Familiar Motives

by Delia James

  I swallowed and told myself to calm down. Myself wasn’t listening. Something was really, truly, deeply wrong.

  “Uhh . . .” I looked back over my shoulder toward the shop and the crowd where I was supposed to be mingling and signing up preorders for my coloring book. “Crud.”

  “Yip!” Max slipped past me and darted under the desk. I tried to grab him, but I was too late. Crud, again. With Alistair so freaked-out, was there about to be a full-on cat familiar versus dog familiar fight?

  But Max just started licking Alistair all over his face. Much to my surprise, Alistair tolerated this behavior. Now I knew something was up.

  “Anna? What’s happening?” Julia stepped into the office just in time to see Leo duck under the desk with Max and Alistair, wagging and whining.

  “I don’t know, but—” I barely got the words out when Alistair, who was clearly done with the canine commiseration committee, leapt into my arms.

  “Ooof!” I caught him but also toppled onto my backside. “Hey, hey, easy. Ummm . . .”

  I didn’t have the chance to get any further. Alistair climbed up my chest, over my shoulder and around my neck so he could launch himself from me to the desk to the open window, and vanish.

  Max and Leo came out from under the desk to snuffle at Julia’s ankles and bark urgently, wagging their whiplike tails.

  “Everything okay in here?” asked Kenisha from behind us.

  Julia and I both turned, me a little awkwardly since I’d gotten up only as far as my knees. Kenisha stood on the office threshold.

  “Yes, I noticed something’s up,” Kenisha told Julia. “So have Val and the rest of the coven. Are you guys okay?”

  “Yes, but Alistair isn’t.” Julia bent down and scooped Max up in the crook of one arm. He licked her face and wagged and whined some more. “Yes, yes. All right,” she whispered at him. “We see. We see.”

  I grabbed the edge of the desk and pulled myself to my feet. “I’ve got to find Alistair. I’ve never seen him this upset.”

  “Not alone,” said Julia flatly. “Whatever is happening with Alistair, it is clearly serious, and it could be dangerous.”

  The hairs on the back of my neck stood up a little straighter.

  “Don’t worry, Julia. I’ll go with her,” said Kenisha. “It will look strange if you and Anna are both gone.” She nodded back toward the shop and the ongoing party.

  “Uhh . . . ,” I began. Julia frowned. Kenisha just folded her arms and turned her best cop glare on me.

  “Anna, from what you’re saying, your familiar is boss-level freaked. With all the things that have gone wrong around you recently, you need real backup. Wherever you are going, I’m going with you.”

  “I wasn’t going to argue,” I said quickly.

  “That’s because you’re smart,” said Kenisha. “Let’s go.”

  • • •

  FOR A MOMENT, I actually considered sneaking out the back door. I am not proud of this. But it would have been easier than walking out through the party, bundled up in my good coat, very obviously hurrying away early. Sneaking out back, I could explain later. Out front, I had to explain now.

  And by now, I meant right now. Sean was not the first one who noticed me heading for the door, but he was the first one who excused himself from his conversation to come over and touch my elbow.

  “Everything okay, Anna?”

  “Uh, something’s come up,” I said lamely, as if my coat and gloves hadn’t made that much clear.

  Sean glanced toward Kenisha in her down parka, who had already marched past us looking very pointedly over her shoulder at me as she went to stand by the door.

  “Something . . . business related?” he breathed.

  “Yeah.” Sean and I had talked. If we were going to date and . . . well, whatever we might eventually end up doing, I was going to be honest with him about my epically complicated life. He deserved to know what he was getting into. Plus, he’d seen Alistair’s Cheshire cat imitation, so I really had no choice but to tell him about the magic.

  “Do you need someone to go with you?”

  “Kenisha is,” I told him, and he looked a little disappointed. He cared. It was sweet. The problem was, I didn’t know if I was ready for his concern. Which was not his fault, but I couldn’t help it.

  “Will you call?” he asked.

  “Promise,” I agreed.

  As a reward for giving the right answer, I got a smile and a peck on the cheek. I tried not to blush. I failed.

  Outside, I found Kenisha standing beside my battered red Jeep, talking into her cell phone. It had stopped raining, but the wind off the river stung my cheeks and cut right through my coat. I shivered. Suddenly, the skirt and pumps were not feeling like such a good idea, fleece tights or no fleece tights.

  If Kenisha felt the cold, she didn’t show it. But then she had on a parka, a shearling cap, thick gloves and motorcycle boots. She held up one finger to signal for me to wait while she listened to whoever was talking on her phone.

  I looked around optimistically for Alistair but didn’t see him. Worry knotted itself up in the back of my mind. I dug into my purse to find my wand. The touch of the carved wood under my knitted glove soothed me, at least a little.

  Kenisha shut off her phone.

  “We’ve got no reported disturbances,” she told me. “Do you have any idea where Alistair’s gone?”

  “None.” The hitch in my voice surprised me, and that knot of worry tightened.

  “It’s okay. Try calling him.”

  I screwed up my focus and my nerve. “Alistair? Alistair, come on, big guy. You’re freaking me out here.”

  Nothing. Not a flash of a blue eye or a twitch of a whisker. My heart banged against my ribs.

  “He’s not there, Kenisha,” I whispered. “He’s not . . .”

  “Easy, Britton.” She rested a hard hand on my shoulder. “We will find him.”

  “How?” I said, and the word came out a lot closer to a squeak than I wanted it to.

  “Oh, right.” Kenisha motioned for me to unlock the Jeep. “I never told you my specialty, did I? I’m a dowser.”

  Generally speaking, the magic we practiced in the guardian coven was a group effort. For the invocations and spells to be effective, and safe, different sets and levels of energies had to be woven together. This required multiple practitioners, as well as a sacred space defined by a circle, or at least an altar. But as a witch practiced and perfected her craft, she usually found out she had a particular, personal talent that she could call on at will. I had my Vibe. My grandma B.B. could read palms. Julia was a summoner, meaning she could bring people and things and powers together.

  “I thought a dowser was somebody who could find water,” I said to Kenisha as we both climbed into the Jeep. I turned the key and started up the heater, on high.

  “I can find water, but I can find other things too.”

  “Good talent for a cop,” I said, and immediately wished I hadn’t. Kenisha had definite views about mixing magic with law enforcement. That she was willing to put her talents to use now added another loop to the worry knot inside me.

  “Um . . . so, what do we do?”

  “You stay quiet and give me a minute.” Kenisha buckled her seat belt. Then she pulled her black gloves off and laid them in her lap. Resting her hands on the dashboard, Kenisha let out a long, slow breath. I felt her gathering her personal focus. I reached down to the side door compartment where I’d tucked my evening bag and pulled my wand out. I breathed deeply too, just like I had when I helped Ramona raise a calming influence. I also stayed quiet. I did want to support Kenisha; I didn’t want to throw off her concentration. Tapping magical energy is an internal process, nothing like the light show you see in the movies. It’s all about feeling and focus.

  Kenisha’s eyes closed and her mout
h moved as she whispered an invocation to the elements and the spirits, asking for help and blessing. The prickling in my fingers intensified, and I felt an abrupt internal shift, as if a door had popped open in the back of my mind.

  “Drive,” said Kenisha.

  I threw the Jeep into gear and drove.

  6

  I’D THOUGHT THAT Kenisha would be giving me detailed directions about where to go. This was not what happened. Kenisha barely spoke at all. At the same time, I remained intensely aware of her presence and everything else—the depth of the cold darkness around us; the way the wind off the river buffeted my Jeep; the sparkle of the fresh snowflakes that swirled down past my headlights. It was like all my senses had been opened wide.

  Every now and then, Kenisha raised her hand, pointing toward the left or right, but I would already be working the wheel and the stick shift. I was also driving with a precision that I knew was not naturally mine, as if I was channeling the officer sitting next to me.

  This was not at all out of the question.

  It also would have been more than enough for my overloaded nerves to deal with, but before we’d gone a mile from Market Square, I felt something else.

  Alistair. Between one heartbeat and the next, I knew exactly where my cat was.

  I couldn’t see it, like a vision, which was probably just as well, because I needed my eyes for red lights and stop signs. I just knew, in the same way I knew that I was in the Jeep with Kenisha sitting beside me.

  So when I saw the apartment buildings overlooking the river mouth, I knew we’d reached the right place without Kenisha even having to point. I pulled into the small parking area and straight into the visitors’ spot that was, by some miracle, waiting empty right beside the front door. This tended to happen when there was another witch in the car. One of these days I was going ask about it. I had a feeling my coven sisters were holding out on me when it came to traffic magic.

  Now, however, was not the time.

  Kenisha blinked hard and took a few deep breaths. She wasn’t the only one. I needed a minute of my own to try to dial my awareness back down to something like normal levels.

  “You ready?” Kenisha asked, pulling on her gloves.

  I grabbed my purse. I had no idea what was going to happen next, but I wanted my wand and my phone with me when it did. “Ready.”

  We both climbed out into the yellow sodium light of the parking lot. The sign out front of the buildings read RIVERVIEW CONDOMINIUMS. For once there seemed to be some truth in the apartment advertising. Nothing but a short, boulder-strewn beach and a low stone wall separated the condos from the black-and-silver stretch of the Piscataqua. The pseudo–Cape Cod–style buildings had decks and balconies facing the river that were carefully staggered so each unit could have its view without an overhanging shadow.

  A gust of wind hit me right in the face and started my eyes watering, but I ignored it. Alistair was in there. I knew it. He was waiting for me, and not at all patiently.

  Okay, okay, I thought, a little desperately. Cavalry’s here.

  That could not possibly have been a real meow I heard in the back of my head.

  Even though Kenisha was on high alert, she walked toward the nearest building with a smooth decisiveness you could have mistaken for nonchalance. She climbed up the steps to the concrete porch and tugged on the door. It was locked.

  “Recognize anybody?” She pointed at the column of black intercom buttons. Some of them had names taped up beside their unit numbers.

  I squinted. There was a light shining down onto the porch, but it was pretty dim. “No . . . Oh, wait.” I touched the name beside the buzzer for Unit 2B. R. FORSYTHE. My brow furrowed. “Alistair’s vet is Ramona Forsythe.”

  Under what possible circumstances could my cat have voluntarily come to the vet’s home? Then I thought about how upset Ramona had been when Cheryl Bell stormed into her clinic. A chill that had nothing to do with the wind cut through me.

  “Right.” Kenisha moved her hand toward the buzzer.

  “Wait,” I stopped her. “I need a second.”

  I made sure I had my wand securely stowed in my coat pocket. I also whispered my own invocation.

  In need I call, in hope I ask, to stand in the protection of the Light.

  Kenisha had to deliberately call on her abilities as a dowser. My Vibe, though, was less patient or predictable. It could hit me anytime and anywhere. Because of this, the first thing Julia taught me was how to raise a set of magical shields so I could block, or at least blunt, any mental and emotional invasion.

  I repeated my invocation three times, all the while picturing myself surrounded by a shimmering curtain of positive energy—blue and green and gold like the aurora borealis, because I am an artist and everything must have color.

  When I felt my shields were firmly established, I opened my eyes again and nodded to Kenisha.

  I did not let go of my wand.

  Kenisha pushed the buzzer labeled R. FORSYTHE, and we waited, but not for long. Through the glass door, we saw a young man with black-rimmed glasses, wearing a thick striped scarf around his neck, come trotting down the stairs with a cardboard box braced against his hip.

  He held the door for Kenisha and we walked right in. Easy-peasy. Kenisha’s jaw shifted.

  I didn’t get a chance to make any remark about the building’s lack of security, though. The second the door swung closed, a Vibe slammed up against my shields.

  Anger. Burning anger, and desperation and fear and . . . and . . . and . . . My shields buckled, and I staggered. My back banged against the wall.

  Oh.

  Oh, no.

  “What is it?” asked Kenisha.

  My mouth moved, but no sound came out. I knew this feeling, with all its cold horror and heartbreak. I willed myself to focus and to shove my shields back into shape. But I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe. I hurt. I was cold. I couldn’t see. I was surrounded by anger, anger and greed, and . . . I hurt, I hurt . . . I was . . . I was . . .

  Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no!

  Kenisha yanked her phone out of her purse and hit a speed-dial number. I had a feeling she undid her concealed-carry pouch as well.

  “Stay here.”

  Kenisha did not run. She walked calmly up the single, short flight of stairs and down the hall with her smooth, alert grace. No hurry. Nothing to see here.

  I leaned my head against the wall and tried not to be sick. Impressions slid through my shields like a draft through a cracked windowpane.

  How could she do this . . . the greedy little so-and-so . . . you promised me!

  I’m getting what’s mine!

  Don’t make me do this! Don’t make me!

  It’s mine! I deserve this! It’s mine!

  “Dr. Forsythe?” I heard Kenisha knock on the door. “Dr. Forsythe, it’s Kenisha Freeman. I’m a friend of Julia Parris’s.”

  But it wasn’t Ramona who answered.

  “Merow!”

  Alistair.

  Despite my heels and my narrow skirt, I was up the stairs, down the hall and through the unlocked door before I could even think about what I was doing.

  It was a nice apartment, small but airy and very modern. The living room had a vaulted ceiling and a stairway to a half loft that was a sleeping area. The light was on in the kitchen, and the smell of burned coffee hung everywhere. It was also freezing cold. The river’s arctic wind blew through a set of open glass doors. Alistair was on the balcony railing, pacing back and forth like only a cat can. Scattered snowflakes settled on his twitching ears.

  “What part of stay here did you not understand?” demanded Kenisha.

  “I . . . Oof!”

  Alistair blipped off the balcony railing and reappeared right in my arms. He was trembling and trying to bury his face under my right arm.

  “Easy
, big guy, easy . . . oh . . . shoot . . .” My shields shivered and strained. Anger, greed and desperation swirled around my head harder than the November wind.

  “Do not move. Stand absolutely still.” Kenisha stepped swiftly, lightly, across the room to the bleached-wood balcony.

  “Somebody’s dead,” I croaked.

  “No sh— sugar, Sherlock.” Kenisha looked over the railing onto the rocky beach. “And I’m betting it’s Dr. Forsythe.”

  7

  KENISHA WAS RIGHT. It was Dr. Forsythe. She sprawled facedown beside a pile of tumbled boulders under her balcony.

  The police—the rest of the police—were there so fast, Kenisha barely had time to give me my orders. She did, however, grab me by both shoulders and look me right in the eye, in case I might not be paying attention.

  “We have got no reason to be here,” she reminded me. “If anybody asks, you say Dr. Forsythe was watching Alistair and you were scheduled to pick him up after the bookstore party. I’m with you because you were going to drop me off home afterward.”

  “Meow!” Alistair was on the kitchen counter, pacing back and forth like he had out on the balcony rail.

  “Is anybody going to believe that?” I asked Kenisha.

  “Meow!”

  “No,” Kenisha told me. “But we’ll worry about it later.”

  “Meeerrrroooowwwww!”

  “What?” I spun around. Yes, I was demanding answers from my cat. And because this was me and Alistair, I was kind of expecting them.

  Alistair jumped off the counter and trotted over to the trio of blue plastic food bowls that had been put down next to the dishwasher. For a moment, I thought he was complaining because they were empty, but then I stopped.

  “Oh, cr . . . ud.” I spun around. Nothing. I saw nothing new, anyway. I bit my lip and started toward the stairs leading to the loft.

  “Stop!” bellowed Kenisha. I froze, one foot still in the air. I resisted the urge to put my hands up.