s exactly the same.” She smiled and released my hands, lifting her chin. “Don’t shut him out just because of this.” Her smile grew and her eyes glowed with interest. “I can tell there’s something between you two or you wouldn’t be so upset now.” She waggled her eyebrows, slapping my thigh. “Do you want to be with him?”

  I raised my hand, cutting off that line of thought. “Not going there. Right now I hate him and I plan to stick with that.”

  She laughed. I loved hearing Peyton laugh; it always made me smile, too. “You can’t avoid the Alchemy forever.”

  I almost rolled my eyes at her because I knew where she was going with this. “I’m tired of you always being the voice of reason.”

  “Well, it’s true, and someone in this relationship has to be,” she bit back. “Your father and Bryon are who they are, did what they did, but you can’t hate every warlock for their actions.”

  “I don’t.” Maybe I did a little, and had realized through all this that I might have been a tad unfair. “But I haven’t had a great history with warlocks, either. It’s perfectly acceptable to want nothing to do with them and curse them every chance I get.”

  Peyton’s eyebrows rose. “Have you even given any a chance?”

  “Yes.” At the higher raise of her eyebrows, I frowned. “Maybe not.”