Chapter 14
Fourteen
-GRAYSON-
I’m at the bus stop, waiting to visit Milo.
I’ve never been to his place. I’m sure it is grander than my own rental. Amelia is comfortably rich, so maybe she helped with the bond to a fancy flat. Perhaps she bought Milo a place of his own.
I’m glad Amelia didn’t break her nose. But I’m still not sure what spell Penelope cast when she fell.
I don’t know why it keeps playing on my mind.
It doesn’t matter because Milo and I are about to play out our next naughty adventure.
“Ah ah...”
Oh shit.
“Ah, ah, ah...”
I pinch my nose. My lips flutter as the sneeze blows out my mouth.
Summer has just appeared from who knows where, holding her phone horizontally to not only catch me, but every shocked individual who just watched me morph into a kitten. She really takes her stalking seriously.
My wand is gone. And even if I had it, it’s impossible to reverse spells with paws.
I can imagine her post now. Those stunned onlookers on either side of me as I look up from the centre of her expansive widescreen video. Hashtag hello kitty.
One woman is screaming, clutching her chest like she’s having a heart attack.
A couple of kids are grinning and pointing as if turning into a pet is as commonplace as losing a tooth.
Some are so shocked, they’re looking around, catching the expression on people’s faces, confirming they saw what others saw.
Summer’s panning slowly to one side, catching even more stunned looks from the people at the bus stop. Now she’s moving her phone to record the others staring wide-eyed at my feline form.
“Summer, please,” I say in my catty voice.
More are videoing, but they didn’t capture my transformation from human to kitten. But Summer did.
“Milo said something about you being magical.”
“He did?”
“When he was drunk.”
I’m surrounded by legs as for the second time I’m seeing life from ankle height. My paws patter down the footpath, moving further away from those phones recording my every move.
Summer follows. “I’ll make a deal with you. I won’t post if...”
I halt, then turn my feline body around to face her. Her bratty expression gives me indigestion.
“I won’t post if you never see Milo again.”
I meow, which surprises me even though it shouldn’t. I barked loud as Dogman, but my meow is mellower than my mood.
Now, if only I could sneeze.
“Summer, Milo and I have a court case. I have to turn up for that.”
“Alright.” She frowns. “But you can only see him in court.”
“And we need to keep meeting our lawyer to discuss the case.”
“Okay then. There are concessions. But you’re not to kiss him or—”
“Summer, when I’m human again I can cast a spell and that video will disappear.”
“What if I make various copies? Pop them on flash drives and a computer or two?”
I have no idea if I can erase a file if I don’t know where it is.
I shake my kitty head and wander down the street again.
My bus just passed. I look back, seeing commuters get on board.
Some of them are still watching me, possibly waiting for my transformation back to a man.
Or maybe something more interesting, like a cyborg cat.
That could be fun. I’d shoot laser beams from my eye sockets, turning this psycho social influencer into ash through my sinister gaze.
“You know, Summer, if you post that video, people won’t believe it. They’ll think it’s a special effect. A fake. AI even.”
“A lot of people believe Dogman is real.” Her eyes widen. “Was that you?”
I laugh it off, but I’m not convincing. She’s nodding. She knows she’s right.
I sneeze. I’m human again.
“Damn,” says Summer. “I wasn’t recording.”
Stunned people pass. Some stop to stare.
“Nothing to see here,” I tell them. “Move along.”
But several pull out their phones just in case.
“Now delete that video, Summer.” Yet there’s no chance of that.
I check for my wand. It’s still in my pocket. But I don’t want to wave it and make her phone explode while others are filming.
I head to the bus stop knowing she’ll follow. And she does.
“You know,” I say, “it takes a pretty twisted individual to stalk someone waiting for something weird to happen. Haven’t you got better things to do?
Isn’t there a shortage of eggs? Or avocados?
Or some other food you can alert your followers about.
Yum. Avocado on toast. Watch me eat it. Must make sure I don’t post a photo with avocado on my teeth.
Oh. Is the plate the food is sitting on decorative enough?
Is it on brand? Hashtag avo. Hashtag avocado. Hashtag food porn.”
I know I’m ranting but it’s hard to stop when the smiling assassin is out to expose you. The bus stop is a few steps away. But my nemesis is not around.
I keep looking for her, convinced she must be nearby. Her poisonous phone is probably fixed on me now, zoomed in, waiting for my next sneezy mishap.
I’m not sure what to do. I’ve been blackmailed. Summer will see me hop on the bus on my way to Milo’s. Then the video will be posted.
I smile to himself. I have a wand after all. I stroll behind the bus stop and take a look around for Summer while scoping who else may be watching.
It’s safe if I’m quick. Out comes the wand. In an instant, I’m with Milo.
––––––––
“Oh.” I’m in Amelia’s living room.
“You shouldn’t do that,” Milo cries. He peers down the hallway and lowers his voice. “What if Mum was in the room?”
“I didn’t know I’d be here. I thought I’d show up at your place.”
“Put that wand away. And next time you transport yourself to be with me, text me first and see where I am.”
Good call. There’s a lot to consider when waving a wand. But I don’t understand Milo’s attitude. We were on a high the last time we caught up, but now he’s eyeing me like I’m his enemy.
“How’s your mum?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood.
“Hmm.” Milo chews his bottom lip.
“Hello Grayson,” Amelia says. “I thought I heard you.”
She’s paler than when she left the hospital several days ago. There are dark bags under her eyes and I’m sure one of her pupils is off kilter.
My heart sinks. “How are you feeling?” I ask her.
“I know I don’t look good, but I feel fantastic. I should get a tan, though. Where do you winter, Grayson?”
“Huh?” I utter.
“You know, when the season gets too cold, where do you fly to?”
I peer at Milo, without a clue how to respond to his mum.
“Aren’t you going to Fiji?” Milo says, flashing her a smile. “The salt water will do wonders for your complexion.”
“You look concerned,” Amelia says to me. “And yes, the salt water will help, I guess.” She frowns. “Grayson, Milo has been here a lot, worried about me, when he should be worried about your court case.”
“You’re my mum,” Milo replies. “You take priority.”
They beam at each other, but Milo’s expression seems forced.
“You should sit down, Amelia,” I say.
“No need. I feel fine.” When she waves my concern away, I spot dried blood on her fingernails.
Someone knocks on the front door. Amelia leaves to answer it.
“Are you responsible for the way Mum looks?” Milo asks.
“How long has she looked this bad?” I nervously flick my fingernails, then stop when Milo gives me a wary stare.
“It’s been a gradual thing over a few days.”
My heart sinks lower. I think back. Amelia didn’t move when she fell off that stool. But she did when Penelope cast her spell. And she looked deathly pale when she got to her feet.
It’s ludicrous. I couldn’t have killed...
Maybe Penelope did more than liven her up?
“Have you seen Dad?” says a female voice from the entrance.
“Who’s that?” I ask Milo.
“Sue, the next-door neighbour.”
We listen.
“No,” Amelia replies. “When was the last time you saw him?”
“He came over for dinner four nights ago,” says Sue. “But he hasn’t returned my calls since then. And he’s not answering his door.”
“Are you sure he’s home? He hasn’t taken a trip somewhere and hasn’t told you?”
“He tells me everything.” There’s silence for a while. “Please keep a look out for him. It’s not like him to disappear and not say anything.”
“I promise I will. And don’t bother reporting him as a missing person just yet. People show up all the time.”
My eyes meet Milo’s and I’m certain he’s thinking the same thing I am. Amelia is giving bad advice. I nod, but he gives me another wary stare. It reinforces what I suspect is the real reason his mum looks this way.
“I never liked him anyway,” Amelia says when she re-enters the living room. “A total pain in the arse. Grumpy old man syndrome. He’s probably dead.”
There’s a lump in my throat. And Milo is frowning at her while I’m relieved I have a momentary reprieve from his blame.
“No, seriously,” she continues. “Some people are oxygen thieves.”
“Mum, why are you saying things like that?”
“Because he kept coming on to me with his bad breath and balding spot. Some folks have no idea how they appear to others.” She smiles and I note how yellow her teeth are. “Would you like a biscuit, Grayson? I made Anzac cookies.”
“I’m fine,” I reply.
“I’ll have some,” Milo says, faking enthusiasm. When she leaves, he scowls. “Her condition is because of you and Penelope.”
“I doubt it.” My lie smells like sweaty feet.
“She’s not herself.”
“She said she’s never felt better.”
Milo glares like I’m a politician avoiding scrutiny.
“Okay, she looks a bit pale—”
“A bit pale! Grayson, Mum looks like the walking dead.”
“A fall can be a major thing for an older woman.”
“An elderly woman, yes, but Mum is middle-aged.”
I tap my pocket. “I could do a spell. Give her a look a plastic surgeon will envy.”
He shakes his head. “Grayson, leave.”
These words echo. Despair quickly follows. “Milo, please. I’m here for you both.”
But he is pointing toward the front door.
“Your mum is getting biscuits.” I can’t hide the desperation in my voice.
He listens for her. “She’s taking her time.” His face goes blank. “Mum, are you okay?”
“Yes,” she yells. “Why do you ask?”
“You were getting biscuits.”
“Oh sorry. I forgot.” Amelia returns, and we can’t help but stare. “Once I got to the kitchen, I was overcome by this strange obsession to eat. So I microwaved leftover meat and had a snack. Sorry about that.”
I try to lock eyes with Milo but he doesn’t return my gaze. He is fixated on his mother.
A mother whose complexion was insipid, but is now radiant. With eyes that sparkle, and hair which has no hint of grey. In fact, she could be in a commercial for shampoo, eye drops, or skin cream. Perhaps all three. She looks that good!
I’m nauseous.
“Grayson, are you okay?” Milo asks.
But I’m not okay. Amelia is a... a... a...
I’m about to pass out.