Cat Tales Issue #3

by Steve Vernon

  Just a cat?

  The tip of Gilroy’s tail twitched. Of course he knew how to unlock the door, but he wasn’t about to let this child in, even if she was Breda’s niece. There were limits to what he had to put up with, even for Breda. He looked up in the branches of the tall ash tree that shaded half of the yard and pretended to be watching something interesting.

  “You’re such a cat,” she said.

  As if that was going to change his mind. Gilroy flicked an ear.

  Delaney scowled, and then pressed her face against the window screen so hard the metal edge of the screen made a little cracking sound.

  “Oh!” she said, and then pushed on the corner of the screen with her hands.

  Gilroy scooted to one side of the window seat as the screen began to move inward. Delaney shoved her head and shoulders through the half-open screen, and then squirmed through. She slid head-first through the window and down to the tiled floor, and then scrambled to her feet, a big grin on her face.

  Gilroy twitched his whiskers. The spell Breda had cast on the house to keep people from breaking in apparently didn’t extend to her niece.

  “Now we can play!” she said. Her ponytails had gotten knocked askew by her climb through the screen.

  She reached out a hand and ran it down Gilroy’s left side. He glared at her fingers with disdain but, as always, Delaney was oblivious. Her eyes roamed around the kitchen. Bunches of dried herbs and flowers stood upright in glass jars on the counter, waiting to be packed away to be used in spells in the winter. A jug of distilled water sat next to the sink. A small enameled saucepan sat on the stove where Breda had set it to dry after doing the morning dishes. A collection of vining plants hung in one kitchen window, the tendrils of the spider plant tantalizingly close to being long enough for Gilroy to reach if he sat on one of the chairs.

  Delaney walked across the kitchen, touching things with her sticky little fingers. She opened the door to the tall cupboard where Breda kept most of the herbs and oils she used when she made potions.

  “My mom has stuff like this too,” she said. “She only has two shelves full, though. She uses the spices for cooking sometimes, and there’s a special tea she makes when I’m sick that always makes me feel better. She says it’s magic, but I know she’s just pretending.”

  Gilroy licked the tip of one paw. Did the girl really not know her mother was a witch? Perhaps she was too young to be trusted with that knowledge. Certainly someone who broke into their own aunt’s home had some reliability issues. Or maybe the girl wouldn’t be told until her own powers began to manifest? He tried to remember what age witches usually came into their powers, but he’d never paid attention to that sort of thing before.

  She walked over to the counter, leaving the cupboard door open. “This is sage,” she said, gesturing to one of the jars containing stalks of dried herbs. “And rosemary, and lavender, and chamomile. Those are roses. But what’s that?” She pointed to a jar of dried mugwort and looked at Gilroy, her eyebrows raised.

  Gilroy thumped his tail on the wood of the window seat. This was supposed to be his nap time. The hours until Breda would return home felt like days.

  Delaney wrinkled her nose, and then headed into the living room. She walked around the sofa, her footsteps muffled by the red and white and black throw rug. She stopped and squinted at the crystal bowl of marbles on the side table, and then walked down the hallway and was gone from Gilroy’s sight.

  Gilroy glanced out through the crooked screen. A squirrel jumped from the fence on to one of the branches of the cherry tree. The purplish-pink flowers of the echinacea that grew just outside the window swayed slightly in the soft summer breeze. It was a perfect day for lying in the sunshine and surveying his domain.

  He twitched the tip of his tail, jumped down to the cool tile floor, and padded after Delaney.

  The girl had only been out of his sight for a few minutes, but she’d left an impressive trail of destruction in her wake. Scarves and necklaces were strewn over Breda’s bed, and most of the dresser drawers had been pulled open. Gilroy blinked at the chaos and then trotted down the hallway, his paws almost soundless on the hickory floor. He looked in each room, one by one. The stack of papers that had been on the desk in Breda’s office lay on the floor, the decorative pillows that had been on the bed in the guest room were now in the hallway, and one pointy-toed, fire-engine-red high heel sat in the middle of the hallway. The basket of crystals Breda had put on her desk that morning had been knocked over, the gemstones now scattered about in a swath from her office to just inside the library.

  Delaney was nowhere to be seen.

  The hackles on Gilroy’s back began to rise as he realized the only place left to look for the little girl was the one room she shouldn’t be in. The one room she shouldn’t have even been able to find because of the look away spell on the door. The one room in the entire house where she could cause real trouble.

  Breda’s workshop.

  He turned and ran back down the hall, and then tore across the living room to the other side of the house, barreling straight toward what would look like a wall to a normal human – but which was really a hidden doorway. Look away spells didn’t work on cats, of course, so he could see the wooden door.

  The door was ajar.

  He dashed through the open door, and then skidded to a stop.

  Breda’s collection of ancient wands lay scattered about the floor, sticks of blackthorn, birch, and almond piled in a soft tangle of muted magic. A box of incense had been knocked over; the scents of sage and myrrh and cinnamon tickled Gilroy’s nose. Several books had fallen to the floor, and a collection of amulets now hung from a candelabra as if they were mere decorations instead of charms. The white rose petals, vanilla pod, and cinnamon sticks Breda had been soaking in saltwater lay in a small puddle next to a ceramic bowl.

  Delaney sat cross-legged on the wooden floor, a small, silver-inlaid jewelry box held in one hand while she fumbled with the latch that held the box closed. Gilroy let out a yowl and charged toward her.

  He was five feet away when Delaney pushed open the lid.

  A flash filled the air, so bright Gilroy had to close his eyes. He skidded to a stop and blinked as his eyes adjusted.

  The silver box lay on its side on the floor.

  Next to it stood a brown-and-black-striped kitten.

  Delaney the kitten looked at Gilroy and let out a tiny, high-pitched meow.

  Gilroy walked over to the box and sniffed it. It was open and empty and devoid of magic. It was now nothing more than a small jewelry box, one of several Breda had acquired at another witch’s estate sale recently.

  A sharp lanced through his tail. He whipped around to see Delaney standing next to him, her green eyes fixed on his tail. A piece of his fur stuck out of the corner of her mouth.

  He hadn’t wanted to spend time with the girl when she was in human form, and he certainly didn’t want to have to deal with her as a kitten, either.

  Delaney pounced, her mouth open, her tiny, needle-sharp teeth ready to chomp on his tail again. He pulled his tail to one side and hissed. She leapt straight up into the air at the sound, her fur standing on end. She scampered out through the door and headed down the hallway, her paws making little pitter-pattering sounds on the hickory floor.

  Gilroy flicked an ear. At least she’d left the workshop. There was only so much trouble she could get into in the rest of the house. He’d have to keep an eye on her until Breda came home…hours from now…

  So much for his nap.

  He trotted down the hallway to where Delaney stalked a piece of crystal as if it were a mouse. She batted a piece of carnelian at him, and then a chunk of tiger’s eye. He sat down a few feet away from her and thumped his tail on the wooden floor. Delaney froze, one tiny paw touching a piece of quartz, her eyes fixed on his tail.

  Gilroy curled his tail close to his body, hoping she’d get distracted by something else.

  She took a few steps towa
rd him, and then turned around and ran down the hall and into Breda’s bedroom.

  He rose and followed her, and then jumped as something round came rolling out of the bedroom doorway, Delaney chasing after it. It was a glass ball that was attached to a chain that made a soft clunking sound as it was dragged across the wood floor.

  Great. One of Breda’s more fragile necklaces.

  He gave a low growl. Delaney jumped sideways, her little back arched, and her eyes wide with surprise. She bounded toward the living room.

  Gilroy looked down at the glass ball and gave it a small, satisfying pat, and then began walking down the hallway after Delaney, his tail held high.

  The living room was calm and peaceful and empty, which meant she had to be in the kitchen. He turned his head, and then padded across the throw rug toward Delaney, who sat on a chair underneath the window with the hanging plants. A light breeze blew in through the screen window, rustling the leaves. She leapt up, trying to grab a tendril of the spider plant, but she was far too little to jump high enough. She landed on the tile floor with a small thud, and then licked the back of a paw and rubbed it against one side of her face.

  Gilroy walked across the kitchen floor, the tiles cool against the pads of his paws. He didn’t know much about the box Delaney had opened. Normally Breda put her new finds in her workshop, where they’d be safe – or at least they’d always been safe there before. Then when she had time she’d create a pentacle, set a new object inside of it, and cast a spell of inquisition to determine what magic the object contained. The pentacle kept the magic contained, so no matter what it entailed it wouldn’t hurt Breda – nor Gilroy who, as Breda’s familiar, helped her channel her spells and made them even stronger.

  Breda hadn’t made it through all of her recent acquisitions yet. The only ones she’d examined were a wine goblet that, once filled, kept refilling itself until midnight—but only with chianti, no matter what wine was originally poured into it, and a jar of marbles that had been enchanted so they glowed whenever an eclipse occurred anywhere in the world.

  Both enchantments were much less complicated than the box that had turned Delaney into a kitten.

  Not that there was anything wrong with being a cat, of course. But it was going to be quite the surprise when Breda came home.

  Now Gilroy just had to corral Delaney so that she couldn’t cause any more trouble. Shutting her in the bathroom would be a good idea. The worst things she could do there would be to rip the toilet paper to shreds, or climb the shower curtain.

  He walked across the floor toward the kitten. She jumped on to the chair again, stared up at the plant, let out a tiny squeak of a meow, and then launched herself into the air. She missed the lowest leaf of the plant by at least three feet. She caught a glimpse of Gilroy out of the corner of her eye and arched her back, dancing sideways, her brown and black fur raised up, and her little tail pointing at the ceiling. She scampered across the kitchen floor, ran under the table, and then leapt up on the window seat.

  Gilroy trotted after her, and then his ears pricked as he heard a small, metallic scraping sound.

  The window screen.

  He raced across the room, jumped up on the wide, wooden seat where he’d last seen Delaney, and scanned the yard, his whiskers held forward and fanned out. A few small birds sat in the branches of the lilac bush, bees buzzed around the flowers on the lavender and hyssop, a red-tailed hawk perched on a nearby telephone pole, and a squirrel ran across the top of the fence, somehow managing to carry a black walnut seed in its mouth.

  Delaney was nowhere in sight.

  The tip of Gilroy’s tail twitched. The only thing worse than having Breda’s great-niece turn into a kitten would be if he lost the kitten.

  There was a slight movement in between two big clumps of sage, and then Delaney darted out and leapt at a butterfly. Gilroy thumped his tail on the wooden window seat, and then he froze as the hawk stretched out its wings and began to glide down from its perch toward the yard.

  And toward the kitten.

  Gilroy pushed his way through the crooked screen, leapt down to the flagstones, and sprinted across the garden. He ran as fast as he could toward the kitten. Delaney saw him coming and must have thought he was playing because she bounded away from him and toward the pansies, her tail held high. He ran toward her and then pounced on her, holding her down with his paws.

  A cool, dark shadow passed over his head as the hawk flew overhead, so close Gilroy’s fur was rustled by the air swept by the hawk’s wings.

  Gilroy crouched on top of Delaney, his ears pressed flat against his head, waiting for the bird’s talons to rake against his own back.

  And then the bird was gone.

  Gilroy looked up.

  The hawk swooped up in the sky, and then landed on its spot on the top of the telephone pole. It turned its back and stared at something off in the distance.

  Delaney batted at Gilroy’s whiskers with her one free paw.

  Gilroy picked her up by the scruff of the neck and carried her back to the window. She didn’t weigh much more than one of his catnip mice. He jumped up to the window sill with her held in his mouth, and then he squeezed through the crooked screen. He set the kitten down and pushed against the stack of magic books with his shoulder, shoving them until they were up against the screen. It wasn’t as good as popping the screen back into the window, but the books blocked the opening enough that even a tiny slip of a kitten wouldn’t be able to squeeze through.

  He picked her up by the back of the neck again, jumped down onto the floor, and padded across the kitchen and down the hallway to Breda’s bedroom. He batted a few crystals out of the way doorway, and then pushed up against the inside of the door until it shut. Still carrying Delaney, he jumped up onto the bed, and then set the kitten down in a nice, warm spot next to one of the pillows. A beam of sunshine streamed in through the window.

  He looked down at the kitten. She yawned, her eyes squeezed shut, and her tiny pink tongue curling up at the end. Gilroy sniffed her head. Yes, there was the spell, tied in with her essence. But it wasn’t as bad as he’d feared. It would only last for another hour, maybe two. By the time Breda came home, Delaney would be a little girl again. A little girl with a lot of explaining to do, but she was safe nonetheless.

  If he’d been just a little slower to follow her, she would have been eaten by the hawk.

  Sure, Delaney had been annoying in her human form. But just like the kitten she was right now, she was just a little one. She wasn’t yet old enough, nor responsible enough, to take care of herself.

  Gilroy licked the top of her head, and then curled up against the pillow. Delaney pressed up against him in the way only an exhausted little kitten could. She began to purr, a tiny, rapid, kitten purr.

  It felt nice having her press up against him.

  Cozy.

  Comfortable.

  Maybe Delaney wasn’t so bad after all.

  Gilroy’s low, deep rumble joined hers. He closed his eyes.

  It was finally time for his nap.

  About the Author

  Jamie focuses on getting into the minds and hearts of her characters, whether she’s writing about a saloon girl in the American West, a man who discovers the barista he’s in love with is a naiad, or a ghost who haunts the house she was killed in—even though that house no longer exists. Jamie lives in Colorado, and spends her free time in a futile quest to wear out her two border collies since she hasn’t given in and gotten them their own herd of sheep.

  Find out more about Jamie at: jamieferguson.com

  Copyright © 2017 by Jamie Ferguson

  Published 2017 by Blackbird Publishing

  blackbirdpublishing.com

  Cover design: Blackbird Publishing

  Cover art copyright © Cherry-Merry | Shutterstock

  * * *

  Gilroy and the Kitten is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events, places, incidents, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coinci
dental.

  All rights reserved.

  * * *

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Nine Lives

  Merilee woke with a start from her nightmare of endless water and drowning, drawing a gasping breath.

  Sweet air—not water—filled her lungs.

  She breathed in great gulps, trying to calm her racing heart. She clutched her warm, flannel sheets around her, trying to stop her shivering. She was almost thirty—far too old for nightmares anymore. Beyond her ragged breathing, the night surrounding her was quiet, not even cars sounding in the streets of her sleepy neighborhood.

  Merilee tried to focus her thoughts away from her overwhelming fear and to consider her situation. While she wasn’t a Seer, she was still a witch. Admittedly, she didn’t have a lot of magical power, and what she did have came grudgingly.

  However, having the same nightmare—drowning in deep, cold water—for the last three nights in a row had to mean something.

  But what?

  Merilee didn’t live by the ocean, she lived in land-locked Minnesota. And not beside any of the Great Lakes or even in the Twin Cities, no, she was down south, here in Rochester. There were some lakes nearby, as well as the Mississippi River. However, she never went boating or fishing. There wasn’t any reason for her to get close to the water, and now, with these dreams, she had no intention of going anywhere near them.

  Plus, the water in her nightmares had always seemed vast. Much bigger than a lake. Endless miles deep.

  Maybe she should call her cousin Natalie, who was a Seer, and who could not only tell you that you’d break your toe in the next year but how you’d have your eggs the following Tuesday. However, Natalie refused to ever tell anyone their future over the phone. Plus, she lived in Seattle, which was near the water.