by Kristin Cast
“Gah, Xena…” Hunter grumbled as she blindly wiped her face with the collar of her dress.
“Sorry about that. The incantation always makes me sneeze.”
Hunter dropped her dress and stared at the spot in front of her where the cat had been. Now there were feet—human feet attached to human legs attached to a human torso. Hunter scrambled backward and winced when her back struck the staircase.
The naked woman before her brushed her hand through her mane of wild black, white, and brown–streaked hair. “It’s like you’ve never seen a cat before.”
“Xena?”
The woman ran her clawlike nails down her bare form and smiled. “In the flesh.”
Eight
The silence stretched to an unending, uncomfortable frozen length after Hunter went inside. Usually, in a situation where adults were hanging around looking lost and awkward Mercy would’ve easily alleviated the tension by engaging both officers in cheerful conversation.
But Mercy did not care about their awkwardness and she didn’t think she’d ever be cheerful again.
So the silence continued.
“Um, Mercy? It is Mercy and not Hunter, right?”
Mercy looked up from her phone to meet the deputy’s gaze. She cleared her throat and started to say yes, but decided nodding would be fine.
“Okay, well, Mercy—as I was asking your sister, do you have family close or—”
“Thirsty!” the sheriff interrupted. “Really need that drink.” He cleared his throat several times and wiped his mouth on the back of his tan sleeve. Mercy cringed at the white crusty crap that rained from the creases of his lips.
Anger bubbled strong in Mercy’s chest and the words that had been dammed within her broke loose. “Sorry, but we don’t have the fresh-squeezed lemonade we’d usually offer you—with a plate of cookies or a sweet little spell or two. You see, our mom, the Kitchen Witch everyone loved, died. Horribly. Last night. We’re a little off our social game at the moment. But, hey, come on in. Hunter’s probably curled up in a fetal position in the kitchen crying. I’m sure she won’t mind being rushed by someone who is—gasp!—thirsty.”
Mercy brushed off the butt of her dress and turned to stomp up the stairs. Anger felt good—better than despair. Better than grief that was a chasm so deep her words got lost in it. She glanced back over her shoulder from the wide double doors. The sheriff was already following her, but the deputy was shifting from foot to foot, picking at the brim of his hat.
“You gonna stay out here?” Mercy shot the words at him. Now that she’d found them again they seemed to be firing out of her.
“Well. Um. No. Ma’am. I’ll come in and—”
She didn’t wait for the rest of his annoying and predictable reply. She marched into the house not holding the door open behind her—and ran smack into a tall woman about her mom’s age who was wearing Abigail’s fluffy flowered bathrobe. Her brown, black, and white hair was thick and fell in a mass down her back. Her unusual amber eyes narrowed.
“Excuse you, Mercy!” The woman moved back gracefully instead of staggering.
“What the bloody hell—”
“Sheriff! Deputy! Sorry it took me so long.” Hunter rushed from the kitchen carrying two beading glasses of iced tea. “I was distracted by our Aunt Xena.”
“Our who?” Mercy felt like her head was going to explode.
Hunter stared into her eyes giving Mercy the look. The one the twins had been sharing since they could formulate complete sentences. The look meant just go with it and ask questions later.
“Aunt Xena,” Hunter said briskly, pushing past Mercy and the stranger to hand the two men the tea. “You were asleep when she arrived a few hours ago. I thought I told you she was here. So much has happened.” Hunter rubbed her temples and winced like she had a headache before continuing. “Sheriff, Deputy, would you like to sit?” She gestured to the couch.
The sheriff was gulping the tea so the deputy said, “No. Thank you. We won’t stay long. We know you have a lot of plans to make. So, um, Xena? You came to take guardianship of the girls?”
With sinuous grace Xena made her way to the empty couch and perched on the arm, carefully covering her bare legs with the bathrobe. With the back of her hand she smoothed her hair before she spoke. “Yes. Of course. No one else is suitable to be guardian of our girls.”
Mercy stared at the woman—at the multicolored riot of hair and those distinctive amber eyes—and her stomach flip-flopped.
The deputy wrote a note in his little book. “I didn’t realize Abigail had a sister.”
“Oh, she didn’t,” Hunter said quickly. “Xena is really Mom’s second cousin from back East. It’s just that we’ve always called her auntie.”
“Okay. Got it. And you’re planning on remaining here, in Goode-ville, with the girls?” asked the deputy.
“I will always be here for the Goode girls,” said Xena. She looked at her hand and frowned before licking a speck of something off one of her long, sharp fingernails.
“We should go,” said the sheriff as he handed Hunter his empty glass. “Lots to do with this murder happening and all…”
Deputy Carter wiped his brow with his sleeve. “Girls, we’re here if you need us. And, again, please let me offer my deepest condolences on the loss of your mother. She was a wonderful woman.” He placed his untouched glass of tea on the coffee table, nodded respectfully to the girls and Xena, and then followed the sheriff, who was already on the porch, out the door.
Mercy put her hands on her hips and faced the woman balancing delicately on the arm of the couch. “Who. Is. This?”
“Well, believe it or not it’s—”
“Mercy Anne Goode, you’ve known me since that stormy night you were born three minutes before your sister. Now, I know you’re not the Kitchen Witch your mother was, but could you be a darling and brew me a large cup of Abigail’s analgesic tea with a heavy dose of honey? I’m terribly sore from what that horrid Fenrir did to me last night.” She had to pause then and press her hand to her bow-shaped lips to stifle a sob before she continued in a broken whisper. “I do miss my sweet Abigail so very, very much.”
Mercy walked over to stand directly in front of Xena. She stared into her eyes and then slowly reached out to touch her voluminous hair. “Ohmygoddess, Xena?”
“Oh, by Bast’s spectacular nipples! Of course it’s me. I know you aren’t stupid, so I shall blame your shock on grief.”
Mercy looked at Hunter. “How?”
Hunter shrugged. “Not sure, but the incantation made her sneeze all over me.”
“Did you know she was a person inside a cat suit?”
“Oh, please! I am a cat. More specifically, I am a familiar who has been attached to the Goode family for generations. It is accurate to say that currently I am a cat wearing a person suit.” She licked the back of her hand and brushed it through her spectacularly messy hair.
“I need to sit down.” Mercy fell heavily onto the couch.
“Oh, no no no.” Lithely, Xena stood, grabbed Mercy’s wrist, and propelled her toward the kitchen with Hunter following closely. “That beast bruised me badly. First, I need healing tea. And while I’m stuck wearing this human skin I might as well eat some of the cannabis truffles your mother keeps in the freezer.” When the girls stared at her without speaking she added, “What? They’re medicinal. And then we need to make plans. There is much you girls must do.”
Numbly, Mercy disappeared into Abigail’s deep pantry, easily finding the clearly marked pain relief tea. She paused there for a moment and breathed in the scent of her mother, squeezing her eyes shut tightly to keep the tears from escaping down her cheeks. Just do one thing at a time. Get through one moment and then the next. It will get easier—not better—but easier. It has to.
She emerged from the pantry to find Hunter sitting at the bar staring at Xena, who was sitting on the bar—her long bare legs swinging over the side as she inspected her fingernails.
“Did Abigail know you could change form like this?” Mercy blurted as she filled her mother’s fancy electric teapot and pressed the button to heat water for herbal tea.
“Yes, of course. My Abigail knew everything. She was a splendid witch.”
Mercy felt as if she were unraveling inside. She drew a deep breath to steady herself as she held the old wood honey dipper over a mug and dripped thick golden liquid into it. She was trying to sort through her many questions when Hunter found the one that touched them all the deepest.
“Then Mom knew that you’d be here to take care of us—to be sure we wouldn’t have to leave our home. She—she died knowing we’d be okay.” Hunter choked out the last of the words and wiped her cheeks quickly.
Xena leaned forward and gently stroked Hunter’s dark ponytail. “Yes, kitten. Abigail would never have wished to leave her girls, but last night when she realized she had to sacrifice herself to save you—to save us all—she died in peace and must have gone to the arms of Athena knowing I would watch over both of you and help you with what is to come.” She brushed a tear from her own cheek. “My Abigail was a fierce protectoress.”
The electric pot chimed at the same moment the front doorbell rang, making the three of them jump. Xena sniffed the air.
“It’s the boy. The one whose scent was all over Mercy last night.”
“Kirk! I’ll, um—”
Hunter got up and took the teapot from her. “Let him in. I’ll get Xena her tea.”
Xena slid sinuously from the countertop. “Emily and Jax shall be here soon. We will greet them, accept their condolences, and then be rid of them. Your mother’s last words told you what you must do; you have trees to check on and no time to waste in tending them.”
Mercy and Hunter stared at her.
“But our friends—” Hunter began.
She fluttered her sharp-tipped fingers about dismissively. “Are not as important as the trees. As the adult in the household I shall tell them—”
“Xena, they can’t know you’re a cat,” said Mercy.
“Seriously,” agreed Hunter.
“Of course not!” Xena scoffed, batting her hands at them. “I am your auntie.”
The front door echoed with vigorous knocking. “We have no choice,” Mercy told Hunter, and she hurried from the kitchen. Her body felt strange—numb and ultrasensitive at the same time. If she didn’t have to answer the door—to talk to people—she would just sit. And stare. And wish with everything inside her that she could go back twenty-four hours and wrap her arms around her mom and never let her go.
She opened the door to see her quarterback boyfriend, hair wet and disheveled, like he’d just gotten out of the shower, fist raised to knock again.
“Oh, babe! Come here.” Kirk moved into the house and lifted her up in a hug. Mercy pressed her face to his chest and closed her eyes, hoping the scent and feel of him would erase the rest of the world, if only for a few beats of her broken heart. Then his arms unwrapped from around her and he stepped forward—toward Hunter, who was just coming into the living room. “Hunter, I don’t know what else to say except I am so sorry.” He scooped Mercy’s twin into a gentle hug and patted her back. “Really. I’m here for you—for both of you. Anything. Anything at all I can do I will.”
“Boy, you embrace the wrong twin.”
Kirk released Hunter and took a step back as Xena, carrying a steaming mug of tea and a truffle, slunk past him and into the living room, where she resumed her perch on the arm of the couch.
“I—I know,” he stammered. “I was just telling Hunter sorry, too. Who are you?”
Mercy took Kirk’s arm and led him to the far end of the couch—away from Xena—as she said, “This is our Aunt Xena—from the East Coast.” She sat beside him and Kirk put his arm around her, pulling her comfortingly close to him.
Hunter nodded and sat in one of the several chairs adjacent to the couch in their big, comfortable living room where everything faced an enormous fireplace framed by a mantel ornately carved with triple moons. “We called Aunt Xena last night and she caught the red-eye to Chicago. She just got here.”
Kirk’s shoulders sagged. “So, you’re moving to the East Coast?” There was no way Hunter, or anyone, could miss the genuine distress on his face.
“No!” the three women said together.
There were two quick knocks on the door and then it burst open as Emily and Jax spilled into the room.
“Ohmygod! I just—I just can’t. I can’t!” Emily flew across the room and collapsed on the couch on the other side of Mercy as she took her best friend’s hand. Her eyes were puffy and red and mascara was smeared down her tearstained cheeks. “What can I do? How can I help?”
Mercy clung to her hand. “You being here helps.”
Jax went to Hunter and pulled her up out of the chair. Wordlessly, he took her place and then cradled her on his lap so that her head rested on his shoulder, childlike. His voice was gravelly and his eyes bright with unshed tears. “I don’t understand. What happened?”
Mercy forced herself to sit up straight. She wiped her face on her shoulder. Kirk held one of her hands and Emily the other. She tried to pull strength from them—tried to form the right words. What was it she and Hunter had decided to tell everyone? Her anger at the sheriff’s callousness and then the shock about Xena turning into a person had moved her forward earlier and allowed her to think normally, but it had drained away the second Kirk pulled her into his arms. Now her brain felt wrong—like she was trying to think through mud.
“There was a fire. Dear Abigail got the girls to safety, but it caught her and killed her.”
Everyone turned to face Xena.
“Hello,” said the human cat. “Emily and Jax, it is lovely to formally meet you.” She looked down her nose briefly at Kirk. “I am the twins’ Aunt Xena.”
Kirk peered up at Xena, his brow furrowed. “You mean like their cat?”
“Yes. Exactly like their lovely feline.”
“Abigail has a sister?” asked Jax.
Hunter slid off his lap and moved to the thick arm of the chair, keeping his hand in hers. “No, Xena is Mom’s cousin. We’ve mentioned her before.”
“Sorry, I didn’t remember.” Jax nodded at Xena. “It’s nice to meet you, Ms.…”
“Call me Auntie or simply Xena.”
“Oh, wait. Are you who Abigail used to visit on her trips back to Salem?” Emily asked.
“Yes,” the three women lied together.
“I will be staying here—in Goodeville—with our girls,” said Xena. She finished the truffle and then began delicately licking her fingers clean.
“So, that means you won’t have to leave?” Kirk asked, as Emily wiped a tear from her cheek.
“We’re not going anywhere,” said Hunter. “Mom would never have wanted that.”
Xena nodded, causing her mane of hair to bob around her shoulders. “Goode women belong here.” She stood, put the half-empty mug of tea on the end table, and then stretched languidly, arching her back and lifting her hands high over her head like she was in yoga class saluting the sun. Then she shook herself, smoothed her hair with the back of her hands, and finally faced the staring group. “Now, kittens, you must leave. You may return later—perhaps tonight. The girls will use the phone devices to tell you when it is a more appropriate time to visit.”
Jax, Emily, and Kirk looked from Xena to the twins, who shrugged and nodded.
“Uh, okay. We understand,” said Kirk.
Emily spoke slowly. “But Dad told me to tell you that he would help you take care of, you know, things for Abigail.” She paused and had to press one of her hands to her chest and blink rapidly. Her other hand squeezed Mercy’s like a vise grip.
“Thanks, Em,” said Mercy. “Hunter and I will come over. Later. Tell your dad that, ’kay?”
“Text us when he’s ready,” Hunter said.
Emily nodded, biting her bottom lip. “Yeah, of course.” Then she wrapp
ed her arms around Mercy and whispered, “I just don’t know what else to do.”
“I know, Em. Me, too. Me, too,” she murmured.
Emily stood, wiping her face again with her sleeve. “I painted a special sumi-e to honor your mom.” She reached into the Kate Spade glitter clutch slung over her shoulder on its long, metal-linked strap and pulled out an original watercolor the size of a postcard. It was a beautiful silver-gray owl in flight with the full moon over its wing. “I know how much Abigail loved owls.”
Mercy took the painting and through tears looked up at her friend, who was a talented young artist. “Abigail would appreciate that. She loves—um, I mean loved your work.” Mercy paused, her voice hitching on a sob. “It’s so hard to talk about her in the past tense. I just—” Her words stopped then, dammed again by unimaginable grief. With a shaking hand she put the owl on the coffee table, propping it up against one of Abigail’s many statuettes of Athena so that it seemed to soar.
“Oh, babe. Come here.” Kirk slid his arm around her and pulled her against him.
Jax stood, still holding Hunter’s hand. “My parents wanted me to tell you that they’re here for you. Mom’s already cooking you one of her famous casseroles—but vegetarian because I reminded her you don’t eat meat. She said, ‘Abigail’s daughters are not going to have to worry about food,’ and then got on the phone and started calling the other moms from church.”
“I will be here and will accept the offerings for the girls so that they may grieve,” said Xena as she gestured at the door.
“Thanks, Jax.” Hunter spoke softly, like it hurt to talk.
“And now you must go,” said Xena.
Kirk stood and helped Mercy to her feet. With his arm wrapped around her, they followed Jax and Hunter and Emily to the door.
“Em, we’ll see you a little later,” said Mercy. She stepped out of Kirk’s arm to embrace her friend again.
Emily sniffed and nodded. “’Kay. See ya. Text if you need me before then. I’ll be here super fast.” She hugged Hunter quickly and then went out the door.
Jax squeezed Hunter’s hand. “Same with me. I’m here. So are my parents. Whatever you need. Whenever.”