The Lucky Cat Shop

by Debi Matlack

  Something snaked around my throat and clamped, harsh heavy panting just behind my ear. I couldn’t reach anything, I couldn’t breathe. Panic ebbed as time slowed, the need to escape fading with my consciousness. The shadowy storeroom grew darker as the black closed in from the edges of my vision. Blood roared in my ears and I saw Poppy, his hands reaching for me, anguish evident in his eyes. More faces appeared in the gloom, all dead, all reaching, all helpless to aid me. As from a vast distance, I heard the back door crash open and the crushing weight was abruptly snatched away. Then the approaching abyss flowed over me and all was dark and silent.

  Noise and light intruded again. A familiar voice kept asking if I was okay. Yeah, I’m— no, wait… The overhead lights blazed into my eyes but were eclipsed by a face.

  “Maeve? Welcome back.” Scott’s face creased into a relieved smile and he sat back, revealing the ceiling. In the highest corner, deep in a shadow, I saw Adam. He raised a bloodstained finger to his lips.

  “Hey, slow down,” Scott protested. I rolled up to my knees and almost back to the floor. His arm across my shoulders kept me from face-planting again as my head swiveled from side to side, looking for my attacker. Scott and I were alone. Despite his efforts to keep me down, I struggled to stand. A trail of blood droplets led to the open back door and out. The sound of approaching sirens meant the cavalry was coming and a surreptitious glance upward told me Adam was gone.

  “Maeve?” Scott gripped me by the shoulders, turning me to face him. “What happened?”

  A thousand reasons to tell him the real story battled to the death with an equal number binding me to mundanity. I met his eyes for a long moment, brows raised, and realization dawned in his expression. Masked by the screeching of tires, he muttered “Later.” Officially, I was the victim of a simple attempted robbery and assault.

  After giving statements and enough of a description of my assailant to satisfy the police, and receiving a silent promise from Scott to discuss this later, they allowed me to return to the store and home. I had absolutely no intention of staying there. I’d never sleep. I probably wouldn’t anyway, no matter where I came to rest. Mike and Barrett searched the place from top to bottom, just to make sure, while Karen and the kids waited with me in her locked car. Deanna looked at me gravely.

  “I’ll help you, Aunt May.”

  I love this kid. I kissed the top of her head and whispered “Thank you,” into her hair. Chris threaded his hand into mine, offering his quiet loyalty. Karen turned from the steering wheel to face me.

  “How are you doing?”

  I was exhausted, with a weariness that sucked the marrow from my soul. I was one huge bruise and my neck and throat were painful, but I was okay, according to the EMT’s. I didn’t feel okay, torn between an irresistible longing to hide in a small, dark place, and an equal urge to stand alert in a brightly lit, open field, preferably armed and armored, but falling apart in front of my family wasn’t part of the plan.

  “I’ll live.” My voice was cracked and strained, from being choked or screaming, I wasn’t sure. Mike slipped into the passenger seat and handed me a pet carrier containing a perturbed, squirming Ernie, Barrett got into his Mini and followed us out to their house. We bumped down the long dirt road and pulled in the driveway. I hung back as the family disembarked.

  “Maeve?” Barrett paused beside me, holding a duffel bag, presumably with my necessities inside.

  “My family.” I stood frozen. “If he came to the store, he might come here.” He looped an arm over my shoulders, pressed a kiss into my hair and towed me inside, parking me at the kitchen table while he put my bag away. The normal complaints of sleepy children and their parents riding herd did nothing to soothe my mood. Even the warm weight of a purring cat in my lap wasn’t helping. Trepidation held me tight, paranoia made me see dark hair and blue eyes everywhere I looked.

  Mike and Karen put the kids to bed then joined me and Barrett at the table. Mike reached into the cabinet above the refrigerator, pulled down a bottle, four shot glasses, and set them down without ceremony in the middle of the table. He poured us all a shot, slammed his back, and gave me a steady look.

  “Tell us everything.” For once, there was no hint of demand, only invitation. Mike was worried, I could see it in the tense grip on the bottle, in his furrowed brow. It was clear he felt his role as my protector from the Forces of Evil was ongoing. I was still antsy, wanting to put distance between myself and those I love to protect them.

  “I don’t know where to start.” My voice was hoarse and it hurt to speak. I picked up the shot glass and peered into the amber depths. Gentleman Jack didn’t have anything to say so I tossed it back. It actually soothed, or maybe numbed my throat. Barrett and Karen sipped their drinks. The bourbon filtered out to my fingers and toes, warming the flesh, clammy with adrenaline. Part of me wanted to stop with that single drink and remain alert, vigilant against whomever, whatever stalked me. The rest of me wanted to snatch that bottle from my brother’s hands and chug it like water. Temporary good sense prevailed.

  “You think getting me drunk is going to help things?”

  Mike shrugged. “Thought maybe it’d help you tonight.”

  I shook my head, fear for my family struggling to the surface again though the warm, soft blanket of alcohol. “If he came after me, he could be watching right now. What if—”

  “No more ‘what if’s’, not tonight, okay?” Mike reached to refill my glass. I tried to move it away and my shaking hands knocked it over instead. Barrett slid his arm across my back, stroking and soothing. Mike set the glass upright, filled it again and pushed it toward me.

  “He won’t bother you again tonight. We’ll make sure.”

  A quivering exhalation rattled from me like a cold autumn breeze through dead leaves and I felt my resolve crack. Barrett closed my hand around the shot glass, steadying it with his own. It was a crime to drink decent bourbon like cheap rotgut but I dumped it down anyway. Pushing the glass away, the warmth crept over me again, filling the cold pit inside with heat and light, pressing outward as it expanded. I tried to speak, intending to tell them what I knew; instead I cawed out a quiet sob. I fucking hate to cry.

  Karen took one hand, Mike the other, Barrett continued to stroke my shoulders, all of them comforting me without fuss until I got the cork back in the waterworks. I sat back, teeth clamped into my bottom lip until my ability to speak was somewhat restored. Then I took a deep breath and told them everything I knew about Tony Fentriss and Cora Tanner. I wanted to tell them about Adam, but it wasn’t my place to tell them what he was without his consent, or at the very least, his knowledge.

  Every word drew a measure of energy from me until I was numb and empty. I didn’t care anymore who I told, what they knew, or if it ended up on the front page the next morning. I was so overwrought that the fear ceased to have any meaning. Pouring my theories, memories, and experiences into the quiet atmosphere of my brother and sister-in-law’s kitchen peeled layer after layer from me, like debriding an infected wound. It was painful and unpleasant, but it was the first step in healing. In the ringing silence that followed my hour-long narrative, Mike asked the inevitable question.

  “What do we do?”

  My voice was almost gone and I had no words of wisdom to address my brother’s concerns. A silent shrug was the best I could manage and he nodded.

  “One step at a time, then.” He poured me one last drink; this would be my fourth. I noticed the rest of them had stuck to a single shot each. Meanwhile, I was rather shitfaced, as shitfaced as I could get suffering from an extreme case of paranoia, anyway. I gave a last token resistance to being shamelessly drugged into somnolence by my own family but finished the shot. I had been far more inebriated on many, many occasions in the past, but that had been reckless, rebellious youth coupled with stupidity. This was more of a therapeutic numbing, dulling the pain for a brief time to allow some kind of repair or healing to occur. I felt more composed now than I had, tha
nks to the bourbon, but little physical effect, until I tried to stand. I pushed the chair back with my knees and nearly tipped face-first into the middle of the table.

  “Whoa there, let me help.” Barrett lifted me back upright by main force, but my joints refused to cooperate. Not one of them would lock into place long enough for me to take a step. A soft chuckle accompanied a swing of altered gravity as my feet left the floor. It took me several seconds to realize Barrett was carrying me. I felt really weird, a profound detachment giving me the sensation of viewing everything as if I were a giant in a huge house. All the proportions were correct but everything looked as though it were miles and miles to the next surface.

  Once laid on my usual bed, I was efficiently undressed and tucked under the covers. In the light from the hall, I saw Barrett and Mike standing just outside the doorway. Mike’s expression was guarded, eyeing Barrett with a combination of relief and reluctant acceptance. Something jutted from the hip of Mike’s jeans, with a start I realized it was a pistol. Words were exchanged, Barrett patted his own flank where a similar protrusion lay. God help anyone who rang the doorbell of the Kavanaugh compound any time in the near future. My eyes refused to stay open any longer and I sighed, feeling the room swing gently beneath me. The door closed and I felt someone sit down on the bed beside me. A hand stroked my arm, patting the blanket smooth, then the weight shifted as Barrett leaned back against the headboard, settling in as my last line of defense.

  Chapter 20

  I was back in business Tuesday. A portable panic button tied into my alarm system now hung on a lanyard around my neck, this new equipment acquired at the insistence of my family, Barrett and Scott. Not that I had any arguments, mind you. I was still scared shitless to be alone in the store and Barrett had pretty much moved in. I still wasn’t sure how I felt about that. After all, a scant few months ago, I didn’t even like him because he was a jackass and now he’d declared himself my personal guardian. My desire for freedom warred with the notion that being alone meant certain death at the hands of a still-unknown assailant. Well, sort of unknown. I couldn’t prove anything and how could I explain to a tangible-facts-only-please law enforcement system that my assailant may not be completely human?

  Consequently, my choices were learn to put up with Barrett’s presence, or have Mike up my ass all the time and neither one of us wanted that. So, I went from independent adult to cowering victim in a single day. But the Tuesday passed with no incidents and it was closing time. Barrett had a class to teach, but I was due to call him and let him know it was six o’clock and all was well.

  As I reached the front door I froze when I saw a figure silhouetted in the fading dusk. This one was taller than the shadow I was afraid of. It was Adam. When I got my heart going again, I opened the door. He stepped across the threshold and locked the door behind him with a small shudder. The perimeter was freshly salted. Do you know how hard it is to find large quantities of road salt in Florida?

  “All locked up?”

  I nodded. He stood, watching me for a long moment with an odd, regretful, expression.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  Now I was confused. “About what?”

  “The other night. I was almost too late.”

  A vampire with a guilty conscience? I smiled with a small shake of my head. “But you did come. You saved my life. Thank you.” Then the question that had pestered me for days trotted out on the heels of my gratitude. “But, why?”

  Now he looked confused. “What do you mean?”

  I honestly wasn’t sure myself. “Well, we barely know each other, we have what amounts to a professional relationship. Technically, you aren’t human anymore, so I assume that eliminates simple human decency or altruism.”

  “Now wait a minute.” Adams eyes were cold glass again, but a flame flickered deep down. Oddly enough, he didn’t frighten me, not anymore. I had seen real evil, felt its fingers clamped around my throat— I tried unsuccessfully to suppress a shudder and pay attention to what he was saying.

  He took a deep breath, searching for words. “Well, what else was I going to do? Just because I’m— what I am, doesn’t mean I don’t still feel some responsibility to help someone in trouble. Besides, it’s my duty to look after you. You’re family.”

  “Excuse me?” My mind juddered to a halt while it tried to process this staggering revelation. “How is that possible?”

  He gave me a wry smile. “I wasn’t born a vampire. I was human, with a family, children, before,” he waved a hand vaguely to indicate himself, “all THIS happened.” He tilted his head at me. “You accepted that Cora was my descendant but you are exempt from such?”

  “Oh no, you’re not pushing guilt on me after dropping a bombshell like that. It took me by surprise, you hardheaded jackass.” The fear, hiding under the surface, tried to escape and take over. Anger was my only defense. “You’ve been at this weirdo, supernatural shit a lot longer than I have, okay? Now, how are we family?”

  “Have you ever done any research into your family history? Genealogy?”

  “Why do you have answer a question with a question?” I shrugged. “Poppy was always trying to get me interested in it. It didn’t hold much appeal for me. I was more concerned with getting a job to pay my bills.”

  “Ever think maybe Woodrow was trying to tell you something?” He nodded at the empty space behind me as I felt the focal cold spot form. This was getting to be too much.

  “That’s it. Right here, right now, you’re going to tell me every goddamn thing you know about this crazy asshole that’s trying to kill me. And you—” I spun to wag my finger at the spectre of my grandfather who had materialized stealthily behind me, “—you obviously didn’t try hard enough to convey this information to me. Thanks for leaving me with my ass flapping in the breeze.”

  I tried little girl, you were just too stubborn—

  “Where the hell do you think I got it from?!” He actually shrank back from me and I heard a tiny chuckle from Adam. Oh, sure, laugh it up. His ass was next in my crosshairs. I turned on him.

  “And you! Bringing me that damned Bible, only giving me the tiniest slivers of information, I’ve had to find out everything about the bastard that’s trying to kill me on my own. I don’t even know why he wants to kill me!” Adam’s face flickered with guilt and I cocked an eyebrow at him. “I suspect you know more than you’re letting on, though.” I pointed at the back corner with the chairs. “And you’re going to spill your guts right now or I swear to God I’ll chain you to the Dumpster out back and wait for the sun to come up.” My heart pounded and I was hot and cold with fury. Adam’s face set in hard lines and he glared, but complied, turning on his heel and stalking to the indicated chair.

  “It doesn’t really work that way.”

  “What?”

  “Sunlight.”

  Damnit, he was trying to distract me again. “Right now I don’t really care. You can give me the Vampire Rules some other time.”

  We sat, staring at each other for a long moment. He sighed, shaking his head. “You got the stubborn streak from my wife’s family.”

  “Thanks for the history lesson. Tell me how we’re family before I make good on my threat.”

  “I’m your great-great-great—” he glanced at Poppy for confirmation, “—great-grandfather. Cora’s older sister Delia was your great-grandmother.” He shrugged. “You come by the Gift honestly, though you got a lot bigger dose of it than any of the rest of us ever did.”

  It was quiet while I let that sink in. Just when I thought I was down to Mike’s family as my only living relations, I was confronted with the man I was sure was personally responsible for at least some of my ills. To top things off, he was real, and family, even if he was undead. I shook my head to jostle that notion loose and sighed, giving Adam an even gaze.

  “All right, why don’t we talk about why this guy wants me dead?”

  My phone vibrated in my pocket. Oh shit, Barrett. Oops.

 
I held up a finger, eyeing the two of them in warning as I dug out my phone and answered it. “Hey, I’m fine.”

  “Okay, good. Are you closed down for the night?”

  “I am. Just have a couple things to finish before I head upstairs.” Those two things eyed me as I pinned them with a glare.

  “Okay, I’ll give you a call as I head out. Be careful.”

  “You too.” I ended the call, still staring at the two of them.

  You’ve known that boy, what, four months and he’s already moved in? Maeve, you know—

  “Wait just a second, old man. The reason he’s here is because of that crazy bastard that wants to turn me into drifting smoke like he did to you. You don’t get to lecture me about living in sin when all Barrett’s trying to do is make sure I’m safe. Besides,” I was actually starting to feel a little embarrassed, talking about such things with my grandfather, “he’s only been here routinely since Sunday night. He’s not actually moved in, he’s just staying with me.” Mischief prodded me to elaborate. “Sometimes I stay at his place.”

  Poppy’s reply wasn’t exactly what I expected. You should stay there. That crazy bastard may not know where he lives.

  I blinked. “Good point.” When did Poppy change from being self-righteous to practical? Then I shook myself. “You’re still on my shit list. You never had any problems with trying to shove religion down my throat, did it ever occur to you to pick your battles with me instead of trying to fight them all?”

  Now Poppy paused, flickering in surprise. His lips tightened and I felt the cold fade, then intensify as a smile quirked across them. Well, I’m glad to see that good sense shows up every now and then.