by Clea Simon
“We are to be guardians,” her companion – her sister – explained. “Of the grain, but so much more.”
And thus it began. The three cats made themselves known to the woman. Through thought and touch, they revealed mysteries. How the yeast, summoned from the air, could make beer as well as bread. How some plants could ease cramps and others rashes on the skin. Soon she and her two sisters became known as the woman’s companions, a point of honor. Beloved of Bast, the woman was called. Beloved of the small cat, in particular, who sought her out at night to sleep curled by her side. …
Only when the brassy noise of the bells jangled once more did Clara suddenly wake with a start. The young violinist, her heart-shaped face pale and drawn, had entered the shop and stood, looking around. She was searching for Becca, Clara realized, her human senses unable to hear the soft humming that Becca kept up as she sketched, a set of markers resting on the top of the ladder where she stood.
Becca had been waiting to speak to this woman, Clara knew, and so she mulled over how to alert her – her shaded ears twisting this way and that – until a soft cough caught her attention. Relaxing back onto the cushion, Clara watched as Becca turned and descended the ladder to greet the newcomer.
“Ruby! I’m so glad to see you.” Becca sounded breathless. “Please, wait here. Don’t move.”
Even before Ruby could respond, Becca folded the ladder, carrying it to the back room. When she returned, she smelled strongly of the marker that had colored her outstretched hand blue.
“I’m sorry.” She withdrew the offending hand and wiped it on her jeans. “We’re – I’m redoing the window. But please, Ruby, what happened last night? I confess, I was worried.”
“I’m sorry.” The dark-haired woman looked down at the floor. “By the time I got to the conservatory, I realized I should simply stay there. Your MBTA – I read that it closes. Besides, I have already involved you too much.”
“Involved me how?” Becca examined the other woman’s face. “You look exhausted, Ruby. Tea, I think.”
With a glance at the front door, Becca led the other woman into the back room and put the kettle on while Ruby slumped down onto the worn-out sofa.
“While we wait, the truth,” Becca said.
“I spent the night in my practice room,” Ruby began. “Or, not all night. I walked for a while. There is a café by the train station, but, until I know what I will be doing…”
“You didn’t want to spend any money. I get it.” Becca spoke softly. She pulled up the room’s other chair, waiting for the water to boil – and for some answers. “After we have some tea, I’ll get us both something to eat. But first, you’ve got to tell me what’s going on.”
The other woman slouched further, as if the old sofa would swallow her up. Just then, the kettle began to whistle, and Becca set about making two mugs of tea. By the time she handed one to Ruby, either the fragrant steam or the friendly fussing must have done their job. Ruby took a deep breath and began to talk.
“My family… we don’t have much.” Ruby must have sensed that Becca was about to say something, because she held up a hand and kept talking. “I’m not asking for sympathy. We are happy. My mother works, and her sister – my aunt – she lives with us, too. But we do not have a lot of money. It wasn’t always so. Before the war, we had standing. My grandmother was a professor. My grandfather played violin in the symphony. Then…” She waved her hand, showing how quickly that could all go away.
“We lost everything. Almost everything, but somehow, my mother kept my grandfather’s violin. And when I was very little – I do not remember, but I am told I was four – I found it and started to play. Not well, of course.” She chuckled at the memory. “But well enough. And some of the old friendships remained. My mother found one of her mother’s former students. We had no money to pay him, of course. But he came and we would feed him. He became like a member of the family. He was the one who told us about the conservatory. He wrote to a musician he knew, someone who came here after the war, and he told me I could audition. That if I was accepted, I would be given a scholarship. I would be given work. I could study and I could play.”
“Of course, even to come here.…” She broke off, looking around. But Becca remained silent.
“My grandfather’s violin was the only thing of value we had. But to sell – well, that is like that writer, yes? But it must be done. We spoke to a dealer, thinking to trade it for a lesser instrument. Something that I could play, but then…” The other woman took a deep breath and let it out with an audible sigh, staring at the floor. If Clara didn’t know better, she might have thought the other woman could see her, the way she was concentrating. But a certain wide glassiness to her eyes let her know that the young woman was really looking over events in her own mind. Her options, Clara thought, though a glance up at Becca reassured her that her person was aware that the newcomer might be making up a story.
When Ruby began to speak, her voice was so low that Becca had to lean forward to hear her. Even Clara turned her ears.
“The dealer did not want it. He said he could not help us. Mementos of the time before the war are everywhere, and they are not valued, maybe as they should be. We were ready to give up, but then he sent a message. He told us he had spoken to a wealthy man. Someone I had only heard of – no, you wouldn’t know his name, but in my city, he is known.
“He asked us to his house, my mother and I. He asked me to play for him.” She broke off, lost in her reverie. “It was like an audition, only for one man. After, he had us stay. He fed us and put us up – the two of us in a beautiful room.”
She sighed, lost in the memory. “He thanked me, afterward. And he said he thought it was important that I attend the conservatory. He would buy my grandfather’s violin, for enough for me to travel. He told me I could keep the case, for sentimental purposes. In the morning, I found he had fixed it up, fitting it with a travel sleeve and the hygrometer that modern cases have– and when I opened it, there was a new instrument inside. Student quality, such as many of my colleagues at the conservatory will probably be playing, but very nice.”
She managed a smile that was wobbly at best. “It was a kind gesture, more than I expected. I did not see him again. But he made it all possible.”
Becca was about to follow up – Clara could see she had more questions – when a sound at the front of the shop caused her to break off.
“Welcome to Charm and Cherish.” Clara heard her person’s familiar greeting and, after taking a last look at Ruby, the cat followed Becca into the front of the shop to find her addressing an older man in a zip-up leather jacket. “May I help you?”
“Oh.” He squinted, heavy brows pushing down over deep-set eyes, as if he didn’t quite see Becca. “You work here?”
“Yes, I do.” Becca stepped behind the counter, as if to assert her proper place. The move also put a barrier between her and the man, Clara was relieved to note. As he frowned and looked around, she became increasingly certain he was not here for a candle or even a book. “May I help you?”
Becca appeared to be on the alert as well.
“I was looking for the other girl. You know.” One paw-like hand gestured to where his heavily pomaded hair curled around his ear. “The one with the dark hair?”
“If you mean Gaia, she doesn’t work here anymore.” Becca’s predecessor at the store had left town after a dangerous series of events.
“I don’t know what name she’s using.” The man stared at Becca as if waiting for more.
“Well, I’m here now.” Becca was straining to sound reasonable. Clara could hear the tightness in her voice.
“Alone?” He looked toward the open door that led to the back room.
“My manager and the store’s owner live right upstairs.” Becca pulled her phone from her bag. “Would you like to speak to either of them?”
“No.” He frowned. “I’ll come back.” And with that, he turned and
left.
“Whoa.” Becca slumped onto the counter.
“Who was that?” Ruby came out of the back room. “What did he want? You seem – upset.”
“Yeah, I didn’t get a good feeling from him.” Becca turned to the girl, a quizzical look on her face. “You didn’t recognize him, did you?”
“I didn’t see him.” Ruby shook her head.
“There’s more to your story, isn’t there?”
Ruby nodded slowly, her eyes on the floor, and followed Becca back to their tea.
“After that, everything happened very quickly. Everything took more money, more time, than I thought. I went to the conservatory first, of course. I needed to confirm my audition and that man – the one I thought was the landlord – he had left the room key there. He was gone when I finally found the apartment. It was after midnight, but what with the flights and all…”
She waved her hands.
“Besides, I wanted to do well, and so I practiced. Softly, of course, with a mute on my bridge. I did not bother you, did I?”
“I didn’t hear you at all.” Becca reassured her.
“I’m glad.” A ghost of a smile lit up Ruby’s face. “I did sleep, finally. And, well, when I woke it was later than I thought. I grabbed my violin and ran. I made it to the audition. Only, when I opened the case…”
She stopped, biting her lip.
“It was my grandfather’s violin. That’s why I came into your shop. Why I wanted to talk to you. I don’t know how my grandfather’s violin made it back to me, but I do know it must have been magic.”
“Are you sure?” Becca didn’t mean to sound harsh. Clara could feel the effort she was putting into keeping her voice gentle. Still, she was glad her person was skeptical. Clara didn’t have Laurel’s gift for reading people, but even she could tell that something didn’t add up. “I mean, you haven’t slept much. You’re in a strange place. Jet-lagged.”
Ruby was shaking her head. “My new violin is factory-made. Czech. The kind schools rent for children. As soon as I opened the case, I saw, but I doubted too. Then I picked it up. The sound! The violin I brought with me can be played. My grandfather’s violin almost makes its own music. It almost – yes, it seemed like a miracle, and after I started to talk with you, I thought, why not? Perhaps I should not question it. Only then I returned to the apartment and saw – I found…”
“My neighbor.” Becca filled in the blanks.
Ruby nodded, her eyes filling with cheers. “Then I knew. What I thought was a blessing was the opposite. My grandfather’s violin makes beautiful music, but it has become part of something evil.”
Chapter 14.
At moments like this, Clara sorely missed her sisters. They might tease her, the calico knew, but they felt an allegiance to Becca. Even if they didn’t love her like Clara did, they would want what was best for her. And in this case, what was best was beyond her powers. While Laurel might be able to implant the idea of escape into Becca’s mind, and Harriet could possibly change this Ruby into something unthreatening – another pillow, perhaps – all Becca could do was stare up at her person with growing alarm. True evil, Clara knew, existed. More to the point, she was learning from her sisters’ stories, it often came through the actions of human beings. Whether or not this Ruby was evil or simply a conduit by which it could be channeled, Clara did not care. She wanted Becca safely away, and for this dark-haired young woman to disappear.
Becca, however, was not cooperating. “That’s nonsense,” she scoffed. “I don’t believe a musical instrument could be evil. There’s obviously just been some kind of mistake.”
Her voice trailed off into a thoughtful silence. “Though…No, that doesn’t make sense.”
“Please,” the young musician leaned in, her face drawn with fatigue. “Tell me.”
Becca hesitated. “I had a visitor this morning,” she said at last. “A dean from the conservatory. He said that your violin belonged to a collector, and that it had been stolen.”
“A collector? Did he say who?” That wasn’t the question Clara had expected. Becca, either, from the sudden rise of her brows.
“I’m not sure,” she admitted. “Someone in New York. The dean gave me his card. I could ask, I guess…”
But Ruby was shaking her head. “No, that’s not possible.”
“What’s not?”
“The man who bought my grandfather’s violin. He is a collector. He has many fine things, but he is not in New York, and he only bought my violin a few weeks ago. So even if he sold it…” She turned a puzzled frown to Becca. “You said this happened this morning?”
Becca nodded.
“Did you give him the violin?” Ruby spoke haltingly, as if each word hurt.
“No. I didn’t even show it to him.”
“I don’t understand.”
“He – I guess I just didn’t like him. And I thought, well, it’s your violin. I said I would hold it for you.”
If Becca expected this to cheer her visitor up, she was disappointed.
“I think I do need your services now,” she said, her voice low.
“You can’t really think a musical instrument can be evil, do you?”
The other woman simply shook her head. “I don’t know what is going on. But this violin – it keeps coming back. Already one man has died. And that man who was just here…”
“I thought you didn’t see him.” Becca’s face grew grave.
“I heard him.” Ruby looked up at her. “He was asking about a girl. He didn’t sound like a friend.”
“He was creepy.” Becca gave her that. “But this is Cambridge. It’s a big city. There are creeps everywhere.” She sounded like she was trying to convince herself. Then, taking a deep breath, she reached a decision. “Look, Ruby, you must be exhausted, and I’ve got to work. Why don’t you go lie down on the sofa in the back and get some sleep.”
“Please.” Becca smiled at her. “We’ll got back to my place when I take my break. Your grandfather’s violin is safe in my bedroom. Maybe you can take a look at it and figure something out.” She paused, considering. “Then again, maybe you’ll open the case and find that it’s not there at all.”
Ruby started to argue, but Becca was having none of it. “You’re dead on your feet,” she said. “If my boss comes by, I’ll explain. She’s not bad – well, her sister isn’t anyway.”
Sending her new guest off to nap with a quick hug, Becca returned to her post, and Clara with her. If she could have communicated with Laurel and Harriet, she would have. Her sisters had skills enough between them to figure out what was going on with this strange young woman. Whether they’d be willing to part with the violin was another story.
Becca’s generosity did her credit, Clara thought. And even without knowing that her feline minders had her best interests at heart, she seemed confident in her decision. But after the most cursory dusting of the candles – the expensive ones had sat on the shelves for months – she suddenly stopped, stepping into the corner before she pulled out her phone.
“Maddy.” Becca was almost whispering, one eye on the door to the back room. “She showed up just like I said.”
Her friend’s voice was so loud that Becca muted it with her hand.
“It’s complicated, Maddy. She – well, she’s not some kind of international thief. She’s a broke student, and she’s sleeping in the back room. She needs my help, Maddy. I think she may need some witch detecting after all.”
Chapter 15.
Clara listened to Maddy sputter, feeling as frustrated as a kitten who can’t reach the ball under the bookshelf. She felt for Becca’s friend, although she and her sisters would do anything to protect their person the cats’ powers were limited. And, as Clara was learning, there had been times in their history when both felines and humans had come to harm, despite the cats’ best intentions.
Maddy’s worries proved groundless, though, as the morning wore on. Becc
a had nearly finished painting the top of the window, when Ruby emerged, hair tousled. “Thank you,” she said, smoothing her dark locks back with one hand. “I feel much better.”
“I’m glad.” Becca appraised her guest. “Are you hungry? I’ve got another hour before I can head out, but if you want, I could loan you a few–”
“No, no, please.” The musician was adamant. “You’ve already done so much. I’ll wait and go with you and get my violin. Then I will be out of your hair.”
“But…” Becca bit her lower lip, a sure sign, Clara knew, that she was holding something back. “Okay, we’ll talk about it once I finish up here.”
With that, she went back to the window, pulling the ladder up to the right. But whether because the morning had been an odd and broken one or because the musician was wandering around, a quiet but obvious presence, she didn’t seem able to regain her former groove. Time and again, she started to paint, only to realize that some element was wrong. The design unbalanced or the color off.
“Maybe the top banner was beginner’s luck.” She sounded almost embarrassed as she wiped off the wet paint, wetting a large sponge from a bucket by her feet.
“What is it supposed to be?” Ruby looked up at the smear of blue.
“Fish – for Gemini, you know?” Becca pointed, and Ruby jumped, jostling the ladder. Becca reached out, sponge in hand, to brace herself against the window, squeezing a spill of blue water down the window. “Bother.” She hopped off the ladder and began grabbing magazines off the window shelf, while at the same time, trying to mop up the spill.
“I’m so sorry.” Ruby bent, reaching for the Ganesh on the sill, and the two bumped heads.
“I’ve got it.” Becca snapped, grabbing the figurine and held it close.
Ruby stepped back, her hand on her forehead. “I’m sorry,” she repeated, as she backed away. “I’m in the way. I should leave.”
“No, please.” Becca replaced the statue, a safe distance from the spill. “Are you okay?”