“I can assure you that there’s more than enough room to swing a cat in,” I said with a smile. I instantly regretted my quip as horror flashed in the woman’s eyes.
She pulled Stanley protectively closer to her. “I would be happy to take Stanley off your hands. I have a large garden, and he’d have a wonderful time there.” Her tone took an accusing turn as she added, “I’d soon fatten him up.
For a split-second, I was tempted. Then Stanley turned his head and looked at me. My heart melted as it always did with that skinny, grey-haired cat.
I held my hands out and said, “No, thank you. And thank you for bringing him back.”
The woman looked briefly to her right to where the lift was. I thought she was going to make a run for it. She could try. But I’d go after her.
I gave a polite cough and pushed my hands out further. Stanley leapt from the woman’s arms and into mine. Bless him. He even purred in delight. He hardly ever purred, so I knew he was putting on a show.
The woman said, “Are you sure you won’t change your mind?” She gave me a look which lasted five seconds. I kept my eyes locked on hers. When it came to my cat, I wasn’t a pushover.
“No. Never. Thanks again.” I kicked the door shut, and for good measure, I bolted it.
I turned my attention to the creature in my arms. “Stanley, this has got to stop. You can’t keep turning up to funerals, especially when you don’t know the deceased. It’s extremely bad manners.”
Stanley’s whiskers twitched, and he looked confused. Is it possible for a cat to look confused? Something else to add to my Google list.
His whiskers continued to twitch. He moved his head close to my cheek and sniffed me. I felt a little dab on my cheek. It felt like wet sandpaper.
“Hey! Stop licking me. I don’t know what germs you’ve picked up from the cemetery.”
Stanley leapt from my arms and ran into the bedroom. I went after him. He didn’t normally run anywhere. He usually dragged his paws along as if walking was too much trouble for him.
I found him sitting next to the pile of drawings. His paw was on the one of Luca and me chasing butterflies. Stanley’s ears were standing to attention, and he was purring so loudly that I felt the floor vibrate. He was like a feline pneumatic drill.
I put my hands over my ears. “Stanley! Shh! What’s got into you?”
His purring stopped, and he moved his paw on to the next picture. And the next one. And the next. His little mouth opened, and he bared his teeth in what looked suspiciously like a smile.
Was he happy? Was my small, death-obsessed cat actually happy?
I went over to Stanley, knelt at his side and stroked his thin back. I remembered what Gran had said about Stanley being my familiar. Could it be true?
“Stanley, do you know about Brimstone? Do you know I’m a witch?”
Stanley moved closer to me and put his furry head against my arm. A soft purr came from him which sent goosebumps travelling up my arm.
I pulled him onto my knee. “I’ve been there today, Stanley. I’d forgotten I was a witch.”
He gave me a look as if to say, ‘Tell me everything.’
So, that’s what I did. As I concluded I said, “Gran doesn’t want me to help her. I won’t be going back to Brimstone.”
Stanley looked deeply into my eyes. I could sense the sadness in him. I felt just as sad.
“What am I going to do, Stanley?”
He slid off my knee, lay on his back and stuck all four paws in the air.
“Play dead? That’s not the answer. I have to carry on.” I gave him a little nudge to make sure he was only pretending. He rolled on to his paws. “We both have to carry on as before.”
Stanley let out a little cat sigh, dragged his paws over to the corner of the room where a dead spider lay. He settled down and stared at it morosely.
I felt like doing the same.
Chapter 9
I felt like death warmed up as I sat in my corner office the next morning. I yawned for the one-hundredth time and blinked rapidly in an effort to wake myself up.
Last night had been strange. After the incident with my box of memories, Stanley had stayed lying in front of that dead spider for hours. I couldn’t tempt him away even with his favourite food. He didn’t budge when the theme tune to Buffy, The Vampire Slayer blasted out from the TV. He loves that programme, and always snuggles up to me on the sofa when it’s on.
At one point last night, I got down on all fours and put my face next to his. I asked him what was wrong, but, of course, he didn’t answer. If he was my familiar, he wasn’t doing a good job of it. Or was it the other way around? Was I doing a terrible job of being his witch?
After unsuccessfully trying to coax Stanley away from the departed spider, I returned to the living room with the full intention of completing those staff appraisals. I wasn’t going to rest until every last one was finished. Then I would email them to Alastair, wait for him to get back to me with his opinions and suggestions, and then I would rewrite them.
That was my intention.
That intention vanished as soon as I looked at them. Instead, I scowled at the files and put them underneath my desk so I couldn’t see them.
Then I went to the fridge and got myself a glass of lovely wine. I found a pepperoni pizza in the freezer and shoved that in the oven. It said on the packet it was a pizza made for sharing. Well, I was going to share it with myself, so that was okay. It wasn’t gluten-free, or anything else free, and it was just what I needed. Goodness knows how long it had been in the freezer, but it hadn’t poisoned me.
Once my refreshments had been taken care of, I settled down on the sofa with Buffy and listened out for the patter of cat feet. The feet never came. I ended up spending the evening on my own, but I didn’t mind. I had a lot of information to process.
I was still processing that information the following morning. I’d tried to ring Gran first thing. I didn’t want us to be on bad terms. We never had been before, and I didn’t like how things had ended with us yesterday.
Gran didn’t answer when I phoned. I tried her landline and mobile and left messages on both.
Now, here I was, early Monday morning in my office, barely awake and those irritating staff appraisals piled up in front of me. I was living the wrong life. I could feel it. I put my head in my hands, and a wave of despair washed over me.
“Morning!” Alastair called out as he strode into my office.
My office door is usually open. The people I work with always give a polite knock before entering. Alastair never does. He swans in like he owns the place. It must have been my lack of sleep or the events of yesterday, but anger bubbled up inside me. I felt like I was a volcano getting ready to erupt. I gave him a tight-lipped smile.
Alastair plonked his rear end on the end of my desk.
How can I describe him? Average. Average build and height. Indistinctive features. An everyday-looking kind of person. If he was involved in a crime, witnesses would be stumped to give a description of him. Average would be the word they used most.
Alastair began, “I tried phoning you last night, but your phone wasn’t on. Are you having problems with your service provider? You are using the one I recommended, aren’t you? Did you remember to charge your phone?” He gave me a condescending smile. “I know how forgetful you are.”
“I did charge it up. I always charge it up. I switched it off on purpose.”
“Oh? Why? I needed to talk to you. I knew you were at home because I checked the app.”
“I switched it off because I needed some peace and quiet,” I replied as politely as I could.
“Peace and quiet? Why?” He glanced at the paperwork in front of me. “Ah, yes. You had to complete the appraisals. Let’s have a look at them.”
He lunged across the desk and picked up a couple of files before I could stop him. He opened the first one and confusion crossed his face. He looked at the second one. Confusion was quickly replaced by ange
r.
He flung the files back on the desk and folded his arms tightly. “Cassia, what the hell are you playing at? These should have been completed by now. What will the managers on the top floor say when they hear about this? I’ll tell you what they’ll say. They’ll blame me for recommending you for your recent promotion. Some of them had their doubts about you, but I said you’d manage with my help. Well? What have you got to say for yourself?”
I couldn’t say anything. But the volcano inside me was bubbling away.
Alastair threw his hands in the air and got to his feet. “You need to get this mess sorted out right away. Your bad performance reflects on me, and I’m not having it. I’ve worked too hard to reach my present position. I won’t have your substandard workmanship affecting my future prospects.” He looked me up and down. “And do something about your appearance. Have you even attempted to put any make-up on this morning?”
The volcano was nearing eruption. I was going to tell him exactly what I thought. I opened my mouth to let him have it.
He held a hand up and said, “I don’t want any of your excuses. Get those appraisals completed immediately. Don’t sit there looking stupid. They won’t do themselves.” He gave me a cold look before walking away.
As soon as he left my office, my anger deflated and I let out a long sigh. I sounded like a balloon being let down at the end of a party.
I pulled the files closer to me and placed my hands on top of them. Alastair was right. I should have done these last night. I’d let him down.
I opened the first one. Cheryl Atkins. I smiled. Cheryl was a lovely person. She had two young children, and she often looked like she hadn’t slept through the night, but she was always cheerful. She worked incredibly hard, and I was going to give her a glowing report and a pay rise.
My right hand tingled as I thought about what I was going to say. Then something strange happened. Words began to form on the paper. The very words I intended to write.
I quickly pulled my hand away, and the writing stopped. What had just happened? Magic? Had my visit to Brimstone awoken some hidden powers inside me?
I shrugged. I didn’t care why it was happening. I put my hand back and thought again about what I wanted to write. The words flowed swiftly on to the paper. There were no spelling mistakes, and the punctuation appeared in all the right places. It was awesome. It was magical. It was probably against some witchy rules to be doing magic in such an open place. I didn’t care. I was having fun.
Cheryl’s appraisal was soon finished. I mumbled to myself, “So, Alastair, these appraisals won’t do themselves, will they? Ha! You’re wrong. Hee hee.”
I carried on with the rest of the paperwork, and it was all completed in twenty minutes. I leant back in my chair and was about to revel in smugness, but something stopped me.
A sudden, cold feeling of dread came crashing down on me. It was so sudden that it took my breath away. My stomach clenched, and my heart thudded against my ribcage.
Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong. I leapt to my feet and looked out on to the office floor. Was someone in trouble? Was someone hurt? I couldn’t see anything.
My attention was drawn to a small green thing fluttering in the air. It headed towards me. As it came closer I saw what it was - a Brimstone butterfly.
How had it got into the building? All the windows were sealed shut. And why was no one else looking at it as it flew through the air?
Cold sweat broke out on my forehead as it came straight for me. I knew, without doubt, it was carrying a message for me.
I held my hand out, and the butterfly landed on it. A small sound came from it. It was like a whisper. I couldn’t make out the words, so I lifted the butterfly to my ear and asked it to repeat the message.
“Cassia!” Gran’s voice came from the little creature. “Cassia! Help! Help!” This was followed by Gran screaming.
My knees buckled, and I fell back against my desk. I said to the butterfly, “Where is she? Where’s Gran? Is she in Brimstone?”
The butterfly opened its wings and flew away.
My desk phone rang making me jump. I grabbed the receiver. “Gran? Is that you? Are you okay?”
“Ms Winter? It’s Doctor Gilbert. I’m at your grandma’s house. She’s had an accident. Can you come here straightaway?”
Chapter 10
I took a moment to steady myself and to get my heartbeat back to normal. Then I grabbed my bag and dashed out of the office. The sensible part of me made me go over to Cheryl’s desk and blurt out, “Cheryl! Family emergency! Have to leave. Appraisals on my desk.”
Cheryl took in the severity of the situation immediately and replied, “I’ll deal with everything, Cassia. Off you go. I hope everything works out okay.”
I raced out of the building and towards the car park. I had no idea I could run so fast. I’m sure I must have broken the speed limit as I jumped in my car and zoomed towards Gran’s house. Dr Gilbert didn’t give me any details over the phone and said he’d explain everything in person.
I swallowed down the panic as I drove. I couldn’t imagine Gran not being in my life. She’d always been there for me. I assumed she always would be.
With a dramatic squeal, I pulled up outside Gran’s house, vaguely registered an unfamiliar car outside, and ran into the house.
I found her lying on the sofa in the living room, her head resting against pillows. My heart missed a beat when I saw how pale she was. A man was sitting on a chair at her side with Oliver on his knee.
I knew the man because I’d been to see him many times in the last few months.
Dr Gilbert looked over at me, smiled and said, “Hello there, Cassia. Thanks for coming so quickly. Your Gran here has taken a bit of a tumble. She can’t remember yet how it happened.”
I went over to Gran’s side, dropped to my knees and peered closely at her lovely face. I winced as I saw a purple bruise blooming on her cheek.
I took one of her hands in my own and said, “Gran, what have you been doing? Are you alright? Are you going to the hospital?”
Gran gave me a weak smile and replied, “Stop fussing, I’m fine. I’ve just been a silly old woman, that’s all. I’ve got a few bruises, but that’s it.”
Dr Gilbert interjected, “That’s not all, she’s got a sprained ankle too.” He nodded in the direction of Gran’s elevated leg, and I saw her left ankle had been bandaged. Dr Gilbert continued, “It’s nothing serious, but she does need to rest for a week, maybe two weeks. I’ve given her some painkillers and some sleeping tablets. They’re quite strong and she may nod off soon. Which is a good thing as you know how active your grandma is. She needs lots of rest so she can recover.”
My eyes stung as I looked back at Gran. “How did it happen? Were you doing too much again?”
Gran gave me a pointed look and said, “It was nothing, Cassia. Why don’t you see Dr Gilbert to the door? I’m sure he’s got more important patients to deal with than me.”
Dr Gilbert gave Oliver a final stroke on his head before placing him on the ground. He got to his feet and said, “Now, Esther Winter, I’m serious when I say you need to have some rest. You’re not as young as you once were, and your healing time will take a lot longer. I’m going to ring Cassia later to see how you’re getting on. There’s no point phoning you because I know you won’t tell me the truth. And there’s no need to look at me like that, we’ve known each other a long time and I know what you’re like.” He looked in my direction and said, “I’ll see myself out. Cassia, are you still coming to see me next week?”
I gave him a brief nod. I was a regular visitor to Dr Gilbert’s surgery with my various ailments. I was going to ask him for stronger painkillers for my headaches and to see if he could do anything about my increasingly painful ulcers. But I wasn’t going to mention that in front of Gran.
Dr Gilbert said farewell and left the house. As soon as I heard him drive away, I turned my attention back to Gran.
Gran sa
id, “Before you say anything, let me talk first. Those tablets the doctor gave me are already working, and I’m starting to feel drowsy. Cassia, I need to tell you something before I end up in the land of nod.”
“Can I just ask if you’re feeling okay? Do you need me to get you another pillow? Or a blanket?”
Gran moved her head from side to side, and I noticed her wincing with pain. Oliver jumped on to the sofa and settled himself at Gran’s side.
Gran said, “Cassia, I was in Brimstone when I was hurt.”
“Brimstone? What happened? Who hurt you?”
“I’ll get to the facts a lot quicker if you stop interrupting me. I was working on a case involving Jonathan Tidewell.”
“Jonathan Tidewell? Who’s he? Is he the one who hurt you?” I rolled up my sleeves. “Tell me where this Jonathan is, I’ll soon sort him out.”
A ghost of a smile flickered on Gran’s face. “Cassia, your resolve is strong, but you wouldn’t have been much of a match against Jonathan. He was a werewolf.”
I pulled my sleeves back down. “Was a werewolf? What happened to him?”
“I’m trying to get to that point, but you keep interrupting me.” Gran let out a little yawn. “Jonathan Tidewell apparently committed suicide by hanging himself from a tree in the forest in Brimstone. The leader of Jonathan’s pack, Strom, is concerned about his suicide and thinks something more sinister is at work. Strom was so concerned that he contacted Blythe who then asked me to investigate the matter. So, early this morning I went into the forest to see where the supposed suicide took place.”
I shook my head slowly in disbelief. “Gran, are you telling me you went into a forest full of werewolves to see how one of them had died? That can’t be safe.”
“Cassia, you keep forgetting I’m a witch. Supernatural beings don’t mess with me, not if they know what’s good for them. Anyway, if you’d let me finish, I went into the forest to examine the tree where Jonathan had killed himself. As I got closer to it, I heard voices; two voices. I walked towards them.” Gran frowned. “That’s all I can remember. I vaguely recall feeling scared and then running. I think I felt someone pushing me, or shouting at me. And the next thing I knew, I was lying here with Dr Gilbert looking at me with that silly worried expression on his face.”
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