Fur Magic Boxed Set: Talisman, Sage, Fawn, Lola: Paranormal Romantic Comedy

by Colleen Charles

  “Who’s the bird?” Papa asked, stomping over to us. He wasn’t an overly affectionate old dude, but he did stroke my tail with one finger. His signature move. It was sweet, apart from the fact that his touch was pretty much like being dropped into a bucket of ice.

  He was the undead, after all.

  This is Sage. He’s an owl.

  Really? That’s the best you can do? Sage rolled his massive yellow eyes. Pleased to meet you, sir.

  “Hmmm, yes, yes. Good to make your acquaintance,” Papa said, then flicked Sage gently on the beak in an animal version of a handshake. “But what are you two doing here?”

  That was Papa, always to the point. Where Penelope was afraid to offend, Papa didn’t give two massive white birdie turds about what people thought. Freedom of speech. That or he was just grumpy as hell from being summoned out of the dirt nap.

  “And you,” Papa said, turning back to Dagda before I could answer him. “You need to stop with your witching around. You’re disturbing my afterlife with your useless queries.”

  “This one’s not useless,” Dagda replied, gesturing to me again. She mumbled something which sounded decidedly like ‘stuffing’, then traipsed over to an armchair and lowered herself into it. She propped her cane against the side and folded her hands in her lap.

  Intimidating guy. Sage glanced at me sideways.

  Always has been, but his heart’s in the right place. Papa’s the one who gave me this damn amulet to start with. I scratched beneath the leather and the jade jingled.

  “Ah,” Papa said, pointing at the amulet in question, “I’m glad you still have that. I gave it to you so you’d be able to look after our family.” His pearlescent forehead wrinkled. He flopped his transparent flannel shirt with his ghostly hands. “But you’re here. Which means there’s trouble. What’s going on, feline? Spit it out?”

  Penelope’s in grave danger, I replied, and instantly regretted it.

  You don’t say, Sage and Papa thought, in unison, then blinked at each other.

  That’s awkward…

  Oh, Sage, I believe you’ve met your soul mate. Right down to the sarcastic wit peppered with Medicare.

  Sage puffed himself up in indignation. Impossible, he doesn’t have feathers. And he’s a ghost. And male. I’m only twenty and he’s a hundred and twenty.

  Keep talking yourself into that hole, ol’ buddy, ol’ pal. I gave my best kitty grin, and dodged Sage’s wing nudge this time by arching my limber back.

  Look, here’s the deal, I said, once I’d plonked my gorgeous, black behind on the boards once again, Chokecherry is up to something diabolical. She’s been siphoning off Pen’s powers for years now and it’s finally caught up to all of us.

  “Hmm … yes,” Papa replied, patting his chin with two fingers. Pat, pat, pat. All pat and no strategy, made me a dull cat.

  So what do we do? Sage put in.

  “Have you heard the story of Rosamund DeLacroix? Of Arwen Silverchime?”

  Snatches of it. I’m pretty old, I forget stuff. I might’ve been old, but I didn’t look a day over nine. In cat years of course. The prime of my nine lives.

  “Sanguine Chokecherry was Lucinda’s Grandma. Evil woman, horrible. The whole family’s a rash of poison ivy on my ass,” Papa said, then shook his head. “She killed Arwen Silverchime in the ritual that cursed Rosamund.” Papa clenched his fists and wriggled them back and forth at his sides.

  He’s having a heart attack! Sage shuffled forward a step.

  I walked in front of the bird to cut him off. Relax, he’s just angry. And he’s a ghost, remember? It’s not like he can die twice. I think. You never know with the DeLacroix’s.

  “My wife,” Papa whispered.

  Dagda creaked forward and hissed. “You don’t need to tell them that.”

  Your wife? How’s that possible? Rosamund lived ages ago, in the sixteen hundreds or something crazy. My jaw dropped open and I caught a whiff of my own fishy breath. My, my, I had to cut back on the late night tuna binges

  “I was at least two thousand years old when I died, Tali. Let’s just say I had the gift of longevity that Lucinda longs for, the spoiled brat.” Papa wiggled his nose this time. “Sanguine cursed the DeLacroix’s, ensuring that each female child would be connected to one of her own. Slowly sucking out the power from each DeLacroix until the well ran dry. But Lucinda, she’s blown it out of proportion. She’s siphoned too quickly and it’ll kill Pen if it’s not stopped.”

  How does Arwen factor into this? Sage asked. Asking those owlishly intelligent questions. Jealous much?

  Silence, feather balls. If you have any.

  “Sanguine kidnapped Arwen to sacrifice her in the curse. Arwen was best friends with my dearest Rosamund, and Sanguine couldn’t stand their powerful alliance. So she poisoned Arwen after forcing her to drink some horrible brew that put her to sleep. But that wasn’t enough to destroy her.” Papa sighed and rubbed his temples as if the unwelcome trip down memory lane was causing a massive migraine. “Then of course, you know the rest of the story with the final sacrifice. A butcher knife to the heart during that spell circle in the woods.”

  “She then moved into Arwen’s family home. That’s where the Chokecherry thieves live to this day.”

  Shit. Big cat shits in a full litter box. This is not good. I paced back and forth, sweeping my tail through the air in pure agitation.

  “What is it?” Dagda croaked, and we all shot her a look. She settled back, pursed her lips and folded her arms. A true witch sulk.

  Penelope’s best friend, Amelia, has just been kidnapped, I explained, that’s why we came to find help. We need a way into the Chokecherry mansion to get her back.

  “Hmm … that’s horrible news,” Papa said, shimmering ghost eyes widening at the revelation. “It appears that Lucinda is trying to reinitiate the ritual. Perhaps to strengthen or continue the curse.”

  But it’s Bianca who’s doing it all. Sage tilted his feathered head from side-to-side.

  “You can bet your cloaca Lucinda’s behind it all,” Papa replied. “I wonder what spurred it on.”

  It’s Pen, I said, suddenly. She’s met her true love, but she hasn’t kissed him yet.

  “Yes, that would drive the evil bitch to strengthen the spell,” Papa replied. “I see, aha, I see.”

  Sage sighed through his beak and clicked it. This is taking too long. She could’ve sacrificed Amelia by now.

  Cool it. Papa DeLacroix always has a plan.

  “I have a plan,” Papa said, on cue. “But you’re going to need help from another cat, someone smaller. Maybe a female.”

  Sage and I shared a look.

  “I have a map to the Silverchime mansion,” Papa said, and clicked his fingers at Dagda. She leapt out of her chair – well, as much as any old, half-crippled witch can leap – and hobbled to her bookshelf to find the map.

  “The map,” Papa continued, “details a small entrance at the back that is unguarded by the Chokecherry’s wards. Call it a rift if you will. You get through that and you’ll have a way to find and save Amelia.”

  Sage bobbled to the shelf and accepted the map from Dagda’s wrinkled fingers, poking his sharp talons into the thin paper.

  “And now, my job is done,” Papa said, waving at the animals, then pointing to Dagda. “Don’t you dare summon me for corn cobs or stuffing or any other recipe, woman.”

  Dagda mumbled again and sniffed.

  “Farewell, Sage and Talisman. May you find great success. And hopefully a peaceful after life, one day,” he said, then turned and strode back into the flames. There was a poof and they became violet again. “Until we meet again.”

  Silence reigned in the tiny room, except for the creak of Dagda’s bones and the crackle of those flames in the grate.

  I don’t like this. I sent to Sage, my mouthful of righteous indignation. It was dry as dust and had sapped the moisture from my tongue. Blegh.

  There’s only one cat we know who’s up to the task.r />
  I blew air through my cute pink nostrils.

  That’s why I don’t like it.

  Chapter 2

  We can’t do this on our own. Sage fluffed his feathers outside the sewer pipe. He lifted each foot and shook it in either direction, spraying mud and gunk onto my coat.

  Thanks for noticing, Sherlock Holmes. It came out as more of a hiss. I didn’t want a bath, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to lick the brown globs off my fur. And what are you talking about, birdbrain?

  I’m talking about taking down Lucinda Chokecherry. We can’t do it without human intervention. I’m all for animal rights, more power to the feathers, but we need opposable thumbs to complete this mission.

  I beg to differ. I sniffed the night air. It’d gotten late real quick while we’d been in Cerridwyn’s witchy abode, and Penelope was probably worried sick about me. Lola too. Oh, Lola.

  Stop daydreaming about your fluffy, white girlfriend for two seconds and think rationally, Whiskas.

  Then make your point so we can get on the damn road. Ami needs us.

  I was grumpy as hell after the run in with Papa DeLacroix. I mean, what did Sage expect? Fanfare, happiness, and rainbows? A ticker tape parade? We’d just found out there was a lot of work to be done, and by work I didn’t mean licking myself clean and overeating on kibble and saucers of milk.

  Curse Chokecherry and her ancestors.

  That was a little too close to the truth. Actually, the opposite of the truth.

  Lola can slip into the Chokecherry mansion and –

  We’re not using her! I won’t let her be harmed and that’s final, birdie num num. I thwacked my tail back and forth.

  Get over it, Talisman. It’s either her or nobody. We don’t have another cat small enough to fit through Papa DeLacroix’s hole.

  Ew. That sounded terrible. Papa DeLacroix’s hole?

  I appreciate your baser humor, but now’s not the time. Sage gave me a headache when he got into this mood.

  I flicked my velvety, soft ears back and forward again. Fine, so if we used Lola we’d be able to get in. I don’t see a problem.

  Do you really think dive-bombing and cat-scratching is going to defeat Chokecherry and free Amelia? Get real. Your mind is as dull as your claws if you think that’s the case.

  Hey! I sharpen these bad boys every day. I slid my claws from their sheaths and pointed them at the aged feather bomb.

  Doesn’t matter. We have to get the cops involved. Or the gang.

  The gang? Penelope’s gang. Dr. Luke and Eldris. They’ll surely be worried about where Amelia’s gotten too, as well. Sage waddled forward a few steps and spread his wings.

  Penelope’s too weak right now.

  She’s the only hope we’ve got. Sage took off and soared toward the cloud-streaked sky. His silhouette disappeared into the darkness. Think about it. You’ll see I’m right, fur face.

  I spent the whole run home thinking about it. How could I not? I mean, I’d have to put my two favorite girls in danger to get things sorted out, and while I’m not one of those knights in shining armor kinda guys, I still like to keep my women safe and in one piece.

  I padded up the path to Pen’s front stairs, anxiety shaking around in my belly like an old tin of tuna fish. Wait a second, that might’ve actually been the tuna I’d debauched on earlier. I wished Jessica Simpson was present to ask me if it was really chicken.

  Took you long enough, Sage sent from his perch atop the house.

  I didn’t grace him with a reply, because frankly, I wasn’t in the mood for more of his avian chirps. Instead, I hopped up the front stairs and through the cat flap of the newly repaired door. I shivered at the remembrance of that El Chupacabra beast. May he not rest in peace.

  The inside of the house was quiet. The guests had left long ago and Penelope sat in her favorite armchair in the living room, staring out the window. I didn’t let her see me.

  Perhaps Sage was right. We needed her to kiss Dr. Luke to get rid of the spell, but kissing him wouldn’t bring Amelia back. It might give Pen her powers and strength, sure, but Amelia didn’t have time to wait around for Luke to grow a pair.

  Tali, Lola purred, appearing beside me. I was worried about you.

  Never fear, doll, I’m always all right. I sniffed the air around me. But Penelope isn’t. I’ve got a job to do. You’d better back up so you don’t get hurt.

  Lola did as she was told, padding over to the rickety old entrance hall table and taking up a spot underneath it.

  I closed my eyes and prepared for the transformation. I hated this part, and the buzzing in my head afterwards, but I didn’t have much of a choice now. And this would be the first time I’d morphed in front of my girl.

  You’re doing the right thing. Sage’s comment abraded like Edam cheese on a rusty grater, but it comforted me at the same time too.

  I changed into the man, the myth, the legend as quick as a flash, then grabbed the table cloth off the entrance hall table and wrapped it around my waist. It was pretty long and dragged behind me.

  I strode into the living room, with my train ecru lace in tow, and waved hello to Penelope.

  She leapt from the armchair, eyes wide. “How did you get in here?” She sighed, then blinked up at me, her bright, blue eyes twinkling, her lips parted. “It doesn’t matter. I’m glad you’ve come. I was just thinking about you.”

  Uh oh. That’s not good. The only person she should be thinking about is Dr. Luke. Sage’s thoughts pretty much mirrored my sentiment. I pray to God she wasn’t picturing you without your hand-crocheted loin cloth, Martha Stewart.

  Maybe I could use Penelope’s obsession with my human form to my benefit, after all. I beckoned and pointed to the door, then repeated the motion.

  “Where do you want to go?”

  Places you’ve never been, baby.

  Shut up, Sage! I growled it in my head.

  Penelope walked after me, and I turned and hurried toward the door before she could get close. She followed my flawless ass all the way down the front stairs of her house and across the road until we ended up at the tree line of the forest.

  “Where are we going?” Penelope asked in short gasps. She jogged alongside me, trying to keep pace with my massive strides.

  Turned out there was an advantage to having long legs. Hey, I could be our opposable thumbs.

  Not happening, the Chokecherry magic is so strong, there’s no guarantee you’ll be able to use your amulet in the first place.

  Ah, ever wise. I worked my biceps back and forth, breaking into a trot. Nicely done, prune.

  I think you mean always right. Ah, what is wrong with the youth of today?

  I may be younger than you in this life, but you forget I’ve had a few before this one.

  We rounded the corner and hit the highway, so I stopped beside the entrance to the forest which led toward Chokecherry’s ritual space.

  But Pen had stopped a few feet back. She had her hands on her hips and stared at me. “What’s this about?”

  Apparently, following a half-naked man into the woods was too dangerous. I pointed frantically toward the trees.

  “No, I don’t think so,” Penelope said. Then she turned and walked back the way we’d come, her dark, styled hair bouncing in the fresh night air.

  What do we do now?

  Chapter 3

  Penelope walked swiftly down the road, taking my hopes with her. If I couldn’t get her to understand what had happened to Amelia, our aspirations of saving her and getting rid of the Chokecherry problem were dashed.

  This would be a good moment to go after her, Talisman. Sage swept past me at shoulder height, his majestic wings picking up the draughts, carrying him higher.

  I jogged after Penelope, insides burning. I checked my amulet and sighed. It had yellowed already and I’d be no good as a cat guide. If Penelope wouldn’t follow my hunky man form into the forest, then she was unlikely to follow me as a cat.

  She’d probably think I want
ed to hunt for wild catnip. Not that I’d complain about that.

  I ran up alongside her and grasped her by the arm. She wrenched it from my hand, then turned and poked me in my very solid chest.

  “I’ve had just about enough of this. You’re hunky and everything, but you can’t keep turning up whenever you like.” She looked away and folded her arms, pouting. Were there tears in her eyes? “I’ve had a rough day, all right?”

  I flapped my lips uselessly.

  You look like a fish.

  I pointed at my voice box ala Ariel in The Little Mermaid, but she didn’t get it. She probably never would, which was endlessly frustrating.

  “I – I,” Penelope started, then cut off and made strangled noises.

  I pointed back at the woods.

  “No, no, no. Enough is enough. I don’t want you coming around here again,” she said. “Do you understand? I don’t know if you like me or…” She cleared her throat. “I’m interested in someone else. That’s right, I said it. He’s handsome and smart, and he doesn’t walk around half-naked and try to get me to go to the woods at weird hours of the night.”

  That was good news, but it didn’t help right now.

  Of course, Penelope would be interested in my human form when Dr. Luke was around, but the minute I actually needed her to pay attention, she realized she didn’t want to run after me anymore.

  Great, perfect, catnip days.

  “I’m going home now and don’t you dare follow me,” she said, jabbing me in the chest again, this time a little lighter. She caught sight of the amulet and frowned. She grabbed at it, and pulled on the rapidly yellowing gem. “This is so familiar, where did you –?”

  Penelope’s phone buzzed and she let go of my amulet. I heaved a sigh of relief and covered it with my broad, tanned human hand. I’d thought she’d rip it right off for a second there.

  “Oh my god,” Penelope whispered, her fingers fluttering to her lips. She grasped the phone in her other hand and stared at the screen. She shook her head, again and again, a never ending loop.

  I grabbed the phone from her numb fingers and stared at the text.