The Cat's Meow: A Halloween Anthology

by Hera B. Magic

  “Huh.” Ah yes. There she went again, impressing men with her eloquence and aplomb. “So curses are real? Like someone can actually put a curse on you?”

  “Yeah.” He chewed a bite of the protein bar. “You know these things taste like cardboard, right?”

  “I was broke. I had to buy the cheap ones.” Oh yeah, girl. Way to impress the sexy neighbor.

  He nodded. “That’s the curse. Or part of it anyway. You had several stacked on top of each other. I got them all, though, eventually. Your string of bad luck should be ending tonight, after I perform the cleansing and protection ritual.”

  “Cleansing and protection? Is that some kind of spell?”

  “Sort of.” He shrugged. “Think of it as a curse-blocker. It should hold for a year and a day. Hopefully, that will be long enough for whoever cursed you to forget about you.”

  Kit sneezed again. “Don’t suppose you can do anything about my allergies?”

  He shook his head. “Those are part of you. Not a curse.”

  “Drat.” She pushed her hair back, wishing she’d bothered to brush it before she’d come out of her bedroom. “So were you born like this? Or did you, like, get bitten by another were—uh—curse breaker?”

  He chuckled, and a genuine smile turned his lean face from good-looking to gorgeous. “Neither. I was hired. It’s a job, like any other. It just has some unusual…perks.”

  “No kidding. I’d like to see the face of your IRS auditor when you put that down as your occupation.” She mulled over that for a minute. “So the changing thing—if it’s part of a job, not part of you so to speak, how does it work? Is it voluntary? How do you control it so you don’t shift in the middle of a shopping mall? Do you get to keep the ability when you retire? Are you allowed to retire? Are you out hunting every night? What does your wife think?”

  He blinked. “Wow, you don’t stop with the questions, do you?”

  She shook her head. “Sorry. At least my curiosity didn’t kill the cat.”

  He winced at her pun, but finished his juice and snack with a grin on his face. Afterward, he looked up ruefully. “Can I use your bathroom?”

  “Sure. Can you make it on your own?” She tipped her head to the side. The scratches on his face were almost gone. He did heal fast.

  He looked away, his face tinting a pinker shade of tan. “If you can help me down the hallway, I think I can handle things from there.”

  He held tightly to his blanket as she let him lean on her shoulder down the short hallway. Once he made it inside, he yelled, “I’m fine,” and she stepped away from the door to give him some privacy. She darted into her bedroom, ran a brush through her hair, and rummaged through a box in her closet until she found what she was looking for. Then she lingered in the hallway until the toilet flushed and the bathroom door opened.

  “I think I can make it back to the living room on my own.”

  She held up a pair of her ex-boyfriend’s sweat pants and her own baggiest hoodie. “Wanna get dressed? Not that I’m complaining, but you might be more comfortable.”

  “You, Kit, are a goddess.” He dropped a kiss on her head as she handed over the clothes. “I didn’t want to ask you to run next door.” He pulled back into the bathroom and emerged again, breathing a little heavily. “I might have been wrong about the walking on my own thing.”

  Kit instantly tucked herself under his shoulder. He had to bend quite a bit to lean on her, and she missed the feel of his warm skin under her hand this time, but that was just as well. Her girl parts were getting a little too happy about that anyway.

  Once in the living room, she led him to the sofa, where he stretched out. Even in sweatpants that were too short and a pink hoodie, he was still the sexiest man who’d ever graced that shabby piece of furniture.

  “I don’t suppose you have anything else to eat,” he said. “I’ll pay you back, but food and fluids help me recover faster. If you hadn’t given me that water last night, I might not have made it.”

  “You like peanut butter and jelly?” That was about all she had in any quantity.

  He nodded. She returned to the kitchen and fixed a pile of sandwiches, then brought those and two cups of coffee into the living room.

  “Breakfast of champions.” She toasted him with her mug.

  He grinned and lifted his in return.

  She paused with a sandwich halfway to her mouth. “So do you travel around hunting curses? How did you end up in my garden last night? Or living next door to me, for that matter.”

  He grimaced and swallowed his food. “I have a territory—pretty much the entire southern Michigan area. Curses aren’t all that common. At least I’m not the poor sucker who has the entire UP. He has to do a lot of driving. I can be back in my own bed every morning. Well, most mornings, anyway.”

  “So the part about living next door…is that just coincidence?”

  “That’s the tricky part,” he said slowly. “I’m new to this area. Was just assigned a few months ago. I saw the house on the market, loved it and bought it. Nothing out of the ordinary there.”

  A quick shift of his eyes tipped her off. “You’re hiding something. Spit it out. And I don’t mean the sandwich. You do that, you have to clean it up.”

  He nodded. “Okay, you might as well know the rest. My first assignment in Ann Arbor was in this neighborhood. That’s how I saw the house. I moved in about a month ago.”

  That fit with what she knew. She’d just not had a chance to meet the new guy yet. “And last night? Still in this neighborhood?”

  He nodded. “About once a week in the three months I’ve been here.” He put down his drink and turned to face her directly. “It’s you, Kit. Someone’s been cursing you. And not just once. It started out small. I bet a few months ago you started losing things, like your keys and such.”

  “That was a curse?” She’d just chalked it up to her own stupidity.

  “It was. That one manifested as a spider—small but nasty. That’s the first night I came to your house as a cat. I got it, but not until it had already gotten inside, setting off the curse. Just a few days later, there was another, bigger one. That time it was a little black mouse. I bet you felt a sick that time—maybe thought you had the flu.”

  All she could do was nod, wide-eyed.

  “Eventually things got worse. There was a snake. I noticed your boyfriend doesn’t come around anymore. Break up?” He didn’t wait for her to confirm the obvious. “And you’re home all day now, so I guess you lost your job. That one was a huge, vicious rat. He did a little damage to me before I got him. After that, I sort of started patrolling your house. In the last two nights, I chased off a skunk and an opossum.”

  “So if you got the rat, shouldn’t I have gotten my job back?”

  “Sorry.” He shook his head. “Doesn’t work like that. There aren’t any take-backs. Once you got the flu, it ran its course, even after I killed the spider. And if I hadn’t gotten the boyfriend snake or the job rat, you’d find that down the road, it would continue to happen over and over. I can’t change the past. Once they’ve gotten into your house, all I can do is break the cycle.”

  “What about tonight?” Her voice went dry at the thought of what could be worse.

  His face went grim. “Tonight was bad. If I hadn’t gotten the oversized raccoon, you’d have probably had an accident tomorrow. If it wasn’t…fatal, I’m afraid you’d at least have been seriously injured.”

  She gasped. “Somebody wants me dead? Like permanently dead? Who?” The entire world seemed to close in on her. Who on earth could want to kill her? She’d never done anything. Her eyes began to water, but she blinked away the tears.

  His voice was deep and soothing. “I’m not sure, but as soon as I get home, I’m calling for reinforcements. We’ll get a tracker here and find out for sure. Then we’ll bring in the big guns. I promise, Kit, we’re not going to let another curse get to you. In the meanwhile, I hope you don’t mind if I stick close.”
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br />   “Uh, no. Not a bit.” He could move on in, if it would keep her alive. Sure, she’d been depressed, and her life kind of sucked, but now she knew something that changed her from sad to pissed. None of this was her fault. “Curses. Who’d have thought?”

  “We figure there would be widespread panic if everyone knew about it, so we try to keep a lid on things.” He spoke around a mouthful of peanut butter. How could one man seem so ordinary and be so extraordinary at the same time? That was almost as mind-boggling as the idea of curses.

  Later that afternoon, Tom was pretty much healed, except for the wound on his leg, which was well on its way, but still ached when he walked. He’d brought Kit over to his place, a larger, Craftsman style home, figuring any curses would have a harder time finding her there. Besides, he had a better-stocked refrigerator and being wounded always made him hungry.

  Lord, she was adorable. Even terrified, she refused to be cowed. She’d make a ferocious feline. Hmmm, maybe his bosses would let him take on a partner. It wasn’t unheard of.

  When the tracker and their mutual boss arrived, Tom introduced them to Kit and then sat next to her on the sofa, across from the others.

  “You know this is completely against protocol,” Oliver noted. Tom’s supervisor was short and burly, bald but with a bushy grey beard and mustache. “But I understand that sometimes these things happen.”

  “She saved my life last night.” Tom suppressed a smile when Kit’s eyes widened. “There was something in the raccoon’s claws, some kind of toxin. My leg would have kept bleeding if she hadn’t cleaned it out. I’d have bled out in the garden.”

  Her warm, small hand tucked itself into his on the sofa. Did she even know she’d done it? He gave her a reassuring squeeze, delighted when she didn’t pull away.

  “Then thank you, Miss Montgomery.” Oliver gave her a grave smile. “Thomas is one of our best. We’d be sorry to lose him.”

  “Of course.” She looked over at the other two. “But how do you find out who’s cursing me? And then what can you do? Arrest him or her?”

  Jeff Tanner, the tracker, grinned. Tall and thin, he had a long, lined face and light brown hair, but his smile toward Kit was gentle. “Don’t you worry. I’ve got the finding down. Once we do, the boss, here, will take care of things.”

  “But how?” Her pale red brows furrowed. “And do you all turn into cats?”

  “Only curse hunters,” Tom said.

  “Bloodhound.” Jeff lifted a hand. “Better for tracking. And the boss, well, he’s pretty much just the boss.”

  “Oliver is a hex-wielder.” Tom squeezed her hand again. “Once we’ve found the person, Oliver will cast a hex.”

  “Is that anything like a curse?” She pulled her hand from his and laced her fingers in her lap. Now that she’d changed into jeans and a soft green sweater, her eyes were more jade than brown. Small and stocky, but fit, she wasn’t remotely a classical beauty, but somehow, she still took his breath away.

  “I beg your pardon.” Oliver’s crisp, east coast accent sharpened. “A hex is nothing like a curse. It cannot harm. All it can do is block something else. In our case, what we do is block the curser’s ability to cast any more curses. Then we block their memory of having done so, so that they aren’t tempted to try again.”

  Kit sat up straighter. “So someone tried to kill me last night, but nothing bad will happen to them, they’ll just forget they did it. Do I have that right?”

  Oliver shrugged. “I suppose.”

  She snorted and Tom agreed. Someone that vicious shouldn’t be allowed to roam free. “We also have a few other options in extreme cases like this. Not often, but Oliver can cast a different spell—one that ensures any attempt the person makes in the future to harm someone would rebound on themselves. And that one, they remember.”

  “I don’t like to do that,” Oliver said softly. “But if we determine it’s necessary, if we believe the curser will come after you through physical means, then yes. Such a drastic spell can be employed. We’ll also put a hex on you to block any further attempt at curses.”

  “Thank you.” Kit straightened her spine, obviously somewhat reassured. “How about now?”

  “All right.” Oliver nodded toward Tom. “It’s your case.”

  “But your hexes are more powerful.” Tom didn’t want to take any chances with Kit. “Would you please?”

  Oliver tipped his chin. “Miss Montgomery, could you stand in the center of the room?”

  She obeyed, keeping eye contact with Tom. He smiled, trying to reassure her.

  Oliver chanted in Latin, and a dozen fireflies emerged from his extended hand. They buzzed around Kit, each one landing briefly on her arm, cheek, neck or forehead before continuing to circle her. Finally, they faded away as Oliver finished his chant. “All set. You should be immune to curses for at least a year and a day.”

  “Thank you.” Kit blinked and sat back beside Tom. “That sort of tickled.”

  “Is there anything else, Miss Montgomery?” Oliver eyed her. “If not, you should be safe to return home.”

  Kit shook her head. “I want to know how this curse business works. Who does the cursing? Witches, like in movies? Can you go online and order one? How does an ordinary person like me end up getting cursed?”

  “There are two parts to a curse,” Tom said. “First, the person has to have some affinity for magic. A lot of people do, but most don’t know it. That’s one of the prerequisites for our job as well. And based on how quickly you’ve assimilated everything, I’d guess you do too. That might be part of why they affected you so strongly.”

  “Okay.” She nodded. “And part two?”

  “They have to run across the actual spell formula. We try to keep those out of public hands, but every so often an old book turns up, or more often, someone posts one on the internet—in which case our researchers try to get it taken down as quickly as possible.”

  “Got it. So someone with both magic and the formula for the spell has a grudge against me. Fabulous.”

  “I’m sorry, but we’re doing our best to take care of that,” Oliver said. “Is there anything else?”

  Kit straightened her shoulders and looked him in the eyes. “Yes. I’m coming with you tonight. Can you turn me into something?”

  “No.” All three male voices echoed their response.

  “Absolutely not,” Oliver continued. “It would go against every rule of protocol that we have.”

  She glared down each of them in turn, saving Tom for last. “Look, buddy, this is my life being threatened. I have a right to know who’s doing it and to make sure it gets stopped.”

  Tom felt himself caving. “Oliver, she could ride in the car with you.”

  “What?” The shock on his boss’s face was priceless, which made Tom’s lips twitch.

  Tom knew it was stupid, knew everything here was happening way too fast, but the pull he felt toward Kit was too visceral to deny. His instincts about her potential were simply screaming. Sucking in a breath he looked Oliver in the eye. “I think she has potential, Oliver. Ann Arbor’s not bad but Detroit can be rough. I could use a partner. And she is out of a job at the moment.”

  “And before your recent unemployment, Ms. Montgomery, what was your profession? Police and military are where we draw most of our recruits.”

  She lifted her chin. “I was a web designer. A damned good one too. But at one time I wanted to be a cop. I am in good shape. I work out and swim every other day at the Y. Or I did, until I had to drop my membership.” She sneezed, reminding Tom that she was allergic to cats. That could cause a problem.

  “Hmm. Well, nothing else about this case is ordinary.” Oliver sighed. “Very well. You may come along with me. But stay out of any conflict. Do you understand?”

  “Of course.” She paused. “If this is a real job, does that mean it pays? And how do we explain it to the IRS?”

  “Most of us have a freelance career as well,” Tom told her. “I do a littl
e technical writing and dabble in mystery novels. Jeff over there is an accountant. We each just have one very important client in common.”

  “Oliver, of course. Clever.” She nodded her approval. “Well, if that client needs a web designer, sign me up. Do I have to be a cat, or will anything work? I’d rather not be allergic to myself.”

  “All the hunters are felines,” Oliver said. “But an anti-allergy charm is an easy matter.” He spoke a few words and a butterfly flew over to touch Kit’s nose. “There. You should be all set in that regard.”

  She sniffed and then smiled. “I feel perfect. Thank you!” She bounced over and engulfed Oliver in a huge hug.

  Tom shouldn’t have been jealous. He had no claim on this woman. Hell, she might wash out in training and be forced to give up her memories of the corps entirely. But he hoped not. More and more he liked the idea of hunting beside her every night. And then, when they’d gotten to know one another a little better—maybe more.

  They talked until darkness fell, eating a light dinner that Tom whipped up, and going over the ropes with Kit. She even sat with him on his porch and helped him pass out candy. Shortly after dusk, Tom and Jeff changed and slipped into the underbrush, while Oliver helped Kit with her first transformation process. Hopefully, Jeff could pick up the smell of the raccoon from the night before that had damn near killed Tom.

  Kit stood in Tom’s living room, wrapped in a navy blue sheet, alone with Oliver, the boss. Trepidation about what she was about to do filled her stomach, making her wish she’d eaten one or two fewer Tootsie Rolls while passing out candy with Tom. She held her head up, though. She’d been the one to demand this, she was damned well going to see it through. Mentally she recited the spell that would turn her back—minus the final word, of course. She could do this.

  “Ready,” she said, lying her face off.

  Oliver chanted in Latin again. This time no insects came out of his fingers, just a warm, fuzzy feeling, like she was being wrapped in a mohair blanket. It itched a little, and then the room began to get really big around her. She was dizzy for a moment, and her skin felt all prickly. She opened her mouth to say something, but all that came out was a soft mew.