Black Cat Crossing

by Fitz Molly

  Sam almost vibrated with tension. He sat there staring between Sloane and the other officer, an expression on his face I couldn't decipher. More than once, I resisted the urge to run out of the room and forget I ever agreed to do this. Sloane's posture was rigid, and I knew he wanted to do this about as much as I did.

  "Tell me where you were last night," Sloane said.

  Sam took his glasses off and squeezed the bridge of his nose. "In the library. Where I always am."

  Truth.

  "And tell me what happened." Sloane didn't bother to get a pencil out. The other officer, though, had a notepad out and he clicked his pen frequently. I could tell it drove Sam mad, but he kept his cool.

  "Nothing happened," Sam said. "I had books all around me open. I was researching the town's history. I heard something - almost like a sharp scream - then nothing. Considering the time of year, I didn't think much of it."

  "So you didn't go to investigate?" the other officer asked.

  "Nope," Sam said. His face remained stoic.

  But he lied. A shocked exhalation burst from me. Oh, Sam, I thought.

  "So you hear a scream in the night and you don't go check it out?" Anyone in the room or outside of it could hear the disbelief dripping in the officer's voice. I couldn't blame him on that one. It was hard to believe.

  "I'm a librarian. Rarely do we wish to be interrupted in our research." His gaze turned to the two-way mirror. To me. "Unless there's a beautiful woman waiting for me."

  I took an involuntary step back. He knew I was here. Fear made my heart pump faster. I felt frozen to the spot. How could he know I was here?

  From my peripheral, Sloane's posture stiffened. He sat up a little bit straighter. The look he gave Sam was no longer friendly.

  Also, where in the world had the mild-mannered librarian gone, and what kind of creature had taken his place? This was not the Sam I knew. To be honest, I didn't know if I wanted to know this Sam.

  "Mr. Carroll," Sloane continued. "Did you touch the body?"

  Sam slowly shook his head. His gaze hadn't moved from me. He couldn't see me and yet ... maybe he could. I felt like a mouse in a cheese trap - immobile yet wanting to move forward. "I left it alone."

  "Lie," I whispered.

  Sam's gaze beseeched me. I couldn't lie for him. I wouldn't.

  "Did you know the victim?" the officer asked.

  Sam shook his head.

  "Lie," I whispered again. What was going on?

  "Were you responsible for this woman's death?"

  Sam slowly shook his head again.

  Lies.

  I backed out of the room, unable to turn my back to Sam's hungry gaze. When I got out of the room, I slumped against the wall and dropped my head to my chin. Sam couldn't be a murderer. I refused to believe it. Without waiting for Sloane, I made my way out of the police station. I picked up my phone and called my other sister, Rose, to come to get me.

  Ten minutes later, she screeched to a halt in front of the police station. I heard the click of the door lock and hurriedly got into the car.

  Rose didn't look amused. "If Mom were alive, she'd be unhappy with you."

  I sighed. "I know."

  Mom didn't believe in us using our gifts for purposes like this. She stayed out of everyone's business and felt like we should do the same. Granted, this was wildly different, and I was helping someone, but I'd also be hurting someone else.

  And I wasn't sure Sam deserved to be hurt. Sometimes, when our guilt is so strong, we feel like things are our responsibility. I had faith that Sam wouldn't have harmed a woman - any woman. But perhaps he felt responsible for her death.

  "Do you know who the victim was?" I asked Rose.

  She tended to get word of news way before anyone else did. How I had no idea, but she worked with elementals and witches who could control the weather, so they had their fingers on the pulse of everything in this town.

  "Mindy Martin," Rose said. She didn't say another word because we both knew who she was. I'd brought her up to Rose a few times because she was always at the library when I dropped by. I didn't drop by too often - maybe once a week - so if Mindy was there every time I came, I couldn't imagine how much she was actually there during the week. She was one of Sam's fawning women who thought if she threw herself at him over and over again, he would finally bite.

  I knew Sam well enough to know that wasn't the case, but he could never convince Mindy.

  This didn't look good for him. If Sloane asked anyone in the town about Mindy, they'd connect her immediately to Sam.

  The sad part was I didn't even think Mindy was a reader. She just saw a potential boyfriend in Sam.

  I massaged my temples.

  "You think he's guilty?" Rose asked.

  I'd briefly given my sister the run down when I asked her to pick me up. To say she was displeased was a massive understatement. She knew the lengths I'd gone to protect my secret from everyone in this town. Rose thought I was endangering myself by allowing anyone else to know what I could do.

  Sometimes, I wasn't even sure myself of what kind of power I held.

  Rose turned into my driveway and hit the brakes. "Did you get a new cat?"

  "Excuse me?" I dug through my purse trying to find my keys.

  "There's a black cat sitting in the middle of your driveway looking very sassy. Should I honk?"

  I looked up and, sure enough, an adorable black cat with large emerald color eyes stared back at us. "Pull forward some. I have no idea who it belongs to."

  The cat didn't move a muscle.

  Rose, a cat lover herself, knew better than to keep trying to play chicken with it. The cat would only move when it was ready. I gave my sister a one-armed hug and got out of the car. "Thanks for coming to get me," I told her.

  "That's what sisters are for," she said. "Getting their other sisters out of trouble when they do something they shouldn't."

  I rolled my eyes and shut my door. Rose pulled out, leaving me and the cat staring at each other. "I can't let you come in. If I do, Lacey will eat you." Lacey was my lab mix pup. She'd finally gotten out of the terrible teens and was a much better behaved pup now. Still young and active, but she'd been wonderful with the trainer. Now she was content to laze around the house or race around the acreage outside. We'd taught her to stay confined to my property and so far, so good.

  I passed the cat by, but a second later I looked down and it walked beside me. "You can't come in, cat. Lacey won't like it." My pup had a strong prey drive and loved to chase animals smaller than she was. But this cat wasn't giving up.

  I nudged it gently with my foot and the cat gave me a loud yowl. Careful not to let her in, I opened the door just enough to let myself in, but the cat squeezed right past the slight gap and trounced right into the house.

  Lacey came racing around the corner at the same time and yipped a hello. She skidded to a stop as soon as she saw the cat and came down on her paws with her butt sticking up in the air.

  "Lacey," I warned, but the pup didn't do what I expected. She wiggled her butt, barked out a happy hello, and promptly rolled over with her legs up in the air. The cat sat down on its haunches and stared at Lacey for a moment, then turned and promptly ignored her.

  I snorted with amusement and leaned down. "Well now, what do you want?"

  The cat yowled again.

  "That doesn't tell me much. But listen, I don't have any food and I don't want a cat. You're cute, but you must have a home." I leaned down to touch her collar but noticed the only thing written on it was Salem.

  "Cute," I said dryly. I flipped it over but nothing was written on the other side. I went and got a saucer of water for it and picked up the phone to make some calls. Lacey was handful enough. I didn't have the time or the room for a cat.

  Not a single person I called knew about a missing cat or knew who had a black cat for a pet. "Great," I muttered when I'd made the last call. I didn't think I had the conscience to kick it back onto the street, but I di
dn't have a litter box or food.

  The doorbell rang just as I was pondering a trip to the pet store and when I went to answer the door, my footsteps slowed. Sloane stood on the porch, his face an expressionless mask.

  "Great," I muttered to myself. With a sigh, I squared my shoulders and answered.

  Sloane stood there in silence. I held the door open. "Come on in."

  Holly had come and gone, breezing out as soon as I'd come home and she'd seen the cat and my expression. And before I could guilt her into taking it. So it was just me, the pets, and one angry police officer.

  "You left," he accused once the door closed behind us.

  "I did," I acknowledged. I hadn't seen Bob yet, but that wasn't unusual. Sometimes the skeleton got caught up in his internet research and I wouldn't see him for hours. What he did in the back room, I wasn't sure I wanted to know, but I'd taken the internet away from him before when it got too weird. Now I had filters on it. Much to his eternal dismay.

  "Why?" Sloane became very monosyllabic when he was unhappy with me. Yet another one of his grumpy charms.

  I walked to the fridge and got out of the ingredients to make hot chocolate. "Want one?" I offered.

  Sloane's lips thinned but he nodded. I turned before he could see me smile. The man had a definite weakness for chocolate. I measured everything out and mixed the cocoa powder and a little water until it made a paste. When it heated, I poured in the milk and vanilla and stirred until it was fully heated. Just as it hit a simmer I turned the heat off, mixed a little cinnamon and cream in it, and poured the mix into two large mugs.

  Sloane accepted his with a grunt and before I spoke, I took a sip and let the chocolate fortify me.

  "He knew I was there," I said finally. "How?"

  Sloane's eyes burned with annoyance. "I don't know," he admitted. "There's no way he should have."

  "But he did," I accused. "And now I have to live with the thought that he thinks I betrayed him."

  Sloane sipped his cocoa and sighed. "You didn't betray him, Ivy. He did it to himself." Our gazes met. "He was lying, wasn't he?"

  I turned away.

  The bell over the door rang. I turned to tell him we were closed, but my mouth dropped open when I saw who stood there.

  "What are you doing here?" Sloane barked. "You're supposed to be at the station."

  Sam shoved his hands into his coat pockets. He no longer wore his glasses. "Your friend let me go after some persuasion."

  A chill ran down my spine. What kind of persuasion, I wondered.

  "Hey Ivy."

  I nodded. "Sam."

  He glanced at Sloane. "Mind if we chat in private?"

  "Actually," Sloane interjected, "I do mind."

  "I didn't ask you, necromancer," Sam said. His voice was short and tight - a tone I'd never heard from him. He sounded angry and annoyed, but most of all he sounded tired.

  "You're a suspect in a homicide, Sam," Sloane said as he moved closer to my side. "I'd be a fool to let you speak to her alone. As any woman in this town would be."

  Sam's eyes flashed with anger. "I would never hurt Ivy." His gaze caught mine. The green in his eyes was still there, but it was flecked with so much more gold than there used to be. "You believe me, don't you?"

  Did I? I looked at him. My friend. My crush. My ... something more than a friend, maybe. To me at least. I nodded. "I'll speak with him, Sloane."

  "Ivy!" he barked. "This is madness. This is -"

  "My business," I reminded him. "Come back tomorrow morning and I'll feed you some cinnamon rolls. We can sit out on the patio and catch up." Catch up was code word for I'd tell him what I found out about Sam.

  Sloane's jaw tightened, and he looked like he wanted to argue. Hopefully, he knew me as well as I thought he did because if he continued to argue with me, it would blow up in his face. I wasn't a damsel in distress. I was a woman with powerful magic and could protect myself. Finally, he nodded, but he didn't walk away until he warned Sam.

  Sam, to his credit, didn't say a word.

  We waited until the door closed before we spoke.

  "You lied," I said to him.

  "I knew you were there," he said to me.

  "How could you know I was there?"

  Sam looked away. "Cocoa?" he asked as he looked at the stove. "Is there any left?"

  I made him a mug with the rest of it, but when he tried to take it, I held it away. "Tell me how you knew. No lies."

  The smile didn't reach his eyes. "Because you’d know if I lied, wouldn't you? Isn't that why you were there?"

  I nodded.

  "I thought so. I didn't kill her, Ivy. But I think I know who did. I'm not sure what it matters anyway. I'm just as guilty as the one who did it."

  I tilted my head to the back. "Come out to the patio. There's a firepit out there. We can chat for a while."

  Sam followed me back, but when I tried to start the fire, he took the wood and kindling from my hands and did it for me. Men and fire. No matter where you were, men always thought the fire was their job.

  But I was content to let him take it over. When the fire roared merrily in the pit, Sam grabbed his mug and sat down on the wicker chair. "I told Mindy to stop coming around the library," he confessed. "She wasn't a bad sort, but I wasn't interested. Mindy took it badly."

  "Badly?" I questioned. "What did she do?"

  Sam sighed. "She threw things. Tried to destroy a book I was working on. A really old and precious one. I had to remove her from the library."

  My eyebrows rose. "You put your hands on her?"

  His shoulders slumped. "No, but you asking me that makes me realize you're afraid of me. Don't you know me, Ivy?"

  Empathy filled me. "I thought I did. But there's something different about you. You aren't acting the same. I sense ... odd power in you, Sam. I don't think you're giving me the full story."

  "My power is in books," he admitted. "But it also lies somewhere else."

  I crossed my arms on that cryptic note and waited for him to continue.

  His lips quirked and my heart skipped a beat at that smile. No matter what he'd done, Sam was a handsome, handsome man.

  "Are you a werewolf?" I blurted.

  He shook his head. "Not quite. I'm something different."

  I waited for him to elaborate.

  A puff of air escaped him. "I know you don't like talking about your magic. I don't like talking about mine. I'm a shifter. Sort of. I can shift into whatever animal form I want, provided it's within fifty pounds of my weight."

  My mouth dropped open. "Anything?"

  "Anything," he repeated.

  "That's amazing," I said in awe. "Can you fly?"

  Sam chuckled. "I can."

  "You take on the gifts of whatever animal you shift into?"

  He nodded.

  "Wow. You have two gifts then?"

  "I do. My mother was a shifter and my father was a Bibliomancer. His power involved books. He could draw stories from them - extract their history - without ever having to read them."

  I frowned. "But that's part of the beauty of a book."

  Sam laughed. "Not when the book would perform like a living history play right in front of you."

  "Whoa. Can you do that?" I leaned forward, my cocoa tipping precariously in the mug.

  He grinned at me. "I can. But I tend to keep that magic away from the library."

  "So every time I've seen you in there, you aren't actually reading?"

  "Nope," Sam said. His voice was smug. "It all downloads to my head like a computer program."

  "Trippy." I sighed. "But that doesn't explain what happened to Mindy."

  "It doesn't." Sam picked up the fire poker and pushed against the wood to stoke it. The fire roared up and snapped in the cool air. "I escorted Mindy out. Gently. And asked her to return only if she was dropping off a book or checking one out." He frowned. "She didn't take it well."

  Just then, the black cat appeared in front of the fire. I jerked in surpri
se, almost dropping my coffee mug. I turned back to the house only to see I'd closed the door. Just like I thought I had.

  "How did you get out here?" I muttered.

  Sam tilted his head. "You have a new cat?"

  "Nope. But I think she has me."

  He gave me a curious look.

  "I have no idea how it got out here. It followed me into the house, tamed my dog, then disappeared. But I know it didn't go outside."

  "She," Sam said.

  "What?"

  "The cat is a she. She's cute too. I've never seen eyes that green on a cat unless it was someone's familiar."

  I was afraid of that. "You don't know who's missing a cat around here, do you?"

  He shook his head. "I'm afraid I don't. I tend to live in the library and at my house. I don't get out into the Moonmist social scene."

  "Neither do I," I grumped.

  "I think she understands me, too. I told her she can't stay here and she just waltzed right into my house."

  Sam gave the cat a thoughtful look. "If she's a familiar, she probably can."

  "Really?" I'd never had a familiar so I had no idea what they were capable of.

  Sam laughed at my expression. "They're bonded to their owners. They can pick up emotions and even understand the thoughts of the witches they bond to."

  "But why is she here?" I wondered aloud. "She has to be missing her witch."

  "Maybe she doesn't have one." He looked up at me. "Maybe she's looking for one."

  Both of my eyebrows went up to my hairline. "Not me," I blurted. "I wouldn't know the first thing about owning a cat. Or having a familiar." My lips pressed together. "Do familiars even need litter boxes or am I about to waste a ton of money on this cat?"

  Sam laughed out loud, a long and hearty sound that made my heart glad. "She's still a cat," he admitted, "but familiars can be quite ... human sometimes. Why don't you ask her?"

  I blinked in surprise. "Like ask ask her?"

  "Yes," he said patiently. "Ask her what she wants."

  "Are you messing with me?" I sighed. "I really don't have the patience for joking around today."

  He held his hands up. "I'm serious."

  I peered down at the cat. "Do you want a litter box?"