Chapter Seventeen
Himora Clarke
“This is it,” I said, looking down at the childlike handwriting from Raven Holmes herself.
The old plantation house at the very end of the road here in the backwoods of Mississippi.
It was an old antebellum home with the white pillars, brick facing home that hadn't been updated in years. I stood by the porch steps, letting Trevor go up to knock while I took a look around. The grass hadn’t been cut in years.
There were a few junk piles of random objects like a tricycle, and shoes scattered within the overgrowth of grass.
I didn’t see any signs of cats living here but this is the place Raven said breeds familiars.
“Colette Whitlock,” I read out loud from the note as Trevor came back down from the steps.
He had beads of sweat forming around his head as he scrunched his face up against the evening sun, waiting for it to finally set.
He didn’t do well in this type of heat and humidity.
It was one of the rare times I would see light, sun, and heat start to affect him because of what he truly is.
“You and these random leads,” he said as he took the note to read. “Why are we even here?”
“Raven said witches are gathering and she heard it from her cat and the woman down the street who breeds them,” I said. “This may be nothing, but we won’t know unless we try. That is our job.”
Trevor was irritated to the point where he had to turn around to keep from saying something he’d regret. I knew the look all too well having worked around him for years prior to our relationship. The sun was bothering him, and he was probably hungry for actual food that is.
“I told you to stay at the room so you could cool off–––”
“I’m not letting you come out here by yourself in the middle of nowhere, Himora. You know me better than that,” he said as he lowered his head. “Shit…I can’t do this fucking heat man. Fuck!”
“Yes, but I am a fully capable adult with common sense and–––”
The light on the front door suddenly beamed on as the light from within the house shined from behind the stained window.
Trevor and I watched as a tall dark figure distorted in the glass, walked up to the door for a moment before hearing it unlock.
The doors opened as a woman wearing a long black night gown that came just above her knees with lace trimming.
No obvious bra, bare feet with dark round eyes and a small afro that was maybe a pinch of the fingers long, stood with a tilt of her head.
If she had cat ears and a black tail swishing about, she would look just like the personification of a feline, even in the way she smiled, it felt like she was missing whiskers.
“You are…” She asked, voice light and airy with her southern drawl.
“We are the Mort–––”
“Family from down the street,” Trevor cut in, immediately blending in with her accent, true to his shifty nature. “A kin to Ms. Raven.”
“Raven and the girls are good people,” she said, still hesitant. She looked back into the house before stepping aside. “You’re invited in. I’m sure it’s hot out here for you both…”
I felt a small chill creep down my spine as Trevor instinctively stepped in front of me, keeping me to his back at all times which meant he was on guard.
We stepped up and into the cool AC of the vintage home as I looked around.
The decorative wallpaper, the old and new blend of furniture and wooden floors creaked and squeaked with each step.
The foyer was open and inviting with a few cats lounging around but the spiral stairs swept towards the second floor where you could see cats laying on different steps.
Portraits lined the walls of black cowboys standing with their horse on one side and a cat by their feet.
“This is the Whitlock Estate,” she went on as she began to lead us down a hall. “We serve mostly witch families but occasionally, we’ll get a call from shifters wanting to have a familiar.”
Past the stairs, we entered what looked like another sitting room that was filled with books lining the walls from spells, and charms to mythical tales and worldly maps.
“Are you two in the market for a familiar?” She opened the back door that led to a sunroom filled with felines that scattered.
They hurried off by our feet and back into the house as she leaned over the small coffee table to light a few candles.
The windows all faced the massive backyard where the property showed rows of trees and different barns lined in a row in the back.
“We’re just here for some information we overheard,” Trevor said as he brushed the sofa off free of cat hair before motioning for me to sit. I stared at him, refusing to move. He rolled his eyes, plopped down and made himself comfortable.
“Information you overheard…” She muttered as if she was clueless. “My cats talk amongst themselves and gossip about their lives and the different families, but I can’t imagine what you heard that would be worth coming all this way….”
“We were told witches are gathering,” I said as I continued to stand. “Given the tension in the Underground and the growing hatred for the First Family, we are trying to find out what we can in order to protect ourselves.”
The woman sat down across from Trevor and tucked one leg underneath her, showing the black soot covering the bottom of her foot.
You could see a hint of her underwear, but I’m certain she wanted that to be shown in front of him.
Everything she did was almost cat-like in the way she moved her head, blinked her sharp eyes, and smiled as if her whiskers were twitching.
“If you had a familiar, you would be aware of such things,” she countered calmly with a smile.
“We have a baby,” Trevor said. “I don’t know if–––”
“I have several that are perfectly fine with children. As a matter of fact, I know the exact familiar for you and your agency. She’s loyal, kind, intelligent, and very protective.”
“Agency?” I repeated.
“Mortal Affairs, you are Himora, and you are…Trevor. You work with a Dubois and Martin, yes?”
Trevor and I said nothing. It wasn’t exactly a secret, but the information wasn’t easy to come by either. The woman tapped the side of her ear with a smirk.
“They talk amongst themselves. As soon as you step in, they talk. Cats are not as social as dogs but what they lack in community, they make up for in brains. Mine are bred specifically for the most exclusive magical families whether they partake in the dark arts or want to live a peaceful life above ground. I specialize in families with children and elders as well.”
“We are not here to buy,” I stated with a stern tone. “All we need is information on what’s being said. Nothing more. I don’t want to waste your time any further than you have already wasted ours.”
Trevor cut me a look as the woman cracked a smile.
“Well then I really don’t know what to tell you.” She said softly. She leaned back into the chair and began picking at her nails. “They talk but it's usually just chatter and gossip…Nothing worth repeating.”
She cut her sly eyes at Trevor who immediately cleared his throat. She wasn’t going to talk unless we bought something.
“Show me what you got,” Trevor said with a sudden forced glee as he clapped his hand. “Maybe we can find a kitten for my baby girl…”
“I know just the one,” the woman said as she stood up with a grin as wide as a Cheshire cat. She opened the door where several cats stood just outside waiting to get in, but I could hear other voices, human voices. “Show him to the kitten kennels, Mercy!”
“Yes ma’am!”
The woman came and sat back down after closing the door and motioned for me to sit across from her, but I remained standing.
“You faes are so pretentious,” she muttered, pulling out a box of cigarettes. She took her time to light the end before inhaling as the quiet burning sound of paper filled the air until she exhaled the thick smoke. “You know the ability to speak and hear them speak is the mark of a Bastet born.”
“I’m aware of the ideology,” I said with an adjustment of my glasses.
“Ideology,” she repeated with a smirk before taking another pull on her cigarette. “I am one of the daughters of Bastet…Very few can understand and speak feline like me…”
She enjoyed her cigarette as she blew out another plume of smoke before sighing. Of course, she believed she was the daughter of an ancient cat God.
“There is chatter amongst the familiars across different breeds,” she said as she cut her eyes at me.
“They always talk like cleaning ladies of the big fancy home. They talk about their owners, they talk about the guests, they talk about everything…If you’re born with the gift of hearing them speak in their native language, they are some of the chattiest mothafuckas around. ”
Her tone completely changed from sweet innocent southern buyer to raw and blunt as she tucked her leg underneath her once more.
“Witches are starting to gather,” I repeated. “What does that mean?”
“Exactly what it says… They are starting to come together… The cats that are sent out on days or week’s worth of work always come back and tell everything.
Of course, they only speak to one another and know not to repeat to other families but sometimes, the ones who are only borrowed, let it slip from time to time… ”
My brows raised as she smiled. Turning her head to the side to draw from her cigarette, her eyes never left me when her lips curled on the white paper before blowing loose smoke through her teeth.
“You can rent a familiar for a day or two, yes. I allow it. This is how they get experience. Not every witch comes from wealth but those who are working need help. You can borrow my babies if you like,” she shrugged.
“Don’t bother me none if the money is right.
They come back sometimes late at night, and you can hear them talking amongst themselves about what they’ve seen and heard…
. from killings, to arguments, cheating, and as of late… witches gathering…”