by Tara Lain
“Sammy. Psst.”
What? He opened his eyes, and Chen was staring at him. At the front of the class, Dr. Barth was lecturing away. What happened? He smiled at Chen. “Sorry.”
Chen whispered, “No problem. I was worried when you didn’t wake up. Did you actually go to sleep?”
Sammy shook his head. “Not exactly.” He turned his attention back toward Dr. Barth, but out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ryder staring at him. Sammy went to take a note. What the hells? On his notepad he’d drawn a picture of himself with Aloysius, the familiar, on his shoulder. Every detail was sketched in pencil down to the silken texture of the cat’s fur. Had he done it while he was asleep? No, he hadn’t been asleep, just… somewhere else. But maybe wherever he went was enough like sleeping that his prophetic painting had kicked in. Was this scene going to happen? Weird.
Sammy flipped the page and took notes, trying to focus on Killian, who was telling the class they would have the chance to practice many techniques in their journey through the history of mysticism. Sammy wasn’t sure what to make of the practice they’d just done. Maybe he was tired from his midnight art frenzy.
Finally the class was over. Food seemed like a good idea. He’d only had the egg and latte this morning, and last night he hadn’t eaten much of his veggie burger because he’d been nervous about impressing Arnold. What an idiot. Anyway, lunch. He was light-headed.
Sammy shoved his notepad in his backpack and stood beside Chen. Ryder waited behind him.
“Mrwar.”
What? Sammy looked around, then felt pressure on his shins.
“Mrwar.” Aloysius did figure eights, rubbing his silky blackness against Sammy’s jeans.
“Hi, fella. Hey, good to see you.” That was kind of true, even though the cat made him nervous.
Aloysius jumped up on a seat. The crossed blue eyes stared up at Sammy. “Mrwar.” And in one fluid leap, the cat soared through the air and landed smack on Sammy’s shoulder. Just like in the drawing.
“Whoa.” Sammy staggered back two steps and felt Ryder’s hands settle on his shoulders. The grip was strong and warm.
“Mrwar.”
Ryder laughed, but all Sammy could feel was the heat and pressure of those hands.
Ryder laughed again. “He’s licking me. His tongue is scratchy!” Sammy glanced back and saw the cat scraping his long tongue over Ryder’s fingers. There was something about the power of Aloysius’s tongue that Sammy ought to remember, but the synapses in his brain weren’t firing. The synapses in his cock, however, ran rampant. Every one of Ryder’s long fingers on his shoulders seemed to have a direct connection to Sammy’s balls.
Too soon, Ryder moved his hands. Would that they had traveled to Sammy’s butt, but no such luck. Ryder looked at Sammy. “You okay?”
Sammy cleared his throat. “Fine. Aloysius startled me.”
“Has he ever done that before?”
“Nope.” Sammy reached up tentatively and patted the cat’s head. Aloysius pushed into Sammy’s hand, and he giggled. “What do you think he wants?”
“Mr. Raphael, Mr. McMasters, Mr. Chen.” Killian stood in the aisle, leaning into their row. He was always formal in class. It suited him. Plus Ryder was human, so Killian couldn’t reveal too much familiarity. Killian smiled. “Al seems to have taken to you, Mr. Raphael.”
Alvish, now Ryder, looked up. “Al? Do you mean me, sir?”
That made Sammy’s heart do a double take. He wished Alvish had taken a liking to him.
Killian smiled. “I call Aloysius Al, but perhaps I should call him Al Number One.”
Ryder shook his head. “No, sir. If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to be called Ryder. It’s my middle name.”
Killian leveled his gaze at Ryder. “A new name to go with your metamorphosis, I gather?”
Ryder nodded. “Something like that.”
Killian reached out a hand to Aloysius. “Come on, Al. We have places to go.”
The cat circled Sammy’s neck like a winter scarf and began to purr. Sammy reached up to dislodge him and got teeth, gently but firmly, placed in the pad of his thumb. “Uh, Dr. Barth….”
Killian raised one fair eyebrow. “A new regime, I see.” He looked at Al. “Are you sure, Al?”
The cat released his teeth from Sammy’s flesh and purred louder.
“All right, I’m sure he has his reasons. Enjoy your guest cat, Mr. Raphael.”
“What? But, sir… I don’t know how…. What in hells am I going to do with a cat?”
Killian laughed. “Anything he wants.”
SAMMY STOPPED outside the coffee shop. Purring in his ear. Hmm. This wasn’t going to work. He craned his neck to the side so he could look at the cat’s silky black face. “Hey, Al, how about you stay out here while I go in with the guys?”
One side of the soft lip rose, exposing a white fang. Terrifying so close up. “O-kay. I guess we’ll get thrown out together.”
Sammy wrapped the cat tighter around him and followed Chen and Ryder into the shop. The owner waved at them with a big smile. Interesting she wasn’t yelling about “no cats in the restaurant.” He knew from Jimmy that Killian usually bespelled the cat so he wasn’t visible to humans. Sammy hadn’t done that. Didn’t know how, in fact. Good grief. Maybe Aloysius bespelled himself? Sammy looked at the cat quietly sleeping on his shoulder. He sure didn’t look like some big witchy deal.
Sammy slid into the back booth next to Chen. Ryder sat across from them. Mistake. Looking at that beautiful face was very bad for the concentration. He’d found Ryder compelling when he’d looked like a normal human. Now? Devastating.
Sammy nodded toward the empty space beside Ryder. “Sure seems strange not to have Jimmy here.”
Ryder glanced up as Mrs. Potorsky, the owner, delivered their usual—a cup of black coffee for Ryder, iced tea for Chen, and iced coffee with milk in it for Sammy. They ordered sandwiches.
Ryder smiled. “Thanks, Mrs. P.” She returned the grin and went back to the counter. He looked at Sammy and Chen. “Have you heard from Jimmy?”
Sammy nodded. “I got a couple of e-mails. He and Lavender are, uh, visiting friends in some places in Europe.” He didn’t say they were on a diplomatic mission for Killian to the old-world covens. The incident with the kinky witch Moran, who had tried to dominate Killian, had the Witch Master worried about what might be going on in Europe.
Ryder sipped his coffee. “Doesn’t Jimmy have to start his new job soon?”
Sammy nodded. “I think they’re giving him some time for a prolonged honeymoon.” Of course, Jimmy was going to work in a high-tech firm owned by a witch, so he got lots of leeway, but Sammy couldn’t tell Ryder that. Sometimes having one human in their group felt awkward, but when they’d first become friends, none of them knew they were witches. It was before the unification.
Mrs. Potorsky brought their sandwiches. Sammy dug into his tuna on wheat. As soon as Mrs. P. left, Aloysius slithered down onto the table and made a quick round of the selections. After a sniff of Sammy’s tuna and Chen’s BLT, he focused in on Ryder’s turkey and swiss. With scalpel-like precision, he grasped the edge of a piece of turkey sticking out of the bread and whipped it from between the multigrain without disturbing so much as a leaf of lettuce.
“Hey! Did you see that?” Ryder laughed. “I’ll bet he’s a master of the tablecloth trick.”
Sammy smiled. From what he heard, Aloysius was a master of any trick he wanted.
Ryder reached out as Aloysius chewed and started scratching his head. Sammy stared at those long-fingered hands. God’s balls. He wanted to stretch out his head for similar treatment.
Aloysius finished chewing and flopped over on his side, then rolled to his back, legs straight up in the air.
Chen laughed. “Now that’s what I’d call an undignified position.”
Ryder started stroking the silky fur. “Want a belly rub, boy? Jesus, will you look at those balls? This dude is hung. He must be the most po
pular tomcat in town.”
What was going on? Sammy felt like every stroke on the cat’s belly landed a lot closer to home. He watched Ryder’s fingers get near the cat’s balls and felt his own tingling as his cock rose slowly and steadily in his jeans. He shifted to the left, trying to get comfortable. More tingling. Good grief. He shifted again to the right.
Chen moved over to get away from him. “You okay?”
“Fine.” Sammy tried to choke down the last of his sandwich. This was crazy. The cat’s body parts seemed somehow connected straight to Sammy’s. Every stroke of Al’s black fur could have been a caress of Sammy’s nether regions. Or was the connection with Ryder? Would it have happened if Chen were doing the petting? Whatever. It was too much!
Sammy grabbed the cat from the middle of the table and got a squall for his trouble as he flipped Aloysius back onto his neck.
Ryder stared at him.
“Sorry. Just thought Mrs. Potorsky might be looking at Al.”
Aloysius licked Sammy’s neck. Gods, more torture. Finally the cat settled down and purred himself to sleep. Sammy chewed a last bite and washed it down with iced coffee. He took some deep breaths. His cock twitched, gave up hoping, and went back to sleep.
Ryder chewed what was left of his turkey sandwich. He leaned forward. “Did you guys see that new chick with the double-Ds in the front row? Those things have to be fake, don’t you think?”
Chen shook his head. “No way. She was a little chunky, so I think they’re real.”
“But they didn’t move….”
Shit. Just like that, Sammy was back in Alvish hell. The guy might have changed his name and his appearance, but he retained his 100 percent fascination with every tit in the greater New York area. Sammy sighed. How fast could he get out of here?
“Mrwar.”
Yes, good excuse. He slurped the last of his coffee. “Hey, guys, I have to go to the store and get something for Aloysius to eat, or he’s going to be stuck with cold pizza tonight. I’ve only got a few minutes until my last class. See you tomorrow.”
Chen looked up. “Oh, okay. See ya.”
Ryder grinned. “See you, Sammy. See you, Al.”
Sammy picked up his check, paid at the counter, and pushed out the door into the afternoon sun. “Thanks for the excuse, Aloysius. I don’t think I could take one more tit. And I really do need to get you some food.”
He walked toward the convenience store. He’d painted a prophecy of Ryder’s arrival. So what? Like all his other prophetic paintings, it was insignificant and had nothing to do with Sammy, at least not in any way that was important. It was time to quit mooning over his friend. Ryder wanted tits, and Sammy didn’t have any. He needed to find a gay witch who liked tall, thin, nice guys. He was tired of being everybody’s pal. Sammy was on the market.
Chapter Two
“OKAY, FUR ball, this is the best I can do.” Sammy shoveled some canned salmon into one of his small, chipped bowls and put it on the floor.
Aloysius stared at him like he’d lost his frigging witch’s mind and scaled the height to the small kitchenette’s counter in a smooth leap. There he crossed one paw over the other and waited.
“I see. I guess we have other plans.” Sammy set the bowl on the counter. Al licked both paws, sniffed, and began to daintily eat.
Sammy glanced at Al and got a sharp blue-eyed look, so he grabbed a piece of cold pizza and a beer from the fridge and went into the living space to sit on the rickety couch. The last few hours of constant feline attention had made him both more scared of Aloysius and less. The cat was so smart he might as well be human. No, that might be an insult to Al. The cat was clearly a supernatural being with great self-awareness. At the same time, he was quirky, funny, and approachable. He loved having his tummy rubbed, to be scratched behind the ears like any cat, and had people he adored and those whom he abjured. He was a very familiar familiar.
They’d shopped with Al on Sammy’s shoulders. Nobody commented. Sammy had gone to his advanced art theory class with Al as his fur scarf. Again, not a word. Obviously the cat made himself invisible to humans, but oddly, Ryder could see him. Selective invisibility?
Sammy flipped on the television. The cable subscription was his one indulgence. Other witches had money because their powers allowed them to affect the physical world, understand people, and even predict the outcomes of the stock market with some accuracy. Since Sammy’s power was so wimpy, he had no money. Simple equation. He came from a family with little wealth. His dad was a teacher and his mom a public defender. They served the community and struggled to support their eight kids. Though his dad was a witch, he seldom used his powers. Of course before the rejoining Killian had inspired, bringing the half-breed witches and pureblooded witches together, Sammy’s dad hadn’t been recognized as a witch. Even now he seemed happy living as a human. Sammy loved his family and tried to be independent enough not to be a burden. Scholarships helped, and he worked his ass off all summer and a lot of nights.
He leaned his head back, dodging the lump in the middle of the couch, and flipped through channels. Maybe he’d watch that dance show. There weren’t any straight guys visiting who would moan and ask to watch sports. Oh yeah. Watching shirtless guys with zero body fat was Sammy’s idea of a good time.
“Mwar.”
“Hey, Al.”
The cat jumped onto the couch, stared at Sammy until he uncrossed his legs, stepped onto the now available lap, circled three times, and settled into a black cat ball. Sammy tentatively petted the silken head. “What the heck are you doing here? You’re this powerhouse feline who helped save the world for witchery. What could you possibly want with a no-talent witch like me?”
No response.
“I hope you like dancing.” Sammy chewed the pizza, sipped his beer, and sank farther down on the couch as he watched gorgeous men leap around the stage. Whew. If Al weren’t on his lap, he’d be jerking off. He really needed a boyfriend. The new and improved Ryder filled his mind. Shit, no. Think about something else.
Trying not to disturb Al, Sammy set down the beer bottle, kicked off his flip-flops, and put his feet up on the table. Gods, he was tired. Doing prophetic paintings all night took it out of him. Ooh. Cute guy doing hip-hop. Sammy’s eyes closed. Jerked open. Cute guy. Closed again. Hells. He’d rest for a second.
“ERRRRRRRRRR. ERRRRRRRR.”
What the hells? Weight on his chest. Terrible pain in his back. Strange sound and vibration rumbling through him. What was going on? Slowly Sammy opened his eyes. Cat butt. Let’s see. He was lying on his back, so the fuzzy ass in his face certainly explained the weight on his chest. The pain in his back? Not again. He was lying in the middle of his floor with something damned uncomfortable pushing into his vertebrae and a ten-pound cat on his chest. The vibration? Aloysius was growling like a motorboat. This situation did not bode well.
Usually after a painting episode, Sammy was safe for a week or two. But his prophecy of meeting Ryder—big fucking deal—had been the night before last. And now here he was again. Obviously Aloysius wasn’t too impressed with his so-called powers either. His growl sounded like a thumbs-down to Sammy.
What did he do this time?
“Excuse me, fella.” He sat up, forcing Al to move forward onto his lap. Once there the cat stayed standing, staring straight ahead.
“Errrrrrrrrrrr.”
Sammy followed Al’s line of sight to the easel. Sweet bloody gods. Sammy had thought Ryder was beautiful. On a big canvas, Sammy had painted an angel with the most beautiful male face he’d ever seen. No, the most beautiful face he’d ever seen, male or female. Ethereal, radiant. Huge light blue eyes, a small nose, full lips, arched brows, pink cheeks, and a halo of pale almost-white hair. Dear gods, he was even more beautiful than Killian. Impossible. This couldn’t be a real being. But Sammy’s prophecies always came true, and this painting showed the creature smiling at him. Still, maybe it was metaphorical. Like he had a guardian angel, and the dude was watchi
ng over him. It was meant to make Sammy feel better about his mediocrity. Yeah, that must be it.
“Errrrrr.”
Sammy smoothed his hand over Al’s silky black spine. “It’s all right, boy. I do this all the time. Don’t think anything of it. Like, no big deal.”
“Errrrrrrr.”
Maybe the cat didn’t like angels. Oh well, another tough night, and he had to get to school. The TV blared behind him with some news show. “Move, boy, so I can get up.”
Al turned and gave Sammy a direct stare with his crossed blue eyes. He jumped off Sam’s lap, flicked his tail, walked over, and leaped up on the couch.
“I’ve got some more salmon for you.”
Aloysius curled into a ball on the faded cushions.
“I said you weren’t going to like being here with me.”
Nothing.
“It’s not too late to go back to Killian. I’ll bet he misses you.”
More nothing.
Sammy sighed. Man, he was tired. Dealing with a temperamental familiar wasn’t on his agenda for the day. He took a quick shower, dressed, grabbed a hard-boiled egg and his paint box, and started out the door.
Whap! A flying fur scarf attached itself to Sam’s neck, just about knocking him over. He looked sideways at the blue eyes staring at him. Weird, but a message floated across his mind. You go nowhere without me, witch. He shook his head. Losing it.
Chen was waiting for him in the coffee shop. Sammy waved and grabbed his latte. Chen led the way outdoors. Summer was hanging on, though a few yellow and brown leaves floated down from the trees.
Chen grinned. “I see you still have a cat.”