Initiation

by Paula Millhouse

  The acrid smell of ammonia from animal waste burned his nose, and made his eyes water. He leapt off the last step and into the shadows. Three monks knelt at a prayer altar in the center of the stone floor of the basement room. The Gregorian chant they sang was haunting, evil, and ominous, making Max clench his jaws. He suddenly longed for daylight and sunshine. Just like in the scrying circle.

  Sweet incense wafted through the musty air. One monk stirred an oversized iron cauldron over a fire. Along another torch-lit wall lined with filthy cages, at least fourteen familiars waited in cages in various stages of agony, moaning, in dire need of rescue. Max fisted his hands, furious at their treatment.

  Some were wet. Some were injured. Some just lay there on their metal cages with a distant, drugged look in their eyes. Sam whooshed past him to the familiars. A series of clicks informed him she’d flipped open the locks on the cages. Good girl.

  Sebastian, the Doberman puppy, whined. He lay there, gazing out onto the hellish scene of the monks, the fire, and the cauldron they tended with glazed, drugged eyes.

  Max caught the harsh scent of poison on his tongue, and his mouth watered. These assholes will pay. No animal should be treated like that, but he maintained his cool and edged closer, behind the chanting monks.

  A bald-headed monk recited a low Gregorian chant over a black boiling cauldron. He wore a red robe, and stirred something sickeningly sweet which burned Max’s nose. What were they cooking in there?

  He edged back into the shadows.

  A cat squalled, and Max jerked his head in its direction. The monk with the shaved head hauled a kitten, no more than a few weeks old, toward the fat, black pot. No. Not this. He refused to hide and watch them cook the kitten . . .

  If he acted, would Sam have a chance of getting to their mothers? Could they get these poor desperate familiars out of here? Oh, hell, if he didn’t act now, he’d never be able to live with himself.

  “Ra, lend me your strength.” With his own version of prayer, he leapt for the monk in red. He seized the kitten from his hands, turned and fled toward the caged familiars. The monk raced after him. The squalling kitten twisted in his hands. “It’s okay, little guy. I got you.”

  Two brown robes lunged from the hall, and another one ran down the stairs. “Stop him! He goes in the cauldron next!”

  Unseen hands yanked at his jacket, trying to wrestle the kitten from his hands, but he spun free from their grip.

  Sam blasted the monks with Atlantis, and Max pivoted out of the way. Blue-white sparks of magic showered the torch-lit room, and the monks fell to the stone floor, screaming and wiggling.

  Chained to the wall over in the opposite corner of the basement, Helmina cried out, “Sam, get them out of here!”

  Sam rushed over to her. “Mom!”

  “No. Save the familiars first.”

  While Max slammed open the cage doors, reaching in to free the animals, he glanced over his shoulder. Sam blasted Helmina’s shackles loose with the trident. “You’re coming with me,” she said, rushing in to collect her mother.

  “The familiars have no defenses. You have to rescue them,” Helmina yelled.

  “Come and follow me,” Max said, releasing the familiars, clearing the cages. He worked fast. They had to get the hell out of here before anything else went wrong. “Hurry. Stay close. Your witches are waiting for you.”

  Cages rattled. A small brown monkey with a white face rushed out and jumped onto his shoulder, screeching for the others to follow. A wombat crawled out next, and rushed across the room, waddling up the stairs toward freedom. The Doberman followed Max on lanky, unsure legs, and a fruit bat fluttered up to his other shoulder with a thwap. The kitten in his hands mewed, and three more calicos rushed out of the cages to join their littermate, scaling Max’s Levi’s, into the security of his arms. Good. Just a few more to rescue.

  “Come on, you guys.” He opened a large barred cage holding a smallish dragon, then a litter of vigorous puppies who wagged their tails, yipped, and licked him all over his face. Max smiled at them, then said, “Follow the others. Up the stairs. Now!”

  Once all the cages were clear, Max ran back to the stairs, up toward the arched wooden door.

  “Get them out of here! Go back to the park and wait for me there.”

  His Sam. Warning him off, her voice a direct order. Like hell. I’m her guardian. I won’t leave her.

  Six monks rushed Sam. Max grimaced, but stood his ground to usher the familiars up the stairs toward freedom. He opened the arched wooden door so they could get away, but turned back to watch Sam. She twirled her trident, and struck down the attacking monks with zaps of power straight from Zeus.

  Max focused in on the four-foot-tall dragonlet lumbering up the stairs toward him, and he reached out for Solomon. A sugar glider sailed through the air and landed on his arm. “Okay, we’re leaving now. I want you all to follow me up the stairs.”

  He edged upward, keeping his eyes locked on Sam. She was magnificent, the way her whole body radiated with a soft glow, lit by the magic of Atlantis. Hot bolts of electricity surged out from its tines, zapping the flood of robed monks. Where had they all come from?

  Helmina leapt to her feet, Miss Daisy at her side. “Mother . . .” Max called, and his gut spasmed. The kittens mewed, craning their heads toward their mother, but Miss Daisy didn’t hear them.

  Sam waved her hand to them to join her. “Come on, you two. Let’s go!”

  A plume of black smoke erupted Mt.-St.-Helen’s-style from the floor. Tendrils of mist twisted and curled around a silhouette. Francesca Rosencratz, dressed in black swishing robes, materialized between them. Miss Daisy hissed, then wailed a warning growl at the witch.

  Max hesitated, refusing to leave her.

  Sam motioned toward the arched door. “Go, Max. Take the familiars to safety. I’ll be right behind you.” Ah, Christ, another direct order from Sam. Did he dare disobey her again?

  The monkey wailed and chattered in his right ear. The Doberman whined, then growled, and took up a seat at his feet. The sugar glider peeped in his left ear, crying in terror. Sam was right. He had to get the familiars out of here.

  Still, he stood there, riveted in place, watching the woman he loved in all her glory. Sam aimed Atlantis at Rosencratz. “Let my mother go and this will all be over, Francesca.”

  Rosencratz pulled up a wooden staff and pointed it at Sam. A wand? Gnarled, twisted, and ebony in color, the stick was enchanted for sure. Max held his breath. Could the witch and her magic match Sam’s power armed with Atlantis? He didn’t want to leave her here alone to find out.

  Rosencratz laughed. “Your mother may go free. All I ask is your life in trade for hers,” she said. “As penance for your father choosing her over me.”

  “No,” Max yelled. I can’t lose her now. “I won’t allow this.”

  Sam turned the trident on him, and blasted out a bolt of energy that crumbled the stairs below him.

  What the hell was she doing? Blocking his path back down to her? Oh, hell no. The animals cried, urging him to set them free. He edged up another step toward the waiting door. Damn her for forcing his hand. Max extended his claws, and called on Ra once again. “Empower my love,” he asked. “Protect her.”

  He cast his clawed hands toward Sam, willing protection around her. The air crackled with energy. A clear iridescent shield shone around Sam, engulfing her, and he’d never seen her look so beautiful. What the hell was that? He stumbled up two more stairs, falling backward, drained from casting Ra’s magic. But he maintained the strange magic his ancestors had granted him, and kept Sam safe.

  Rosencratz swung her wand at Sam, but the dark magic bounced off the force field, useless against her. Yes, it’s holding! Ra’s magic was protecting her.

  “Come on, Sam,” he called.

  Rosen
cratz laughed. “Your lover wants you to follow him. If you do, your mother will die.”

  “Release her,” Sam said. “I’ll trade myself for her life.”

  Helmina reared up, spreading her hands wide, screaming, “No! Not my daughter!”

  Just like in that movie, The Wizard of Oz, the magic Helmina cast at Rosencratz looked like a whirling tornado. Helmina and Rosencratz swirled up off the floor toward the ceiling, both screaming, both gripping each other’s throats, both casting all their furious magic at the other.

  Max screamed, “You can’t save her, Sam.” His muscles tensed, and he couldn’t get a deep breath in his lungs. “Come help me with the familiars!”

  The two powerful witches disappeared into the ether, nothing left of the magic whirlwind except dust. What sort of magic is this? Max dropped his jaw, stunned.

  Miss Daisy scaled Sam’s jeans, leapt up high onto her shoulder, raised up on her hind legs, and wailed, reaching up for Helmina.

  Sam blasted the ceiling with the bolts of energy from Atlantis. “Damn you, Rosencratz!”

  “Sam,” he yelled. “Come to me, now!” Some of the familiars had strayed out the door, into the museum, but most of them waited at the top of the stairs, peeping and screeching out warnings.

  She turned and faced him, agony plastered across her expression. “Damn it, Max. I told you to go!” Seven more red-robed monks flooded into the basement. Sam took her anger out on them. She aimed her trident, and bolts of electricity snaked out from Atlantis, consuming them. They fell to their knees, screaming. She turned her rage on the cauldron, and blasted the vat of boiling oil to flood the floor. The cauldron broke into a hundred pieces, and the entire room burst into flames.

  Was this it? Was this how he was going to lose her? Damn this all to hell. Why won’t she listen to me? He readied another surge of his newfound magic. Using it left him weak, but he pushed through, and called on his Egyptian ancestors once more.

  Sam raced across the burning floor, and leapt up over the rubble, Miss Daisy clinging to her back. She cleared the lower stairs, and climbed toward him. Max leaned down to grasp her arms. He lifted her up, careful not to scratch her with his claws. Miss Daisy scrambled up over his back, ran to the top stairs, and led the charge of familiars out the door.

  The dragon and the Doberman followed her. The monkey screamed. The kittens wailed. The fire alarm in the Met sounded an ear-piercing warning for everyone to evacuate.

  “You made it,” he said, once Sam was back safe in his arms. He finally felt like he could breathe, and he sucked in lungfuls of air. They turned and ran up the remaining stone stairs.

  “Wait.” Sam hesitated, and turned back to the blazing room. “We can’t burn down the Met.” She powered Atlantis up and flooded the floor with cool, flowing water, dousing the fire.

  Max’s pulse tripled, and he tugged on her arm. “Come on. We have to go.” Once through the arched door, they turned right, and ran back through the museum the way they’d come in. The fire alarm blared, and security guards mobbed the halls. They drew their guns. “Shit,” Sam said, spinning around to see all the danger. “Find a way out. We have to get them to safety.”

  “I got this,” Max said. “By the power of Ra, I protect you.” He cast another wide screen of protection into the air around all of them, showering it wide so it would cover the familiars too. His shield moved with them while they ran, and he pumped his fist in victory.

  Down the halls, out the museum, and into the darkness of Central Park, they ran, scattered, but together like a tribe of refugees. The cover of a grove of trees hid them, and Miss Daisy corralled all the familiars into a circle at the base of the trees. The magic took its toll, and Max stumbled, falling to his knees. A shot of agony tore through his body. “Ahh! Burning! Gods, it’s burning me alive!”

  “Max!” Sam dropped beside him, frantically searching his arms and legs with her hands. “What’s happening to you?”

  “Ahhh!” He seized, and curled into a fetal position, gasping for air. His bones snapped, and his blood heated to at least a thousand degrees.

  Miss Daisy bounded back to them, her calico kittens at her side, mewing. Vaguely aware of the other familiars surrounding them, Max did his best to breathe. Was he dying? If this was the penalty for using Ra’s magic, this part of being a shifter sucked.

  Miss Daisy touched him with a paw. “He’s overused his magic to guard us,” she said. She turned and looked at Sam. “It’s part of our heritage—part of our family curse. He’s shifting back to his cat form.”

  “Is he . . . will he be okay?” Sam asked.

  He shook his head, dazed, but feeling a little less like he’d been burned by the hellfires of magic. He sat up. Would it be pathetic if he whined?

  Sam’s eyes popped wide. “Oh . . . my . . .” She wore an expression of shock on her beautiful face.

  He lifted his hand. His fur was black, striped and luxurious, and his once-human hands looked more like paws. He brushed his paw-hand over his head. His triangular cat ears sat atop his head. “What the hell, Mom?”

  He leapt up, and looked behind him for a tail. No tail. His legs and feet were still human. His black stone-washed Levi’s covered the bottom half of him.

  “It’s a partial shift, son,” Miss Daisy explained.

  Sam moved in and touched his face. “You have whiskers again.” She stroked the back of her hand against his face, then up to his regenerated ears. “Are you okay? We have to get back to the brownstone.”

  “A partial shift? How long is this gonna last?” The fruit bat peeped, and the kittens mewed at Miss Daisy’s feet. Aw, hell. The last thing they needed was for him to slow them down. That was as close as he ever wanted to come to losing Sam. “Go. Run for it.”

  Sirens sounded, and twirling blue-and-white strobe lights lit up the quiet blanket of darkness covering Central Park. Flashing red lights from fire engines followed them into the park.

  Sam took his paw in her hand. “Run,” Sam yelled to the familiars. “Keep to the darkness. Get everyone into the woods!”

  Miss Daisy bounded off, her kittens racing behind her, and she corralled all the familiars into an ungainly herd.

  Max tugged Sam’s hand, and the menagerie they’d rescued fled the scene, just as security guards from the Met stormed the trees.

  They ran into the cover of darkness, away from the threat. Their little circus of familiars didn’t stop until they’d crossed the Great Lawn. Hunter’s Gate loomed in the distance. Max pointed the way, running. “There!” On the other side of the stone gate waited freedom, so they were almost in the clear.

  The menagerie bolted forward toward the gate.

  Five NYPD cars screeched into place to block the gate’s exit, their blue-and-white strobe lights flashing. Sam pulled Max back under the darkness of the giant oaks decorating the park. “No. This way.”

  They edged their way down the wall, each animal following them. When they were in the clear, they climbed up and over to the freedom of the city of Manhattan.

  Chapter 23

  Sam

  HOLY SHIT. I couldn’t believe we’d gotten away with the familiars. But we’d lost my mother.

  I swallowed past the lump in my throat, and I prayed that Mom would stay safe until we found her.

  Once we were over Hunter’s Gate, we made ourselves part of Manhattan. I lifted my chin in the air, and strode across the bright crosswalk like I owned this city. Max and the familiars followed my lead, back to my mother’s brownstone.

  This close to Halloween, masses of people were out mingling and traveling in the lamp-lit streets, donning all manner of costumes. We might have had a menagerie of beasts in tow, but getting back to Mom’s brownstone with all these familiars should not have been that difficult, right?

  Sebastian the Doberman with his white-taped ea
rs followed Max like a little lost puppy. Max handed over two of the kittens for me to carry, keeping two for himself. I nestled their soft little bodies inside my jacket.

  Miss Daisy strutted ahead of us, leading the way back home. Her calico bottlebrush tail stood straight up at attention, her ears forward, all senses alert. When the puppies got distracted, she nipped at their tails until they were in formation.

  The brown wombat was a little harder to corral. Who kept a wombat as a familiar anyway? Sebastian helped Max get the wombat back on track. The little fruit bat sat on Max’s shoulder, flapping his wings, chittering and chirping as we made our way home. The sidewalks were filled with people, even at this late hour. We had to split up to let one group pass. One of the teenagers rushed up to Solomon the dragonlet. When he reached out to touch him, Solomon growled.

  “Hey, great costume, man. Where’d you rent that from?” he asked.

  I intervened before the dragonlet got too spooked and fried the kid. “Chester’s costume shop over on Fifty-Seventh. This may have been the only one, though.” I caressed Solomon’s soft nose, pushing the teens back out of the way. Solomon nickered in my hand. I smiled. He liked me. Man, his witch was gonna be glad to see him.

  Stragglers in the group of unsupervised teens honed in on Max. “Check out those ears. Hey, man, who are you? Cat Man?”

  “Yeah, that’s right. Check out the extendable claws.” When Max held up his silvery Wolverine-like claws, the teens cheered him on. I pushed him away from them. The teens went on their way to trick-or-treat.

  “Come on, Sam.” Max waved us forward. “Let’s get our charges off the street.”

  I pulled out my cellphone, and dialed Cyn’s number. The call went to voicemail. That was odd. But I left her a message. Call me. “Where the hell is she?”

  I went for the next logical choice—Victoria Smith. I dialed her number.

  When she answered, I said, “We did it, Victoria. We rescued the familiars. We’re about a block away from my mother’s house.”