The Familiar

by Jill Nojack

  "Sorry I scared you. Cat too long. I become Cat. Have trouble thinking."

  I figure I might as well start the interrogation even though Gilly isn't here yet. What else are we going to talk about?

  "Are you sure it was Kevin last night?" I ask. "Did you see his face? Because I never got a look at him before he knocked me over. I just smelled that nervous sweat, and maybe valerian?"

  "Yes, Kevin. But all covered. Only smelled him."

  "Kreepy Kevin. But why?"

  "Storeroom. Secret packages. Illegal trade. Potent magic. Gilly can get you in. Good with locks. Magic locks." Tom rubs his eyes with the back of his hand and looks tired after his long string of words.

  "Is that why there's no key?"

  "Yes. Magic to lock it. Magic to open it. Not safe. Get rid of stuff. All stuff."

  "Great...yeah, I'll put it on the to-do list."

  "I want you to be safe." Tom's green eyes look so sincere. My loyal kitten, right? Protecting me again. He reaches for my hand where it rests on the table and squeezes it gently. "I want you to be safe."

  Well, that doesn't feel at all kitteny. I pull my hand away.

  "Let's finish eating, and then Gillian will be here, and we can see how good she is with that lock."

  "Tape!" Tom bursts out then. "Tape!" He walks behind the counter and shoves aside the box that covers granny's digital recording system. The lights are green because we've been moving around and it's on a motion sensor.

  I run the recording back, and there it is: a man comes in through the shop door, completely covered in a set of black coveralls. He heads for the storeroom. Tom attacks. The intruder kicks him viciously over and over again, then turns when I come in. How is it possible I didn't see him? I mean, I know the tape is on infrared, but there was enough light for me to see Tom. Why couldn't I see the man who was standing right in front of me?

  ***

  Just a few blue sparks from Gillian's fingertips and the storeroom door is open. We walk inside and take inventory of the shelves silently. She turns to me with unease settling into her face.

  "Cassie, this is very bad magic. Tom's right about getting it out of here before someone comes for it. I'm also still not happy about invisible prowlers whether or not we think we know who he was."

  I pick up the jars and read the labels—tiger penis, rhino horn, giraffe brain—all the stuff you hear about that poachers are killing endangered species for. "Wow. I agree, but how do we do that?"

  "Box it up, dear. I've got the SUV. We can take it out to the ritual grounds and destroy it."

  Tom has been quiet, waiting outside the storeroom door, but he rouses then. "Won't stop Kevin coming back."

  "No, it won't. You're right, Tom. I guess we'll call him and tell him where to find us while we burn it." Tom starts to object, but Gillian shushes him. "Tom, I can take care of myself, and Cassie, too, against someone like Kevin. We'll be fine. Are the client and supplier lists somewhere?"

  I pick up a stack of paper and rifle through it. "Yeah, it looks like this is it. At least, these aren't suppliers or customers I ever met or ordered from when I worked here. That guy who sent someone for a package the other day, Mr. Liu? He's on here."

  "Good," Gillian says. "We throw that in the fire once we've got Kevin's attention. He needs to know that there's nothing to save from Eunice's little business on the side. Then maybe there won't be any more problems in the shop at night.

  "Yeah, but that won't stop the clients coming in, will it?" I ask. Going on to answer myself, I say, "It won't. So before we destroy that list, I'm going to call everyone on there and tell them they'll need to find another place to shop."

  Gillian gives me a smile. "Now you're thinking like Marty's star shortstop! I knew you could handle it."

  Maybe. But no matter what, we've got a long day ahead of us.

  Tom helps Gillian pack up the contents of the storeroom in boxes while I make the calls. I mostly get answering machines, so that makes my job easier. I say my grandmother has died, the business has changed hands, there will be no more packages, and the stock has been destroyed. I work my way through the list of thirty or so customers pretty quickly.

  I can hear Tom and Gillian talking softly while they work. I wonder what they say to each other after all these years. I can't even begin to guess, but it sounds private, intimate. Even though they were married, he looks young enough to be her grandson, if she had a grandson with broad shoulders, slim hips, and a perfectly rounded butt. Not to mention sexy green eyes with a hint of mystery hanging out over a smirky smile.

  What I mean is that there's not much chance of them getting back together now, even if she does forgive him. That's the only reason I even notice what he looks like.

  ***

  I'd been out to the big clearing in Corey woods lots of times, but I never knew it was the ritual grounds for the coven. Gillian fills me in on this part of my heritage as we drive out to the south side of town at dusk in her old Land Rover, the boxes of dangerous stock piled up in back.

  Gillian starts a fire in the central pit while I carry the boxes from the truck to sit beside it. She gets a good start, and after I've got the boxes ready, I go off into the woods to grab some bigger pieces of dry wood to really stoke it up.

  With the extra wood, the bonfire is huge. "So, what do you think?"

  Gilly empties a jar into the flames, and the contents sizzle. "I think it's time you called Kevin."

  I take a deep breath and steel myself for it. I'm not much of one for bravery, but it's all wrapped up together, isn't it? The things Granny Eunice did. The things that Kevin and Robert knew about and want to take over. It's hard for me to think of Granny being someone who would make Tom a slave or trade in endangered species, but the evidence is all around me.

  I always jumped when Granny said jump. She had such confidence—I admired her so much. Maybe it's time for me to grow up and talk back to what is clearly a wrong picture of who she was. I pull up the contact I made for Kevin from Granny's rolodex before we left the house and bring the phone to my mouth.

  "Kevin? You need to come out to the ritual grounds. We're burning a few things you tried to get your hands on the other night. Thought you might like to say goodbye to them."

  "What? What?" he splutters in that icky-oily voice of his.

  "Hanging up now. You really need to get here before everything goes up in smoke."

  I disconnect and start filming as Gillian empties the contents of jars, plastic bags, and boxes into the flames, naming their contents as she does. The video is a backup in case Kevin doesn't show up in time.

  Did I worry that Kevin wouldn't show up? Really? What was I thinking? His classic silver Merc comes barreling down the road. He nearly plows it into Gillian's parked SUV when he slams on the breaks and the car slides on the loose gravel. Kevin hops out the driver side and starts briskly toward us as Robert exits from the passenger side more slowly.

  "What the hell are you doing? Do you know what that stock is worth?" In the reflected firelight, his comb-over catches a breeze, and the long strands stand straight up above a face contorted with rage. So there's the Kevin who was lurking behind that constant smile. Definitely a whole different guy than he pretends to be.

  "I do. But it's my inheritance, isn't it? And I don't want an inheritance like this." I turn toward my partner in crime and indicate the jar she's holding. "What's that one, Gilly?"

  "Giraffe something. Brains? She opens the jar and tosses the contents into the fire. "It might as well be sweetbreads, now, though. And I do think that's the last of it."

  I pull the folded sheets of supplier and customer names out of my back pocket, keeping an eye on Kevin as he stalks closer with Robert behind him. He yelps and grabs his left shoulder, his face contorting in pain, when he runs smack into the barrier Gillian put up before they got here. His over-the-top reaction is proof positive it was him I nailed with my turn at bat. It was difficult for me to believe something I couldn't see would keep hi
m out just as it was difficult to believe that someone I couldn't see could be in the shop, but I'm no longer worried. Gillian has got to teach me that. I smile as Robert pulls up short behind him.

  "I see you've run into a barrier, there, boys. Too bad. I guess you won't be able to stop us burning the customer list, then." I turn and hand the sheaf of papers to Gillian, smiling. "Gillian, would you do the honors?"

  We share a smile as she takes half the papers, and we feed them into the fire sheet by sheet, giving each one a flourish on the way to the flame. It doesn't take long, but boy, are we having fun.

  I turn back to where Kreepy stands, still spluttering. "Okay. That was the last of it. The client and supplier names. There's nothing you might want in my little shop now, so don't break in any more, okay? If you decide to try it, I've still got my bat, and I bet I could score a good hit on your other shoulder, too. Plus, I don't think I'll be giving up Corey Woods, either. It seems I have a heritage here that I never knew about. And I've decided I'm going to stick around and become more familiar with it."

  Robert is talking under his breath to Kevin now, and from what I catch, it isn't pretty.

  Kevin starts to say something, but his father cuts him off. "I'll handle this." Then he turns to face me. "You're right. There's no longer anything in the shop Kevin might want. I want you to know that I didn't know what he'd done until just now. My apologies for any damage he caused in the store. We'll be on our way." He turns to Kevin, "Come on. We're done here," and stalks to the car, refusing to look at his son further.

  "Oh my," says Gillian as the Merc throws up a scatter of pebbles when it backs around to leave, "I think we may have touched off a family squabble."

  "Yeah, looks like. I know I feel real sorry about that." Gillian and I grin at each other like the madwomen we are.

  She puts her arm around me and flings her other hand out toward the barrier. There's a slight sizzling sound as it dissolves.

  Oh yeah, she is so going to teach me that. I don't care how crazy this is, because it's crazy exciting, too.

  I'm in.

  "That's taken care of," says Tom, as he finishes mashing the fennel in the mortar and dumps it into a jar, putting the scoop back on top before he seals it back up with the lid. "All the loose herb jars are filled, and I rearranged the storerooms now that there's some extra space. I put the perishables in the small storeroom to take advantage of the dehumidification and separate thermostat."

  "Thanks. Good idea," I say, as Tom turns and heads down the hall. He doesn't seem to have any problem expressing himself now that's he's been human for a few days, and he's been super helpful with a lot of stuff around the house and shop. He's even teaching me what all the herbs and potions can be used for when they're infused with magic. He doesn't have any magic of his own, not since Eunice did to him what she did, but Gillian says she'll teach me how to use mine, so I've been taking notes.

  I watch him walk toward the parlor where he'll stay out of sight while the shop is open. I can't help but admire the way his jeans fit. More men should wear bell bottoms. It's a look.

  Omigod. Where's my brain? I just snuck a look at the butt of a guy who's in his sixties or something—Gillian's age, at least. And he's Gillian's ex-husband. I should have my eyes removed and burned, shouldn't I? But, well, I've seen Tom in the raw a couple of times now, and Gilly was one lucky woman. And it's not like Tom looks or acts like he's sixty.

  I think about Dan now, force of habit, I guess, and how he would look just as yummy in bell bottoms with his short, blonde hair, killer tan, and sculpted abs. Suddenly, I miss him intensely. I miss the way he held me and the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. I miss his arm thrown across my body as I sleep. I miss everything about him in a big, giant ache. I press my eyes shut for a minute. I force myself to remember how badly he hurt me. Otherwise, I'd take out my phone and hit the call button.

  ***

  I'm thinking about what to make for dinner while I look up when Tom calls from the back, "Hey, I've got a surprise for you. Come upstairs when you're done."

  Can't imagine what it might be. At least he's not dropping mice at my feet any more.

  I walk up the stairs, and I see he's moved the kitchen table into the living room. It's laid out with Granny's best dining things—fancy linen table cloth, silver candlesticks with candles lit, and the good tableware, including a classy sixties white bone china with a simple platinum rim. The goblets are similarly rimmed with platinum. It looks gorgeous. There's a lovely smell coming out of the kitchen, too, but I have to tease him.

  "Wow, Tom, you put a lot of work into this! And you cooked, right? Because it wouldn't be much of a surprise if I have to spend hours in the kitchen making something good enough to put on this table."

  He stands in the kitchen doorway, one of Granny's old frilly aprons tied on over his sixties garb with that lopsided, sexy smirk on his face. He looks ridiculously adorable that way. He's got a bottle in either hand.

  "I definitely cooked. And I'm good at it. A talent I inherited from my mother. But I'll let you decide on the pre-dinner cocktails while we wait for the chicken to be done." He puts one of the bottles forward and then the other, "So, will it be rum in your mai tai or bourbon in your mint julep?"

  Not being a cocktail kind of girl, I don't know which one to pick. They both sound good. And brimming with much needed alcohol. "What are you having?"

  "Neither. I still have to focus hard to think like a human, so it's not a good idea to scramble my thoughts any more than necessary. But if you're looking for a recommendation, I'd say I'm partial to the mai tai."

  I smile. "Okay, that's what I'll have then."

  Tom disappears into the kitchen and returns with the drink. "Sorry about the lack of garnish, but while the liquor cupboard is still fully stocked the way Eunice liked it, there aren't any cherries or pineapple. I was glad to find the lime juice, though."

  I take a sip and quickly decide I may become a mai tai fan. "That's fantastic!"

  "Glad it hits the spot. You relax, and I'll have dinner out in a jiffy."

  I do relax, finally, for what feels like the first time in a long time. It's only been a little over two weeks since Granny died and I left Dan, but those weeks have been packed with the most emotional and bizarre events of my entire life. I still don't understand how Granny was able to keep me shielded from the goings-on of her witchy life. Not to mention being an illegal importer as well as the owner of a shape-shifting house slave.

  I say "house slave", but I'm pretty sure that it was something more. I mean, that box of "toys" she had upstairs and Tom's generous helping of hotness...but there's no way I'm going there and asking those questions. No way at all.

  I just hope that the three of us who are in on Tom's predicament can figure out a way to get him free of it soon.

  He's made roasted chicken with onions and potatoes. The potatoes are buttery and crusted with herbs, and the chicken is moist on the inside with just the right amount of crispy on the outside. He's also opened the baby carrots I bought yesterday and cooked them in a butter sauce. The food is amazing. But I think Tom will have to learn new cooking skills since a lot of the meal depends on butter, including the perfectly browned skin on the chicken. I'm tempted to pick it off, but it's one meal, right? I can go low fat again tomorrow. Yeah, I won't say anything. Why ruin a fantastic meal with a gorgeous man over a few hundred calories?

  I look up from my plate, and Tom is watching me instead of eating. His messy, longish brown hair makes him look like he just got out of bed. He smiles, and I feel myself blushing like a kid and getting hot and bothered, too. Come on, Cassie, get yourself together. This isn't a date, so stop reacting like it is. The man was a cat like only a week ago.

  I say, "It's all just really delicious."

  "It's nothing. I wanted to say thank you for everything you've done for me." He lowers his eyes back to his meal, but I can't stop thinking about how brightly emerald green they are, and how th
ey'd pierce my defenses if I'd bothered putting any up.

  Geez, I'm having what my old Sunday School teacher would call "inappropriate thoughts" about a guy who is wearing my former cat's collar. Not to mention all the other incredibly good reasons not to be thinking of him like that.

  Then suddenly, I have no trouble readjusting my attitude to something more "appropriate" as he launches off his chair to grab a spider off the wall and stick it in his mouth. I think I'm going to be sick. Okay, maybe I'm not going to be sick, but I'm definitely no longer turned on.

  ***

  Tom doesn't come back to the dinner table. Instead, he sinks to his knees with his face in his hands and hangs his head, shaking it back and forth. I don't think he's crying, but I couldn't say for sure.

  "Tom?"

  "I'm so embarrassed. Even though my human side is in charge again, Cat's still a part of me. And he needs to hunt. It's who he is." Tom raises his head, and those sexy green eyes look a little crazed now.

  "Would it help if you were Cat for a while? I mean, do you need to be Cat every so often? 'Cause this werecat thing you've got going on, does it have rules like that?"

  "Maybe. I've almost never been human this long at one time since..." His voice trails off and he's quiet for a moment. "Eunice kept me as Cat unless she wanted something. Even then, if she needed me to redecorate or do other manual labor, she'd shift me to Cat afterward unless she wanted me that night in bed."

  I so do not want to know that last part even though I'd suspected it. But wow, not going there. I don't need to think about Gran that way when I'm still so mixed up about her. "Well, what do you think, then, if you don't know?"

  "I think yes, I probably need to spend an hour or two as Cat."