He crouched, letting the umbrella protect them both, and held out his hand. The kitten came forward and sniffed his fingers. Then it looked around. When it saw he was alone, it said, “You could at least offer a girl some fish.”
Her voice was sultry and not childlike at all. Buster had also come kitten-sized, but with his voice and personality full grown.
“I have some inside,” Winston said. He opened the door, and the kitten trotted in as if she owned the place. She went to the cool fireplace and shook the water off her fur. Winston closed the umbrella outside, and then put it in its holder. He went immediately to the refrigerator. He had some salmon he had planned to make for dinner the night Buster had died.
He took the salmon out and picked some pieces off it, putting them on a small plate. As he worked, he glanced at the fireplace. The kitten was cleaning herself, making her black coat lie flat.
Then, because he couldn’t remain silent, he asked, “Did Buster send you?”
“What do you think we got a referral service?” she asked.
Her gruffness shocked him. He wasn’t ready for gruffness yet. He wasn’t ready for a new personality, a new life.
A small body wrapped itself around his leg, and a purr so strong it vibrated his skin echoed up to him.
“You just want the fish,” he said.
“You bet,” she said.
He set the plate down and she ate quickly, without Buster’s innate grace. She had been hungry for some time.
When she finished, she sat back on her haunches and glared at him.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Ruby,” she said.
“Ruby, I don’t know if I’m ready for another familiar.”
“You can’t go without, big boy. We keep your spells fresh, and your mind from wandering.”
“It took me years to find Buster,” Winston said.
“He knew,” she said. “And he figured you could last maybe a day alone.”
“I thought you said you didn’t know him.”
“I never said anything like that.” She stood, arched, and yawned. “We all know each other. Familiar doesn’t come from your magic practices. It comes from ours. Buster had a feeling you and I’d work out. And if this fish is any indication, he was right.” She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. “But don’t get any ideas about burning me at sea.”
“I think we have a few years before we need to discuss your funeral.”
“Good.” She sauntered toward the fireplace. “Now, how about a real fire so a girl can nap?”
He snapped his fingers and a fire appeared in the grate.
“Real,” she growled.
“As you wish, your highness,” he said, hurrying toward the pile of logs beside the fireplace. She had already curled up on the rug. She was different, and, for all her big talk, she was tiny. She would never replace Buster. No one could. But she’d make the world a little less lonely.
“Do you like clams?” he asked.
“Only in the mornings,” she replied.
“I go clamming with the morning tides. Should be just after dawn tomorrow.”
“I’ll make sure you’re up,” she said sleepily. Then she opened one yellow eye. “Finished that fire yet?”
“I will,” he said, feeling lighter than he had all day. He built her a tiny blaze. One to keep her toasty and safe, and to let her know she was welcome in his small life. His small, magic life.
“Familiar Territory,” by Kristine Kathryn Rusch was first published in Wizard Fantastic, edited by Martin H. Greenberg, Daw Books, 1997.
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