by Jill Nojack
The two of them continue murmuring as I walk away, but I can't hear them from the kitchen. When I get back and start soaking up the spilled tea, Gillian says, "We don't think it's going to be as simple as destroying the heart, Tom. If the heart is just a vessel and she's not in there, then Cassie is her vessel now. We'd have to get Anat's essence back into the box before we destroy the heart."
My own heart sags. "Damn. That's why it wasn't beating. No one's home. Of course it couldn't be that easy." I finish sopping up the mess and take the wad of wet towels out to the kitchen trash. I stand there for a minute, looking down into the silver trashcan with its lid standing open to all the trash of the day. Everything we learn is just another dead end. None of it brings me closer to having Cassie in my arms again. I move my foot and the lid falls with a thunk.
When I head back to the living room, my burned hand brushes against the doorway. I wince against the sudden pain. The burn. What was different about the other box? And then it hits me. "Do you think the reason the other box burned me when I tried to pick it up is because it's inhabited?"
Gillian's eyes flit away from mine, and she turns back to sit forward on the couch as my question ends. It hangs there in midair until I sit in the chair across from her and she quietly answers, still not looking at me. "Cassie told you what Eunice had planned, I mean she said it, that Eunice has plans for you and that box. Robert and I think…if that second box contains Ba'al's heart…well, why else would she be so concerned about getting Cat back if not that she needs you…your body?"
"Of course she does." I stand up and circle them as what that means hits me. "I mean, why not? Two weeks ago I was almost back to a semblance of a normal human life. But then some randy Egyptian goddess steals my girlfriend. And why wouldn't she want to stick her dead lover-boy in me? Because that's just the wacky kind of life I lead." The old me, the selfish Tom finds his opening and takes over. "I used to think that I got what I deserved for cheating on you, Gillian, when Eunice stuffed me into a cat, but I'm not sticking around for this."
I can be out of town before the sun comes up tomorrow. I bolt out of the room and run to the kitchen door, not even bothering to close it so I can shift and disappear into the night.
I don't even get ten feet out before I realize that the Tom who runs away isn't me anymore. I have someone to stay for. Someone who needs me. Someone I love more than myself.
I turn and lope back to the house. Gillian is just closing the door as I slink back in. I'm not proud of my impulse, but at least I can hold my tail high instead of between my legs.
Whoever that Tom was, I'm done with him.
I step onto the headboard of my red-silk-clad bed and remove the vent cover. With Ba'al so near now, I think of him more and more. This silly modern life is meaningless. I long for him. But soon, very soon, I will gift him his new home and the entire world will be ours again.
I reach in for the boxes, but my hand explores farther than I need to and pulls Ba'al's box out first. Mine should have been on that side. I stand on tiptoe and peer into the vent for the box's mate.
It's gone.
My Ab Khr is gone.
The scream keens out of me into the night-time silence of downtown Giles as I crumple to my knees.
***
Gillian is even more of a nightmare at seven in the morning than she is later in the day. With her hair down and a flowery, summer-weight robe barely covering her bulk, she looks like a garden threw up on her. She's blank for a moment when she sees me, then gives me a broad smile. I'd like to slap it off her face.
"Cass, what a nice surprise. Come in, I'll pour us some coffee." She leads me into the living room and flaps a hand toward the couch. "Take a seat, take a seat. I'll be right back out."
"Thank you," I say, trying to sound friendly but knowing I sound stiff instead. How do these people manage all that bright, yappy joy? "I just stopped by to see if you'd heard anything around town about any thefts—other than Natalie and her sleight of hand, of course. It seems that my shop was broken into again yesterday."
"Really, sweetheart?" She bustles back into the room, hands me a cup of coffee, and pushes the sugar and cream across the coffee table to me. "Was it very bad?"
"Of course it was bad! Can there be a good break in? The thief took something of my grandmother's that was precious to her. Something that would probably be of great interest in the local community—you know what I mean…something that could place the thief in grave danger if he or she attempted to use it in the wrong way."
"Well, that certainly doesn't sound good, does it? But I thought you'd cleared out Eunice's darkest magical items."
"Yes, well, there were some special items left in the attic. I was researching them. To have this come up missing—I wonder if you'd keep your ears open and ask around. I wouldn't be the least surprised to find out that Robert or Natalie had gone prowling through the house looking for anything of Eunice's they could turn to their own use."
She purses her lips and taps them with a forefinger as she rests her chin on her hand. "I'm sure it's not Nat. She's barely recovered from that bug she had earlier in the week. Plus, it's not really her style—she's more of an impulse shopper." She smiles at her own joke about Natalie's thievery. She continues when I don't respond, "And Robert? He's been very distracted since his son's death. I can't imagine him getting himself together enough to go prowling around your shop to inventory Eunice's things. What was it exactly? I'd be better able to keep an eye out for it if I knew what I was looking for."
I glare at her. "I'm just saying it could be very dangerous for whoever might have it. If you know who it is, they need to return it immediately."
She leans back in her seat and her eyes widen in response to my anger. This friendly visit is veering into unfriendly territory, and I need her to spread the word and report back to me like she would to Cassie. I reign my anger in and say, in what I hope is a soothing tone, "I'm sorry. I'm just so…worried about what could happen with such a dangerous relic." I force my face into an expression of concern. It's uncomfortable. I don't like it. But I freeze it there anyway. "I completely wouldn't want to see anyone be hurt." There, that's the kind of insipid thing Cassie would say.
Gillian's face softens. "Oh sweetheart, of course. I understand. I'll definitely ask around. Although, if I just drop it into Nat's ear, the word will spread through the gossip network before the end of the day, no matter how poorly she's doing."
"Good. Thank you." I stand to leave, but as I do, I notice a black filament on her tasteless 80s rose-print couch. I tweeze it up between my thumb and forefinger for a closer look. "This is a black cat hair."
"Is it?" she returns.
The muscles in my forehead tighten as I scrutinize her. "Are you hiding Cat from me?"
Her head shifts forward as her brow pulls down, deepening the lines between her eyebrows and accentuating her meaty double-chin. "Why would I hide Cat from you? That probably came in on my skirt after one of the strays down at the farmer's market rubbed up against my legs. Really, sweetheart, you seem so stressed. Is there anything I can do?"
"No. No, I'm fine. I'm just paranoid after this break in. It was upsetting to discover a stranger had gone through the house when I wasn't there. It's made me question everything."
She shows me out, grinning, clownish, the soul of innocence, but I'm going to keep a closer eye on that one. She's a fool, but she's a powerful fool.
Robert and I are just sitting down to breakfast when my phone rings. I answer, and a long stream of anxiety pours out.
"She found one of Cat's hairs on the sofa, Tom. I don't think she believed me about the stray cat at the market. She was right there at my door at the crack of dawn, asking me to find out if someone had stolen a relic from the shop, and she was openly threatening about what would happen if it wasn't returned. She's not doing a very good job of staying in character."
"Eunice or Anat or whatever she is?"
"Yes. And she mentioned Nat and Rob
ert by name. I have to admit I'm scared. I'm scared for all of us."
"Hang on a minute." I fumble to find the mute button and then repeat what I'd just learned to Robert with my own suggestion for what needs to happen. I'm back on the phone quickly.
"Robert has two guest rooms and serious wards around the house that are regularly renewed. Call Nat and tell her to pack. We'll be out to pick both of you up as soon as he gets our morning coffee into travel cups."
I dress in a hooded sweatshirt despite the warm day, and Robert hands me a pair of sunglasses to complete my disguise. It's a short trip through town, but with Anat looking for someone to blame, the last thing any of us need is for her to spot me.
Gilly meets us at the back door when we pull into the drive. "Robert, your offer of a guest room is lovely, but I'm not sure I want to stay there. I may have panicked a bit."
Robert begins to respond, but I cut him off. "Okay, then. Robert, go ahead and let's just take her to the shop and deliver her straight to Anat. She doesn't want our protection."
"That level of sarcasm is unnecessary, Tom," Gillian replies.
"Is it? Then, what level is necessary? We're not talking about some old lady who's looking to give you a slap—we're talking about an ancient goddess-demon who thinks you may have something she wants and will do anything to get it back. I doubt she'd think twice about killing you where you stand. That you're still here means we get a chance to keep you safe. So you're going to Robert's."
"Fine," she responds, her mouth tight with that I'm-mad-but-I-also-know-you're-right expression I know far too well. "But what do I say about why Nat and I are staying there if anyone notices?"
"Robert's finally joined the free love movement and the two of you are his lovers?" I joke, but no one's laughing, and this weird look crosses both of their faces. Oh no…they can't be…
Of course not. I bat that thought away. Far away.
Robert has a sensible suggestion. "It's not unheard of for the leaders of the coven to close ranks during periods of leadership transition. We can tell people there's been a rift between the two of you over governance of the choir and that you've moved into the house while I moderate the disagreement to assure that it's resolved safely."
She sighs, then ushers me in to pick up her bag.
Nat has a few too many suitcases for a short stay, but Robert stows them in the back without a word. When she slides in next to me on the wide bench seat, a little too close for comfort, as always, we're off again. Soon we're waiting for the sliding iron gates at Robert's place to clank open. As soon as there's enough space, the SUV slides through and the gates close behind us.
Safety for now. But even with multiple wards by multiple practitioners, including, as Robert earlier informed me, a hundred-year-old shaman, who knows what a goddess is capable of?
***
I start to head up the stairs with the luggage when Robert's phone beeps. He flashes the screen at Gillian who raises her eyebrows as she reads it. He beckons to me, "Wait a minute, Tom. Put them down here for now. Doug's sent something to Gillian's email."
Gilly grabs her laptop bag from the pile and heads for the library with the rest of us trailing like a string of ducklings. "Just let me get the laptop booted up and we'll see if it's as exciting as he claims."
Natalie ensconces herself in a gigantic leather-covered chair then takes a bottle out of her purse. The smell of good whiskey fills the room when she twists off the cap. "Anyone?"
Robert goes to the sideboard and carries a tray full of delicate china tea cups over. "Fill 'em up. I, for one, could use a swig or two right now."
Gillian nods at Nat and picks up a cup once it's full. "It's about time somebody offered me something other than tea in this house."
I grab my cup and sip at it, not wanting to end up sloppy drunk after forty-five years of unexpected sobriety. I'm more of a cocktail man, but the whiskey goes down smooth. I almost begin to relax.
Gillian slants the laptop screen toward us and we all lean in to look at what she's put up on the screen. "Okay. Hmmmm. He scanned a few pages from one of his books. Do you see the drawing of the box? It looks just like ours."
I lean closer, peering over her shoulder. "Same marks for life, death, and rebirth."
"So what's interesting," she says as she looks directly at me, "and stay focused, Tom, because you're going to be glad you did—this box was found hidden in the room of a young woman whose relatives claimed she was possessed. Happened in France, maybe five hundred years ago. She killed two of the village priests when they tried to exorcise her."
"What happened to her?"
"Even more interesting. Her family went into the countryside looking for a witch woman to help them. They no longer believed the church had anything to offer. She came and brought friends. They were able to send the spirit into an animal, a wolf, and they took the box away to destroy the heart that it contained. The young woman recovered completely and immediately and never talked crazy again."
"And?" I raise my eyebrows, waiting for Gillian to get to the point.
"There is no 'and' Tom. They drove it out. It can be done."
"It's no help unless it tells us how. We're as much in the dark as we were before."
Natalie gives me the hairy eyeball and offers me the bottle.
"Sorry." I hold up a hand to decline it. "I don't mean to get angry. I'm just tired of talking instead of doing."
Gillian says, "The point is, Tom, the knowledge exists. In France, those old covens have history with each other. I don't know why I didn't think about contacting Maryse before this, but a little networking never hurt."
Robert raises his glass to me in a toast. "To networking."
I shrug. "To networking." The tinkling clink of the cups reminds me of the shop door opening. Anyone, anything could be beyond it.
***
Gillian plops into the chair next to me in the den, where I'm practicing my newly developed ability to flip through 150 channels of TV over and over again without finding anything worth watching. "That was the strangest call. Aurelie asked a lot of questions about the situation, but when I asked her if her coven had ever heard about anything like this, she muted the phone and when she came back, she basically said that I was not to call the high priestess about this issue ever again. She sounded upset. Even a little stroppy, if you ask me."
"That's not like Aurelie. At least, not the little I know her."
"No, Tom, it's not. I would have liked to talk directly to High Priestess Maryse, but apparently it's not going to be allowed. I think Maryse knows something and doesn't want to let us in on it."
"Why would they hide anything from us? I mean, they came all the way here from France just to help me take control of my shifting."
"I know that. That's why this is so frustrating. You know how they kept telling you, 'the magic of our coven must be protected'? I think they're protecting some magic that they don't want us to know about. You know how secretive Maryse can be. She even pretended she didn't know English most of the time she was here. And, of course, Aurelie would never talk out of school. She dotes on the old priestess."
I give her what I once would have called my Tom-on-the-prowl smile. "You want me to call her? You know the chicks can't resist the ol' Tom Sanders charm. I'll have her spilling all her magical secrets, peeling off her dress, and begging me to marry her within minutes."
She laughs. "Oh, I have no doubt…but really, there's something going on there, and I don't have time to play games with them. We're just going to have to write off the idea of getting help from that direction."
Her phone rings. She looks at the screen, then answers it, looking surprised. "Aurelie?"
She listens for less than a minute, then says goodbye.
When she looks up at me, she looks confused. "Well, that was odd. All she said was, 'It takes a goddess to fight a goddess.' And then she hung up."
I'd tried to locate Tom using some of the hair I found in the house, but his essence
had decayed too much due to the length of time since he shed it. I should have tried again with more material to concentrate any essence that was left, but I had so many things on my mind. And, of course, the eventful trip to Egypt. It all got in the way. Now anything he's left in the house will be too old to use.
But if Gillian is lying and this hair is a recent dropout from Cat's coat, then I may be able to tease out his location, no matter how far away he's gone. I drop it into the simmering potion on the stove to amplify whatever essence is left. I talk to Ba'al, safe inside his box beside me, as I work.
"You'll love what I've picked for you, dear heart. Do you like being called that? It's one of those expressions that's nearly antiquated now in English, but given your circumstance, I think it suits you." I smirk as I crush the herb and bone meal mixture with the mortar and grind it fine, then dump it into the vile smelling stew in the stove.
"I knew when I met him that he was your perfect host. That's why I preserved him for you all these years. He looks quite aristocratic from the proper angle. He has that nose that was common among the Pharaohs and the Caesars—you know the one? They call it a Roman nose these days. A strong nose, a masculine nose."
My nether regions stir while I mix the potion, idly day-dreaming of what it will be like to have Ba'al pressed against me full length in Tom's body. It will soon be our time again, but without the interference of Astarte in our affairs.
With the potion ready, I barely let it cool before I tip my head back and take it in. It burns going down, but I barely feel it. I blink, and when my eyes flick open, I see through the eyes of a cat. The size of the cat is right, the eyes low to the ground with the view in the distinct shape of a cat's slits, the right height for a young cat, no longer quite a kitten, and I get a glance at a black paw beneath as he runs along. I need to catch his reflection so I can be sure. The extra spark in Cat's eyes distinguishes him from the other black cats in Giles.
