The Familiar

by Jill Nojack

  Cassie stands up. "Whatever. We're going. You can drop off the birth certificate at the shop." Man, I'm proud of her.

  "You'll have it by Friday. But before you go, I need your help. Tom, could you get him out of the chair and lay him down on his stomach? Keep his arms tied, though."

  "You have a reason?"

  "I'm high priest. A member of my coven has abused the magic the Goddess gave him in ways that would displease her. It's my responsibility to make sure he can't do it again." Robert looks suddenly very old and very tired.

  I wrangle Kevin onto the floor. He's going to have an oozy, red rug burn on his left cheek. It will be a nice complement to the now yellowing bruise below his eye.

  Robert waves a hand above his head and the room is suddenly dark. He kneels with one knee on Kevin's back, holding him in place. It looks painful for both of them. He sets his right palm on his son's lower spine and closes his eyes, tilting his head upward, murmuring to the Goddess. Red magic—the color of strength and also of mercy—flows out from his hand. When the light extinguishes, he reaches a hand to me and I help him to his feet, silently.

  We turn to leave, but Kevin says, "Any chance of you untying me?"

  I don't even look at him. I just toss a knife from a kitchen drawer into the living room. As Robert holds the back door open for Cassie, I ask, "What did you do to him?"

  "I don't know how to bind his power—that's beyond me—but he won't be able to touch anything imbued with magic without being badly burned. You have nothing to worry about from him now."

  "Nuts! That's what I forgot. Hang on." I go to Kevin's room and poke around. In the top of his closet I find a paper bag that appears to be empty but has bulk and heft to it. I feel inside, and I can feel the rough fabric of a pair of coveralls. Even if he can't use magic again, which I don't fully trust, I'm not leaving it here.

  When I return with the bag to the back door, Cassie and Robert are standing on the stoop, having a friendly conversation. He's her employer, after all. I'm going to have to learn to accept him.

  ***

  "I'm so excited!" Gillian says, as she meets us at the door into the sitting room. "I could barely sit still waiting for you."

  "Yeah, it's great—I get a birth certificate that matches my face instead of my age. And that bastard Kevin won't be messing with any more women without their knowledge. So, it's a good day all 'round."

  "No! I mean Maryse has a way to give you the power to transform yourself. Cassie will still be able to shift you, but the magic will work as it was meant to work. You'll be able to control your own form."

  I'm overcome for a moment, silent. The Cat's got my tongue, so to speak. When I recover, I can only ask, "When?"

  "We're waiting for the nurse to arrive."

  "Nurse?"

  "It's not a ritual. You just need some of Cassie's blood. We tried to make it complicated, but in the end, it's so simple." Cassie and I follow her into the sitting room, where the French witches have turned the coffee table into an altar again. "Of course, a purification ritual beforehand is always a good idea. We are witches, after all."

  Cassie teases, "Hey! I haven't agreed to this yet. Maybe I don't want to share my life essence with the guy." She pauses, making a big thing out of turning her eyes up like she's thinking. "Then again, he's the only cat I've ever had who didn't make me clean a litter box, so I suppose he deserves a reward for good behavior."

  I have to admit I like it when she's sassy. Plus, she's grinning almost as broadly as I am at the news.

  I'm going to be a real man again. Not a puppet for anyone. Even if Cassie went evil and tried to use the shifter magic against me, I'd be able to shift myself right back. I'd be more excited if I could separate from Cat altogether, but Aurelie already explained to me it doesn't work that way. We can't be unjoined once we've been put together. It's an even bigger commitment than marriage.

  "So, does this nurse know why she's going to be moving blood from me to Tom?" Cassie asks. "Because I'd think that's kind of a strange request."

  "Sweetheart, healing and witchcraft are a great mix. It's Natalie who's coming. She's retired now, but she's expert at drawing blood and giving shots. Just watch her to make sure she doesn't walk out with anything extra. I know she usually returns things later, but sometimes the kleptomania fails to amuse."

  Natalie arrives, and Aurelie dims the lights. Maryse says something to her in French, and she nods. "Only Natalie, Cassie, and Tom are to stay. Gillian, you and I—would you like to go for a walk? The moon is beautiful tonight."

  The high priestess completes the ritual in the candlelight. I don't understand a word she says, but I feel Cat quieting inside me as the room is cleansed of upsetting influences. It leaves such a feeling of peace, and Cassie is fully relaxed now, too. She goes from slightly pretty to stunningly beautiful in the candlelight as all the small muscles in her face relax into the calm left in the ritual's wake.

  "Tom, do you know your blood type?" Natalie asks after a period of time in the calm.

  "It's O positive."

  "Are you absolutely sure?"

  "Yes, absolutely. I donated blood several times with Gillian during the war."

  "Good. And Cassie, you're the same?"

  "Yes. And that's a definite, too."

  "Good, that means there's little risk of danger from the transfusion. However, I want someone to keep an eye on you for twenty-four hours afterward—no running out to the bars, understand? I'm only moving a few drops of blood over, but I need to know if anything unusual happens over the next day."

  I nod obediently. This is a side of Natalie I haven't seen before. She's surprisingly competent. "Absolutely. No running to the bars. I'll just get falling-down drunk right here."

  Cassie rolls her eyes as Natalie swabs the skin on her inner elbow with alcohol.

  "Ready?" Natalie asks as she positions Cassie's arm. Cassie nods and turns her head away, then Natalie eases the needle in. She must have done a good job. Or maybe Cassie is braver than I am about needles. She doesn't react at all. Her bright-red blood flows up into the syringe and Natalie removes it, pressing a cotton ball against the bead of blood that tries to flow away.

  Then, it's my turn. Natalie slides the needle into my arm after preparing it with alcohol. I wince when cooling blood mixes with my own. Not a comfortable sensation.

  When it's done, Natalie cleans up and packs up. It feels ordinary. Not what I expected at all.

  "Well, dumbass, are you going to say it?" Cassie blurts out.

  "Don't say the words. Think them only. The signal words must be held secret. None of you must speak of this. The magic of my coven must be protected so that it is never corrupted again," the high priestess says in slow, careful English that none of us knew she understood until that minute. That's a surprise. Who knows what all that interpreting was about. Sheesh. Witches.

  We murmur agreement.

  "Then use your inner voice, Tom Sanders, brother of my coven."

  I take a moment to mentally prepare myself for the pain, and then I think the words. Cat pushes his way out of me as I draw into him. Somehow, the pain is barely there. Maybe because, for the first time, no part of me is fighting the change. I allow myself and Cat to truly be one. I crawl out from under my shirt, and I'm happy to be walking lightly across the floor on his tiny, padded feet.

  Cat finds his way to Cassie's legs and winds his way around them, purring and rubbing his head against her in thanks. He's expressing the thing I don't know how to say—my gratitude for the gift she gave me.

  She reaches down and scratches behind my ears briefly. I have a feeling if she knew how that feels for me, she'd be embarrassed she did it in public.

  Gillian and Aurelie come in the back door, and Maryse calls to them to join us. Cassie sits in the big armchair. I jump into her lap and think good Tom.

  I grab a pillow to preserve what's left of my modesty, but everyone's laughing so hard that I don't think Cassie minds having a lapful of naked m
e.

  Cat shifts to Tom, and I've got a lap full of undiluted man. My brain can't decide if it's thrilled or mortified, but my body is voting for thrilled. Gillian and Aurelie have just come in, so everybody gets to witness his little joke. I laugh with them, though. With everything I've learned since Granny died, I can't get uptight about unimportant things any more. Plus, I do have a lapful of naked Tom, so everyone has to be thinking, 'Wow! Lucky Cassie.'"

  Omigod! Tom has control over his shifting, and he can leave the house! I want to kiss him with joy for what's happened, but there are way too many people hanging around. You should never kiss a naked man in front of his ex-wife and a roomful of elderly ladies.

  Gillian stops laughing first and gets Tom's robe. She tosses it to him, and everyone except Natalie politely looks away as he drops his privacy pillow and leverages himself off the arm of the chair to get decent. Once he's in his robe, he excuses himself to grab his heap of clothes and get dressed again in the bathroom.

  The atmosphere careens from ritual to party, but with half the guests being over sixty, it quiets down pretty fast. Gillian and Natalie take their leave after Maryse heads up the stairs on Aurelie's steadying arm. Tom and I are alone.

  Tom goes to the kitchen and starts rattling around. As I pack up the candles and candlesticks from the cleansing ritual, Tom flips the light switch off with his elbow on the way into the room, He has a glass of wine in each hand. I retrieve a candle I've just put away and light it again.

  He hands me a glass, and I sit back in the big overstuffed chair, looking at him over the candle flame as he sips at his wine.

  "Hard to believe that wine comes in a box these days. What will they think of next?"

  I shrug. When did wine not come in a box?

  "You know, I can get my own place as soon as Robert gets me that birth certificate if you want me to. From there, I can get a social security number, and even a passport." He keeps his eyes on my face the whole time. He says it, but he doesn't seem eager to move out.

  "Yeah, I know you can." The thought of him not being here makes me sad. Then again, I'm not sure if it's because I'll miss Cat snuggling up next to me or laughing and teasing with Tom over breakfast. The living situation has been pretty weird.

  "Do you want me to go?"

  "No."

  "Do you want me to stay?"

  "I don't know. The idea of you and Cat not being here..." I try not to give too much away, but I think I'm probably blushing. The tips of my ears are hot.

  "I might try to downplay the whole Cat part of my future relationships. It's not exactly a trump card for most people."

  Then I get this hope that he's hinting toward the thing that's making me blush and ask, "So, do you mean like male/female stuff, like you and me, because..."

  Tom looks tired all of a sudden. I'd forgotten that despite his jokes and bravado, he was basically my evil grandmother's sex toy for half a century. I can't keep wallowing in my own hurt over Dan and thinking sexy Tom could be a convenient painkiller. Despite the lusty stuff, I think I really care about him. We've been through a lot together. "Whatever happens, Tom, there's enough room for the three of us here, I think, as long as Cat doesn't insist on bringing his girlfriends around."

  We sit there, quietly sipping our wine until Tom stands up, walks over to me, and kisses me on the top of the head. Like I'm his daughter or something.

  With that fatherly kiss, I suddenly feel like I've been completely on the wrong page about what I thought might be going on between us: have I been reading the signs through wishful-thinking-colored glasses? What was he doing naked in my lap, then?

  But he doesn't move away, just leaves his hands there on my shoulders, his mouth still touching my hair. I tip my head back to look at him. Our eyes meet, and our lips meet, and my heart lurches wildly inside my chest. Tom's hands move to my hair, stroking it softly as our mouths slide tentatively together, mine opening against his gently probing tongue, until he finally pulls away, leaving me breathless.

  He steps back and announces, "Thank you. Thank you for teaching me how not to be alone…I'm…I'm going out to hunt." And just like that, he's a cat, and I'm watching his furry little butt disappear through the open window.

  I go to bed as soon as Tom leaves because the wine and the activity of the day and the confusion left by that kiss have worn me out. I wake to the sound of purring an hour or two later. Cat is sitting in the velvet bedside chair, preening himself with his claws outspread, his pink tongue making a rhythmic, orderly circuit of each of his toes in turn.

  I reach out my hand and Cat's head rubs against it, putting an end to his grooming session. He jumps down from the chair, and disappears through the doorway. It seems Tom just stopped in to let me know that everything is okay.

  Maybe we'll talk about that kiss tomorrow.

  It's so awkward at breakfast. I can't believe how the easy relationship we'd begun to develop changed so much over one little kiss. Tom is quiet and thoughtful. He keeps looking at me strangely. I don't know what he's thinking, and finally I just have to blurt it out as he slips a perfectly cooked piece of French Toast onto my plate.

  "Tom, talk to me. Why did you leave last night? There wasn't anything wrong with what we did."

  "No, Cass. We didn't do anything wrong. But I shouldn't have kissed you. I've tried to be honest with you, but it's been so long since I was human, I don't always remember how."

  I smile at him then. "I think you're doing a good job. Better than a lot of guys I've known."

  "I'm not going for just 'better than a lot of guys'. I owe so much to you and to Gillian, and to all the witches who helped me out with no questions asked. For all of you, I need to be the best man that I can. And that means coming clean about something that affects you."

  "Is it about Granny? Because unless I'm actively in danger, that can wait. I've got more than enough surprises about her to sort through right now. Feel free to hold off on any more for a while."

  "No, you'll want to know this. It's about Dan as much as it's about Eunice. That night—the night you found Dan with that other woman…"

  "Yeah, my supposed best friend."

  "It was a big surprise, right?"

  "Duh."

  "Did you feed Dan and this girl anything Eunice made you?"

  "Just those refrigerator pickles Dan liked. I could never stand them. But both of those guys ate tons of them at dinner."

  "Right," he says, "And then those two people ended up in bed together just before your wedding. A wedding your grandmother wanted to make sure never took place."

  "What do you mean? Gran liked Dan."

  "No, she didn't," he insists. "And she didn't want you to marry him or anyone. You know she wanted you to move to Giles and help her in the shop."

  "Yeah, but…"

  "And where are you now?"

  I think about what he's saying. If he's right, I blamed two of the people I love the most in the world for something they had no control over. "Tom, omigod, if that's true..."

  "You need to talk to Dan." I see fear in his eyes as he says it. At first, I'm not sure what that means, then I realize he's got to be afraid I won't want him hanging around if I have a man in my life. He's afraid he'll be alone again.

  "Tom...no matter what happens, you're staying here, right? I wouldn't throw you out."

  His stiff shoulders relax. "Thank you, but even if I couldn't stay, I'd still tell you. It's the right thing to do. I'd seen Eunice throw a monkey wrench between people before. She was good at it."

  "Wow! She used me to deliver the spell. She knew I was making dinner for both of them as soon as I got back home. How is it even possible that I just kept falling into her traps for all those years? Was anything she ever said to me genuine?"

  I feel myself getting angry, really angry at Granny Eunice for the first time since she died. I may have a lot of stuff still left to deal with now that most of the weirdness is over.

  Tom doesn't answer. What could he say? He gi
ves me a sad smile. Then he goes back to dusting the shelves.

  I'm immersed in my own thoughts when Robert walks in, an envelope in his hand. He comes toward me, and Tom is instantly at my side. To say his movements were cat-like would be an understatement. He practically teleported there from across the shop.

  "Tom," says Robert, "I have something for you."

  I take out my phone and incline my head toward the hall, "Okay if I duck out to make a call?"

  Tom nods.

  When I return to the shop, Robert's gone, Tom's staring at the new birth certificate he holds in his hands, and I'm feeling kind of buoyant.

  Dan's coming. He's on his way right now.

  ***

  Gillian bustles into the shop just as I'm flipping the sign to closed for lunch hour. She air kisses Tom on her way in and then hands me a nicely wrapped package. In her other hand, she carries a bag from the café.

  "Housewarming gift for you two. Come on, let's have some lunch, and you can open your surprise."

  I set out plates and Gillian pulls out three roast beef sandwiches on thick slices of crusty bread, but who can think of eating when there's an unopened present in the room?

  "Now, before you open your gift, just let me say that I went to absolutely no expense or bother. It's something that I've had around the house that I think more appropriately belongs in yours now. Tom, I thought about returning Polly to you, but I don't think she'd adapt very well at her age to a new home even if you are her old master. And with Martin gone, I appreciate the company, even if the conversation is severely limited. But you will recognize the gift, so go ahead."

  I look at Tom to see if it's okay to start tearing into the wrapping and he nods. I rip away and then lift off the lid of the box. Inside is an antique quilt. I look at Tom, waiting for a cue. I'm not sure what to say, but Tom steps in quick enough.

  "My mother's quilt. It's as beautiful as I remember. Thank you for keeping it all these years. I'll insist that Cassie use it on her bed in thanks for everything she's done for me."