No Treats for Charlie

by Tiegan Clyne

  /Where are we going?/ he asked, looking up at her with his eyes bright.

  “We’re going to get some supplies at Sybile’s Sundry Shop, and then we’ll swing ‘round the craft store.”

  /Well, this is exciting. I’ve never shopped for sundries before./ He trotted a few paces ahead, then stopped. /What are sundries?/

  “What the ever-loving hell is that?”

  A rude male voice interrupted their morning constitutional. Matilda swept Charlie up in her arms protectively, and he held on tight, his claws in her jacket. A man whose handsome face was twisted with an unpleasant sneer approached them. He was dressed all in black, with a trench coat over his suit. There was a strange lump beneath the coat, and Matilda wondered if he was injured.

  “This is my familiar,” she answered. “Please don’t say anything mean to him. He’s sensitive.”

  He admitted, /I am./

  The man laughed in her face. “Your familiar? And I suppose that means you think you’re a witch?”

  Matilda frowned. “Everyone on this side of the river is a witch, sir.”

  “Not everyone.”

  “Yes, sir. Everyone.”

  He crossed his arms, peering at Charlie. The little familiar looked back, his chin raised defiantly. “I suppose that all depends upon whom you ask. Did you graduate from the Academy?”

  “Yes,” Matilda said proudly. “Just this weekend, actually.”

  The man snorted. “They’ve let their standards slip.”

  /Now, see here!/ Charlie yowled at him. /Don’t insult my witch when she’s been kind to you!/

  “Who are you, sir?” Matilda asked, holding Charlie more firmly.

  “My name is Xander Melrose. You might have heard of me.”

  “I haven’t.”

  Xander looked surprised. “Then their perfidy goes deeper than I thought.”

  “Whose?”

  /Perfidy?/ Charlie put his ears back. /What does that mean?/

  “Ask your former administrator about me,” Xander answered. He glared at Matilda, and it seemed he was getting angrier by the second. “I cannot believe they let the likes of you graduate when I…”

  He stopped speaking and turned to face a trio of young witches approaching. Their lustrous hair fell in waves down their backs, and their hourglass figures were identical and alluring. Each of them was dressed in tight clothing that revealed their cleavage and their legs, and they were accompanied by familiars of similar flash and beauty. Susannah was in the lead, Mehitabel walking ahead of her with a sparkling purple witch’s hat upon her furry head.

  “And here we have the belles of all the balls,” Xander mocked. “All so beautiful, and all so much the same. Don’t you realize that when you all cast the same spells for perfect hair and perfect bodies you end up looking like the products of a doll factory? You blend together. So much for your ambitions.”

  Susannah tossed her blonde hair, and the other girls tossed theirs, too. They raised their pert chins in matching poses of defiance, their hands on the swelling of their hips.

  “Xander!” Susannah spat. “Who said you could set foot back in Button Hollow?”

  “Who said I had to ask permission?”

  “My mother.” Susannah looked at Matilda and Charlie. “And I should have known you’d be keeping company with these freaks.”

  Charlie extended a hairless paw. /He’s not with us./

  Xander looked at Matilda. “We’ve only just met on the street. I don’t even know this poor unfortunate soul’s name.”

  “Matilda Greenbottom,” she supplied politely. Susannah’s dark-haired lieutenant rolled her eyes, and so did Susannah and the third witch, whose flame-red hair was the same flame-red as most every other witch on campus.

  “My mother told you to leave Button Hollow,” Susannah informed him. “Why are you back?”

  Xander stood tall, facing down the three identical beauties before him. “I’m back because I’m not finished with your mother, or with her precious school.”

  Matilda stepped between them. “Please… don’t fight or argue. We just want to go to the store.”

  “Then go to the store, you miserable cow,” Susannah’s red-haired friend spat. “Make sure you buy plenty of sugar and soda. You have a weight problem to maintain.”

  Charlie glared at her. /You only wish your kitten shelf was as comfortable as Matilda’s./

  “Charlie, that’s all right.” She gathered up his cloak and tucked it under her arm. “We just want to live our lives the best way we know how. Mr. Melrose, I don’t know what these girls have done, but I doubt…”

  “What we’ve done?” Susannah asked. Her scarlet lips parted around the unpleasant words. “We only told him he didn’t belong at the Academy, just like we should have told you the same.”

  “Well, you didn’t tell me that, and I graduated, and now I need to go to the store. Excuse me.”

  The brunette laughed at Matilda’s back. “Running away?”

  Matilda sighed and turned back to face her. “No. I’m simply too old for this kind of playground nonsense. We all are.” She looked at Xander. “And if I could offer you a word of advice, it’s this: these girls are never going to change. That’s the point of their magic. They want to be the same as one another, and to stay the same for their entire lives.”

  “Don’t speak for us,” Susannah pouted. Her friends pouted, too.

  Xander laughed. “Your mother denied me a magical education, and now she’ll pay the price. Tell her that.”

  Susannah tossed her head again. Her hair glistened in the sunlight. “I’ll do no such thing.”

  Matilda turned and walked away. Charlie shifted so he could look over her shoulder at the witches’ confrontation, curious and wary.

  The ground rumbled, and Matilda almost lost her balance. Charlie announced, /He’s left./

  “Good. I don’t think I liked him.”

  /He certainly didn’t like the witches./

  “No. He didn’t.”

  Charlie settled back down into her arms. /I don’t like them very much, either. They’re very mean./

  “That they are, but they’re also very young. They’ll learn that there’s more to life than physical perfection.”

  /Is there?/

  “I sincerely hope so.”

  They walked in silence for a few moments longer, until they passed the fountain in the center of town with its oversized cauldron and its statue of three perfect witches standing around it. Matilda glanced up at the carved faces and sighed.

  /He was mostly talk, wasn’t he?/ Charlie commented.

  “Let’s hope so. I suspect that he’ll be back, and probably with a monologue.”

  /I hope not./ He mused, /But then, he did like to talk. He probably does have more that he wants to say./

  Matilda turned left and walked down a side street toward the mundane side of town, called Button Landing. “I actually hope he does,” she told her familiar. “The longer he prattles on, the less time he has for casting spells.”

  /He had a bat under his coat./

  She blinked at the nonsequitur. “That’s… odd.”

  /His familiar. And bats don’t like the sun. They sleep during the day./

  “How did you know he had a bat? I saw a lump, but…”

  /Familiars always know each other,/ Charlie told her proudly. /Even the new ones./

  “Is his familiar new?”

  Charlie licked his paw and ran it over his face. /No. They’ve been together for a while, I think. Their power is very well melded./

  She bought a ticket for the ferry to Button Landing and sat on the bench to wait. “What about our power? Is it well melded?”

  /Not yet./ He rubbed his cheek on her chin. /But it will be./

  Matilda smiled and stroked him under the blanket, feeling his warmth and the softness of his suede-like skin. He purred appreciatively and curled up on her chest, his paws kneading the soft flesh.

  /You have the best kitten shelf,
/ he complimented.

  She kissed his head. “That’s because I have the best kitten.”

  He curled up beneath her chin. /And I have the best witch./

  Matilda sat back, the confrontation in the square forgotten, and cuddled with her familiar. She might not have been the best witch in Button Hollow, but right at this moment, she’d be willing to bet that she was the happiest.

  The ferry came and took them to the other side of the river. The only magically inclined store on this side was Sybile’s Sundry Shop, and even then, its enchantment section was only a very small part of its crafting aisle. Most of the place was simple groceries, which was what brought Matilda there today. She needed cat food, human food and toilet paper, and Sybile’s was the place where she chose to get it.

  She could have gone to one of the stores on the Button Hollow side of the river, but Matilda had been born in Button Landing. Her talent for magic was something she’d smothered for most of her life, until finally she exploded with magical retaliation one night. She’d caught her boyfriend Alex - ex-boyfriend, she reminded herself - having a dinner date at Luigi’s, sharing spaghetti with a beautiful witch from Button Hollow. In her anger, she’d cast an automatic hex on the girl until she was belching tadpoles, and Matilda had been sent to the Academy to learn control. The damage to the restaurant had been minimal, but she’d still lost her job over it. Luigi didn’t like his waitstaff casting magic on his customers.

  She sighed and stroked Charlie’s fuzzy back. /You’re sad,/ her familiar told her. /Why?/

  “Just thinking about people.”

  /They must be mean people, if thinking about them makes you sad./

  “They sort of were.”

  Charlie leaned into her. /If anyone tries to be mean to you now, I’ll scratch them./

  She kissed him, warmed by his willingness to fight for her. “Thank you, sweetie, but don’t do that. You’re so tiny, and people can be so big…”

  /I’ll hex them./

  “Not on this side of the river, you won’t.”

  She walked from the ferry station to Sybile’s store. Her old friend was working at the cash register when she arrived, and Sybile’s face lit up when she saw her.

  “Matilda!” She threw open her arms and danced out from behind the counter. “Look at you! All hatted and caped! And where’s your broom?”

  “I left it at home.”

  The two women embraced, surrounding Charlie in their arms but not crushing him. Sybile looked down at him, the shine in her eyes not at all dimmed by her cataracts.

  “Who is this?”

  “This is Charlie,” Matilda answered proudly. “He’s my familiar.”

  The shopkeeper grinned and ran a hand over his head. “My, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a naked cat before! Did you shave him, or did he come this way?”

  “This is how he is naturally. Isn’t he darling?”

  Charlie purred.

  Sybile grinned. “He’s… fuzzy. And wrinkly.”

  /Thank you./

  “Oh! He talks!”

  The speaking that familiars did was 90% telepathic, and while Matilda had always been prepared for it, she knew that mundanes like her friend were easily startled by other people thinking inside their heads.

  “He’s very intelligent. He’s smarter than many people.”

  “I… well, my goodness!” Sybile pressed a liver-spotted hand to her chest. “The things that magic does! I don’t know that I’ll ever get used to it.” The bell over the door announced the arrival of another customer, and Sybile patted Matilda’s arm. “Well, my dear, I’ll let you get to it while I get back to business. So good to see you!”

  /Lovely to meet you,/ Charlie called after her as she retreated. He looked up at Matilda. /I guess she’s never met a familiar before./

  “Probably not.” She went to get a shopping cart, carefully putting Charlie and his blanket in the kids’ seat. Matilda smiled proudly at a little boy who gaped at her while he clung to his mother’s hand.

  “Mommy,” the child said, “it’s a witch!”

  “Yes, Robbie.”

  “And the ugliest cat I’ve ever seen!”

  “Yes, Robbie,” his mother sighed, embarrassed. She pulled him toward the door. “Come along.”

  Matilda’s proud smile folded in on itself and she gave the kid her witchiest glare. He squeaked and ran after his mother.

  “Sorry about that, sweetie,” she told Charlie.

  /It’s okay,/ he sighed, even though it very much was not. /People always say that about me./

  “That’s just because people are stupid.”

  /You didn’t think much of me when you first saw me, either,/ he said.

  Matilda sighed. “I’m sorry, Charlie. I guess you just weren’t what I was expecting. I’ll wager that I wasn’t quite what you were hoping for, either.”

  /Well.../

  “See?” She shook her head and consulted her shopping list. “We’ll make the best of it. We’re together now, and that’s all that matters.”

  /I agree./

  Charlie rode quietly while they went up and down the rows. Matilda was a methodical shopper, starting in produce and working her way through the store to the milk. When she finally added the last item to the cart and turned back toward the counter, her little familiar looked up at her.

  /I’m glad we’re together,/ he told her. /I see your real face, and it’s the same one as the face you show the world. Other familiars aren’t as lucky./

  She remembered how Susannah and her two friends had looked during freshman year, before they’d gained the ability to cast permanent Glamours. “No, they’re not.”

  /I’m glad that you don’t use Glamours,/ Charlie told her. /I’m glad that you don’t lie to me./

  It had never occurred to her that magically created perfect faces were a form of lying, but now that he’d said that, it made her feel better. She’d never been able to cast those spells, anyway. Her Glamours instructor, Professor Heine, had told her it was because she didn’t have the right spirit. She supposed now that she lacked the intention to lie.

  “So am I, Charlie.” She nodded to herself. She might not be beautiful, but she had a clean conscience. “So am I.”

  Chapter Four

  The next afternoon, a young woman from Button Landing came to Matilda’s crooked little house to have her fortune told and to purchase a potion or two. While his witch was otherwise occupied, Charlie stood in front of his water dish and looked down into his reflection.

  /Water, water, oh so still,/ he intoned, /show me those who wish us ill./

  The water responded to his scrying spell with prompt predictability. The surface shimmered, then coalesced into the vision of Susannah and Mehitabel sitting together on a four-poster bed. The young witch was dressed as a normal human, albeit one with an almost endless supply of money for the latest and greatest in all things fashionable. Mehitabel was lying on a thick pillow while Susannah combed her luxurious fur. He looked over his shoulder to confirm that Matilda and her client were otherwise occupied before he turned back to the dish.

  /Water, water, lying near, do more than show. I want to hear./

  He could make out Susannah’s voice, sounding filtered and very far away. Charlie pricked his ears forward and listened intently.

  “I don’t know who he thinks he is, coming back here like that.” Susannah sighed and paused her comb hand. “I mean, he got kicked out for a reason.”

  /He wants to be admitted back into the coven,/ Mehitabel warned.

  “Well, that’s too bad, because he’s not welcome.” She giggled. “He can always make a coven with Matilda.”

  Charlie clawed the image in his bowl, then shook the water from his wet paw. He looked over at Matilda. These other witches didn’t understand how wonderful his witch was, and it burned him that they were so cruel to her. They could say whatever they wanted to say about him - he’d heard it all before, after all - but Matilda was sensitive, and every harsh w
ord hit her like a barb in the heart.

  He should have listened longer. He repeated his spell and resolved to keep his claws to himself this time.

  The conversation continued, and he listened closely, but Susannah had devolved into baby-talking to her beautiful familiar. For her part, Mehitabel lapped up the praise like it was clarified butter. It was stomach-turning, and Charlie released his scrying spell with a sigh.

  Matilda walked her client to the door, and when the mundane woman had left, she turned to Charlie.

  “It almost feels like stealing,” she told him, showing her familiar the cash she had just earned for interpreting a few simple Tarot spreads.

  /It’s only stealing if you lied to her,/ he advised. /And I know you. You’re far too honest to lie./

  Matilda put the money into a tin that had once held tea. Charlie could still catch a whiff of the green aroma of the loose leaves the box had once contained. His witch stoked the fire in the hearth until it crackled. Satisfied, she sat down in her rocking chair and took up her knitting. Charlie respected the runners on rocking chairs the way that mice respected the talons on hawks, so he gave the chair a very wide berth as he came over to join Matilda by the fire. He jumped up into her lap, and she held her knitting up to his side.

  “This purple will look very fetching on you,” she told him.

  /You’re knitting this for me?/

  She smiled. “Of course, silly. It’s a sweater to keep you warm when winter comes. You don’t have a lot of fur the way those other, more pedestrian cats do, so I’m doing what I can to make up the difference.”

  He rubbed his cheek against her hand. /Thank you./

  “You’re very welcome.” She knitted for a while, rocking slowly as she did, and Charlie curled up in her lap. The yarn dangled over the top of him, and it tickled a bit, but soon the repetitive movements of his witch’s hands and the tugging of the purple thread against his side lulled him into sleep.