by Shannon Page
Nobody answered.
I pushed the door open and we stepped into the tiny entryway. Her wards hadn’t been set, yet their presence hovered in the air. Ready to be triggered. Did she not ward her place when she left it? Had she been so distracted by our dinner party?
I walked into the living room. The air was not stale or dusty, like an abandoned apartment should have been. Perhaps Willson had come back here after all. Although he would not have swept up or opened windows. Elnor prowled the corners of the rooms, sniffing as usual.
Logan’s favorite corner of the sofa, where she had liked to curl up with a cup of tea and a book, still bore her impression. I ran my hands along the cushions and half-closed my eyes, searching for anything—a trace of essence, a scent, any sort of clue. I found nothing but memories.
I sat down on the couch and closed my eyes the rest of the way, letting my inner senses seek without any confusing visual input. Again, just a sense of stillness. Almost peace. It was the same feeling she had imbued the place with when she was here: gentle, kind, quiet. After a minute, my cat joined me on my lap.
“I don’t understand,” I whispered to Elnor. After another few minutes, I got up to look through the rest of the apartment.
Logan’s kitchen was tidy; one plate with stale toast crumbs sat in the sink. Her bathroom was spotless.
In her bedroom, I found the bed unmade, and some clothes draped over the footboard. On the dresser was something I hadn’t seen before: a fetchingly arranged little display of pink and white and red candles, dried red tea roses, cones of lavender incense, a few curls of red ribbon, and a tarot card, but not one from her working deck.
I picked up the card. It was The Lovers, from the Romance deck—all frills and lace and Valentine’s hearts. Practically a toy deck, but very pretty.
“My goodness,” I whispered. It was a love-shrine. To Jeremy? He had liked her without any trickery; anyone could see it.
Anyone, that was, besides her.
It made me want to laugh and cry all at once. “Oh, Logan,” I said, sitting down on her rumpled bed. “I’m so sorry.” I felt a surge of guilt, as if I’d lured Jeremy away from her, as if she hadn’t left us all…
I felt a tingle in my belly, a moment of warmth. Was it her spirit, trying to communicate with me? Reassuring me? I put my hand there, sensing it. No, there was nothing. Maybe I was just hungry. It had been a while since breakfast.
After I collected myself, I got up and continued searching the bedroom, opening all my senses to any spirits that might have come through here in the last weeks. There was no evidence of Willson, not since the night of the dinner party. Had he been hit by a car? Had some well-meaning human family adopted him? Would he even let that happen? It was very unusual for a familiar to abandon his witch, but he might have been confused, or frightened. He was a fairly young cat, after all.
And not all familiars were created equal. I scritched Elnor’s ears, feeling grateful for her.
I looked through Logan’s closet, and the drawers of her dresser. Nothing unusual. Returning to the kitchen, I made a thorough search of her food and dishes, paying particular attention to her herbs and other potion ingredients. Again, I only found the usual items a working witch would have. She must have visited the communal magical garden fairly recently: there was a good supply of hellebore.
Ultimately, I went back to the living room and sat on the couch again, stymied. I didn’t know what I’d expected to find, but it seemed that there should have been something.
On the coffee table, next to a dry teacup, was her tarot deck. I picked it up, a little surprised that she’d left it here the night of the dinner party—she usually kept the cards in her purse. Opening the box, I took the cards out. For a minute I just held them in my hands; then I shuffled, as she’d always had me do before our readings.
As I moved the cards between my hands, I thought about our last reading. Of course, it had been about me, not her—but even so, shouldn’t it have at least hinted at a great loss in my near future?
Well, there had been that Tower card at the very end. That had seemed to frighten her. But she’d insisted that it meant good things… ultimately. There was nothing good about my best friend’s spirit being wrenched from her body—not now, not ever.
I folded the deck back together and was putting it in its box when I heard a noise at the window—a sharp scratching, as of claws. Startled, I looked up, dropping a card to the floor. “Elnor?” But she was sitting on the couch beside me; she stared at the window as well.
“Willson?” I got up and rushed to open the window, but there was nothing on the ledge. I leaned over and looked out, along the fire escape, then down to the alley below. Nothing there. I sent my magical senses out. Amid the same random jumble of human and animal energies as before, I did sense her cat’s essence.
“Willson!” I shouted. “Come back!” Elnor joined me at the window, meowing at her lost friend.
Willson’s essence faded fast, as if he was darting away. Was he afraid? Why come here, only to flee before seeing me? He knew me, and liked me. He loved Elnor.
“Willson! Here, kitty kitty!”
Nothing.
After a few minutes, I went back to the couch and started to close the box, then saw the card on the floor. It was The Devil. With a shiver, I tucked him into the box too.
When I left, I took the cards with me. I told myself it was because I wanted something to remember her by.
— CHAPTER THIRTEEN —
Other than that first week or so when I had been so undone by grief that I would have been useless, I’d continued my teaching. The distraction was comforting. The witchlets were curious and energetic, full of hope for the future, full of drama and despair about the present. I loved being surrounded by them, helping shape their creative minds. It brought out the maternal in me, leaving a pleasant ache in my heart.
After I left Logan’s apartment, I felt almost too tired and frustrated to go teach my biology class, but I did it anyway. And, as usual, I found it encouraging, uplifting.
Gracie hung back after class, pretending she didn’t have anything special on her mind. I gave her a minute to screw up her nerve before I said, “Hey. How’s it going?”
“Oh fine,” she said, implying just the opposite. Then she seemed to catch herself. “How are you doing?”
I stood behind the desk in the small second-floor classroom, packing my satchel. “I’m all right. Still sad, but I suppose I’m getting used to it.”
“It must be awful, to lose a friend.”
“It is. We were very close.”
“There is still no sign of her spirit?”
“None.” Neither of us had to say how baffling this was.
“I’m so sorry.” She shuffled her feet.
“Thank you.” I gave her another moment. “Mina scored 100 percent on her taxonomy quiz. You’ve been tutoring her, haven’t you?”
Gracie shrugged and mumbled something I couldn’t hear.
“What was that?”
Now she looked up at me. “Someone had to.”
I sighed and pulled up a classroom chair. “You’re miserable. Spill it.”
“You said you’d be here all the time, and you’re not! Even when you were, you never left your room hardly. We never see you. And I feel like I can’t even say anything, because…Logan. And now I’m just being a big jerk.”
“Gracie, you’re not a jerk. It’s entirely fine to miss me, to have your own feelings of loss. It’s not a competition. And you’re not wrong. I… miss me too. I hardly know who I am at the moment, or what’s going to happen.”
I took a breath and stopped. I had moved out to try to take more control over my life—yet it felt as though events were just tumbling me down a hillside.
Gracie kicked at an invisible spot on the floor. Not looking up, she said, “I heard you’re dating a human.”
My heart gave a frightened jump. Had I really just slept with two different men in the las
t two days? “Yes, Gracie, it’s true. Did Leonora tell you?”
“Niad.” She looked up at me, her pretty face guarded, and glanced away again.
Ah, of course. “Is that what you’re afraid of, that I’ve fallen in love with a human and I’m giving up being a witch, or something? Like Bewitched?”
She shook her head, though I could see the truth in her eyes. “Well, I don’t know…”
“Even if that were possible, it’s not happening. It’s perfectly acceptable for a witch to spend time with humans. Sometimes even romantic time. I know you have human friends—many of us do. It’s not much different than that.” Should I tell her I’m seeing a warlock too? Am I seeing a warlock? It was too soon, too new, too uncertain. Nothing to gossip with a student about, however much I liked her. “Anyway, it’s not serious.”
“It’s not?” She looked up, hopeful.
“No. He’s a very nice man, but we’re fundamentally pretty different.” I smiled at her, as if I had it all worked out and everything was great.
“Hm.”
We both turned at a sound at the door. It was Sirianna. “Oh, sorry, Callie! I was just… Potions is next, and…”
“We’re just clearing out, Siri,” I said, getting up and grabbing my satchel. “Come on, Gracie. I’ll see you at dinner Tuesday.”
“You’re not coming back till Tuesday?” The witchlet followed me out of the room; Sirianna and several other girls filed in, closing the door behind them.
“I don’t know my schedule for the next few days,” I started, before I had a better idea. “I can come take you out for lunch on Saturday. Would you like that?”
“Yes!” she said, adding politely, “I mean, if it’s not too much trouble.”
I pulled her in for a hug. “It is not the tiniest bit of trouble.”
She hugged me back, then pulled away, awkward but happy. “Or I could see your house?”
Oh, Blessed Mother, I’d promised the girls to show them my place ages ago…before events had overtaken me. “Of course! Lunch at my house it is.”
“Yay! Thanks!” Smiling, she turned and headed toward the stairs.
I watched her go. Fifteen was such a tough age. Though at the moment, I wasn’t finding forty-five a whole lot easier.
“May I help you with that, Mistress Callie?”
“What?” I yelped and nearly dropped the groceries, I was so startled. I shouldn’t have been; I’d been trying to teach Petrana to take initiative. But she surprised the wits out of me, practically pouncing on me in the entryway.
I’d been woolgathering. Thinking about my life. Days had passed, and everything felt stuck in amber. There was nothing new about Logan, or the newly sick witches. Jeremy had spent one more night, and it was good, but…my heart was still unsettled. My research had stalled. I didn’t know what to do about anything.
I sighed, looking back at Petrana. “Yes, thank you.” I shifted my hip so she could take the heavy bag of groceries. She reached out her large, awkward hand, managing to grab both the shopping bag and the strap of my purse, nearly pulling it from my shoulder. “Whoah! Hold up there, big girl,” I said.
“I am sorry,” she said, emotionlessly, freezing in place.
I replaced the strap. “Okay, go ahead.” She took the bag and then stood in the entryway, staring at me. “You can put them away in the kitchen,” I added. “But leave out the bread and the turkey.”
“Yes, Mistress Callie.” She turned and shuffled off.
Was this just a stupid waste of time? I still didn’t really know what she was for.
But I didn’t want to unmake her.
I sighed. Just another unresolved thing in my life. And Gracie would be here in less than an hour. Maybe I should teach Petrana to make sandwiches? Surely they wouldn’t taste like mud.
Can I come in?
“What?” I said aloud as I followed Petrana toward the kitchen, then Gracie, you’re early.
I know! I want to show you something!
Sure. I started back for the front door, but Gracie popped into the hallway in front of me. “Wow!” I said. “You’re getting really smooth with your ley line travel. That’s great.”
“I know!” She grinned, practically shimmering with pride; her dark curls bounced. “I’ve been practicing.”
“Well, come on, you can help me with lunch.” I turned back to the kitchen.
“No! I want to show you something!”
“I thought you just did.”
She tossed her head and gave a dramatic teenage snort. “Callie! Not that! This!” She reached into her jeans pocket and pulled out a smartphone, swiping open the screen as she said, “Which one should I choose?”
I led her to the kitchen table and took the smartphone from her. It showed a picture of a calico kitten.
“Here,” she said, reaching over my arm to swipe to the next picture, a longhaired tuxedo kitten, much like a young Elnor. Gracie’s phone was sure fancier than mine; I had no idea how it worked. Did mine even hold pictures? Then she brought up an adorable tabby.
“These are cats?” I asked, displaying a stunning grasp of the obvious.
“Sapphire’s coven has three litters ready to adopt, and Leonora said I could choose my familiar now. How about this one?” She held up the phone, showing a shorthaired marmalade with yellow eyes.
“Sweetheart, you don’t choose the familiar—the familiar chooses you.” At my feet, Elnor purred and rubbed against me, though she couldn’t have understood my words, exactly. “These kittens are all adorable, but you will want to meet them in person.”
“Can we?” Gracie looked up at me eagerly. “Can we go right now?”
I laughed. “I thought you wanted to see my house. And have lunch.”
“I do! Can we do everything, right now?”
“Whatever you like, but not all at once. Which do we do first?”
Gracie glanced around the kitchen, obviously noticing it for the first time. She was practically quivering with excitement. “Cat first! Then back here for lunch.”
“All right.”
We took a ley line to Sapphire’s coven; I followed Gracie, noticing again how deftly she managed the ley space. I took the opportunity to send a quick inquiry to Leonora, making sure she actually had given the witchlet explicit permission. Yes, Calendula, and thank you for your help with this, she sent back a moment later. Young Graciela’s birth mother has been just too busy, she added, with a note of disapproval.
The cat-breeding coven was a big home out near the ocean, not far from the Cliff House. The cattery, like our own coven house, occupied a double lot and looked ordinary, if large, from the street. Once inside its perimeter gate, however, the differences were plain. The yard was crammed with cat toys, cat trees, cat food bowls, cat exercise ramps—and cats. Dozens and dozens of cats, of every shape and size and age. “Ooh!” Gracie exclaimed, crouching down to pet a tortoiseshell. The cat mewed and rubbed its cheeks against her fingers. “This one’s chosen me, Callie!”
I patted Gracie’s shoulder and tried not to laugh aloud. “No, sweetie, she just wants a scritching. Come on inside, you’ll see.”
She reluctantly left the tortie and followed me to the front porch, where we paused while I sent ahead the formal request to be admitted. As we were standing there, my phone chimed with a text. Since it could only be one person, I reached into my pocket to silence it. I’d talk to Raymond later.
The door opened; Sapphire herself stood there, smiling at both of us. A faint smell of cat dander wafted out on the breeze.
“Do come in,” Sapphire said, stepping aside for us. “Hello, Callie; and you must be Graciela.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Sapphire,” Gracie said.
“Come this way.”
Once inside, the cat smell was quite a bit stronger. We followed Sapphire into a small parlor set up as a low-key interview room, where she offered us comfy chairs and tea. A minute later, cups of pennyroyal beside us, we were settled. Th
e older witch studied the witchlet as I sipped my tea. It tasted sort of off; I set the cup down. Must be too much cat in the air.
I was glad my coven was for teaching. Who could live in a cattery? Maybe you stopped noticing after a while.
Gracie sat politely and sipped her tea as well, though anyone could see she was bursting to look at the kittens. Sapphire continued to watch her as she made small talk with me, taking the measure of the young witch, sensing her essence and personality.
Finally, the coven mother set her own empty teacup down and said, “Well, Graciela, are you ready to meet the candidates?”
“Yes, please!” Gracie grinned back at her.
“Come with me.” She rose to her feet.
“Shall I stay back?” I asked.
Sapphire glanced at me. “No, they’ll sense Elnor’s essence and won’t bother looking for a bond with you.”
I followed them down a long hallway past many small rooms, then up a flight of stairs. The house was even larger than it looked from the front, and even more full of cats and their equipment and toys and dishes. It was also badly overfurnished, though most of the plush chairs were claw-damaged and fur-covered. Even so, it was a comfortable place, if chaotic. All the cats seemed sleek and well-adjusted.
A large back room on the second floor was the nursery. Mama cats filled the place, snugged in their dresser-drawer beds placed all around the room. There were probably two dozen litters, of every age, from newborn to spunky electrons ready to be weaned. As Gracie had said, three litters were at prime adoption age. Kittens bounded around the room, tumbling and playing.
“So many!” Gracie exclaimed. “Are there this many witches needing familiars?”
“Not at all,” Sapphire said. “Most cats, even of our breeding stock, do not possess the capacity to become true familiars—the long life span or the magical potential.” She leaned over to pet a pure white mama cat in her drawer bed, snugged in among a jumble of towels. “We must breed a lot of cats to get even a handful of the right ones.”
