by Karen Diem
Color drained from his face. “Let me know when we’re leaving, then.”
Zita nodded, took his arm, and propelled him to Wyn. “Let’s go tell Jerome that we’ll go in three or four weeks.”
Wyn beamed.
Chapter Ten
A half-hour later, the trio had returned to Andy’s much cleaner basement apartment.
At the computer, Wyn linked up to the webcam she’d left running in her hotel room. A picture of her cats lay on a hotel bed, with a paperback book next to it.
Beside her, Zita was trying hard not to comment on the shirtless bodybuilder on the book’s cover, or to ask why he was purple and angled to hide his face.
On the opposite side of the room, Andy puttered with a stack of papers, picking them up and putting them down again. “If we’re not going to Brazil tonight, we should all say goodnight. Zita’s up past her bedtime.”
Speaking of bedtimes. Zita cleared her throat. “So, I should mention that dream auntie’s back again, stomping through and ruining perfectly good dreams with all her warnings. You know, the lady in church clothes who was invading our sleep when we were dealing with the evil knife of evilness? I meant to say something before and forgot. What kind of world is it, though, when a woman can’t even walk around nude in her dreams without someone getting all prissy about it?”
“Please don’t be naked in my living room or any room of my place,” Andy said.
“That’ll make it hard to shower,” Zita teased.
He didn’t smile.
“The Key of Hades… the knife may have been used for evil, but it is a magical artifact with a no-doubt fascinating history.” Wyn shook her head and assumed a more businesslike manner. “The dreamcatcher I gave you isn’t keeping her out? I’ll revise the spell and see if I can do more about that. The challenge is that she’s not using magic to do it, instead invoking what must be her power. I’m hesitant to eliminate every dream pathway since I don’t want to risk prolonged sleep deprivation for either of you.”
Andy stared off into space. “Get her to leave me alone too,” he said. His whole body folded in on itself.
Zita drummed her fingers on her thigh and squirmed. “I’ve been sleeping on Andy’s couch, not in my bed with the dreamcatcher, though sleeping in animal form seems to keep her from stopping by as often. That’d be hard for Andy to try, though. I think his bird form’s getting a little round from lack of flying. He might be the size of two jets these days instead of just one.”
“I am not!”
“Relax, mano,” Zita said. “I’m sure you’re only the size of one and a half jets. Last time you sparred with me, you had me teleport us there. How about we switch it up, and you fly us somewhere next time? As far as I know, you haven’t flown since our diversion to Vegas.” She grinned at him.
Andy’s answer was soft. “It’d be a bad idea. I won’t risk it.”
Zita frowned at him but went back to the original topic. “So, if this Heart rock is what Janus warned us about, what bad stuff will it do?”
“I’ll investigate it,” Wyn said, her voice quiet. The research librarian’s lips tilted into a smile. “I can do a bit while I’m in New York using the libraries there, and when I get back home Friday, I’ll claim the research is at a student’s request. When work is slow, assisting students is an approved way to spend our time. Tiffany assaulted the department head in my subject with the Key of Hades, so I’m short of tasks these days.”
“How is he?” Zita asked.
Drifting past Andy and Zita, Wyn sighed. “He’s recovering well for his age, but he’s decided to retire and move closer to his grandchildren. The university won’t say who they want as a replacement, so my conjecture is they’re dangling tenure as bait in front of someone they want to lure away from another school. I do hope the new person is less of a Luddite. It’s so much easier to deliver reports via email, and I worked with him a lot. The new head hopefully will also have a knack for finding funding. My job stability relies on that department staying funded, and you know how my cats eat.”
“Like real cats?” Zita said.
Andy snorted. “Not like you, at any rate, Zita. You’ve got sabertooth tiger tastes in a domestic house cat body.”
Zita considered that. “Probably true, at least compared to Wyn’s beasts. She feeds them that fancy organic salmon and everything.”
Wyn looked up. “Zita, before you take me to New York, can we stop by my place? I need to pick up something.”
She shrugged. “Sure. I’ve got your basement memorized at this point.”
***
When Wyn and Zita returned to the basement apartment, Andy had changed into his favorite baggy sleeping pants and a T-shirt with a cartoon on it. Wyn’s chin was high, and her eyes were bright as she clutched a giant cat carrier to her chest. One hand on Wyn and the other clasping a large bag, Zita struggled to keep her face noncommittal.
Wyn smiled and set down the trembling carrier. Plucking the bag from Zita’s hands, she glided forward, hugging Andy, then pressing it into his hands. “Please thank your parents for me! I appreciate them agreeing to take the poor little thing in! My cats won’t accept him, and it’s cruel to leave him shut in my bathroom. Plus, I’m starting to worry about the sink pipes if he stays in there much more. I put enough food for a week or two in this, plus bowls and a toy he has claimed.”
“What? I didn’t agree… Zita? Is this your doing?” Andy said, shifting the bag aside.
She waved a hand. This is not how I would have done it, but, hey. Can’t stop the Wyn train now. “Chill, mano. You just need to give the poor homeless kitten a safe place until she finds something better. When I talked to your dad yesterday—”
“Wait, why were you talking to my dad?”
“You were in the bathroom, and he called, remember?” she said. “He said you used to beg for a kitten when you were a teenager, so they were willing to try it. They didn’t think you’d mind taking care of him until they got back.”
Andy muttered, “I am never going to the bathroom again.”
Zita bit her tongue to keep from commenting on that and eyed the size of the crate at her feet, misgivings growing. “Wyn, did you get a new crate? How much food is in there with him?”
Sheepishly, Wyn shrugged. “I borrowed this one special just for him.”
The carrier, a clunky thing two sizes larger than Wyn’s usual ones, vibrated with the motion of the furious cat inside, the plastic parting at the seams with each impact, and a low, steady growl emanated from it.
Setting the cage on the ground, Zita backed away from it. “Did you forget to mention something?”
Andy stared at it. “I thought you said a homeless kitten?”
“Don’t worry, he’s litter trained, and between two and four years old, so he’s past the worst kitten craziness. I had him fixed and got him his shots before I left for the conference.” Wyn darted forward and unlatched the front of the carrier.
A gray and white streak burst from inside, knocked over the bag on the sofa as it catapulted past, and disappeared into the morass of wires behind Andy’s computer.
Wyn gave a weak smile and fluttered her lashes at Zita and Andy. She shoved a bag of treats into Andy’s hand and a piece of paper into Zita’s. “He’s really very sweet and loving, but he loathes crates. Directions are on the note. Zita, I really need to get back to New York before someone misses me.” She grabbed Zita’s arm with a surprising amount of pressure, given her scrawny arms.
“Fine, I’ll take you.” Zita glanced at the webcam and teleported with Wyn.
After the hotel room formed around them, Wyn exhaled and shut the laptop humming on the desk. She collapsed on the bed, one hand across her forehead. “I hope this works. I just couldn’t stay another minute longer for fear he’d talk me out of it.”
“Coward,” Zita said. “You know I’m going to get the heat for this.”
Wyn waved a dismissive hand but didn’t deny the accusation. “It was you
r idea.”
“I thought we’d ease him into the idea of a pet,” Zita protested.
After kicking off her shoes, Wyn massaged her arches. “It’ll turn out for the best in the long run. Thank you for the assistance getting back, but I should shut off the computer and head to bed.”
“I really hope you know what we’re doing,” Zita said. With a sigh, she braced herself to face her cranky temporary roommate and his new cat, then teleported to Andy’s basement.
Andy hadn’t moved, other than to fold his arms over his chest and scowl. “I blame you.” He stared in the direction where the cat had disappeared behind his giant monitor. The tip of a solid gray tail poked out like a question mark.
“Mano, I never actually met him before, and you can’t want the poor thing to suffer. I’d consider taking him in temporarily, but I can’t. Sobek would disembowel him like he did my neighbor’s dogs.” She forced down nausea at the memory, grimacing. Her eyes drifted to the computer.
A white and gray paw lashed out, and Andy’s mouse fell to the floor.
Andy glared. “Oh, I can blame you and I will. Are there any other strays I’ll be taking in that I should know about?”
As they watched, the cat emerged. Even with his ears laid almost flat against his head, it was almost impossible to miss that one ear had several notches in it, and the other was half missing. The cat lifted a wide, round head to eye them through suspicious green eyes.
“It’s like a drunk cat on steroids mated with a pony… or a battering ram. I’m not certain there’ll be any room left on the couch for me if he’s there. Pues, at least he’s all muscle, like a cat bodybuilder. Nobody can accuse your cat of being a pansy,” Zita commented, as a body, almost as broad and brawny as it was long, slipped into sight.
With a deep exhale, Andy said, “Maybe he’d solve the serial killer who’s after your family problem for you if you kept him at your place. I can’t just keep calling him Wyn’s cat, so I suppose we should name him.”
Zita scooped up the list of directions and turned a laugh into a cough. “Mano, he’s got a name.”
“If Wyn named him, let’s see… Thor?” As they watched, the cat reached out and knocked Andy’s keyboard off the desk with a casual swipe of a claw. His eyes narrowed. “Grendel?”
She cleared her throat. “Apparently, the kid at the library named him based on the shape of one of the spots in his coat. He answers to Cupcake.”
The feline strolled over to Zita’s feet, and meowed, his ragged ears rising. While most of his coat was white, solid gray patches were slapped here and there as if he had been splattered with paint.
Andy’s jaw dropped open, and the bag of treats fell to the floor, scattering tiny triangles on the ancient avocado shag carpet. “Cupcake?” He shot an incredulous glance at the cat. “What was she thinking? Who’s going to want this beast?”
Zita wrinkled her nose at the fishy, chemical scent rising from the spilled treats. “Those stink almost as bad as you did when I first showed up here.”
Apparently not sharing her distaste, Cupcake sidled over to Andy’s feet and gulped down the treats. A low purr like a Harley engine revving rose as he dined.
“I feel like I shouldn’t watch, but he eats even faster than you,” Andy said, staring at Cupcake.
Zita picked up the treats and sealed them shut.
Cupcake eyed them both, crouching on the carpet. His eyes darted to the canvas bag Wyn had brought over, and he inched that direction.
“Oye, you need to find somewhere to put up his food. No more jerky storage on the couch for you.” Zita scooted over to remove it from Cupcake’s reach and tucked the treat container inside. Considering the brawny animal, she added, “Better make it someplace secure.”
“Fort Knox?” Andy said.
A rusty, rumbling sound emanated near her feet, and a hard shove against her ankles had her looking down, where the big cat now rubbed.
Cupcake chirped like a kitten.
Zita exchanged glances with Andy. “You’re in luck. He’s food motivated. Cesar Millan says that’s the easiest kind to train.”
Andy slapped his forehead. “He’s a dog expert! This is a cat. You don’t train cats, you just hope they’re not hungry enough to eat you yet!”
She grinned. “Well, you’ve got a way to bribe him to stop him from eating you.”
“Nice, Z. Just set up the bowls and some food for him.” Andy stomped into his bedroom and slammed the door shut.
At her feet, Cupcake purred and wore an expression that seemed suspiciously like a smirk.
Chapter Eleven
In retrospect, she should have bought the rock candy and lost the man.
That Friday night, the wind tugged at Zita’s brown bomber jacket with frosty fingers as she considered giving into temptation and abandoning her blind date. It would have been easier to do earlier, but she had been on her best behavior. Around and above her, the dead corn rustled and whispered, rising higher than her head. Occasional mad laughter and clumsy movements of others in the maze broke into the constant susurration of the stalks, but for all intents and purposes, they were alone in the dark.
Given that her date—Ivan? Isaiah? Isaac? Something with an I—had gone running around another bend in the path, she was by herself in the unlit place. Honestly, being without her date for a few minutes didn’t bother her. Zita snickered at the thought, though she would have brought her compact flashlight had she known they would be roaming outside this late.
Checking to ensure she still had her wallet and keys, she touched her fingers to the tiny penlight attached to her keyring, her hands stroking the body-warmed metal. The weight of her phone was in the opposite pocket, balancing her jacket. The starlight and full moon are more than enough to navigate by, and this is easier than the awkward conversation expected on a first date, especially a blind one set up by one’s brother. I suppose I could’ve delayed this, but I won’t let that psychopath Sobek ruin my whole life.
The walk barely counted as motion to someone who exercised multiple hours daily, but she didn’t make a habit of pursuing men who ran from her. Unless, of course, she wanted to hand them over to the police or stop them from mass murder. She made a face at that thought and continued walking. This is a date, she told herself, and I’ll be a normal woman on it. Nothing’s going to happen that will give away my powers.
She entertained the idea of allowing her date to escape and going home. Is he trying to ditch me or is he just really bad at walking with another person? I didn’t think the date was that terrible. It wasn’t going well, but nobody’s been beaten up, swarmed by mind-controlled squirrels, or fallen asleep, which puts it ahead of my last two. At least the walk is fast enough to keep me awake. I was afraid he would insist on a leisurely stroll, and while it’s pretty and all, it’s just dead corn and the occasional hay bale with a pumpkin on it. Perhaps he’s bored, too? As she mused, her muscular legs carried her forward with little effort.
Mentally running through the date, Zita tried to figure out what she’d done this time. Or what he’d done. Her date, Igor—No, that doesn’t sound right. He seems like an Isaac, so I’ll call him that until he says his name again—had sprung the surprise of attending a Maryland harvest festival on her after they’d met at a DC coffeehouse. Although she was certain she could take him in a fight, as he lacked the coordination or the situational awareness she expected in a field agent or someone who had trained in martial arts, she had ridden her motorcycle separately.
Once there, the silences had been more of the uncomfortable variety. While he had insisted on paying for dinner, he had frowned the entire time she had eaten. At least the food had been good, with the meatloaf and chicken being exceptional and the apple cider donut making the whole evening worthwhile. Zita had wanted to check out the rock candy, having never tried it before, but he had dragged her away when she’d headed for the table, even when she offered to pay for it herself.
Running down the list of events, t
hey could agree on very few. They had compromised by stopping by the “petting zoo” of overfed farm animals and walking through the corn labyrinth.
Speaking of puzzles, Wyn should be back from her librarian conference and might have found out something about the Heart gem. I’ll just check in and make sure everyone treated her right. Since her date was still absent, Zita flipped open her phone. She continued to stroll forward as she laboriously typed in a message to her friend. When she rounded the corner, as had happened before, her date waited there for her. Pues, he really looks like an Isaac, one who’s gotten into his grandpa’s moonshine.
She pressed Send and shut the phone.
“There you are,” probably-Isaac said, his voice too loud and jovial. In the limited light of his big flashlight, his eyes glinted. He laughed, the sound a little feral, a little nervous. Sweat stood out on his forehead.
Perhaps he got a bad piece of chicken and needed a bathroom? It might explain why he had gotten more and more wound up as the evening progressed. My brother said he was a prankster, but Miguel is so straight-laced that most people are jokers in comparison. Zita plastered on a smile. “Sure, here I am.”
He checked his watch again, the numbers glowing green in the dark.
Her eyes narrowed. Bizarre. If he weren’t a federal lab tech with a high clearance, I’d think he was on something. Maybe it was the chicken. “Did you want to turn around? You seem to be in a hurry,” she said, strolling up to him and tilting her head up to meet his gaze.
“No, I’m in no hurry,” he said. “If you’re scared we can go back.” In the quiet field, his voice was nearly a shout.
She laughed. “No, I’m fine.” In the dried stalks nearby, someone stumbled. They should’ve brought a flashlight too if they’re that blind. I’d lend them mine if my keys weren’t attached.
Isaac drew close, looming over her, easy to do given the disparity in their heights. His pace slowed to match hers, and an arm touched her side, sliding around her shoulders.