The Familiar (12 page)

"Kevin. It was Kevin," he says.

"I have to make a call," I say.

Gillian walks into the sitting room, and her eyes fill with tears when she sees Tom curled up on the couch in his bright-red robe.

"Hello, Tom," she squeaks out as she loses control of her voice, and the tears spill out over her cheeks. Then she shrugs it off, her expression hardening as her tears dry. It's like a wall just went up on the other side of her eyes.

Tom looks up at her, his own eyes misting. "Gilly. Sorry. So sorry."

She sits next to him on the couch, and he raises himself on one arm, rubbing his head against her shoulder. "Sorry, sorry, sorry," he croons, more a purr than an apology.

"I'm sorry, Gilly, but it seems like he's more cat than man right now. Or, at least, I'm assuming he wasn't like this before?"

Gilly bursts out laughing. It goes on for a long time. I figure we'll be discovered and taken away to have our brains adjusted any minute, so she might as well laugh while she can.

As she works to get herself under control, she gasps, pulling a long breath, and says, "No, no, he wasn't more cat than man when I married him. Thanks for asking, though."

"Yeah, sorry. I guess that was a stupid thing to say."

"Sweetheart, it's not like this is a situation anyone could be prepared for. We'll just need to make it up as we go along."

She turns to Tom, all business now. "Tom, have you been here all along? Ever since you wrote me that letter?"

Tom nods. "Yes."

"Did Eunice do this to you?"

He nods again. "Yes."

"Tom, you're different now than you were when I knew you."

"Cat too long."

"Will you get better?"

Tom nods his head up and down. Then he says, "Don't say it. Bad Tom."

I look to Gillian. "I changed him back into a man by saying 'good Tom'. It must be the opposite that turns him into a cat. But I didn't say it when I pushed him out of the house that night."

Tom responds. "Trapped in house. Spell."

"Oh, I..." I stop and gather my thoughts. "Gilly, can I talk to you in private?"

She follows me into the kitchenette, and I pull the pocket door closed so Tom can't overhear. "I kind of hoped that you'd take him to your house. But not if he's trapped here. I...this is way too weird for me. I don't want him here. It's freaking me out."

"Well, buck up, sweetheart. He isn't my responsibility any more. I divorced him over forty years ago, and he ended up this way because he cheated on me and broke my heart." She stops and takes a deep breath before she continues. I think she's struggling to put that wall back in place. "No, like the shop and her other properties, he's part of Eunice's legacy now."

"Gillian, I can't…"

"Don't be a child," she snaps. "Of course you can. And what if Kevin comes back? You need a backup, I'd say. One little girl with a bat isn't scary for long."

"Okay. I get it. No decisions tonight. But why should I even believe that it was Kevin? Because my cat said so? I didn't see anyone. So just think on it. Please?" I ask. Still, I'm pissed at her and it surprises me. I think this is the first time I've ever been mad at Gillian. I've never known her to be so mean.

 "I'm not going to change my mind. I'll help you try to free him from what your grandmother did so he can go on his way, but I won't take him off your hands."

Well, thanks, Granny Eunice. And thanks, used-to-be-sweet Gillian. Because I'm ready for all of this. Sure I am.

I make up the bed in the guest bedroom for Tom, and he snuggles in, looking contented. Gillian left, but she gave a promise to return in the morning. I think she'd calmed down. When she said goodbye to Tom, her expression was wistful instead of angry.

So, time to put on my big girl pants. I've been living with this guy, Tom, in the house since I got here. Since the first time I ever visited Gran. I just need to wrap my head around it in a different way than before.

I hear him moving around in the rooms below me when I wake up. I walk downstairs and see he's managed to dress himself in a pair of his jeans and a shirt, so he's functioning better than yesterday when he couldn't even manage the robe on his own.

I'm not sure what to say, so I go for the obvious. "Morning, Tom."

He startles, then says, "Morning, Cassie." His speech is better, more normal sounding, less meow-like. So, that's good.

"You want breakfast?"

"Yes, thank you." At least he's polite.

I sort out bacon and eggs and pour him a glass of orange juice. He starts to lap at it with his tongue, then looks like he's concentrating hard, picks up the glass, and drinks it down quickly. I wonder if he's going to push his face into the food, but, with another burst of stiff concentration, he picks up his fork and carefully lifts the food from the plate to his mouth, getting faster and looser the more practice he gets.

"Sorry I scared you. Cat too long. I become Cat. Have trouble thinking."

I figure I might as well start the interrogation even though Gilly isn't here yet. What else are we going to talk about?

"Are you sure it was Kevin last night?" I ask. "Did you see his face? Because I never got a look at him before he knocked me over. I just smelled that nervous sweat, and maybe valerian?"

"Yes, Kevin. But all covered. Only smelled him."

"Kreepy Kevin. But why?"

"Storeroom. Secret packages. Illegal trade. Potent magic. Gilly can get you in. Good with locks. Magic locks." Tom rubs his eyes with the back of his hand and looks tired after his long string of words.

"Is that why there's no key?"

"Yes. Magic to lock it. Magic to open it. Not safe. Get rid of stuff. All stuff."

"Great...yeah, I'll put it on the to-do list."

"I want you to be safe." Tom's green eyes look so sincere. My loyal kitten, right? Protecting me again. He reaches for my hand where it rests on the table and squeezes it gently. "I want you to be safe."

Well, that doesn't feel at all kitteny. I pull my hand away.

"Let's finish eating, and then Gillian will be here, and we can see how good she is with that lock."

"Tape!" Tom bursts out then. "Tape!" He walks behind the counter and shoves aside the box that covers granny's digital recording system. The lights are green because we've been moving around and it's on a motion sensor.

I run the recording back, and there it is: a man comes in through the shop door, completely covered in a set of black coveralls. He heads for the storeroom. Tom attacks. The intruder kicks him viciously over and over again, then turns when I come in. How is it possible I didn't see him? I mean, I know the tape is on infrared, but there was enough light for me to see Tom. Why couldn't I see the man who was standing right in front of me?

Just a few blue sparks from Gillian's fingertips and the storeroom door is open. We walk inside and take inventory of the shelves silently. She turns to me with unease settling into her face.

"Cassie, this is very bad magic. Tom's right about getting it out of here before someone comes for it. I'm also still not happy about invisible prowlers whether or not we think we know who he was."

I pick up the jars and read the labels—tiger penis, rhino horn, giraffe brain—all the stuff you hear about that poachers are killing endangered species for. "Wow. I agree, but how do we do that?"

"Box it up, dear. I've got the SUV. We can take it out to the ritual grounds and destroy it."

Tom has been quiet, waiting outside the storeroom door, but he rouses then. "Won't stop Kevin coming back."

"No, it won't. You're right, Tom. I guess we'll call him and tell him where to find us while we burn it." Tom starts to object, but Gillian shushes him. "Tom, I can take care of myself, and Cassie, too, against someone like Kevin. We'll be fine. Are the client and supplier lists somewhere?"

I pick up a stack of paper and rifle through it. "Yeah, it looks like this is it. At least, these aren't suppliers or customers I ever met or ordered from when I worked here. That guy who sent someone for a package the other day, Mr. Liu? He's on here."

"Good," Gillian says. "We throw that in the fire once we've got Kevin's attention. He needs to know that there's nothing to save from Eunice's little business on the side. Then maybe there won't be any more problems in the shop at night.

"Yeah, but that won't stop the clients coming in, will it?" I ask. Going on to answer myself, I say, "It won't. So before we destroy that list, I'm going to call everyone on there and tell them they'll need to find another place to shop."

Gillian gives me a smile. "Now you're thinking like Marty's star shortstop! I knew you could handle it."

Maybe. But no matter what, we've got a long day ahead of us.

Tom helps Gillian pack up the contents of the storeroom in boxes while I make the calls. I mostly get answering machines, so that makes my job easier. I say my grandmother has died, the business has changed hands, there will be no more packages, and the stock has been destroyed. I work my way through the list of thirty or so customers pretty quickly.

I can hear Tom and Gillian talking softly while they work. I wonder what they say to each other after all these years. I can't even begin to guess, but it sounds private, intimate. Even though they were married, he looks young enough to be her grandson, if she had a grandson with broad shoulders, slim hips, and a perfectly rounded butt. Not to mention sexy green eyes with a hint of mystery hanging out over a smirky smile.

What I mean is that there's not much chance of them getting back together now, even if she does forgive him. That's the only reason I even notice what he looks like.

I'd been out to the big clearing in Corey woods lots of times, but I never knew it was the ritual grounds for the coven. Gillian fills me in on this part of my heritage as we drive out to the south side of town at dusk in her old Land Rover, the boxes of dangerous stock piled up in back.

Gillian starts a fire in the central pit while I carry the boxes from the truck to sit beside it. She gets a good start, and after I've got the boxes ready, I go off into the woods to grab some bigger pieces of dry wood to really stoke it up.

With the extra wood, the bonfire is huge. "So, what do you think?"

Gilly empties a jar into the flames, and the contents sizzle. "I think it's time you called Kevin."

I take a deep breath and steel myself for it. I'm not much of one for bravery, but it's all wrapped up together, isn't it? The things Granny Eunice did. The things that Kevin and Robert knew about and want to take over. It's hard for me to think of Granny being someone who would make Tom a slave or trade in endangered species, but the evidence is all around me.

I always jumped when Granny said jump. She had such confidence—I admired her so much. Maybe it's time for me to grow up and talk back to what is clearly a wrong picture of who she was. I pull up the contact I made for Kevin from Granny's rolodex before we left the house and bring the phone to my mouth.

"Kevin? You need to come out to the ritual grounds. We're burning a few things you tried to get your hands on the other night. Thought you might like to say goodbye to them."

"What? What?" he splutters in that icky-oily voice of his.

"Hanging up now. You really need to get here before everything goes up in smoke."

I disconnect and start filming as Gillian empties the contents of jars, plastic bags, and boxes into the flames, naming their contents as she does. The video is a backup in case Kevin doesn't show up in time.

Did I worry that Kevin wouldn't show up? Really? What was I thinking? His classic silver Merc comes barreling down the road. He nearly plows it into Gillian's parked SUV when he slams on the breaks and the car slides on the loose gravel. Kevin hops out the driver side and starts briskly toward us as Robert exits from the passenger side more slowly.

"What the hell are you doing? Do you know what that stock is worth?" In the reflected firelight, his comb-over catches a breeze, and the long strands stand straight up above a face contorted with rage. So there's the Kevin who was lurking behind that constant smile. Definitely a whole different guy than he pretends to be.

"I do. But it's my inheritance, isn't it? And I don't want an inheritance like this." I turn toward my partner in crime and indicate the jar she's holding. "What's that one, Gilly?"

"Giraffe something. Brains? She opens the jar and tosses the contents into the fire. "It might as well be sweetbreads, now, though. And I do think that's the last of it."

I pull the folded sheets of supplier and customer names out of my back pocket, keeping an eye on Kevin as he stalks closer with Robert behind him. He yelps and grabs his left shoulder, his face contorting in pain, when he runs smack into the barrier Gillian put up before they got here. His over-the-top reaction is proof positive it was him I nailed with my turn at bat. It was difficult for me to believe something I couldn't see would keep him out just as it was difficult to believe that someone I couldn't see could be in the shop, but I'm no longer worried. Gillian has got to teach me that. I smile as Robert pulls up short behind him.