But there was no breeze under the glass.
The dog had definitely moved.
“Majesty.”
The woman’s voice was quiet enough, but there was a sharp edge to it that made me glance to the side, more out of curiosity than anything. The colors of the Embalmed Animals of Ancient Egypt exhibit surrounded me in a veritable sea of red and gold that smelled of sand and long-dead musk. My witch, dressed as she was in her red trench coat and brightly colored leggings, looked oddly at home.
Though, based on her expression, she wasn’t enjoying the exhibit.
She took a step closer to me, bringing her within five feet of my spot in front of the moving dog mummy. “Please, don’t do anything…”
I was still learning to understand human speech, but after only a few months, I’d developed a remarkable understanding of the witch’s facial expressions and tone. Right now, she was making the “Did I Leave The Stove On” face. Since she hadn’t cooked today, that expression probably meant she was having trouble putting her thoughts together.
I tilted my head to show her I was still listening despite the prolonged pause. It was okay if she took her time. I didn’t mind waiting.
Helpful cats like me never minded waiting.
She raised a finger in the air and pointed at me, as if that would help her focus. Maybe it did.
“Don’t do anything.”
It sounded like the same words but this time there was a finality to her tone, as if the thought were finished. My tail twitched in frustration. I’d hoped she’d use one of the words I knew. Like food or bedtime. I liked those words.
“You should make him leave,” came a higher-pitched female voice from somewhere under the witch’s hair. “He’s going to cause trouble.”
My ears pricked forward. It was the pixie’s voice. The tiny pink creature that spent most of her time flitting through the air around the witch, complaining and…sparkling.
I’d almost caught her yesterday…
The witch’s eyes narrowed, reading my intentions before I’d even realized I was staring. Before she could say anything, a child’s voice pierced the air behind her.
“Mommy, it’s a kitten!”
Kitten. That meant me.
A child I recognized as the one who’d been dragging her mother around like a dead bird since the exhibit had opened suddenly bent to scoop me up. I went limp to avoid injury, watching the floor fall away as the small child hefted me into her arms with the wild abandon that would fade as soon as a less helpful cat taught her to be more cautious around strange animals.
Coincidentally, she’d lifted me just high enough to see the tiny pixie hiding underneath the witch’s hair…
Sparkle, sparkle.
Peasblossom narrowed multi-faceted pink eyes at me, staring me down.
I meowed.
The witch flinched, then closed her eyes and took a slow, deliberate breath.
“Olivia, put that poor animal down,” her mother ordered, apparently not inclined to address the issue of what a kitten was doing inside the Cleveland Museum. “I thought you wanted to see the mummies?”
Mummies. That was the word the curator kept using when she talked about the display. I turned back to the canine I’d been examining before the witch interrupted me. I blinked.
The dog mummy was gone.
“It’s empty,” the little girl complained, putting me down. She shuffled over to the stand. “What’s it say?”
Her mother frowned as she squinted at the plaque under the case. “Basenji were a type of dog breed prized by ancient Egyptians. So prized that they were often mummified after death and buried with their owners so they could continue serving their masters in the afterlife.” She glanced up at the empty case.
I looked around the room, my tail lashing as I watched for some hint of loose bandages trailing from behind one of the large potted plants. The dog mummy had escaped. I would find him. I was good at finding things.
I’d found the witch.
Lots of times.
The witch stared me down as Olivia and her mother moved on to the next mummified animal—a bird of some kind. Now she was making her “Did You Eat All The Honey” face she usually reserved for the pixie. Only she was looking at me.
“Was there a mummy under that glass when we came into the room, Peasblossom?” she asked without taking her eyes off me.
“How should I know? What do I want with a mummified dog?” The pixie tugged on the witch’s hair. “Let’s go to the cafe. Maybe they have honey.”
Honey. I knew that word too. The pixie wanted to eat.
“You had enough honey with breakfast.” The witch was still staring at me, but she flicked a hand over her hair as the pixie continued to tug. “Peasblossom, you can’t still be hungry.”
Hungry. That meant food. But she was using her “no” tone.
The pixie hated the “no” tone.
The ensuing argument was enough to distract the witch, so she forgot about the dog mummy, and I trotted along behind her as she left the Egyptian room, continuing her search for whatever it was she was here to find. She didn’t share many details with me, but that was okay. I was here to help, whenever she needed me.
Up ahead, a strip of tattered bandage disappeared around a corner with a sharp jerk.
I shot forward. Claws extended, I brought my paw down on the yellowed bandage, anchoring it to the floor.
“What are you doing?”
I looked up, finding myself face to face with the dog mummy. He looked bigger now that he wasn’t wrapped up like a caterpillar in a cocoon, its limbs bound tightly to its body in a way that could only be managed with a subject that was deceased. Now that he had legs to stand on, I could see he was tall enough that I’d be able to walk underneath him without brushing my ears against his stomach. One of his pointed ears had escaped the bandages, as had his thick, curled tail. He was a brown and white dog with a pointed snout that looked somehow familiar.
It took me a moment to realize I’d understood what he said. All of what he’d said.
“You speak cat?” I asked, impressed.
The canine wrinkled his nose as much as the bandages would allow. “I speak all languages. I am a messenger.”
“You’re dead,” I pointed out. “You must be very helpful if you’re still delivering messages.” I puffed out my chest. “Helpful like me.”
A gap in the bandages over his face gave me a glimpse of one chocolate colored eye narrowed in focus. “Yes,” he said finally. “I am. Who are you and what do you want?”
I resisted the urge to look down at the bandage still caught in my claws. “I want to help. Naturally. I’m very helpful.”
The dog tilted its head. “Are you The Finder?”
His words reached into my mind, back into my memories. A woman’s voice echoed inside my head, speaking from the past. “Find her.”
He’d said Finder not Find Her, but I wouldn’t hold a mispronunciation against him. He was a dog attempting to speak cat, after all.
“Yes,” I answered graciously. “I am.”
The dog stared at me for a long minute. He looked a little ridiculous, if I were honest. What with most of his body being bound in aged, unraveling bandages except for his legs poking out. His fur was a bit patchy, and his flesh a bit emaciated and blackened, but not bad considering how long he’d been dead. He took a step forward, and when he moved, he did so with more strength and grace than I’d have expected from a mummy.
“I am Bas. I have been sent by my master to find an amulet called the Nine Lives. It is a small pale green ceramic cat on a leather strap.”