The Ginger Cat

by Lucia Ashta

The sky silhouetted a creature of magnificent design, each of her strokes, a splendid example of power. In seconds, she reached us flying faster than anything else I’d ever seen before. She began to slow her descent too late, I thought. She flapped wings that were each wider than I was tall, and it seemed that she would crash upon us. I stared up at her. Her body was large enough up close to blot out the brilliant display of color behind her.

  Without meaning to, I swallowed hard. If I didn’t know she could be gentle, I would have been scared. Heck, between you and me, I was a little scared anyway. Big, distended claws I’d never noticed before were as long as my hand, curling like miniature scythes, and undoubtedly just as deadly when wielded with the intent to kill.

  The tip of her tail extended like a three-pronged claw, and I noticed how it whipped seemingly carelessly behind Sylvia. Yet, one strike with that tip could also kill.

  Suddenly, Marcelo laughed beside me. He put his hand on the small of my back like he often did now, and leaned into me. “She’s an impressive creature, is she not?”

  I nodded, still looking up. The firedrake was completely upon us now, within striking distance. I stood in her kill zone, determined ages ago by a skilled creator.

  Marcelo chuckled again as Mordecai began cooing and cuckling. In moments, what’d been a gigantic, monstrous creature, compressed herself to balance on Mordecai’s shoulder. She landed gently so as not to rock the old magician and, despite the fact that even compacted she was nearly as large as Mordecai, she was successful.

  Sylvia bent an opalescent head to nuzzle her master. “That’s a good girl. What a sweet, good girl you are, my beauty. You made that trip really fast. Did you have any problems?”

  Apparently Sylvia responded to Mordecai, though all I noticed was a flash of red eyes. “That’s good. And you were able to take care of what I asked you?”

  Another moment of what I perceived as silence. “Wonderful, Sylvia. Well, we’ll just have to see how that plays out. There’s nothing more we can do now.”

  Mordecai turned to return inside. I watched the old man barely fit through the enormous entry door with the firedrake perched on his shoulder. “I missed you, girl,” he said to Sylvia as they lost themselves to the cavernous darkness of a castle not yet lit for nighttime. This time, I heard the firedrake’s contented response. She cooed to her master, just as he did to her.

  And then the darkness fully swallowed them up.

  Marcelo and I remained outside until all the color faded from the sky. He held me in his arms, comforting me in the illusion of safety.

  “I guess this means we’ll be leaving for Washur in the morning?”

  “More likely, we’ll be departing in a few hours. It’s only about three hours’ travel from here to there. We should be able to get a bit of sleep before leaving.”

  I nodded into the dusk, although we both knew sleep would be hard to come by. I pressed my body into Marcelo, aware that these were the last moments of peace guaranteed to us before we voluntarily marched toward the danger of the unknown and the undead.

  I should’ve known better. Nothing in life is ever guaranteed.

  Chapter 17

  Marcelo knew the moments we shared then were special. We held our embrace until the sun finished withdrawing from this part of the world. When we turned our backs on the darkness of the still air, we were unprepared to meet a similar darkness indoors.

  “Carlton?” Marcelo called out as soon as we stepped inside. “Carlton.”

  Marcelo held my hand while we waited. But Carlton didn’t come. Anna did instead; the candlestick in her hand illuminated a flustered face with pink cheeks.

  “Excuse me, Milord. I don’t know where Carlton’s gotten to.” She bent her candle to light another, and handed it to Marcelo.

  “Is he not in the kitchens?”

  “No, Milord. We’ve been looking for him since dinner started. But we can’t find him.”

  Now that she mentioned it, I realized Carlton had been absent for most of our meal, when he usually stood at attention inside the dining room, ready to serve the family.

  Marcelo’s grip on my hand tightened, and he led me across the entry way toward the parlor. It was dark and empty.

  “Thank you, Anna. Continue to search for him, and ask any unoccupied staff to aid in your search. You are to report to me any news as soon as you receive it.”

  Anna tipped her head in a bow. “Yes, Milord.” And she was gone, taking her flame with her, leaving us in a large room with the light of just one candle.

  The candle lit Marcelo’s face from below, casting long, deep shadows across his pronounced features. His slender, straight nose suddenly looked sinister. I stepped closer, leaned my head against his chest, and closed my eyes. I could feel that something was wrong, even if I didn’t know exactly what it was. He put his free hand against my head, and I allowed the steady beating of his heart to calm mine.

  How could something be wrong already?

  Carlton didn’t appear in the slow-passing hours of deep night. At one point, we feared we’d lost Mordecai, Sylvia, and Sir Lancelot as well. Eventually, we found them in the last place we searched.

  Marcelo still hadn’t entered his father’s study on the third floor, and he didn’t after discovering that Mordecai was already in it. He spoke to him from the doorway, settling into acceptance after Mordecai convinced him that it was irresponsible not to search for some clue of a defense to Count Washur in the one place within the castle most likely to hold it. Marcelo knew he was right, and he left him to it.

  Although it was the one thing we could still do at the castle before leaving, I didn’t offer to help Mordecai either. He had Sir Lancelot and Sylvia to support him, I told myself, and that was enough when we still had to find Carlton. But the truth of it was that I could feel the imprint of darkness seething in the room.

  Mordecai didn’t seem bothered by it, and I wondered what he’d dealt with in his life that made him hardened to this type of darkness that looked only to conquer souls. Not for the first time, I realized how little I knew about the magicians around me.

  I followed Marcelo as Mordecai was shutting the door to the darkness, and I reflected that some things were perhaps better left unknown. It seemed to be my destiny to face the unknown with little trained knowledge anyway. Maybe it was better that way.

  “Clara.”

  “Mmm.”

  “Are you all right?” Marcelo pulled me to his side when all I wished was to put further distance between his father’s study and us.

  “Yes.”

  “Are you certain, my darling?”

  “I don’t think I’ll ever be certain of anything again. But we must find Carlton.”

  Marcelo didn’t like my answer, but we did need to find Carlton. He started moving again, pulling me out of the hallway, where I grew lighter with each step we took.

  “It’s most unlike him. I’ve never seen the castle dark like this. He tends to everything.” Marcelo picked up the pace. “He’s never not been where he was supposed to be. Not once. Not that I can remember even from childhood. If he was sick, he arranged for someone to take care of his duties.”

  Marcelo’s leather soles click-clacked against the wooden floors of the upper stories. By the time we reached the stone floors of the ground level, the click clacking of our shoes was much faster.

  Marcelo realized what I’d sensed the moment we’d entered the dark castle from the outside. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.

  Chapter 18

  It seemed unfair that something should go wrong now, when Count Washur already had a significant advantage over us. But I had to admit to myself that nothing about my magical journey thus far had been easy. Since I discovered that I had magical abilities, I’d been burned, kidnapped, and threatened multiple times. It was a lot for a young woman raised as a lady and. completely unprepared for any other world.

  Fair or not, the fight was ours to fight. And this was just one more prob
lem to overcome—I hoped.

  It was the middle of the night, when normal people slept. Instead, Marcelo and Mordecai argued in the parlor, with Sir Lancelot, Sylvia, and me as unfortunate sleep-deprived witnesses. Marcelo had sent the exhausted staff to bed hours ago, after it became clear that Carlton was nowhere within the castle walls.

  “We can’t leave for Washur without finding Carlton,” Marcelo said again. I’d lost count of how many times he’d made this same point.

  “I know, son.”

  “We cannot. How can you seriously be suggesting that we leave while one of our own is potentially in peril?”

  “We can’t be certain that Carlton is in peril.”

  Marcelo cocked an eyebrow at Mordecai, and that was answer enough. Even Mordecai knew his comeback was an empty one. Something was clearly amiss. Carlton wouldn’t just go off on his own, without telling anyone.

  “All right, all right. I admit that the situation seems suspicious—”

  Marcelo raised the other eyebrow to meet the first.

  “—The situation is suspicious.”

  “Without a doubt. This is Carlton we’re talking about, not some rogue teenager that might have gone off on a jaunt. Foul play is at hand. I know it.”

  I knew it too. I could feel it through and through. I was exhausted and we were supposedly soon to go off to fight a battle. It seemed unreasonable. My spirit was too heavy already. I couldn’t possibly face an undead lord.

  “So what do you suggest?”

  “That we delay marching to Washur, of course. We cannot go anywhere until we find Carlton. He isn’t a member of the family, but he’s been with my family since before my birth. I owe him this at least.”

  After an hour, Mordecai finally accepted his defeat. A man couldn’t live for three hundred and seventeen years and not learn the importance of honor and allegiance. He leaned back against his chair, looking every one of his years for just a fleeting moment. Then, it passed, and I could see the power in the old magician again.

  “All right, my son. But I warn you, I’m concerned about our delay. The runes have shifted their message today. This morning, they spoke of urgency. I fear for the safety of those we intend to rescue.”

  I knew Mordecai omitted Gertrude’s name to make mention of this threat easier to bear, but it made it no easier. My heart lurched. As it was already, I was doing everything I could to ignore viewing the passing seconds as seconds that I left my little sister in danger.

  Marcelo averted my gaze. “I understand, Mordecai. But I don’t know what else we can do. It’s clear to me that Carlton must be in real, immediate danger. He wouldn’t have left the castle otherwise.”

  “I don’t think I need to remind you that Clara’s sister and Clarissa’s son are in real danger, and it’s a danger of a terrible kind. We’ve seen only a small fraction of the magic Washur is capable of.” Mordecai bore down on Marcelo. “And the runes say it’s urgent.”

  This time, Marcelo sighed in defeat.

  “Excuse me, Milords,” came a small voice in a thick yet distinguished Irish accent. Marcelo and Mordecai turned to look above my shoulder. “But perhaps we should divide our numbers.”

  No. No, no, no. We shouldn’t separate. That seemed like the worse idea yet. What was the ordinarily brilliant Sir Lancelot thinking?

  “I realize it isn’t ideal, but it’s the only way to deal with urgency in two different physical locations, unless either one of you wants to perform a split.”

  “A split?” Marcelo said. “Splits are dangerous and difficult to do. Besides, each split becomes a watered down version. We won’t be as strong as we could be.”

  Mordecai didn’t say anything at first, but the hand that stroked his beard said it all: He was considering it.

  Sir Lancelot said, “You’re correct, Lord Bundry, splits are dangerous and difficult. But as I see it, your options are few. You can ignore Carlton’s disappearance and we all march toward Washur, addressing the immediacy of which the runes speak. Or we all stay here to search for Carlton, ignoring the danger in Washur. Or we separate. You stay behind to deal with Carlton’s absence while we march to Washur.”

  “Or we split,” Mordecai said.

  Marcelo was already shaking his head. “It’s a bad idea.”

  “I don’t think Sir Lancelot is capable of those,” the old wizard said.

  I didn’t turn to look at the pygmy owl, but I could feel him puff his chest atop my shoulder.

  “It’s dangerous. And what good would we be at half our strength in either place?”

  “We’d be able to do half as much good, and in the situation we’re in, my son, that difference could be fatal. But our other options are poor ones as well.”

  “Aren’t splits forbidden by the Magical Council?”

  “They are.”

  “And what, now we are to defy the Council at every turn?”

  “I wouldn’t say ‘at every turn.’”

  “We’ve defied the Council by using the one main forbidden book, The Magyke of the Darke Elementes, and performing magic from it. We have bound a merwoman’s magic. Each of these offenses is sufficient to have our own magic bound in reprimand. And now, we’re considering doing splits. More forbidden magic. I can only imagine that the Council is already aware of our misdeeds up until now. Are we to push things even further by continuing? We still have to lead lives as magicians after facing Count Washur.”

  I appreciated Marcelo’s glaring omission: If we survived the confrontation with the Count.

  “Leave the Council to me. Now we must do what we need to survive. The Council makes allotments for extreme circumstances, and we are certainly in them now.”

  “That’s quite a lot of understanding we’re to expect from the Council, and from what I’ve heard, the Council is none too understanding.”

  “Perhaps that’s the case, but it’ll be understanding in our situation. As I said, leave the Council to me.”

  No one spoke for several moments. There was enough being said in the silence to fill the room. Mordecai had all but confirmed that he was one of the secret members of the Council and suggested that he had impunity to perform whatever magic he wanted, dark or otherwise. Mordecai’s free rein seemed also to extend to us.

  I didn’t dare ask what a split was. I had a fair idea what it might entail, and I didn’t like the idea of it one bit.

  Regardless, I had the feeling I would soon learn more about splits.

  Chapter 19

  It was settled, though under a cloud of tumult and dissatisfaction. At first, Mordecai offered to split as well to remain behind in Bundry with Marcelo. But Marcelo argued that it was more important that Mordecai accompany me in his full strength since the danger we’d surely face was much greater than whatever kept Carlton from the castle. Mordecai took some more convincing, enough to leave me completely weary and in disbelief that we’d actually embark on a battle this worn out. Were we actually trying to stack the odds against us even further? Was it not enough that we were already outmatched in the depth of dark magic we’d have to face?

  But despite disadvantages, we were astride horses in the middle of a night so dark even the moon had abandoned it. Sylvia sat behind Mordecai on a saddle that seemed to have been designed with firedrakes in mind. It was more spacious than mine, with claw marks along its sides where, over the years, Sylvia and her predecessors had gripped the leather to avoid slipping.

  One split version of Marcelo sat atop his horse next to me. And I shared my horse with Sir Lancelot, who gripped the front of the saddle, ready to commandeer it like the little captain he was. I’d convinced Marcelo to make me replacement elven shoes that valued comfort over style before we left, and it was the one indulgence they’d allowed me.

  I sat in a man’s saddle with comfortable shoes in the stirrups, taking whatever small advantage I could. I was so far from the version Mother had wished for me as a lady, that I no longer even gave a thought to riding sidesaddle as I’d trained all my
life.

  I was nothing like my parents had raised me to be. I was something so much better.

  I bent down from my horse to give a quick kiss to the standing Marcelo we were leaving behind. It was an indulgence I wouldn’t have taken, even so far away from Mother’s scrutiny and judgment, had I not been concerned with what this night might bring, and so far, it hadn’t gone well.

  The kiss was light, only a brush of lips against lips, but I had to say goodbye somehow to honor our special bond.

  I’d had days to anticipate the possibility of losing the man I loved in battle. I wouldn’t say I was ready for it, but at least I’d accepted it as well as anyone could. But this split was so last minute it didn’t give me the opportunity to deal with it.

  Now the danger of losing Marcelo was both multiplied and divided, simultaneously. He was twice as much at risk of losing his life, as an enemy could target him in two different locations, and in Bundry, he was left mostly alone to deal with any threat. On the other hand, if something happened to one version of him, the other may survive. But would surviving as only half of his self be true survival? Or would it be a life better not lived, a faint image of a whole? Was it worth doubling the risk to his life by maximizing exposure?

  I had so many questions, and I would receive answers to none of them before our departure.

  As Mordecai led us to the descent down the treacherous mountain that would take us to the town of Bundry, I turned several times to take in the sight of two Marcelos. But when we began to dip down the steep path, the half that remained behind began to fade.

  Then, the moonless night swallowed him, and I was left with only one Marcelo and the sinking feeling that one wasn’t enough.

  When Mordecai used magic to carry our three horses down the mountain, unconcerned that the townspeople could discover our magic, I tried to leave the second Marcelo completely behind. I would need every bit of wit about me, and I feared I wouldn’t be able to manage nearly enough.