Love, Lies, and Hocus Pocus Revelations

by Lydia Sherrer

  “Serves you right for flirting with strangers,” she said loftily, partly to poke at him but mostly to distract herself from where her thoughts had been headed.

  Sebastian closed his mouth and turned back to the pedestal, flashing her a confident but wholly unconvincing grin. “She totally digs me,” he declared.

  “You’re an idiot,” Lily said. “Now will you please focus? We have work to do. Go ahead and move on the job. Find out as much as you can and come by my apartment tomorrow evening. I guess we’ll decide what to do once we know more.”

  Sebastian nodded and hurried off, leaving Lily staring at the tablet, lost in thought. She had a talking cat and a heist on her hands and had no idea what to do about either. Her week was becoming very interesting in a Chinese curse sort of way.

  2

  Two Sugars With a Pinch of Foreboding

  It wasn’t quite noon when Lily pulled up to her apartment. She’d run errands after leaving the museum, so she had a lot on her mind and in her hands as she got out of the car. It wasn’t until she was almost upon him that she noticed Sir Kipling sitting primly on the low wall in front of her building.

  She started in shock, causing one of her bags to tilt to the side and spill canned goods onto the sidewalk where they scattered in all directions. “What are you doing outside?” she demanded, torn between concern and annoyance as she bent to gather her things.

  “Enjoying the sunshine.”

  “What?” She was distracted by a particularly enterprising can of soup that had rolled off the sidewalk and under her car.

  “You asked what I was doing outside.”

  Lily groaned and straightened. “What I meant was how did you get outside?”

  “By walking.”

  “But how did you walk out of a locked apartment?”

  “Cats go whither they please,” he said cryptically. “Locks are meaningless.”

  Eyebrows raised, Lily snorted. “Oh, really? Well, then I suppose solid walls are meaningless, too?”

  “Obviously,” he replied, the word oozing feline smugness.

  Lily didn’t reply, simply tried to figure out how to put down her bags without spilling everything so she could carry him inside. She hoped he wouldn’t run away. Normal cats were difficult enough to control; she had no idea what to do with a magical one.

  Sir Kipling must have caught on to her dilemma because he got up, fluffy tail twitching back and forth. “Don’t bother. I’ll let myself back in.” With that, he jumped down behind the wall and disappeared from view.

  Hurrying over she looked behind the wall, but there was no sign of him.

  “Great, now he can talk and vanish into thin air.” Lily sighed, resisting the urge to bite her lip in worry. He would come back. Probably. It was an obvious waste of effort to go looking for him if he didn’t want to be found. She climbed the steps, juggling bags to extract her keys and unlock the door.

  Depositing the groceries on the kitchen counter, she went into her bedroom to change but stopped in her tracks at the sight of Sir Kipling lazing on the bed.

  He gave her a blithe look. “Vanish, yes. Into thin air, hardly.”

  “I…you…did I leave a window open or something?” she asked.

  “No, you didn’t. I told you, cats go where they please.”

  “No, they don’t. They’re governed by the laws of nature and physics. But you seem to be flaunting those with aplomb. Did the fragment do that to you, too?”

  “Don’t be silly,” Sir Kipling said. “Cats don’t defy physics. We simply have a better understanding than humans of how the world works.”

  Lily stared, then shook her head. “Just do me a favor, alright? Don’t run off.”

  Sir Kipling huffed, looking hurt. “What do you think I am, an alley cat? You’re my human. Somebody has to look after you. And you feed me,” he added as an afterthought.

  That startled a laugh out of her, and she felt her worry fade. Giving up the effort to fathom feline logic, she proceeded to change clothes, make a large pot of tea, and eat lunch.

  Once fed and more relaxed, she returned to the bedroom. Sir Kipling appeared to be fast asleep, though an ear twitched when she climbed onto the bed and sat cross-legged with her back to the headboard.

  “Alright, Kip. Out with it. What’s going on?”

  He ignored her, so she nudged him with a foot. She was rewarded with a yawn, a stretch, and a reproachful look.

  “Must we do this now? I was in the middle of my hourly nap.”

  “You’ll survive. Now talk. That’s what you do these days, right?”

  “No, not really.”

  “What?” She was getting annoyed by his ambiguous answers and wondered if all cats were so vague.

  “I’ve always talked to you this way, but now you understand me.”

  “Wait, you mean…” she paused and considered. If she actually listened to the sounds he made instead of focusing on the words interpreted by her brain, they did indeed sound like meows.

  “That’s fascinating…so, what do I sound like? Underneath the words, I mean,” she asked, curious.

  He flicked his ears at her, considering. “Like a human.”

  Lily rolled her eyes. “You’re not very helpful.”

  “Humph. If someone asked you what a cat sounded like, what would you say?”

  She paused, flummoxed, and shrugged. “Like a cat, I guess.”

  “Now who’s being unhelpful?”

  “Still you as far as I’m concerned, Mr. Evasive.” She pointed at him accusingly. “You haven’t explained what you did last night.”

  “As I said, nothing. I was minding my own business when the drawer containing your piece of dirt started glowing. So I went to investigate.”

  “I knew it! You licked it again, didn’t you?”

  “Hardly,” Sir Kipling said, scrunching up his nose. “Dirt tastes bad. I simply sat on your chair and observed. Pieces of light were leaking out and getting all over the place. Some must have touched me, and then…” He stopped.

  “Yes?” Lily leaned forward eagerly.

  “I…can’t really say.”

  “Kip, don’t be stubborn, even if you are a cat.”

  He shot her a perturbed looked and shifted, repositioning into a catloaf. For a while he just gazed at her, eyes two unfathomable pools of yellow. Finally, he spoke. “I can’t say because I don’t know. Something was there, then it was in me, then it was gone. It was big like the sky, and strong like the earth, and good like a friend. It told me danger was coming, and you would need me. That’s all.”

  Lily stared, shocked into silence. She believed him—for a cat, his little speech was surprisingly straightforward—but had no idea what to make of it. Ever since she’d learned she was a wizard, her preconceptions about the world had been routinely turned upside down. Fae were real. Demons and spirits were far more common than was comfortable, and who knew what else lurked about, hidden in the forgetfulness of mankind? Maybe it was an elemental or a god…if they even existed. And what about the warning? What danger was coming? Should she even believe it? Experience told her it was dangerous to dismiss a thing simply because you didn’t understand it. She would have to do research. A lot of it.

  “Are you sure you’re alright?” was all she could think to say.

  “I’m a cat,” he replied. “We’re always alright. But if you insist on being concerned, there is this spot on my back…”

  With a roll of her eyes and a fond smile, Lily leaned forward to give her cat a very thorough petting.

  * * *

  The next evening, Lily got home late from work and was surprised not to see Sebastian waiting on her doorstep. She’d expected him to come by as early as possible to share whatever information he’d found. With an internal shrug, she carted in her pile of books retrieved from the Basement—extra research material in light of recent events—and got started on a double batch of cranberry almond scones. Her current stash would disappear soon after Sebastian ar
rived, and she hated running out of scones. Sir Kipling wanted to sit on the counter to observe her labors, but she flatly refused. Just because they could communicate didn’t make him shed any less fur. The counters were still a no-cat zone.

  Seven o’clock came and went, and so did eight. By nine, she was thoroughly annoyed. By ten, it was raining and she’d started to worry. Sebastian wasn’t answering his phone. She wondered if he’d simply forgotten their appointment. That didn’t seem likely, though, given how up in arms he’d been about the whole affair yesterday.

  As she tried to decide whether to go to bed or drive to his apartment to find him, her doorbell finally rang. She opened it in a rush and got a face full of rain as Sebastian hurried inside, dripping wet and muttering curses at the foul weather.

  Relieved, she ushered him into the bathroom to dry off. Not having a single stitch of clothing that would fit his tall, lanky frame, she instructed him to lay his wet clothes outside the door. Once they were no longer on him, it was easy to dry each piece with a simple evaporation spell, though she blushed a little when she picked up his boxers. She left the now-dry pile of clothes by the bathroom door and went to the kitchen to make tea.

  Sebastian emerged, back to normal except for his damp, tousled hair, and sat down at her kitchen table. He sagged in his chair, looking exhausted. Sir Kipling immediately appropriated his lap, eager for pettings now that the man wasn’t soaking wet. Sebastian rubbed him behind the ears, his tired expression brightening as he spotted the neat rows of scones lining Lily’s counters. She smacked his hand when he reached for one.

  “Finish the old ones first,” she scolded, pointing to the glass cake dome on her table.

  A hot cup of Assam tea and five scones later, he finally slowed down enough to talk.

  “Sorry for being late and wet and all. It was a chore trying to find out what we needed to know, then I got a flat tire, then it started raining and I don’t think I even own an umbrella.”

  Lily’s annoyance was tempered and she decided not to mention how worried she’d been. “Why didn’t you call me? I could have picked you up.”

  “My phone died,” he said.

  “And you don’t have a car charger?”

  “Er, it broke a while ago and I haven’t replaced it,” he admitted sheepishly. “Electronics don’t really like me.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “Hey, at least I got what matters, right? I got the scoop on what’s happening.”

  “Yes, that’s definitely good. It means you haven’t soaked my living room floor and consumed my scones for nothing. Do tell.” She smiled, knowing he enjoyed her sarcasm.

  He leaned forward, expression turning serious. “I hope it’s not for nothing anyway. Apparently the job got offered to a couple known players first, and there was argument about who would get it. So they put out feelers for alternate options. That’s the part I heard about. After more digging, all I came up with is that the candidate has to know about museum security systems. That’s besides being a witch of course. So we know they’re robbing a museum, and there’s magic involved. They wouldn’t need a witch otherwise, since witches are the only people besides wizards who know magic exists.”

  “So why aren’t they looking for a wizard?” Lily asked, confused.

  “No idea, but I think we can be pretty sure what they’re after.”

  “Not necessarily,” she cautioned. “Did they mention the item or location?”

  “Nope. You don’t get that stuff unless you’re picked for the job.”

  “Which you weren’t?” She raised an eyebrow.

  He shook his head. “Not even close.”

  “What a relief,” she said sarcastically. “But we still don’t know they’re after the tablet.”

  “Oh, come on, Lil. What else could it be? Do you know of any other highly protected magical artifacts in Atlanta? Why else would they ask for a witch and not a wizard unless they were stealing something that was guarded specifically against wizards?”

  That brought Lily up short. She remembered her difficulty getting into the museum with its ward against magical blood. “You could be right…” she said slowly.

  “More like I’m probably right.”

  “Only probably? Such modesty, Sebastian.”

  “Well, I am a paragon of humility,” he said with a straight face.

  Lily managed to hold in her snort—it was such an unladylike thing to do, after all—but Sir Kipling had no such qualms. He let out a chuffing cough that, to Lily’s ears, sounded like amused disbelief. Apparently he could understand human speech across the board, not just hers.

  “If he’s a paragon of humility, then I’m a saber-toothed tiger,” the feline said.

  This time she did not manage to suppress her snort.

  “What’s so funny?” Sebastian asked, cocking his head.

  “Oh, um, well…” Lily hesitated. It occurred to her that no one else would be able to understand Sir Kipling but her. It was a delightful secret she wasn’t quite ready to share. “It’s nothing,” she finished lamely.

  He looked at her, a knowing expression on his face as he produced his silver coin from nowhere and started rolling it over his knuckles. But whatever he thought of her response, he kept it to himself. “So, what are we gonna do?”

  “Do?” Lily asked, tearing her gaze from the annoyingly mesmerizing display. “What can we do? We don’t know who the thief is or when they’ll strike, and we only think we know what they’re—” She broke off, eyes snapping back to his coin as she suddenly realized something she’d seen. “Where did you get that, Sebastian?” she asked, reaching for it.

  He snatched it away defensively, putting it back in his pocket and out of sight. “It’s nothing. Just an old coin my dad gave me.”

  “I don’t think so,” Lily said. “I never got a good look at it before; I just assumed it was a silver dollar. But I suddenly realized those markings on it were dimmu runes. It could be enchanted with all sorts of magic. Let me see it, please.” She held out her hand.

  But Sebastian shook his head, not meeting her eyes. “It’s just an old coin. Dad had all sorts of weird stuff lying around. Forget about it.”

  Taken aback, Lily wondered why Sebastian was acting uncomfortable all of a sudden. Those were most definitely dimmu runes she’d seen.

  “What about the ol’ Bat?” he said, bringing them back to their original conversation with studied effort. “I bet she knows all the big names in magic. She would know who’s after the tablet. Plus, you said the other day you two were working on the ward spells together. She could help us plan our defensive strategy.”

  Lily let the subject of the coin drop for the moment, her mind switching gears to keep up with her errant friend. “Don’t let her catch you using that name, not unless you want to be a bat yourself.”

  Sebastian’s lips twitched in a suppressed smile. “Fine, Aunt B. then. Why don’t you ask her?”

  “Because,” she said, “I try not to bother her with your harebrained antics on too regular a basis. She may not be inclined to believe this, coming from you.”

  “Then don’t tell her I told you,” he insisted.

  Lily sighed. She’d more or less known things would go this way. There’d been a tiny glimmer of hope Sebastian’s information was incorrect, but now it seemed much less likely. The threat was real enough that she couldn’t ignore it, even if all she wanted was to hide her face in a book.

  “Alright, fine,” she relented, slumping back in her chair. “We’re having tea this Saturday. I’ll ask her then.” And hopefully Madam Barrington would take her seriously, she added to herself.

  “Excellent! I’ll see what else I can dig up. Maybe I should read up on museum security systems. You never know when it might come in handy,” he said with a wink.

  “Read?” Lily scoffed. “That would be impressive. I’ve never seen you even pick up a book of your own volition, much less read one.”

  “Who said anything about boo
ks? That’s what the Internet’s for.” Sebastian got up, forcing Sir Kipling to leap to safety before he was dumped unceremoniously onto the floor. The feline retreated to the living room, disgruntled.

  “I’ll be off then. Mind if I, er, take some for the road?” her friend asked, eyeing the freshly baked scones hopefully.

  Lily hid a smile and bagged half a dozen for him. She knew they would all be gone by the time he got home.

  The rain had more or less stopped, so she stood in the doorway and watched as he disappeared into the darkness.

  “Do you suppose he’ll make it?” Sir Kipling asked from where he sat on the couch. The floor by the doorway was still damp and therefore thoroughly uninviting.

  Lily closed and locked the door. “As long as he doesn’t eat all the scones at once and go into a food coma, he’ll be fine.”

  “I wouldn’t put it past him,” her cat commented, jumping down to join her as she headed to the bedroom.

  “Neither would I, Kip.”

  * * *

  Friday was a full day so work went by quickly. When she came home, she once again found Sir Kipling waiting for her on the garden wall. This time, however, he deigned to accompany her inside using the normal method: the front door.

  She spent the whole evening reading—not only her eduba but also books she’d brought from the Basement—searching for any reference to animals gaining human understanding. Sir Kipling convinced her to read on the couch so he could discharge his duty as a lap warmer. Flipping through book after book, she found occasional speculation about mythological beasts having intelligence and speech, but very little about ordinary animals. The most on that topic concerned familiars, used differently by wizards and witches.

  According to “The Wicce and Their Ways,” since witches had no innate connection to the Source’s power, they often made bargains with various spirits and creatures to form partnerships. Some such beings could take the appearance or form of animals to avoid detection, thus the stereotype of witches having black cats. These dealings could be dangerous, however, and often led to the practitioner changing, knowingly or not, by simple association. “Something given something gained” was the witch’s way, and, according to the book, the main reason why most wizards scorned witchcraft.