by Jill Nojack
Setting up the ritual is done quietly: everyone discussed their role before we left the house, and everyone knows what they need to do. Gillian and Jane set out a series of nine candles in a circle around the map, which Natalie has already placed at the center of the ritual grounds. I put a drop of rosemary on the base of each one. Once they're in place, we line up behind them, one person each to a candle, and wait for Natalie to nod. Then we pass a lit taper around the circle to light them up. In the silence, I can almost hear my heart still beating too fast.
Gillian, as the person closest to Tom for the longest period of time, begins a chant, and on the second repetition, others start to chant with her. At each repetition more and more join in, until we're chanting the words of the spell in one voice. Even me—I'm chanting as one with them, and as I do, my fear begins to ease away.
Gillian raises the silver pendant—a replica of a knife—she's been holding, and it hangs straight down, not moving. Then it begins to tilt inward slightly under its own power, toward the map and away from gravity. As our chant grows more urgent, the medallion continues to lift until it's floating out at an angle on its chain, the tip of the small blade pointing to the map. At the end of the next round, Gillian lets go of the chain and the pendant shoots to the map in an unwavering line, piercing the paper when it hits and sticking through the map into the dirt below.
With solemn grace, Gillian goes to the map and removes the marker. Then she says, "I'll be damned. He's at the pound."
I'm going to kill that bastard.
***
Gillian and I arrive at the pound on the edge of the town at least an hour before it opens. We want to make sure they don't have time to get started culling for the day. Operated by the county, it's a small, old, badly maintained building that smells of urine, feces, and decay.
There's a worker dressed in stained coveralls behind the counter, but when I try the door, it's still locked. Well, that's not stopping me today. I focus on the place at the base of my spine where Gillian says magic lives, and position my hand over the doorknob, willing it to move. A single, small blue spark leaps from a fingertip. It's enough. When I try again, the knob turns, and I head for the worker behind the counter.
"You've got my cat, and I want him now!"
"Look, sister, we're not open yet. You can wait outside," he says.
I'm ready to tear the place apart to get Tom out of there, but I keep it under control. The people who work here don't know what they have. Why would they? He's just another stray cat.
"Not good enough. He's a black kitten. Green eyes. He's mine, and I want him. So you're open for the day. Now."
He stands there for a minute, probably trying to decide how crazy I am. Apparently deciding it might not be worth the risk, he says, "Dang, keep yer hair on, lady. He's back here." Gillian and I follow behind him as he hooks a key off the wall and opens the door into the back.
When we reach Tom's cage and the workman opens the cage door for me to gently pick up the sleeping Cat, I'm barely bothered by the stench of urine and stale dog food. As far as I'm concerned it's the most amazing smell in the world, because it's brought Tom back to me.
I hold him close, rubbing my cheek against his soft fur, and he opens his eyes. I can hardly wait to get him home so that I can tell him what a good Tom he is.
Cassie clasps me to her chest, nuzzling me with her cheek as she carries me to the car. Even Gillian is tutting and cooing at me. I think they're glad to see me.
I've never been so happy in my life to see anyone as I am to see my two girls. And as soon as I'm able, I'm going to get even with Kevin. I'd like to see anyone try to stop me.
As I counted down the days in there, I was sure I'll end up a victim of their animal Auschwitz. If Cat had died in one of their chambers, no one would have seen me as I shifted. My human body would have succumbed to the gas soon after, crammed into a cage only big enough for a large dog. Even if I'd gotten another life, that one would go, too, pretty quick. I wonder how they'd have explained it if it was a man they removed from their gas chamber and not a cat.
When we get home, Cassie and Gillian politely turn their backs while Cassie says the words that make me human.
I let them know I'm respectable again once I've hurried into the clothes that were laid out for me. Both of them rush into my arms. A tear glistens at the corner of Gillian's eye—she's stopped being angry now, I know she has—but Cassie is openly sobbing. I want to join them out of sheer relief, but I don't cry; the best I can manage is a little mist. I didn't cry much before I was made Cat, but with Cat's influence, I haven't shed a real tear in years. Cats don't have the requisite emotions. I wonder if I'll ever have the ability again.
When we release each other, Gillian finally asks, "Tom, how did you end up in the pound?"
"Kevin caught me outside his window. When I woke up in a cage in the car, he told me that he had a pretty good idea of who I am—he knew I was Tom, at least. I think he's had some conversations with Robert on the subject."
"Why did he take you to the pound? Why didn't he just kill you himself?"
"Strangely enough, he didn't let me in on that part of the plan. My best guess is he didn't want to deal with what would happen if I shift when Cat dies. He has a good reason to suspect I would. Then he'd have a big, strong man to deal with instead of a defenseless cat. I don't think ol' Kevie has the courage to face a man. Plus, a man's body is a much bigger problem to dispose of. They use a gas chamber at the pound. I guess he figured that even if I shifted after Cat died, I'd be shifting into a poisoned environment. Their problem to deal with, I suppose."
Cassie reddens with anger. "I swear I'm going to kill him. I swear it."
I take her hand and hold it gently between both of mine to calm her. It feels good there. Right.
"I appreciate the sentiment, Cass, but I had a lot time to think, and he's not worth getting bent out of shape about. I thought he was, but that's what put me in the pound. I may be mostly cat, but my life, such as it is, is worth way more than his will ever be. And yours? Priceless. Never, ever risk yourself for me."
She gives me a look I can't interpret. Something's hidden in there behind her anger at Kevin, if only I could understand what it is. I continue. "We still have the original tape, so let's just talk to Robert now, before it gets any more out of hand. Kevin didn't mention him once while he bragged about his exploits. I'm beginning to believe Robert may not even know what his son's been up to. Plus, I think if he finds out, he's more than capable of reining Kevin in."
Gillian holds up her phone. "Dialing him now." She walks into the hall with the phone to her ear.
***
"That's taken care of," Gillian says, walking back into the sitting room. I'm still holding Cassie's hand, but Gillian's return makes me feel awkward, like I'm betraying her by hanging on to Cassie for too long. I let go.
"Get your video backed up before he gets here," Gillian tells Cassie. "You want to make sure he can't destroy your only copy if he manages to get it away from you."
"Already taken care of," Cassie says. Kevin's got the phone now, but the video was always in the cloud.
"And...Tom, you look like you just got caught with your hand in the cookie jar. Did I interrupt a moment there?"
Cassie flushes slightly. I look to my feet, not really sure what to say.
"Yes? No? Because I don't care. If you're worried that I do, you're at least thirty years too late for me to be able to work up any jealousy. I divorced you, I've forgiven you, and that's that." I look for any sign that she's hiding her feelings for me, but she's telling the truth. She may not be angry any more, but she's not holding a torch for me, either. Still, how could there be a moment? I'm years older than Cassie, no matter what I look like. And I know she can't cope with what I am, the thing that I am.
"Just celebration and friendship," I say. I look to Cassie, but she's conspicuously looking everywhere but at me. Does that mean something?
Gillian's phone chim
es. After she glances at the screen, she says, "I need to get this. France," and she's off again to the hall.
I sit on the couch. Cassie sits, too, in the big armchair, looking across at me.
"Did you feel like that was a 'moment', like Gillian said?"
"Um..uh...you mean between you and me?"
"Yes, I'm pretty sure that's what I'm talking about. Was there someone in the room I didn't notice?"
She looks flustered again. "Don't be an ass. I'm not comfortable with this conversation."
"But you missed me? In that way?"
"Yeah, well...who wouldn't want a boyfriend who's exactly like a cuddly kitten?"
I'm not sure what to say to that. Did she miss the man or the cat?
Gillian bursts back in. My ex has amazing timing. She does a take, but I can't read what's in her eyes.
"That was the high priestess of the Côte-Louanne coven. She's traveling here with Aurelie, the granddaughter of the woman who was high priestess when Eunice was in France. Aurelie's grandmother is too old to travel, but the coven members agreed they want to do something to see if they can help." She grabs me and engulfs me in a bosomy hug. "I'm happy for you, if something comes of this."
Gillian turns to Cassie. "She also reminded me that before she gets here tomorrow night, we need to find out if I can make Tom shift."
She turns back to me. "Tom, do you mind? We have to know if Cassie is the only one who can control the spell. I need to try to shift you with your spell words."
I nod.
Gillian takes a deep breath, and I hold my breath, too. I'm not sure what it will mean if she can use the magic, but I'm dying to find out.
She's taking too long to say it. My hands fly up in frustration. "Well?"
She takes another deep breath and lets it out slowly. "Okay, here I go...bad Tom!"
Nothing happens. Gillian tries again, and still, nothing happens. "Oh bugger, that's not the best outcome."
I'm watching Gillian when she says it, and the worried look on her face scares me. "What's that mean?"
"I'm not sure yet. The French witches have been a tad opaque on the subject." I don't believe her. I know her well, and her expression says she knows something. She turns to Cassie and asks, "Did Eunice ever have you participate in any ritual or spell in which she passed an intimate possession of hers to you?"
"What do you mean by intimate possession?"
"Hair, skin, anything that contains living cells from her body? Or an object that you keep with you that could contain her tissue?"
"No, nothing like that. She did give me this locket, and I've worn it every day since she did," Cassie says, hooking a small golden locket out of her just-the-right-amount-of cleavage. "I guess I should probably get rid of it now. But it just has a picture of both of us inside. And I don't remember any ritual that went with it."
Gillian moves to Cassie and lifts the locket from Cassie's hand to look at it. "Could you take it off, sweetheart? I want to get a good look at what's inside."
Cassie hands it to her, and Gillian takes the locket and opens it, sliding out the portrait of Eunice on the one half and Cassie on the other. "There doesn't appear to be anything hidden under the pictures, so nothing suspicious here. I don't think the locket is anything to worry about. We'll need to figure this out later. The high priestess will want to try to determine what Eunice has done before she makes recommendations to undo it. Until then, we just sit tight."
When Cassie takes the locket back, she slips it into her pocket instead of around her neck.
***
High priestess Maryse—who I'd judge to be about the same age Eunice was—has an elegance which is enhanced by a soft voice and speaking only in French. I bet she was queen of the hop in her day. Aurelie, who looks to be in her mid-twenties and is built like a brick outhouse, is no slouch, either. There's something about French women. And British women. And American women. And that's why I was always in trouble when I was young.
Maybe I've grown up, because the beautiful French girl sitting on the couch across from me does nothing for me. It's not that I'm immune to her beauty, it's just that the purely sexual doesn't mean as much as it once did. I'm pretty sure the screwed up relationship I semi-agreed to with Eunice had something to do with that, whether or not I've matured.
The priestess places a few objects on a brightly colored cloth she earlier spread out on the coffee table in front of her. A stone, an arrow shaped piece of metal, some crushed herbs.
Aurelie interprets Maryse's words in her lyrical accent, "Cassie, you must sit here in front of me and place your hands on either side of the table, so..." The elder woman demonstrates by laying her own hands on the sides of the arrangement she's made. Aurelie continues to interpret as the priestess nods to Gilly. "Could you light the candles and then turn off the lights?" Gilly speaks French just fine, so the translation was meant for the rest of us.
Cassie lowers herself to the floor with her back resting on the couch between the priestess's legs. When Gillian turns the lights off and the room is lit only by two candles, one at each end of the table, the witch places her hands on either side of Cassie's head. She speaks softly in French again. I don't know what she's saying, and Aurelie is no longer interpreting.
As she chants, Cassie begins to glow—she's enveloped by an aura that coalesces to a soft yellow which is split throughout by faint black lines, spreading like cobwebs. It's there for just an instant, then the priestess takes her hands away from Cassie's head, opens her eyes, and Aurelie tells Gillian to turn the lights back on. If Cassie could see the look on the priestess's face, I think she'd be upset.
Gillian can see the look. When she speaks, her voice broadcasts concern. "So, is there something? Is it..."
"It's no good." The priestess says through her interpreter. "She is infested with an external force that runs through all parts of her body. I believe because of the pattern I saw in her aura that it is in her blood."
Cassie gets up then. "Guys, I'm right here." She steps away and around the coffee table, to stand facing the priestess. "What's in my blood?"
The priestess nods to the younger woman, who turns to Cassie. Cassie's eyes dart from one to another as Aurelie turns the foreign words into English. "Another life essence. A piece of your grandmother. The spell responds to the living presence of the maker."
"So, freaky, right? But what does it mean?" Her eyes dart back and forth again as Aurelie interprets her question.
"It may be nothing. Was there ever a time when you and your grandmother mingled blood?"
"Actually, yeah. I was in a car accident when I was little. I needed blood, and my grandmother donated some for me."
Maryse listens quietly as Aurelie repeats what Cassie said and then replies. "That would explain it. Now, the question is—was your grandmother the kind of woman who would intentionally use a child for her own ends even if by doing so, it harmed her?"
Cassie stands there silently. I don't think she understands what the priestess is saying. But I do. I speak right up. "She would use a child, even her own grandchild, without a moment's hesitation. I don't doubt it for a minute."
The priestess looks directly into Cassie's eyes. "Then my fear is that your grandmother gave you her blood for a purpose we cannot currently guess. Witches do not donate blood. It is irresponsible. I doubt she would have done it so that she could pass her slave to you. Unless you knew about him and wanted him as yours?"
Her face flushes furiously. "No way! Sometimes I still have trouble believing any of this, and I want Tom to be free as much as anyone."
"You must then be wary as you go through life, for the purpose of this spell has not yet shown itself. It may be that she changed her mind or that you have already fulfilled her purpose without your knowledge. Or maybe I am just a suspicious old woman. However, now that we know why you can control the shift, we can look for a pathway to undo it. In this case, I believe it fortunate you have the essence of your grandmother. It may be required to
reverse or alter the spell."
Cassie nods her head and holds out her arm. "Any way I can help. Try not to bleed me dry."
Maryse smiles. "For now, I ask that you leave me with Tom," Aurelie interprets, then leaves to follow the others.
"Tom?" The priestess nods and gestures to the seat between her knees that Cassie has just vacated. "S’il vous plaît?"
***
The priestess's hands feel warm despite resting on my hair. They must be generating an unusual amount of heat. Then I feel the warmth begin to work its way through my body. I don't know if I'm generating a visible aura. I see nothing happening around me. But I feel safe, protected.
After a long period, the priestess calls to the others and she pushes at my shoulders to let me know we're done. I get up and sit across from her, but I don't rush questions at her as Aurelie comes back into the room. I get the sense she doesn't want to tell what she's learned until everyone is ready.
***
We're arranged again around the priestess in the sitting room, Cassie on the arm of my chair, Gillian in the overstuffed armchair that Cat prefers, and Aurelie next to her high priestess on the couch. She's brought her a cup of herbal tea lightened with milk. The priestess sips at it delicately before she speaks.
Aurelie interprets, "The magic which binds this man is certainly the magic of our coven's joined ones, but there are other threads contained in it—threads I do not recognize. Eunice could not have learned as much as she did within our coven. She was a novice, not the powerful witch who could have done this thing. I am not convinced that the polite young woman I knew could ever have cast this complex magic."