“What do you want from me?”
“The aforementioned food and also for you to stop calling me Fluffy. I much prefer the name given to me by my ancestors, thank you.”
“Um… Okay. What should I call you?”
“The name’s Merlin, and I come from a long and noble lineage of wizards dating all the way back to King Arthur.”
“You’re magic?” I asked with a quick breath in.
“Duh,” my cat spat, and then I officially passed out.
4
Night had already fallen by the time I regained consciousness. I’d like to say that I experienced a few blissful moments of ignorance as to the day’s events, but that’s not what happened.
First one eye squinted open… and I remembered my boss had died right in front of me and that I was a suspect in his possible murder.
And when my other eye popped open… I remembered my cat could talk and also claimed to have descended from wizards.
Ugh.I just wanted to go back to sleep and wake up when this was all over. Was it too late to drop out of school and move far, far away from this place?
Well, I was awake now, and I had to do something. I had no idea what to do about my cat, and I felt uneasy being home alone with him here in my dark house, so I decided to drive to the coffeehouse and see if I could find something that would prove my innocence.
Thankfully, I had a key from the many times I’d been forced to work both opening and closing shifts. I parked at the other end of the strip mall out of some small sense of self-preservation, then crept toward Harold’s House of Coffee and let myself in.
A shiver wracked through me as I used my cell phone’s flashlight to guide my steps toward the tiny back office. I probably shouldn’t have been there, but I definitely shouldn’t have been blamed for a crime I didn’t commit. Maybe Harold’s paperwork would reveal a secret mistress or embittered rival. I thumbed through stack after stack of timesheets, noting that despite having less seniority Kelley earned more per hour than I did.
And that jerk Harold had told me minimum wage was the best he could do! I continued flipping through the records of money in and money out, finding no alarming departures from the standard totals week after week. I was just about to move my attention away from the desk and toward the filing cabinet when aclack-clacking sounded just outside the office door.
I froze in place and willed my galloping heartbeat to settle.
“Please be a rat. Please be a rat,” I whispered to myself when I realized it would be impossible to hide from an intruder, then grabbed the biggest, most solid object I could find—a stapler—and crept out of the office.
“You’re about as stealthy as a one-winged bird,” a deep, vaguely familiar voice said from the shadows.
And then Fluffy—I mean, Merlin—stepped forward, his pale green eyes giving off an eerie otherworldly glow.
“What are you doing here?” I whisper-yelled.
“I know you left the house to get away from me,” he said, his tail swaying in a large sweeping motion behind him.
“What?” I said. “That’s—no. No, I didn’t. Um, how did you get here?”
He sighed, letting out the unpleasant scent of stale milk, thanks to the ice cream we’d shared earlier. “I used magic, obviously.”
“Oh, um. Why? I can handle things on my own here?” I wasn’t sure why that came out as a question. I guess my nerves were still rattled by the fact my boss was dead and my cat could talk.
“Sure, you can.” Merlin scoffed at my alleged independence, then shook his head and continued. “Look, I don’t care why you killed this Harold guy. That’s your business, not mine. But the thing is since you’re my familiar now, I’m going to have to ask you to stop taking wild risks withyour safety.”
“Come again now? I’m your what?”
“My familiar. All good witches and wizards have them, and you’re looking at one of the best.”
“I don’t want to be your—”
“Too late! Since I confided my secret in you, we are now bonded. No take-backsies.” That irksome feline had the audacity to smile as he announced this.
I swooned and staggered backward.“I’m sorry. This is all a little much. Also I didn’t kill Harold.”
“Sure, you didn’t.”
“I didn’t! That’s why I’m here. I’m looking for proof that someone else did it. Although the best option is still that he died of natural causes.”
“He didn’t,” my cat informed me matter-of-factly as he sniffed at the air. “I can sense the rage and ill feelings in this place. It’s thick like a smog.”
I raised an eyebrow.“Oh, then you know who did it, too?”
“Not a clue, but it’s probably better you let the police handle this. You’ll have enough to keep you busy now that you need to learn the ropes of being someone’s familiar.”
“I really don’t have the energy for this,” I pouted, then let out a long yawn.
Merlin touched my foot with his paw, and a little jolt of energy ran through me—a sudden pick-me-up that was even more powerful than a double shot of espresso.
I stopped to gape at my feline companion.“Whoa, you really are magic. Aren’t you?”
“Yes, clearly.” He rolled his eyes at me, a gesture I didn’t even know a cat could make. “Oh, and also, you can’t tell anyone.”
“I won’t,” I promised as my hands shook with fear. “Who would I tell?”
“Not my problem,” he informed me, turning to trot away. “But if you do tell, you’ll be immediately transported to the dirtiest, seediest, awfullest magical prison that ever existed.”
“Oh.” My hands shook even harder now, and I dropped the stapler. A loud clatter rang through the empty coffeehouse, and my heart practically stopped beating in my chest.
My cat returned with a sneer.“Stop futzing. You’re my representative now, and I don’t take kindly to being embarrassed.”
Ugh. What had my life become?
5
When we returned home, Merlin disappeared into the darkness, mumbling something about witchy business that needed seeing to and continuing my familiar education tomorrow.
I fell into bed in an exhausted heap and with a desperate prayer that tomorrow would be different.
I awoke the next morning to an insistent pounding on my front door. Upon squinting my eyes open, I realized that the sun already hung high in the sky. Normally my cat woke me in the pre-dawn hours to demand I refill his food bowl, but today he’d allowed me to sleep in. Why?
Knock, knock.
And who was that trying to break down my front door?
“I know you’re in there,” that unpleasant policewoman I’d met yesterday afternoon cried from the other side.
I groaned and pulled myself out of bed, quickly running my hands through my hair in a half-hearted attempt to tame it. When I flung the door open, Officer Dash snorted and pushed her way inside.
“Oh, please. Come right in,” I muttered and closed the door behind her.
“Coffee?” I offered as I padded toward the kitchen and let out an enormous yawn so she could see firsthand how much she was inconveniencing me.
“Just waking up, I see,” she noted with a disappointed shake of her head. “You sleep pretty easy for someone who just committed murder. Guess that makes you a psychopath.”
I shook off her over-the-top insult and forced a smile.“Do you want the coffee or not?”
Officer Dash held up a hand.“None for me. Thanks.”
I sighed and turned my back to her as I went about the business of rescuing my favorite mug from the dishwasher and sticking a pod in the Keurig so it could begin the brew cycle.
When I turned back around a couple minutes later with a full cup of coffee in my hands, I found she had made herself comfortable at my messy kitchen table.
I set my mug down and grabbed the scattered articles I’d printed for my thesis research, arranging them into a sloppy pile just out of the officer’s reach.
She waited for me to sit and take a blessed sip before bombarding me with whatever news she’d come to share. “The M.E. has now confirmed that Mr. Harold Harris was murdered. We’re still waiting on the full toxicology report to come back, of course, but you could save us all a lot of time if you just confess now.”