You've Got To Be Kitten: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Cozy Mystery

by Corrine Winters

  “Er, what he’s trying to say, is…we think a lot of the men you’ve dated are a tad, um, shallow. John’s more real. He’s not going to flake out on you.”

  “Yeah, he’s reliable. Plus, he smells fantastic.”

  “Yeah, he does,” Rufus said in agreement.

  “You guys…” Ruby’s laugh died down as she regarded an approaching set of headlights. “Okay, be on your best behavior. You hear me?”

  “Yes, Ruby,” Rufus said.

  “Yeah, whatever,” Rumpus said.

  John pulled the cruiser around and parked at the base of the lighthouse. His brows climbed his forehead as he regarded the cats in the stroller.

  “Bringing the cats, are we?”

  “I kind of have to,” Ruby said with a sigh. “Besides, you know a witch and her familiar.”

  “Right, They’re like batteries for you or something?”

  “It’s not even remotely close to being accurate, but sure, let’s go with that.” Ruby pushed the cart to the rear door of the cruiser. The cats jumped out of their own accord. She folded up the carrier and stowed it between the two back seats.

  “Well, they’re well behaved.”

  “Don’t talk about us like we’re not here,” Rumpus snapped.

  “And they’re snarky.” Ruby chuckled. “At least, the pudgy one is. Rufus is a sweetie.”

  “Did you hear that? I’m a sweetie?”

  “Pudgy? I’m in great shape.”

  “Round is a shape,” Rufus added.

  “What is this, pick on Rumpus day? That’s it, turn the car around, I’m not going.”

  “Pipe down, Rumpus. We’re not turning around! You berated me into taking you on this extrusion, and that’s that. You’re going.” Ruby rolled her eyes. “I swear sometimes, it’s like having children.”

  “I remember when Rumpus used to sneak into the high school to visit you. Drove the janitor crazy with how he kept getting in.”

  “Yeah, he’s a sneaky fluff butt.”

  “I can hear you.” Rumpus purred. “Flattery will get you everywhere. I am indeed one sneaky, clever cat.”

  “So, where is Malone hiding out these days?” Ruby asked, mostly to change the subject. Rumpus could talk at great length about all matters regarding himself.

  “I wouldn’t say he’s hiding out, exactly. He’s at the Sloane Grand Hotel downtown, giving a presentation on managing charitable businesses.”

  ‘He gets paid to talk about how to run a charity?”

  John sighed. “That, and much more. The Committee to Rebuild American Patriotism only actually uses a few pennies of the dollar toward actual charitable operations. The rest go to ‘administrative costs.’ It’s sad.”

  “That can’t be legal!”

  “Unfortunately, it’s totally legal. Lots of charities do the same. Have you ever wondered why so many people doing the ‘good work’ are flying around in Lear jets and tooting around in limousines?”

  “My childhood is ruined. I thought charities were the good guys.”

  “In some cases, they are. Even the ones who don’t put much of every dollar toward their cause. In CRAP’s case, it looks like a cash grab and it probably is.”

  “So CRAP turns a profit, all appearances to the contrary?”

  “Uh huh. Again, not that we can prove it, but it’s a possible form of leverage on Malone.”

  They pulled up outside the fifteen-story Sloane Hotel, nestled at the very edge of the downtown district. “No need for valet parking. Benefits of law enforcement.”

  He parked the cruiser and left the windows down halfway in the back. Ruby peered through the window at her cats sternly. “You two be good, or I’m not bringing you on any more of these excursions. Got it?”

  “We’ll be good.”

  “Rufus, keep your eyes peeled. Any one of these people could be up to no good!”

  The two cats peered intently at the passers-by, most of whom remained oblivious. The valet gave Chief John a strange look.

  “Um, drug sniffing cats,” John said. “Next revolution in law enforcement. Which floor is your convention center?”

  “Tenth…” The valet stared at the cats. “What if they try to get out?”

  “Then don’t try to stop them. Wouldn’t want you to get hurt.” John winked and then led Ruby inside the hotel.

  “I’ve never been in here before,” Ruby said. “it’s a lot nicer than I thought.”

  They walked on clean, polished slabs of limestone across a brightly-lit lobby. The hotel had a nautical theme—like half the businesses in Fiddler Cove—including the hull of a hundred-year-old fishing trawler suspended by cables from the ceiling.

  “Yeah, they really went all out on the remodel.”

  “You’ve been here before?”

  “Not often. There’s been a couple of noise complaints and evictions when people’s credit cards didn’t clear and they still wouldn’t leave. That kind of thing.”

  “So this is the first time you’ve come here investigating a murder?”

  John nodded. “Guess it is at that.”

  They found Troy Malone wrapping up his presentation. Ruby thought he’d weathered the years fairly well. His jowls had a bit of droop, but his waistline remained trim and his face generally unlined. The flawless short cut hair on his head may have been artificial, but Ruby was hardly going to judge him for that.

  I just hope he doesn’t remember me. Please don’t let him remember me…

  The moment she’d been waiting for, and dreading, happened; the presentation ended and they were able to approach Troy Malone.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Malone, could we have a word with—”

  “Ruby!” Malone snubbed John, stepping right past the police chief to take Ruby’s hand. “Oh my god, it’s been years! You look stunning!”

  “Hello, Troy,” Ruby said with exaggerated politeness. “Please let go of my hand. I need to go and boil it.”

  Malone released her and cocked an eyebrow. He looked between her and the Chief and his eyes went wide. “Hey, what is this? You’re working with the police now?”

  “Ms. Rivers is assisting me as a civilian consultant only,” John said. Ruby couldn’t tell but she thought he might have been miffed. “I need to ask you a few questions.”

  “Uh, sure. Ask away.”

  “What is your relationship to Roger Abernathy?”

  Malone looked worried…but not surprised, to Ruby’s estimation.

  “Rog? We’re buddies, you know? Hang out once in a while, have a few beers.”

  “Buddies?” Ruby chuckled. “You seem much closer friends than that, considering you’ve been exchanging a lot of money with each other.”

  Malone didn’t miss a beat. “Oh, right. You mean the sports bets. Yeah, sometimes we wager with each other. I get up on him, but he wins it back. You know how it is.”

  “Uh huh,” John said flatly. “Don’t tap dance around the subject. We know you were involved in some shady deals with Roger Abernathy. The trail is not hard to follow.”

  “So we’re business partners in a few, minor ventures. So what? I’ve got literally dozens of business partners.”

  “Yes, but none of them were shot dead in my town.” John leaned in close to Malone, who began to sweat. “Are you sure there’s nothing you want to tell me?”

  “Nope, not a thing,” Malone said, dabbing sweat from his forehead. “Is there anything else? Am I under arrest?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Then excuse me,” he said, shoving between them. “I’m a busy man.”

  “You know a Trevor Whitley, Troy?” Ruby asked. “Also known as Busta Kapp?”

  Malone hesitated a second too long before turning around and shaking his head. “Doesn’t ring any bells, no.”

  John watched Malone go, shaking his head. “He’s hiding something.”

  “You think?” Ruby sighed. “I don’t know how we’re going to get it out of him, though.”

  She checked her phone a
nd then glanced up at him. “Um, I hate to break this off, but I have an appointment to keep.”

  “No problem. I’ll drive you home.”

  “I’d appreciate that very much.”

  Ruby felt her stomach flutter when John smiled back. Oh please, just for once don’t let him turn out to secretly be a jerk…

  Nineteen

  Ruby let Blair in the door shortly after ten in the evening, just as the moon was approaching its Zenith. She flashed a smile, and received a faltering one in return.

  “What’s wrong?” Ruby asked.

  “Nothing’s wrong, you just seem really…happy.” Blair shrugged. “Is it nice to be back in your hometown?”

  “It’s…well, it’s different,” Ruby rubbed the bridge of her nose and shook her head. “I don’t recognize some of the buildings, and I have to stop and think if it’s new, or I just never noticed before. Some of the people I used to know have really changed, grown and expanded themselves…and others are still pretty much the same.”

  “Not to mention the people who’ve engaged in a bit of a backward slide,” Rumpus said. “Like your dead ex-Fiancé.”

  “Rumpus!” Rufus hissed. “That’s personal biz.”

  “It’s alright, Rufus,” Ruby said. “Blair and I can dish about our exes. We both have plenty of ammunition.”

  Blair laughed nervously. “I’m not sure how many exes I actually have. There seems to be a lot of murkiness in that area.”

  “Right? So few guys want to commit.”

  “And so many others should just be committed.”

  Rufus joined in on their laughter, and Rumpus sighed.

  “You know they’re making fun of us.”

  “They’re making fun of human men.”

  “We may not be human, but we’re still men.”

  Rufus cocked his head to the side. “I’m not so sure domesticated cats present as masculine, Rumpus. In fact, we’re kind of femme.”

  “Cats are not femme!” Rumpus gaped. “I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with being femme, it’s just not an accurate description.”

  Felix groaned. “Is it always like this around here?”

  “I’m afraid so.” Ruby slapped Blair on the shoulder. “Shall we get started?”

  They went to work. Using silver-infused chalk, they drew runes all over the first floor of the lighthouse. Most of them were protective, but there were many binding magics as well. After Cotton Mather had given her the slip twice, Ruby wasn’t taking any chances.

  “Alright, now we need to force him to manifest.” Ruby dusted off her hands and looked about the room with satisfaction. “You’ve got a good hand for a madwand, Blair. Your penmanship is legible.”

  “Why does everyone keep calling me a madwand?” Blair asked. “I can’t tell if it’s a compliment or an insult. I know it means an untrained witch, but—”

  “Oh, honey,” Ruby said, straightening up and rubbing her sore back. “It’s got so much more to it than just that. Madwands shouldn’t exist.”

  Blair put her hands on her hips, eyes narrowing to slits. “Is that so?”

  Ruby laughed, disarming her brewing anger. “I didn’t mean it like that! No, I mean, if you think about how complicated magic is to learn, use, and control, then madwands shouldn’t exist at all. That means that the ones who do—like yourself—are almost invariably incredibly talented and powerful. Quite frankly, it doesn’t seem fair to those of us who spent years studying to learn magic, and many more years mastering it.”

  “I don’t feel all that smart or powerful, most days,” Blair said, her shoulders slumping. “If I were, I’d have figured out what Guyaota was up to by now, right?”

  Ruby hissed through clenched teeth. “Don’t speak a demon’s name out loud. They can hear you.”

  “I think I already have his attention,” Blair said, pursing her lips stubbornly.

  “Yes, but not in my lighthouse, you don’t. Please, as a professional courtesy.”

  Blair relaxed and nodded. “Alright. I guess this falls under things I was never taught since I’m a madwand.”

  “I told you to stop saying his name,” Felix said from where he curled up on a braided rug near the laden bookshelf.

  “Hey, you should treat your witch with respect,” Rumpus said.

  Ruby turned to look at him with incredulity dancing in her gaze. “Really? Really, Rumpus? People who live in glass houses should not throw stones.”

  Blair and Ruby traced out a pentagram in the center of the floor, then set up three candles in an equidistant triangle around it. By the time they finished, both women were sweating.

  Well, I’m sweating, anyway. She’s got that healthy glow twenty somethings get. I’m perspiring like a horse.

  “Are we ready?” Blair asked.

  “I think so. Let’s make some magic.”

  They stood on opposite sides of the pentagram and began their incantation. The spell’s intended purpose was to draw any apparitions or spirits attached to the lighthouse and trap them in the pentagram.

  As they reached the midway point of the ritual spell, Ruby noted with glee that a dim outline of Mather had appeared in the center of the pentagram. Encouraged, she pushed through the rest of the ritual, matching Blair’s power output though she knew it would leave her drained later.

  With the moon outside bright and nearly full, she had a boost to her magic, an increase in potency. The two of them reached the crescendo and clapped their hands together.

  Mather appeared, his incandescent form doubled over as if in pain.

  “Release me from this torment!” he howled as bits of him sizzled away to oblivion.

  “It only hurts if you fight it, Mather,” Ruby shouted. “Now, we’re going to banish you to the nether realm, and you’re going to go like a good little bigoted, witch-hating boy, aren’t you?”

  “Never!”

  “It’s that or annihilation,” Blair called. “Your choice, spirit, but you will trouble his place nor its owner no longer!”

  “Ugh, If I were the Intercessor would I be forced to say stuff like that?”

  “It was pretty pompous, Blair,” Felix said.

  “Guys! Shh!” Rufus hopped about excitedly. “Something’s happening with Mather.”

  They turned their gazes on the apparition. His blue outline seemed to be singing into red, even black in some areas. He pushed against the pentagram barrier with all his unearthly might, translucent face twisted into a determined grimace.

  “I—I don’t believe it,” Blair shouted. “He’s breaking free!”

  “He’s not powerful enough to do that.”

  “I know, but he is!”

  Ruby gasped. “Blair! He’s using Sorcery to draw on demonic power! We need to cut him off from his patron.”

  Blair’s face wrinkled in confusion. “I—I don’t know how to do that.”

  They both had to shout to be heard over the feedback from Mather’s escape attempt, as well as his screams.

  “Modified mitigation enchantment. Circle of Protection versus Demons.”

  “You want to cast a buff spell on our enemy?” Felix gaped. “Are you senile?”

  Ruby shot him a withering glare. “No, I’m not. Think about it. A Circle of Protection will prevent any demonic magic from affecting him—”

  Blair gasped. “Including any magic bolstering Mather! Beneficial magic as well as malignant.”

  They chanted the words of the spell in tune, moving their hands in circular patterns as if polishing mist off a bathroom mirror after a shower. Mather’s form became obscured by a hazy white aura. His scream intensified in volume and agony. Mather’s hands, which had been on the verge of bursting through the barrier, now disintegrated into motes of blue and red light, going up like embers in a roaring fire.

  “Hey, Cotton Mather!” Felix called out. “You’re not looking so hot! Perhaps you’d like us to lend you…a hand!”

  Felix donned sunglasses and stood proudly at the edge of the pe
ntagram.

  “You call that a one liner, snowball?” Rumpus sneered. “How about this: Hey, Mather, are you upset? Because you’re falling all to pieces.”

  “Mine was better,” Felix muttered.

  “You both suck,” Ruby snapped. “Okay, Mather. You’re cut off from your demonic patron, and you aren’t getting out of this trap unless you annihilate yourself trying to get loose. So, are you going to answer our questions or what?”

  “I have nothing to say to witches,” Mather howled. His ghostly arms had worn away to diffusing nubs, and pieces of his face lay in tattered ruin. Ruby frowned. She’d seen far more powerful entities fail to hold on to the prime plane of existence with less damage to their energy field.

  “He’s still fighting us,” Ruby muttered. “That shouldn’t be possible.”

  “How? What can we do?”

  Ruby sighed. “He might be anchored to this plane by something other than an unwillingness to move on. For now, we need to disperse his energy field.”

  “But he’ll just come back again,” Rumpus said.

  “Yes, but it will buy us a few days until he reforms himself.”

  Blair set her jaw and gave a firm nod. “Alright. I’m on board.”

  They began a new incantation, one focused on changing the parameters of their pentagram prison. The field closed in on Mather, rending his incorporeal form into fiery motes.

  “I’ll return! I’ll return and I swear you’ll both die screaming—”

  Then he had no mouth with which to posture, and he faded away completely. Blair and Ruby exchanged worried glances.

  “What does this mean?” Blair asked. “You’re the trained witch.”

  “It means we have to go back to the drawing board.” Ruby looked at the pentagram and sighed. “And the clock’s ticking.”

  Twenty

  The clock’s arms had moved past midnight when Ruby finally finished cleaning up after the failed exorcism. The pentagram had to be cleaned up, at the least. She left many of the glyphs scribed on the walls. If they decided to try the same method again—admittedly unlikely—at least Blair and Ruby would have a head start.

  She brushed her teeth, slipped into a comfortable silk sleeping gown, and settled into bed. Ruby’s eyes had barely been closed more than a few moments when a knock came at her door.