The Familiar (19 page)

Gillian folds me in a big embrace. "Has there been any news about Tom?"

"No, nothing. I'm crazy worried at this point. Natalie's gathered the coven like you asked. I don't know that I trust them, but something has to happen."

Gillian turns and charges along, following the arrows toward the baggage claim. "Assuming Tom is alive and not being actively hidden from magical forces, the coven should be able to find him. Are you sure Robert isn't involved in this? I doubt he would be, but…"

"No, I'm not sure about anything. How could I be? Kevin didn't actually say he'd done anything. He just hinted, but it made my skin crawl."

"If Robert's involved, he'd be able to hide Tom from a spell, but Kevin doesn't have that kind of casting power. He's more nearly a pharmacist than a warlock."

Gillian fills me in on what she found out while I drive as quickly homeward as I can without killing both of us. "Apparently, shape-shifting was all the rage back in the middle ages in Europe. Members of the coven where Eunice was a novice continue the practice. Witches become one with their animal partners to honor nature, not to control it."

"So, like werewolves? That kind of thing?"

"Werewolves, werebears—wererabbits, if someone's inclined that way. It seems the myths are mostly wrong, but like all myths, they gained power as they were told and retold. The joining is chosen by the witch and requested of the Goddess in a sacred ceremony. Eunice participated in one of those ceremonies with the coven and must have gained the knowledge that way. Except she corrupted the magic for her own uses."

I keep my eyes on the road, but I want to stop and pull all the information out of her. "Corrupted it how?"

"Aurelle said she must have forced Tom to participate in the ritual without his consent, much as she taught you magic without you being aware of it. And to be successful, she had to mix in other magic to bind his power and allows words spoken by another to activate the spell. What do you young people call it? A mashup, right? None of that is part of the original magic. The high priestess is going to talk to anyone who remembers Eunice to see if there are rituals they can think of that Eunice might have learned to create the spell."

"So, you don't really have an answer?" The excitement that was fueling my optimism fades.

"Not yet, sweetheart, but we do have another puzzle to solve that might help."

"Another one?"

"The high priestess believes that when Eunice died, no one else should have been able to make Tom transform. She doesn't understand how you have that power. She wants me to see if I can shift him, because if I can't, there may be something even darker going on here."

"What does that mean?"

Gillian shrugged. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, pet. Just trust me for now and let's focus on finding Tom. None of this has any value if we can't locate him."

She obviously isn't going any further with whatever she hinted at, so I let it drop. At least she's back and convinced that we'll not only find Tom, but she'll be able to help him with his problem, too.

When we get back to the shop, six sleepy members of the coven are sipping tea in Granny's downstairs parlor. I hear Natalie rummaging in the kitchen. Although Gillian says Nat likes to take off with other people's good silver, somebody had to make the tea, and I can't worry about anything as meaningless as tableware right now, anyway.

She assures me that with the two of us and Nat, nine can also be a powerful number. She certainly doesn't want Kevin or Robert participating and there are a few other coven members she believes were loyal to Eunice. It's feels so normal and civilized as Natalie comes out of the kitchen with a tray of cheese, crackers, and cookies.

After she plops the tray on the coffee table for people to serve themselves and takes her own seat, Natalie dips a cookie into her tea and says, "Well, Gillian, begin."

Gillian nods and looks to the group. "I need your help. Or more appropriately, my ex-husband Tom needs the coven's help."

Natalie butts in when Gillian pauses. "Most of you knew his grandson was visiting and working in the shop." She cocks an eyebrow, her expression bemused. "But couldn't you just swear after meeting him that Tom Sanders the original had simply been using Eunice's creams to good effect all these years? Because that young man could tell me that he's Tom Sanders' grandson until the cows come home, but I recognized that tight little tush when I saw it. Tom himself has been working the counter." All the eyes in the parlor turn back expectantly toward Gillian.

"Yes," Gillian says. Most of the guests look surprised.

"You've also seen him in the shop every time you visited over the past forty years, because he's been trapped as Cat since he supposedly left town," I say from where I stand behind Gillian.

This time, there are absolutely startled looks, and one long gasp.

Gillian steps back in. "Cassie discovered the secret when there was a break-in at the shop. Cat was badly injured, and when he died, Tom was revealed. Unfortunately, he quickly returned to cat form."

I'm glad Gillian doesn't tell everyone how badly I reacted when I first met Tom.

She continues. "We've made progress by giving Tom his human form for long periods of time, but now he's disappeared. We think he may be in trouble, and we need help finding him. We'd like to ask for help performing a location ritual with as much oomph behind it as this group can muster."

Voices come from all around:

"Of course, we'll help...."

"We can start right now..."

"I've got a map in the car...I'll go get it."

"Does anyone have a silver medallion with them?"

"Can you believe it? Tom back after all these years?"

It's heart-warming seeing all these people jump in to help. I think Tom would be surprised to know how eager people are to make things better for him. I look around as people start to move to get maps and medallions and to talk to Gillian about what's needed, and I feel the tears coming on. Maybe, just maybe, I'll see Tom again.

At night, in the woods, dressed in black robes, these ordinary looking people take on the look of the extraordinary. I can hardly believe I'm here. My neck and shoulders ache from the tension of wondering what comes next. I could have stayed home while the coven worked their hoodoo-voodoo, but if this is what it takes to save Tom, I'll be a freaking witch just like my Granny wanted.

I've got a robe, a gift from Eunice's closet, over my capris and t-shirt. I've also got a dropper jar of rosemary oil from the shop. Gillian says we'll need it. She assures me that as long as I follow the lead of the others, I can't mess anything up. I better not. Because my heart is beating so rapidly I'm still not sure I won't just cut and run if anything too eerie happens. This isn't like our Tuesday and Thursday sessions. This is serious magic.

Setting up the ritual is done quietly: everyone discussed their role before we left the house, and everyone knows what they need to do. Gillian and Jane set out a series of nine candles in a circle around the map, which Natalie has already placed at the center of the ritual grounds. I put a drop of rosemary on the base of each one. Once they're in place, we line up behind them, one person each to a candle, and wait for Natalie to nod. Then we pass a lit taper around the circle to light them up. In the silence, I can almost hear my heart still beating too fast.

Gillian, as the person closest to Tom for the longest period of time, begins a chant, and on the second repetition, others start to chant with her. At each repetition more and more join in, until we're chanting the words of the spell in one voice. Even me—I'm chanting as one with them, and as I do, my fear begins to ease away.

Gillian raises the silver pendant—a replica of a knife—she's been holding, and it hangs straight down, not moving. Then it begins to tilt inward slightly under its own power, toward the map and away from gravity. As our chant grows more urgent, the medallion continues to lift until it's floating out at an angle on its chain, the tip of the small blade pointing to the map. At the end of the next round, Gillian lets go of the chain and the pendant shoots to the map in an unwavering line, piercing the paper when it hits and sticking through the map into the dirt below.

With solemn grace, Gillian goes to the map and removes the marker. Then she says, "I'll be damned. He's at the pound."

I'm going to kill that bastard.

Gillian and I arrive at the pound on the edge of the town at least an hour before it opens. We want to make sure they don't have time to get started culling for the day. Operated by the county, it's a small, old, badly maintained building that smells of urine, feces, and decay.

There's a worker dressed in stained coveralls behind the counter, but when I try the door, it's still locked. Well, that's not stopping me today. I focus on the place at the base of my spine where Gillian says magic lives, and position my hand over the doorknob, willing it to move. A single, small blue spark leaps from a fingertip. It's enough. When I try again, the knob turns, and I head for the worker behind the counter.

"You've got my cat, and I want him now!"

"Look, sister, we're not open yet. You can wait outside," he says.

I'm ready to tear the place apart to get Tom out of there, but I keep it under control. The people who work here don't know what they have. Why would they? He's just another stray cat.

"Not good enough. He's a black kitten. Green eyes. He's mine, and I want him. So you're open for the day. Now."

He stands there for a minute, probably trying to decide how crazy I am. Apparently deciding it might not be worth the risk, he says, "Dang, keep yer hair on, lady. He's back here." Gillian and I follow behind him as he hooks a key off the wall and opens the door into the back.

When we reach Tom's cage and the workman opens the cage door for me to gently pick up the sleeping Cat, I'm barely bothered by the stench of urine and stale dog food. As far as I'm concerned it's the most amazing smell in the world, because it's brought Tom back to me.

I hold him close, rubbing my cheek against his soft fur, and he opens his eyes. I can hardly wait to get him home so that I can tell him what a good Tom he is.

Cassie clasps me to her chest, nuzzling me with her cheek as she carries me to the car. Even Gillian is tutting and cooing at me. I think they're glad to see me.

I've never been so happy in my life to see anyone as I am to see my two girls. And as soon as I'm able, I'm going to get even with Kevin. I'd like to see anyone try to stop me.

As I counted down the days in there, I was sure I'll end up a victim of their animal Auschwitz. If Cat had died in one of their chambers, no one would have seen me as I shifted. My human body would have succumbed to the gas soon after, crammed into a cage only big enough for a large dog. Even if I'd gotten another life, that one would go, too, pretty quick. I wonder how they'd have explained it if it was a man they removed from their gas chamber and not a cat.

When we get home, Cassie and Gillian politely turn their backs while Cassie says the words that make me human.

I let them know I'm respectable again once I've hurried into the clothes that were laid out for me. Both of them rush into my arms. A tear glistens at the corner of Gillian's eye—she's stopped being angry now, I know she has—but Cassie is openly sobbing. I want to join them out of sheer relief, but I don't cry; the best I can manage is a little mist. I didn't cry much before I was made Cat, but with Cat's influence, I haven't shed a real tear in years. Cats don't have the requisite emotions. I wonder if I'll ever have the ability again.

When we release each other, Gillian finally asks, "Tom, how did you end up in the pound?"

"Kevin caught me outside his window. When I woke up in a cage in the car, he told me that he had a pretty good idea of who I am—he knew I was Tom, at least. I think he's had some conversations with Robert on the subject."

"Why did he take you to the pound? Why didn't he just kill you himself?"

"Strangely enough, he didn't let me in on that part of the plan. My best guess is he didn't want to deal with what would happen if I shift when Cat dies. He has a good reason to suspect I would. Then he'd have a big, strong man to deal with instead of a defenseless cat. I don't think ol' Kevie has the courage to face a man. Plus, a man's body is a much bigger problem to dispose of. They use a gas chamber at the pound. I guess he figured that even if I shifted after Cat died, I'd be shifting into a poisoned environment. Their problem to deal with, I suppose."