by Davis, L. C.
The lights in the Stillwater Animal Clinic were out, as I'd feared, but the lights in the apartment above it were on. I shifted the unconscious cat to one arm and pounded on the door, pleading internally for an answer. After a full minute of knocking, the door swung open and for the second time that night, I found myself on the receiving end of a look that could kill from one of Stillwater's finest. At least this time I knew what I had done wrong.
A man I could only hope was the veterinarian took one look at the wretched creature in my arms and frowned. He seemed to be in his mid-thirties, and if it wasn't for the few gray flecks in his dark hair and the somber expression on his face, I might have guessed a bit younger. He was handsome in a generic sort of way, especially for someone who had just been roused from sleep, if his tousled hair, rumpled pajamas and the dark circles under his eyes were any indication. There was something kind of strange about the left one, and not just because it was a slightly lighter shade of blue than the other. It didn't have quite as much shine as the other one did.
"Um, hi," I said quickly. "Sorry to bother you, but it's kind of an emergency. I found this cat --"
"Come in," he said, stepping back to usher me through the front door. I followed him into a small but clean clinic and he turned on the fluorescent lights overhead. Without a word, he stalked into an open room in the back and motioned for me to put the cat down on an exam table.
I complied, careful not to jostle the animal any more than necessary. My tan coat was tan-and-red by that point, and the cat looked even worse off than he had been before.
"What happened?" the vet asked, scrubbing his hands in the sink before pulling on a pair of light blue gloves and a white coat on top of his pajamas.
"I don't know. I just found him on the side of the road on my way home, but I didn't see what got to him," I admitted. "A coyote maybe?"
He gave me a strange look. "We don't have those around here."
I doubted any area as rural as Stillwater lacked its fair share of wildlife, but I didn't feel like arguing with him. "Is there anything you can do for him?"
"Yes, I can put him out of his misery," he said, gently moving the cat so he could get a better look at the wound.
I gulped. "I know it's a bad bite, but there has to be something."
"There is. I can give him pain medication and put him down."
I frowned at the flat tone in his voice. "You're a veterinarian. Aren't you supposed to help animals?"
He looked down at me in a way that made me feel like a child in the presence of a disapproving teacher. "Sometimes helping does more harm than good. Being a medical professional, I'm trained to know the difference."
I pursed my lips, reminding myself that having it out with the town vet wasn't the best way to ingratiate myself to the locals. Long haul, Holden.
"Just give him the pain medication, stitch him up and at least let me take him home so he doesn't have to die here."
"I can't do that," he said, pinching up the skin on the back of the cat's neck to slip a needle in. Despite his gruff demeanor, his touch was notably gentle. He must have noticed me staring because he added, "This is just for the pain."
"Why can't I take him?"
He narrowed his eyes and for the first time, I noticed the name plate on his coat pocket. St. James. "Because sometimes helping animals means putting them out of their misery when that's all there is left for them in this world. I don't like it, but I'm bound by oath to do no harm and that's exactly what I'd be doing if I didn't put this cat down. I'm a veterinarian, not a miracle worker. "
Well, if that wasn't a sign for the universe, I didn't know what was.
To be fair, maybe I didn't. "Fine," I said through gritted teeth. "Then at least let me have a minute alone with him while the pain meds kick in. He deserves to have a few moments of relief before you kill him."
He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something else, but seemed to think better of it and worked his jaw. "Fine. You have five minutes, letting him hang on any longer is just cruel. I expect you to go to the hospital first thing in the morning to get the rabies prophylaxis, too."
"Whatever you say, Doctor."
He looked like he didn't quite believe my sudden compliance, but when he slipped out of the room, I started looking for the exits. There was a door in the back of the exam room that looked like it led outside. I couldn't believe I was seriously contemplating catnapping, but wounded animals had always been my weakness and I couldn't stand the thought of letting something die when I had a chance of actually helping it. I had enough bodies weighing on my conscience as it was, and it was a pitiful attempt at penance, but I had to try.
At least the cat didn't seem to be suffering anymore. His eyes were still shut and his breathing seemed less labored than before as I gathered him into my arms and dashed out the back door.
When I found myself in an alley not terribly far from the woods, I realized I was actually going to make it, assuming the vet didn't send the police after me as soon as he realized his patient was gone. Some little voice in the back of my mind railed at me for what I was doing. Probably my common sense.
Two
To my relief, my landlady had long since gone to bed by the time I crept up the stairs. They creaked, but she was well into her seventies and I was doubtful that she would even hear it if she was awake. I checked to make sure the cat bundled in my arms was still breathing before unlocking the door and whisking it into my small studio apartment.
Most of my things were already unpacked, which didn't say much, since all my worldly possessions could easily be loaded into a mid-size sedan. I cleared a few books off the coffee table and placed the cat on it, rummaging around the room for the supplies I needed. I still hadn't settled on a way to organize my tinctures and oils, so they were all over the place. After cobbling together all that I needed for a basic healing spell, I knelt in front of the table and unwrapped a sharpened letter opener that had once belonged to my mother. If she had known what I used it for, she would surely have rolled over in her grave, but I pushed that unpleasant mental image from my mind and sliced my palm enough to get a steady trickle of blood. The droplets pooled in the middle of the herbs and other household ingredients I had mixed together in the bowl and I closed my eyes, struggling to focus through the deep sense of foreboding that had been building ever since I first caught sight of the white cat.
"Tui gratia Iovis gratia sit cures," I whispered. Because shit always gets real when there's Latin involved. I didn't know why it worked, but most of my occult knowledge came from books my brother had smuggled in from the church library as a kid and from the movies I had watched in a partly-successful attempt to catch up on everything I had missed in the basement. Hell, maybe it wasn't even the words themselves that worked. I was beginning to think my healing abilities had atrophied along with all the rest when the blood in the bowl congealed and turned black. A faint smoke rose up from the mixture, releasing a scent that smelled vaguely like sulfur. I held my nose and dug my hands into the grimy concoction, squeezing and kneading until it formed a paste. I spread the paste on the edges of the bite first, trying not to touch the exposed flesh directly as I covered it. There was a bit extra left in the bowl when I was finished, so I set it aside for later.
Blood magic always came with repercussions, so it seemed a shame to waste any of the fruits of that forbidden labor. Once I was satisfied with my new age patch-up job, I washed the crud off my hands and threw away my bloodied jacket, wrapping a fresh towel around the cat. Maybe it was just my imagination, but I convinced myself that the animal seemed to be breathing a bit easier.
Once I was sure I had done all I could for the creature, I decided to take a shower and try not to obsess over the outcome. There was no telling if my miracle salve would even work, but at least I could assuage my guilt with one good deed for the evening. Hopefully I could avoid the veterinarian on my next trip into town. So much for first impressions.
After showering the last
traces of the day off me, I combed out my hair and wrapped myself in my plush blue bath robe since I didn't feel like getting dressed. I brushed my teeth and wiped the steam off the bathroom mirror, scowling at the boy looking back at me.
Okay, so at twenty-one, maybe I wasn't exactly a boy, but I sure as hell didn't like the way man sounded. I certainly wasn't the man my parents had hoped I would become. They had dreams of me being a great prophet and a healer, and I knew what my mother would say if she had lived to see what I'd become. That I'd fallen into the devil's trap and that dabbling in magic had twisted all of God's promise into something sinister. I once had the potential to be a saint, and here I was, a queer witch with no direction or purpose to speak of.
The only flaw in her theory was that I hadn't so much dabbled in witchcraft as witchcraft had dabbled in me, ever since I could remember. Ezekiel had told me once that when I was a baby, my mobile would start turning on its own and that the latch on my crib would come undone even when there was no one in the room. Mom would come in to find me playing on the floor with my toys without a scratch on me despite the fact that I couldn't possibly have climbed down from that height on my own.
Countless exorcisms had done nothing to stop the strange things that happened around me, but after my father had caught me healing one of the bruises he had left on Ezekiel after a particularly rough beating, he received a "message from the Lord" that my spiritual affliction could be used to do God's work. Miraculously enough, the church elders all got the same message when they prayed about it afterward. That was how we had gone from living in a shanty little parsonage we could barely afford to heat during the winter to a three-story mini mansion with a finished basement. God's work paid well when you charged a premium for tickets to healing services.
I turned out the lights and leaned over to check on the cat, draping another towel over him before I climbed into bed. Whether it worked or it didn't, I had used my abilities for far less noble purposes. Maybe I had broken the rules tonight, but there was always tomorrow.
Three
When I opened my eyes, everything that had happened the night before seemed like a dream. From my awkward introduction to Nick to kidnapping the white cat, it all seemed too surreal to fit into the beautiful normalcy that had characterized my first week in Stillwater. When I saw the empty towels on the coffee table, I realized it was normalcy that was the pipe dream.
Throwing off the covers, I frantically searched the room for any signs of the cat. My mother had told me about how her childhood dog had crept off to die in the bedroom closet, but after combing every inch of my studio three times, I was satisfied that the cat wasn't inside. I was also pretty damn sure I hadn't left my bedroom window open, but the curtains were billowing with the mid-morning wind.
"Crap," I muttered, throwing on a fresh shirt and a pair of pants that didn't have drawstrings before rushing out the door.
"Where are you off to?" Mrs. Marrin cried, peeking out of her downstairs apartment.
I stopped short of the front door. If the older woman had made one thing clear in the lease agreement, it was that she had a zero-tolerance policy for pets. "Um. I just really wanted to get in a morning jog?"
She eyed me like I was as crazy as I probably was and shut the door. At least she seemed to be as much of a recluse as I was going to have to become, if I wanted to avoid running into the veterinarian.
I searched the entire perimeter of the farmhouse, noting that the rose bushes that lined the walkway could use some serious TLC. I decided I could take care of that later and resumed a search grid that stretched well beyond the range the ailing animal could conceivably have traveled. Even with the salve, he should have taken at least a few days to get back on his feet.
As morning turned to late afternoon, I began to accept the impossible. Maybe this salve had worked better than the first batch that had all but gotten me chased out of my last town. It wasn't so much that the villagers were angry I had healed a woman's bad knee as they were upset that I couldn't heal everything when word got out about it.
Searching for the cat had worked up my thirst and appetite, so I decided to venture into town and hope the vet didn't have a hankering for greasy eggs and sugary drinks. The diner wasn't as crowded as it usually was, so I settled in at a table in the back and ordered more food than I could possibly eat. I was sipping a sorely needed cup of coffee when the bell over the door jingled.
Somehow, even before I looked up, I just knew it was him. Upon further introspection, it was probably because it felt like all the air had just been sucked out of the room.
"Holden," he barked.
I grimaced. And here I was starting to like that name. By the time I looked up, he was already stalking towards me, holding a folded newspaper in his hand. For a second, I thought his social skills were so dog-oriented he was going to retaliate by swatting me over the head with it, but instead, he slammed the paper down in front of me.
"I knew something was up with you."
I looked down and followed his accusing finger to the headline it was stabbing at. Local veteran claims Wiccan healed old war wound. Miracle worker or charlatan?
I groaned, rubbing my forehead. This was what being a bleeding heart got me. Trouble. It might not have been too early in the morning, but it was certainly too soon before the coffee kicked in to deal with this. "So you did your homework. Are you a private investigator or a veterinarian?" I asked, sliding the paper back across the table.
"I'm the guy who puts an end to whatever scam it is you think you're running here," he said, standing in front of me with folded arms. The few other customers in the diner were already staring. To be fair, this was probably the most exciting thing that had happened in Stillwater since the Whitakers had hopped off the boat, trekked inland and set up shop.
"Scam?" I took a sip of my coffee, trying to play it cool. Easier to pull off when the coffee wasn't hot enough to burn your lips off. I could have sworn they were microwaving the stuff. Cheapskates. "That's a hefty accusation."
"Says the guy who stole a cat from my office. That's a felony, you know."
"Grand theft feline?" I arched an eyebrow.
He rolled his eyes. "I don't know what it's called, but I'm sure I could have you locked up for something."
"Something tells me if you could have, you would have."
He scowled. Well, he was always scowling. He scowled harder. "I know you're a con artist. Maybe you got out of Poughton before they could pin anything on you, but Stillwater isn't going to be your new River City."
"Music Man?" It was a rare occasion that I got a film reference and I was kind of proud of myself. He didn't seem half as amused. He sat across from me, leaning in with his arms folded on the table.
"I'm sure this is very funny to you, shifting from one town to the next to take advantage of the ignorant locals, but if you know what's good for you, you'll pack up and be gone by tomorrow morning. I know you're staying with Mrs. Marrin."
"That sounds like a threat," I mused, leaning back in my chair. "I'm still not entirely sure cat thieving is on the books, but I think they call that harassment."
"It's not a threat, it's a warning. I've known Julia Marrin my whole life, and I'm not going to let some pint-sized con artist come in here and take advantage of her or anyone else in this town."
"Well, Dr. St. James," I began, emptying a few packets of cream into my coffee to render it drinkable, "I'll give you a B-minus for doing your homework, but if you wanted an A, you should've dug a little deeper. Then you'd know that they didn't 'pin' anything on me in my last town because I didn't do anything. I didn't charge Sergeant Willis anything for healing her leg, and word only got out that I helped her at all because her brother was there. Incidentally, I'm not a Wiccan, either, but you try explaining the diversity within the magical community to a reporter and get back to me if you have better luck."
"So that's your defense? You're not a charlatan because you really are a miracle worker?"
; "That's the thing about being innocent, Dr. St. James. You don't need a defense if you didn't do anything wrong."
He clenched his jaw as he watched me. "You sound just like this other asshole I know," he muttered.
"Now, that's not very neighborly talk, is it?" I tsked.
"We're not neighbors. Maybe you didn't charge Sergeant Willis, but I found your shop online," he sneered, planting a printout of my webpage in front of me like he'd uncovered some damning piece of evidence.
I rolled my eyes. "So you found my Etsy page. What are you gonna do, leave a bunch of one-star reviews on my day creams? I don't make any supernatural claims."
"Where's the cat?"
"Nice change of subject. As a matter of fact, I just spent the whole morning looking for him. He got out"
"Bullshit. There's no way he lived through the night."
"I'm afraid I have to respectfully disagree with your professional opinion given the fact that he managed to climb out my bedroom window last night without leaving behind so much as a drop of blood."
He frowned, watching me closely. "What?" I asked, suddenly uneasy under his gaze.
"I'm just trying to figure out if you're a complete psychopath or if you actually believe this shit."
"It's nice to have brain teasers to puzzle over. Mobius strips always get me. I mean, it's a twisted loop that only has one side. How does that even work?"
He slammed his hands on the table, leaning in to give me his most menacing glare yet. He was kind of cute when he was enraged, I'd give him that. Angry looked better on him than surly did. "We're not done. I want you gone, Holden. Monday morning," he said, backing towards the door. "Trust me when I say you don't wanna stick around after that."
"Have a lovely afternoon, Doctor. Do tell me if you see that cat running around," I called, trying to ignore the attention I was getting from the other patrons. If I wasn't the talk of the town already, I sure as hell was now.