Charmed

by Prescott, Daisy

  Turning back around, movement catches my eye—a black cat marches down the middle of the sidewalk a few yards behind us. When we make eye contact, I swear the thing darts behind a tree.

  “We’re being followed by a cat,” I whisper close to Andrew’s ear, half-serious, half-joking.

  “Sometimes a cat is just a cat.” He twists his head to see behind us.

  I jerk his hand and pull him forward. “Don’t let him know we know.”

  He squeezes my fingers and gives me a “you’re adorable, but crazy” smile. “You’ve lost your marbles. We are not being tailed by a cat.”

  Despite being a little freaked out, I laugh at his pun.

  “Be serious.” I squeeze his hand.

  He chuckles and laces his fingers between mine. “I’m not worried about a random cat strolling down a street. Are you phobic?”

  “Of cats? No.” I shake my head.

  “Historically black cats get a bad rep.” Stepping off the curb, he crosses the street ahead of me.

  Following him, I check behind us to see if the cat also switched sides, but I don’t see it. “I think you were right. No more cat.”

  “So, tell me about this worry you have.” His voice is soft, encouraging.

  “Not really a worry, but I keep seeing a black cat around Salem. And I know some witches can have familiars.”

  “Could be Mr. Mistoffelees. He likes to stroll the streets whenever he can.”

  “Not him. The eyes are different. And Mr. M pretends I don’t exist. I lectured him about it during one of my training sessions with your mom.”

  Shaking his head, he laughs at me. “A lecture?”

  “What else do you call a one-sided conversation where the listener looks bored out of his mind and escapes as quickly as possible when it’s over?” I ask, attempting to rationalize talking to a cat.

  Andrew glances behind us again before loudly fake-whispering. “Definitely still following us.”

  The toe of my boot catches on a crack in the sidewalk and I feel myself tipping forward as I imagine face-planting on the rough concrete.

  Only I don’t fall.

  Nor do I catch myself.

  My body pauses in its downward trajectory for a second and then I feel Andrew’s grip on my coat. Once I’m upright again, I face him.

  “Thanks. Did you—?” I wiggle my hands at him.

  He leans closer, before lowering his voice. “Use magic?”

  I nod.

  He kisses me. “A little. One second you were up, then next you were flying forward.”

  “I thought we don’t really fly.” I smirk at him.

  “We?” He mirrors my expression but amusement sparkles in his pale eyes.

  “Witches,” I whisper the word.

  “Why are you whispering?” He laughs. “We’re in Salem. If you can’t call yourself a witch here, where can you? I bet if you were to ask, most women in this town would self-identify as a witch in some capacity.”

  “But, that’s different. We’re you know …”

  “We’re what?” He stops and looks down at me with a soft expression.

  I pause, trying to find the words. “I’m not sure how to say it. Real sounds like an insult to Wicca. Magic makes me think of magicians and rabbits.”

  “Don’t divide us. We’re all capable of magic.”

  “Even the cats?” I nod behind me.

  He stares at the dark sky for a beat and I stare at his mouth, willing him to kiss me.

  Responding, he softly presses his mouth to mine. Feels like velvet brushes against my lips. “Magic has nothing to do with how I feel. I’m falling in love with you.”

  Dazed by his kiss and words, I don’t tell him how I feel. I need a moment to roll around in Andrew’s revelation. Instead of saying what’s in my heart, I eagerly open my mouth and sweep my tongue against his.

  He pulls me closer, intensifying the pressure as if he knows what I’m trying to say with my kiss.

  After a breathless minute or two, he gently drags his finger down my cheek and whispers, “Let’s go home.”

  With another quick glance behind us, and no black cat in sight, I exhale a frustrated sigh. “I have more questions than answers.”

  “Ask my mother about familiars and spirit guides. She’s more knowledgeable about the old ways than I am. ”

  Nodding, I check for the cat again, but don’t spy it.

  “Maybe it’s a ghost cat.” He widens his eyes in mock fear, but his lips twitch as he fights a smile.

  My mouth drops open. “Noo,” I moan at the unbearable thought. “I can’t handle animal ghosts.”

  “Okay, stalker cats are much better than ghosts.” He teases me.

  “Don’t make fun of my abilities, Fire Fingers.” I give it back to him.

  He laughs. “I’m going to forget you said that. We were kissing. Doesn’t that help strengthen your ability to see the past?” His eyebrow is cocked in smug confidence.

  I spin around and check for the familiar blue haze. Nothing else about the street appears out of the ordinary or out of date. With relief, I say, “Not the past.”

  As I’m exhaling the creeping tension from his suggestion about ghost cats, my head pulses with a stab of pain and my stomach twists.

  I might have eaten too many pieces of lemon poppyseed cake at the initiation tonight.

  As we reach the corner, a tall, familiar guy steps out of the bar at the corner.

  Luke Hamilton.

  Followed immediately behind by a blonde who could be the Barbie to his Ken.

  Lucy Putnam.

  Four

  Luke and Lucy spill out of the bar onto the sidewalk right in front of us. I jump away to avoid being caught in their splash zone of bad energy. From the beer fumes rising off of Luke, they’ve been out for a while.

  Lucy’s laughter reaches a screech level when he picks her up from behind and spins her around.

  “Excuse us,” Andrew says, stepping closer to the curb, trying to avoid getting kicked by her flailing legs.

  “Madison!” Luke almost drops Lucy when he realizes they’re not the only two people on the sidewalk. “How’s it hanging, Wildes?”

  “Hamilton,” I say, dryly. “Lucy.”

  “Oh, it’s not Lucy anymore. I’m going by Kitty now.” Giggling, she makes a batting motion with one of her paws, I mean, hands. “Meow.”

  My eyebrows shoot to my hairline.

  “Who’s my naughty kitty?” Luke nuzzles her hair with his nose.

  I feel the lemon poppyseed cake start to rise up my throat. If they start licking each other, I might ruin my shoes.

  “Okay, then.” Andrew loops his arm around my elbow to pull me around the couple.

  “Hey, I know you.” Kitty points at me. “You’re Sam’s roommate, right?”

  “Uh, sure.” I take a step in Andrew’s direction. There’s something weird about her that sends a chill climbing up my spine. Nothing to do with the cat behavior or the fact she’s with Hamilton, king of the toad boys.

  She narrows her eyes. I half-expect her to hiss at me when she opens her mouth. “Tell her she owes me a new reading. The last one she did for me was completely wrong.”

  Never going to happen.

  When I don’t respond, Lucy-Kitty focuses her attention on Andrew.

  “I saw your father at the club last weekend. My dad made a point of stopping by his table to say hello.” She lifts her nose in the air and sneers, “Seems he’s not your biggest fan lately. Apparently, he doesn’t approve of your girlfriend. Or her family. Mentioned something about questionable family lines.”

  She couldn’t be more awful if she had paid minions doing her evil bidding. As much as I dislike Hamilton, I almost feel sorry for him that he’s with Lucy-Kitty. This kitty has sharp claws.

  “Good thing I don’t care what he thinks,” Andrew says, squeezing my arm. “His opinion has little influence on my life these days.”

  “Hmm,” Kitty eyes him like she’s thi
nking of switching boyfriends. If she hissed at me, I wouldn’t be surprised.

  “This has been lovely.” Mumbling, I turn to Andrew. “Shall we?”

  Nodding, he keeps his focus on the two-headed blond beast blocking the sidewalk.

  “I’ll be sure to tell your father I ran into you,” Lucy-Kitty calls after us.

  A half block away, I burst into giggles. Andrew’s dry chuckle joins in and quickly turns to full out laughter. I have to stop and catch my breath. My hat falls off my head when I bend over to avoid hyperventilating.

  “Kitty,” I wheeze.

  “Meow,” Andrew whispers between laughs.

  Once I’m able to breathe again without cackling, I straighten up and wipe my eyes. “Stop. I can’t.”

  Andrew parts his lips and hisses.

  The sound is convincing enough I turn around to make sure he’s not hissing at an actual cat. Our feline shadow from earlier is nowhere in sight.

  “You don’t think …” I leave the sentence unfinished.

  He frowns, his brows pulling together. “Don’t think what? That a woman should change her name to Kitty or date Hamilton?”

  “Kitty. Cat. Feline.” I widen my eyes hoping he catches on.

  “Synonyms?” He’s clearly not getting what I’m hinting.

  “What if Lucy is our cat companion? I can’t remember who said it’s possible, but could she be able to switch bodies? Transform herself?”

  Behind his eyes, I see the pieces click into place when he finally understands.

  “You think she’s powerful enough for transmogrification? We don’t even know if she’s a witch at all.” His voice holds disbelief, but also concern. At least we’re on the same page now.

  The wind swipes at the exposed skin of my neck, sending a chill down my back. I lower my voice to a whisper. “Maybe we should head back to your house.”

  Leaning closer, he whispers, “Why are you whispering?”

  “I’m worried someone is listening. Or we’re still being followed.” I twist my neck to peer behind us toward the direction of the bar. There’s no sign of Lucy or Hamilton. In fact, the street is empty. We’re the only pedestrians on either sidewalk. Suddenly, I’m wishing for more people to be around or at least some car traffic. “We should go.”

  “Madison? You’re acting spooked. Do you see something?” He drapes his arm over my shoulders as we walk.

  Snuggling into his side, I crave more of his warmth. His proximity makes me feel better, safer. “The street is too quiet. Safety in numbers and all that.”

  “We’re only a few blocks from the house.”

  My hearing is on high alert for footsteps behind us. Every click of our shoes on the cobblestones as we cross the intersection echoes around us. A car door slams in the distance. The bass from a radio pulses as another car passes us.

  Even frequent glances behind us can’t quell my nerves.

  “No one is following us.” Andrew reassures me.

  “Cats are stealthy.” I don’t know who I’m trying to convince—him that we’re being stalked, or myself that we’re not.

  Most of the lights are off when we return to Sarah’s Victorian. She’s left on the sconces flanking the door and the chandelier in the foyer.

  “Can we leave discussion of Kitty and cats until the morning? Looks like Mom’s already gone to bed.” Andrew opens the gate and leads me up the short walk. “Or she’s giving us privacy.”

  Standing beside him while he unlocks the door, I scan the street for movement. Out of the corner of my eyes, a small shadow creeps across the lawn.

  “Andrew,” I barely whisper his name loud enough for him to hear. To make sure he’s listening, I squeeze his arm. “Something’s on the lawn.”

  “Do you see a blue haze?” he asks, slowly turning around to face the street.

  “No, this is happening now.” I squint, trying to differentiate shadow from object in the dark.

  A flash of black bounds up the steps a few feet away.

  Mr. Mistoffelees blinks his bright eyes and gives us a friendly meow before winding between our legs.

  My exhale is shaky and I feel all noodle-legged.

  “Mr. M, what are you doing outside?” Andrew scoops him up before he opens the door. “Prowling the yard for mice?”

  Peering at me over Andrew’s shoulder, the cat winks.

  Once we’re inside, the cat jumps down and dashes up the stairs.

  “Maybe it was our cat who was on the street and his eyes looked different in the street lights. He likes to make his rounds, visiting friends and scouting for new girlfriends.” Standing behind me, Andrew touches my shoulders, indicating I should take off my coat.

  “That’s plausible. But I want to talk to your mom more about familiars. And Lucy.”

  “In the morning,” he whispers, skimming my coat down my arms. “I want to take advantage of being alone with you.”

  The cool air of the foyer has nothing to do with the goosebumps that dot my arms. Removing my scarf, his breath warms my neck right before he places a kiss on the newly exposed skin. A soft moan breaks the silence.

  “Let’s go upstairs.” Andrew laces his fingers with mine and leads me up the flight to the second floor.

  A slice of soft light spills from underneath a closed door at the end of the hall that I assume is the guest room where Sam is staying. Mistoffelees is nowhere to be seen.

  By the time we reach Andrew’s room in the attic, my body is buzzing with anticipation.

  We’ve slept together in the same bed, but not slept together as in had sex. I’ve never seen him naked. At most I’ve been braless around him the one time I snuck into bed with him at the farmhouse. We’re taking things beyond slow. Then again, it’s been a wild few months with all the magic, exes, hexes, and covens.

  Not tonight though.

  Tonight, we’re alone. No interruptions. No ghosts or witches. Just us.

  He leads me over to the bed and then pauses to find a playlist on his phone. Soft instrumental music plays from a Bluetooth speaker someplace in the room.

  He steps closer to me. Kissing a line down from my ear along my jaw, his mouth hovers over mine. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. I’m happy to sleep next to you, if that’s what you want.”

  His permission to go slow has the opposite effect on me.

  I want to tell him to take off his pants. Instead, I tug his shirt free from his jeans and begin unbuttoning it. We get tangled up trying to remove each other’s clothes while also kissing. In terms of multi-tasking, we’re failures and end up laughing more than actually making out.

  Until we’re both left in our underwear, messed hair, panting and grinning at each other. I’m so glad I put on my good pink bra and matching underwear this morning. This is now my lucky bra.

  Andrew is pale in the weak light from the windows. Paler than even I am. A few dark hairs are sprinkled over his sculpted chest. More dark hair creates a trail from his navel down to his boxers. His strong, lean legs curve with muscles over his thighs and calves. My gaze lingers over the sharp outline of him tenting his boxers.

  “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, skimming his hands down my arms, letting the back of his fingers brush against my breasts before he touches my waist.

  I jump at the contrast of warm hands on my cool skin.

  “You’re cold. Let’s get under the covers.”

  Nervous, I practically dive under the thick down comforter, but resist pulling it up to my chin.

  Cocooned in the layers of soft bedding, we find each other in the near darkness. Kissing, touching, and exploring, time stops, and we’re left in a bubble with no past or future, only us in this moment together.

  There’s some fumbling and definitely awkward laughing, at least on my part when I headbutt him when he tries to unhook my bra, but it’s all so perfect because it’s Andrew.

  Surrounded by his scent, I’ve never been more sure about having sex with someone. I love him and he
loves me and this moment is better than my imagination could’ve ever dreamed.

  “Are you sure?” he asks, pulling back the covers and then brushing damp hair from my forehead.

  I nod and kiss him, sweeping my tongue in his mouth to confirm how sure I am.

  He locates a condom in his nightstand and I help him open the foil.

  “You’re everything to me, Madison.” He kisses me as he settles his body over mine. “I love you, and I always will.”

  “I love you.” I close my eyes to fight back a swell of emotion as our bodies join together.

  He’s gentle at first, allowing my body to adjust to him. We find our rhythm, our bodies knowing how to move together like this is the hundredth time we’ve done this rather than the first, climbing and reaching for our pleasure together as one. When I fall first, he’s quick behind me, arching above me while I wrap my arms around him, whispering my name as I watch him fall apart.

  After, we lie together, his weight pressing me into the mattress, catching our breaths and sharing soft kisses as we come down from the high of what we just shared.

  A few moments later, he whispers near my ear, “I’ll be right back.”

  Cool air replaces his heat when he leaves the bed to go to the bathroom.

  I snuggle deeper under the duvet, stretching and feeling a welcome soreness between my legs. I want to squee that I’ve just had sex with Andrew Wildes. I resist, but I do kick my feet a couple of times with glee.

  He returns, wearing the same plaid sleep pants he wore at the farmhouse. “Bathroom’s all yours.”

  I steal the shirt he wore earlier and pull it over my head. More because the room is cool than I’m shy. Locating my bag in the corner, I pull out my pajamas and bathroom supplies.

  Inside of the small bathroom, I’m brushing my teeth when the howling of a catfight shatters the silence of the house.

  It’s not coming from outside.

  Something crashes to the floor downstairs.

  Five

  Fighting cats create a particularly haunting sound. The caterwauling coming from downstairs carries through the house like a ghostly wailing, hinting at murder and bloodshed.