The Familiar (18 page)

But after a tense minute, the cop turns and leaves quietly. And that's the end of it. Except for the part where Cassie starts sniffling. To her credit, she shrugs it off quicker than I thought she would. Two weeks ago she would have been sobbing her head off.

I don't say I warned her, but I did. I told her Kevin was buddies with them all. We'll need to be extra vigilant now.

That night when Cassie leaves to walk the day's takings to the bank, Kevin stops her across the street from the shop, dragging her into the narrow alley next to the bakery, his hand over her mouth. She tries to break away from him, and he moves in, threatening, his body too close to hers, his eyes narrowed, his mouth tight and angry.

I run from the behind the counter to the door and burst onto the sidewalk, leaving a pile of clothes behind as my body folds into itself. I don't even glance down the sidewalk to see if there's anyone else around. I don't care who sees.

Damn it! Where did this traffic come from? Cat blasts across the asphalt as soon as the moving cars have traveled on.

But she's alone now, sobbing. He's already skulked out of the back of the alley.

She tells me what happened between gasps that escape as she works to get back under control, clinging to Cat, her tears rolling off his fur where she holds him tight against her shoulder. "He said…he could have me…right here…right on the sidewalk…and not a single cop would move to stop him."

I'm going to kill that bastard.

Until I can kill him, I need to make sure Kevin's staying put far away from the shop. After dinner, I tell Cassie I want to film him again, but it's a ruse. What I want is to case the joint for when I'm fully human and can make sure he never frightens her again. I know what he's capable of. I know what he did to Eunice, even if I can't prove it. He deserves to be put down for the rabid dog he is.

It's dusk when I jump to the sill at Kevin's house and my feet slip before they find purchase. The harness adds just enough weight to keep me unsure in gauging my movements. But it's okay; I catch myself with Cat's sharp claws and make only the slightest noise as I start to pull myself up.

I'm too intent on my efforts, too recently reincarnated as Cat for my senses to be finely tuned. I scrabble for a firm hold on the sill and don't notice what's going on inside the house. The screen pops out of the window, and Kevin has me by the scruff of the neck before I realize what's happening and can let go to drop back into the bushes.

I claw and I bite, but a small cat is no match for a grown man.

I hope Cassie isn't too sad when I never come home.

Kevin carries me to the kitchen, careful to hold me out at arm's length to keep himself safe from my claws. He's got a fading purple-black bruise under his right eye. I'm pleased to see I've done him damage even though I'm helpless now. He blats away about his evil plans for me, for Cassie, for the town. Then he opens a cupboard door with one hand and takes out a brown dropper bottle.

He moves his hand around the back of my head and forces a finger in at the side of my jaw. It pries my mouth open slightly but doesn't put his fingers in danger from my teeth. Once he's got me immobilized, hanging in the air from one of his soft, feminine hands with my eyes and mouth wide open, he holds the dropper above my mouth and gives a squeeze. I try not to swallow.

It goes dark slowly, but at least there is no pain.

I take one of Granny's pre-mixed anti-anxiety herbal mixes after dinner, and while I'm alert, I'm able to focus on something other than my worries. I'd used it before big games when I was a kid, and it always did the trick. If life keeps up like it has, I'm going to need a ton of it. Fortunately, I'll be able to make it because while Granny didn't leave a grimoire, she did leave the recipe book for the herbal stuff we sold in the shop. Everything the shop sells is in there including the magical phrases that I always thought were just Granny's eccentricity, but there's nothing other than that. Nothing that would help Tom.

My book is engrossing, and I don't realize it's after midnight. Tom should be home by now. He wouldn't have gone hunting with the harness on. It restricts his movements too much. He would have come home to have it removed before he went back out for the night.

I want to tell him the good news: Gillian emailed today, and she's found the coven Granny joined when she was in France, in a place called Côte-Louanne, which she says is an awful lot like a French version of Giles. She's invited for dinner with the old high priestess, so she hopes she can find something out about Granny's time there. I suppose I can hold onto the news if Tom's still prowling—it'll be just as exciting tomorrow. And I've put a protection net spell up around the house, so I don't need to worry about Kevin. I hope. It won't be as strong as one of Gilly's, but it should get me through the night. Still, I'd feel more secure with Tom here. Maybe I shouldn't have urged him to go.

By half past one, I'm not able to make myself believe that he's still gone because he's doing something fun. I'm stressed despite the concoction I took earlier. I'm looking up from my book every couple of minutes, no longer knowing or caring what it's about. I need to see him slinking into the room satisfied and leap onto the bed, and every time I think I hear or sense movement and look up, another grain of worry drops into the pile because he's not there. I pour a glass of boxed wine in hopes it will help me relax, and it works a little, but the anxiety has gotten hold of me now, and I can't push back the image of Cat crushed under the wheels of a car or torn apart by a raccoon. Then again, that wouldn't put an end to Tom—he'd shift, then regenerate as Cat, wouldn't he? Like he did that night Kevin broke into the shop. Except there was also something about him having only nine lives? I think he told me that.

An hour later, I realize that my staying up isn't going to bring him through that window any sooner. I finish a second glass of wine with more anxiety-soothing powder and take myself up to bed, hoping to wake to a black ball of fur butting me with its head so I can turn it back into a man.

In the morning, after a crappy night's sleep, I hurry down the hall to Tom's room. He's not there. My heart hurts and my stomach clenches. I go downstairs, hoping to find him crashed out in the shop window or on the counter or sleeping on a parlor chair, but he's nowhere to be found.

I eat my solitary breakfast, shower, dress, and spend the morning prowling around downtown, looking under porches, and exploring all the nooks and crannies up and down the street for a small black cat before I open the shop. No one comes in for an hour, giving me plenty of time to let my imagination run wild about where Tom might be.

It figures that my first visitor is Kevin. Ever since I learned how truly vile he is, he's almost become a cartoon villain to me with his comb-over and general smarminess. He wouldn't try anything in the shop, would he? I didn't have time to put up another protection spell this morning, but my bat is still under the counter. Maybe he'd like a taste of that again.

"Dear Cassie. I had a visitor last night. It was quite late, and I was concerned for him—your sweet little kitten, what's his name, again?"

I nearly stop breathing, but I force myself back under control. "Just Cat. Like the shop."

"Well, 'just Cat' was prowling around in my bushes, and I tried to catch him because he looked like he'd gotten something caught around his neck, but no—he was far too clever for me and eluded me. I do hope he got home all right?"

I'm quaking inside, seriously quaking, but I don't let him see that. "He's not back yet, but he sometimes doesn't come home right away in the morning." I'm desperate trying to read his expression to figure out the true reason for his visit.

His tight smile doesn't waver as he says, "Oh my, are you thinking of our talk in the alley? And our unpleasant conflict over Eunice's secret stock? There are always losers and winners in business. It can be cut-throat, even in a sleepy little town like Giles. But I've put that unpleasantness behind me. I hope that you can, too."

I just stand there looking at him, appalled that he thinks of everything that's happened between us as a bad business deal.

"Oh well, in time, perhaps. I do hope you find your sweet little Cat. They say that cats have nine lives, don't they? I hope the poor thing's time isn't up."

As he leaves, I have an overwhelming urge to take another shower. And I'm sick with worry about Tom now. I toss the rest of my anti-anxiety powder into the trash. No point in drugging myself. This isn't my imagination running away with me. Tom's in trouble.

I grab my cell and find the contact for Gillian. When she picks up, I don't bother with hellos or pleasantries, I just blurt it out, "Tom's missing. I'm afraid Kevin did something to him. I don't know what to do."

"First, take a breath. Then tell me why you think Kevin did something."

I relate the story of Kevin's visit as Gillian murmurs here and there to indicate she's listening.

"It sounds like you're right to be concerned. However, my dinner with Aurelle Louvelle and her granddaughter, Aurelie, is tonight, and I can't leave yet. With luck, I'll get enough information and can arrange a flight back right after."

"I could use you here right now, Gilly. I feel so alone. I didn't realize how much I'd come to expect him to be here."

Gilly reassures me, and I feel better listening to her soothing voice.

"You need to go to Natalie and enlist the coven's help. They should be able to invoke a location spell to help you find him."

"Are you sure I can trust Natalie?"

"Probably. She definitely has a hatful of hate for Robert and Kevin Andrews. If she could help you do something to spite them, she'd do it gleefully."

"But Tom wouldn't like it. It feels like I'd be betraying his secret."

"I'm sure Nat has sussed Tom out already. She's not a stupid woman by any means, and she's the most powerful witch in the coven now that Eunice is gone. If anyone can help with this until I get back, it's Nat."

We hang up, but my head is still working on what Gillian said. I don't want to admit that I'm desperate with fear for Tom. I don't want the strange life we've shared together for the past few weeks to end. I don't know if he's my cat or my friend, or just a guy I lust after in a weird, furry sort of way. I pick up the phone and call the number she gave me, but there's no answer. I don't want to leave a message, but I do it anyway. It's just a request to call. I can't give her the details this way.

I know he'll be back soon. I know it.

It's Day Two breakfast without Tom now, and Natalie hasn't returned my call. I get up early and search again under every porch in town as soon as the sun comes up. I hang up lost cat posters. Big reward. Have you seen him?

I stop back at the house at noon and grab some lunch, try to call Natalie but end up leaving a message again that I need to talk to her. I can't tell her what it's about in a message. Anyone could listen to it if she's got an old skool answering machine like Gran's. I'm not sure I trust Natalie, but I know I don't trust any random stranger who might hear a message playing because they're hanging out when she picks it up. And she barely even knows me. Why would she jump if I tell her I need to talk?

I decide it's time to find out where she lives and take this bull by its horns. Her address is in the phone book, so I drive to the east end of town where she lives.

 Just as Natalie answers the door, my cell rings. I pick up, and Natalie waits with one hand poised, ready to close the door. I get the feeling she's not the most patient woman.

It's Gillian. "I'll be home tomorrow night. We have a lot to talk about. I've got what we're looking for."

My spirits lift, and then I remember that whatever she's got, we have to find Tom before it can help him. I'm not a praying woman, but I'm pulling at the universe to get behind me on this one.

Nat's still looking at me, but her hand is already pushing the door forward. I shove the phone at her. "It's Gillian."

Nat's eyes grow big as she listens to Gilly talk and ushers me into the house.