Read Cat's Claw Online

Authors: Amber Benson

Tags: #Fantasy, #Contemporary, #Fiction, #General, #Fantasy fiction, #Fiction - Fantasy, #Science Fiction And Fantasy, #Fantasy - Contemporary

Cat's Claw (5 page)

BOOK: Cat's Claw
3.01Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads
Now my parents slept in separate rooms (which had always seemed like a kind of depressing compromise to
me
), but at least they were going to get to spend eternity together. I guess that was
something
.
“And how are you involved in all this? Do you help Madame Papillon with all her important work?” I asked the little Minx.
I didn’t mean for it to, but I guess my question came out as kind of condescending, which only seemed to piss the Minx off even more.
“You best mind your tongue,” Muna spat at me, her violet eyes narrowed down to two malevolent slits. “I know
your
weakness now and it would only take a few moments to smother you with enough cat hair to—”
“Muna, that’s enough,” Madame Papillon said sharply, cutting off the Minx before she could finish her sentence. Muna turned bright red with anger, but at least she was silent now.
“I’m sorry about Muna. Like all Minx, she is possessed of a terrible temper,” Madame Papillon continued. “Now, as to the reason that I just magically appeared in your kitchen, well, let’s just say I was asked—”
There was a loud
ripping
sound and I looked down to see Muna pulling at a loose thread that was hanging from a long tear in the fabric covering the back of the couch. She yanked at the string again, causing the fabric to rip even wider.
“Don’t wreck my couch, please,” I said, annoyed because it was the only couch I had and I kind of liked it un-ripped-up.
“What? You can always buy a new one, can’t you?” Muna replied snidely.
No matter how beautiful on the outside the Minx was, I decided, she was a total megabitch on the inside. Besides which, she didn’t have a clue as to what she was talking about. I worked for a slave’s wage at House and Yard, so if I wanted to buy a new couch or a new
anything
, for that matter, I really had only one of two options: I could sell an egg (of the human variety)
or
I could sell a kidney—and neither of those options sounded worth putting my body through in order to buy a piece of furniture.
“I want you to understand something, you little snot,” I said, glaring at the Minx. “I don’t take handouts from my parents. Everything you see in this apartment—including the apartment—was paid for by me, myself, and I, so why don’t you just can it.”
I had decided a long time ago that if I wanted to live like a real human being, then I was damned if I’d take any money from my father’s supernatural endeavors. In fact, up until very recently I’d been living under a forgetting charm so I wouldn’t even
remember
that my parents came from supernatural royalty. I was more than happy to believe they were just extremely wealthy jet-setters who hailed from the exclusive enclave of Newport, Rhode Island.
Money I could handle; supernatural stuff . . . not so much.
Muna shrugged. “Well, I guess we better go, then,” she said, looking intently at Madame Papillon. “The girl doesn’t take handouts.”
“Muna.” There was a note of warning underneath Madame Papillon’s otherwise placid tone.
She turned her attention back to me.
“Whether or not your parents asked me to intercede, the fact of the matter is that you really are in desperate need of my help,” Madame Papillon said, her eyes filled with concern. “Without the proper magical training, I am afraid that you will find yourself continuing to get into situations that you cannot handle.”
“I can handle situations,” I said defensively. “I can handle lots of different situations. I’m very independent.”
Muna snorted.
“Shut up,” I said to the Minx.
“The fact remains that you must be educated, whether you like it or not.”
I started to roll my eyes, then remembered how obnoxious it was when Muna did it and stopped.
“Look, I appreciate all the worry, but believe me—I have no intention of ever dealing with anything magical or death-related ever again. I am perfectly happy to live my normal life and let well enough alone,” I replied.
“It’s not really that simple,” Madame Papillon said, taking another sip of her tea. “There are creatures who will want to destroy you simply because you are one of the three—two, now that the Devil’s protégé has disappeared—in line to take over the Presidency of Death, Inc., when your father abdicates his position.”
I sighed.
“I don’t want to be Death. Why doesn’t anybody get
that
? I have absolutely
zero
interest in all the power and stuff that goes along with the job. I just want to be a boring, run-of-the-mill human being. Is that too much to ask for?”
“Aiming for the stars, huh,” Muna drawled sarcastically.
“Didn’t you just hear what I said? I don’t
want
to aim higher. I like my life exactly as it is.”
Well, that wasn’t
exactly
the truth, but
they
didn’t need to know that.
I
was well aware of how bad my job sucked, that my apartment was too small, that I couldn’t afford to buy any clothing unless it lived on the sale rack. I didn’t need anyone else to harass me about all of the above. Besides, I really
was
pretty happy with my existence as a whole. I didn’t want all the pomp and circumstance that went along with Dad’s job. I could live in relative obscurity and be pretty damn happy about it, thank you very much.
“She doesn’t want our help,” Muna said.
“She just doesn’t understand how important this is,” Madame Papillon rejoined tersely. They were both talking about me like I wasn’t even in the room—something that totally drove me up the wall.
“Look,” I said, interrupting their back-and-forth. “I appreciate the concern—I really do—but the Minx is right. I don’t want your help.”
“That’s not the point,” Madame Papillon said. “You are in danger, whether you want to admit it or not. Your aura does not lie.”
“What do you mean, ‘your aura doesn’t lie’?” I said, getting a little worried now.
“An aura is an immutable thing, Calliope, but sometimes, in very rare circumstances, it can be changed . . .” Madame Papillon said, then stopped, her mouth set in a firm line.
“Go on,” I said, sensing that a really big shoe was about to drop. “Lay it on me.”
Madame Papillon looked at Muna, who nodded for her to go on.
“Someone has . . . done something to your aura, Calliope.”
“What the hell does that mean?” I asked testily. I absolutely hated it when people dragged out bad news. Better to just get everything out in the open as quickly as possible, as far as I was concerned.
Muna stared at me. Her eyes were full of what I can only term as
pity
—and that scared me more than anything else she could’ve done.
“Calliope—” Madame Papillon began, but Muna interrupted her.
“My old lady doesn’t want to tell you the truth, but I have no problem doing it.”
Madame Papillon looked down into her tea mug, verifying the truth of Muna’s words. I swallowed hard, my stomach and GI tract doing flip-flops inside my gut.
This was so not going to be good news,
I decided, feeling sick.
Muna looked deeply into my eyes as if she were trying to plumb my soul, and then, in a very soft whisper, she said:
“
You
don’t have an aura at all.”
three
 
 
“Just kidding,” Muna said, obviously relishing the look of horror that she’d just put on my face. “But there
is
something wrong with it.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my aura,” I said tersely. “If there was something wrong with it, I think I would know. I mean, it
is
my aura, for God’s sake.”
I looked to Madame Papillon for confirmation, only to find her rooting around in my kitchen, her otherwise dignified form buried waist deep in my refrigerator. I’d thought we were in the middle of an important conversation about me and my aura, but obviously Madame Papillon didn’t find my problems to be all that pressing.
I watched as she took out the box of cupcakes I’d brought back from the Magnolia Bakery and lifted the lid. Her eyes closed in near ecstasy, she took a deep hit off the cupcakes, the smell seeming to transport her into another dimension.
“Oh my, that’s good,” Madame Papillon said, her voice thick with passion as she replaced the lid and set the box back in the refrigerator, quickly closing the door behind her like it was full of poisonous insects, not cupcakes. “Carrot cake, is it?”
I nodded. “That
is
what you asked for, isn’t it?”
She stared at the door to the fridge, her eyes pinned on the door handle like she was afraid it was going to open of its own volition and once more assail her senses with the aroma of cupcake.
“Yes, that
is
what I asked for,” she said, her voice strangely monotone as she spoke, her eyes still riveted on the refrigerator door.
I looked at her quizzically, my aura issues on hold as I tried to figure out what the deal with the cupcakes was. This was total weirdness. The woman had
insisted
on not one, but
two
, carrot cake cupcakes and now she wasn’t even going to touch them—just sniff them while they were still in situ? Oh my God, I really hoped she wasn’t just gonna leave them in my refrigerator. I could just imagine the magnificent pig-out session I would have if she did—and I didn’t even
like
carrot cake. I definitely was
not
gonna let her leave those stupid things in
my
refrigerator for
me
to get fat on.
“You’re not gonna eat them?” I asked, fishing around to see what the fate of the cupcakes was going to be.
The aura specialist shook her head.
“I love the smell,” Madame Papillon said, finally seeming to snap out of her cupcake trance. “But my immortality would be forfeit if I ever tasted a bite.”
It seemed strange to me that this renowned aura specialist was just revealing her killing weakness to me so blithely. I would’ve kept that secret pretty close to my chest, if it were mine. Of course, she dealt with immortals’ weaknesses on a pretty constant basis, so maybe this was just old hat for her.
She looked back at the refrigerator sadly before giving me a wan smile. Then, as if in answer to my unspoken question, she said, “I’ve shared my weakness with you, Calliope, because I want you to feel that you can trust me with yours.”
“Trust you with my weakness?” I stammered, starting to feel woozy with worry. “But I don’t know what it is.”
Muna rolled her eyes at me again—boy, that number was
really
starting to get old—before leaping off her perch on the couch and landing gracefully on Madame Papillon’s shoulder.
“You are an incredibly dense individual,” Muna said as she crawled on to the top of her mistress’s head and curled up in a ball, her violet eyes closing as she yawned sleepily.
“Why am I dense?” I asked the Minx, but she was asleep before the words were out of my mouth.
Madame Papillon stroked the Minx’s arm tenderly and smiled at me.
“Minx exert so much energy while they’re awake that they spend more than half of their lives sleeping to make up for it,” Madame Papillon said.
She whispered a few words under her breath that I didn’t catch, then touched a finger to Muna’s near-comatose form and the little Minx instantly turned into a puffy red ball of hair.
“Let’s get back to the ‘weakness’ thing here,” I said, not giving a rat’s ass about Muna’s sleeping habits. This weakness stuff was, like,
way
more important.
Madame Papillon nodded, and I decided that she looked about ten years younger now that she had her Minx pompadour back in place.
“As I’m sure you’ve guessed, Calliope,” the older woman said softly, “felines are your weakness.”
Okay, so
that
was why Muna said I was dense. I hadn’t cottoned on to the fact that cats were my weakness. I guess it hadn’t really registered with me because I had just assumed that if cats
were
truly my weakness, I would’ve already been dead from my run-in with Patience’s cat, Muffins, last Christmas.
Of course, I
was
the supernatural newbie, so how was I supposed to know all the inner workings of immortality?
“But this is something that you must
only
share with the people that you trust the most,” Madame Papillon continued, interrupting my thoughts. “Any enemy that discovers your weakness can use it against you . . . with dire consequences.”
I swallowed hard. I definitely did
not
like the words “dire” and “consequences” in connection with anything to do with my life
.
Feeling overwhelmed by all this new information, I decided to file away the “cat weakness” stuff for perusal at a later date . . . when I wasn’t feeling like my head was gonna explode.
“Okay, cats are my weakness. Got it,” I said, moving on to something Muna had said that I had never gotten a straight answer about. “Now, what was Muna talking about when she said that there was something wrong with my aura?”
BOOK: Cat's Claw
3.01Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

Twell and the Rebellion by Kate O'Leary
Losing Ladd by Dianne Venetta
Wet: Overflow by Zenobia Renquist
Gabe (Steele Brothers #6) by Cheryl Douglas
Blood of Amber by Roger Zelazny
The Catcher's Mask by Matt Christopher, Bert Dodson