Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Hunter on feeding familiars and family
I woke up early in my old bed, feeling content and only a little concerned about the man snoring softly next to me. Regge snuffled into his pillow as I left the bed, and I let him sleep.
Downstairs, Mom stood at the kitchen window, a coffee mug in her hand. She spoke without turning. “The Clarkson’s cat just got chased off by this huge blackbird. You should have seen it. Is Regge still sleeping? I thought we could go to breakfast this morning.”
I let out a long sigh and stretch. “It’s early, Ma. And he doesn’t sleep well sometimes.”
“There he is. Honey, you’ve got to come see this.”
I joined her, looking out into the backyard. Archimedes took two hops and landed on the birdbath. He squawked at the door. “Oh. Here, Mom. Let him in.”
“What?”
I opened the door and Archie flew in, landing on the back of a kitchen chair. He flitted and flapped and squawked. Trouble. Trouble.
“Oh my stars, he talks.” She’d picked up her egg pan from the dish rack.
“It’s okay. He won’t hurt you.”
“Does he know that?”
Kid? Kid. Kid. Archie’s golden eye focused on her for a moment.
“This is Archie. He’s Regge’s cat, bird, I mean, pet.” Trying not to freak out my mom, I turned to the bird. “Regge’s sleeping. Is everything okay?”
Archie cawed again, flapping his enormous wings.
Mom still gripped her pan. “Are you seriously having a conversation with a blackbird? And how did he get here?”
“He’s a crow, er, sort of. Kid is his name for Regge. Archie’s smart, Ma.” I ran up the stairs, calling Regge’s name. He was up and struggling into jeans when I opened the door. “Archie’s here.”
“I know. He came in last night.” He grabbed my Dropkick Murphys shirt, pulling it over his head. “What’s going on?”
I didn’t answer because I truly didn’t know. Even though I was used to Archie’s method of communication, Regge understood him much better. We entered the kitchen together.
“Archie,” Regge said, walking up to the large crow and petting his chest feathers. He turned to Marjorie. “Good morning. I’m sorry if he scared you. He’s rather headstrong, but he won’t hurt you.”
She put the pan down. “He calls you kid?” Slowly, as though she didn’t want to startle the bird, she made another pot of coffee.
Regge chuckled. “He used to belong to an old apothecary who took me in as a teenager. When Master Gomfrey passed away, Archie kind of latched onto me. My guardian, Theo, often calls me kid, so…”
She patted Regge’s shoulder. “He’s certainly unusual. What does he eat?”
“Archie’s a carnivore, but he loves fruit as well. I fed him some of your tuna last night,” Regge replied.
Food. Food. Trouble.
“I have some blueberries in the fridge.” Marjorie pulled out the small plastic packet, handing it to Regge.
“Would you like to feed him? I promise he’ll be a gentleman. Won’t you, Arch?”
Good boy. Good boy. Archie bobbed his head. My mom laughed. Regge showed her how to hold a berry in her palm out to the bird. Archie gobbled it up. She added another.
“Archie,” said Regge, “this is Marjorie. Hunter’s mother.”
Mama said Archie. He looked at me. Mama?
This time I laughed. “Yes. She’s my mom.”
Regge took a cup of coffee I offered, and we leaned against the counter side by side as Mom fed Archie the berries one by one.
“Good morrow, sir,” Regge mumbled close to my neck. “How fares thee this morn?”
I felt my cheeks pink up. “I’m great. You?”
His smile was answer enough. It was difficult not to pull him into my arms right then and there.
I doubted my mother would care, but I’d never really had someone at home before. Even my two-year relationship had been mostly away at college, so Mom had never seen me with anyone. Anyone special, that is.
She completely ignored us as she conversed with Archie. “That should be enough berries. How about I cook up some bacon and egg sandwiches? Just bacon for you, of course.” She closed the lid on the berry packet and returned it to the fridge.
Good boy. Archie is a good boy. Archie hopped to the other chair and preened his feathers. He looked at Regge, flapped his wings, then looked at Marjorie.
I frowned in confusion.
Regge whispered, “He wants to be in his cat form but doesn’t want to cause trouble.”
Nodding, I pulled out the loaf of bread.
“I’ll do the toast. Um, Mom? You know how my friends in Philly are kind of well, magical?”
“Are you talking about your sight? Or Izzy’s? That girl is extraordinary.”
“Kind of yes. But also, Archie is more than just a crow.”
She glanced over her shoulder. “Well, of course he is.”
Regge cleared his throat. “Archie is a familiar, Marjorie. He has the gift of sight, yes. But he is also a fierce protector of his family, and often to do that he will shift his form.” He took a breath. “He is both a crow and a cat.”
Mom stopped laying out bacon strips on a cookie sheet. “Well, I’d like to see that.” She popped the bacon in the oven. “Hunter has told me lots of stories about his friends—the girl who flies, the bartender who has a tail, but a bird who is also a cat?”
Archie didn’t wait for Regge’s okay. He simply lifted his wings and flew off the chair, making a tight circle in the kitchen, and landing on the kitchen table with his four cat paws.
“Arch, not on the table, please.”
If a cat could roll his eyes, I was sure Archie did. But he leaped off the table to the floor before sauntering over to a basket and settling on top of a stack of Food and Wine magazines.
I watched Mom blink away her disbelief. “My stars, that is…” She looked at Regge. “Tell me you’re not a creature also. Please.”
He chuckled and even blushed a bit. “I assure you, I am quite human. But the world is a strange place, and I hail from not only distance but time. Thanks to Izzy and Theo, I’m alive and here.”
Mom studied him a moment. She put her hands on her hips.
“That’s lovely, dear. Why don’t you open another can of tuna for him.
It will be a few minutes before the bacon is ready, and he looks positively starved.
Hunter, keep an eye on the bacon. I’m going to grab a shower.
” With that, she left us in the kitchen.
Regge looked at me. “She took that remarkably well.”
“Well, she’s either totally freaking out and didn’t want us to see, or she really only cares about how you are with me.
Where and apparently when you come from is not as important.
And you’re really, really good with me.” I leaned over and kissed him.
It didn’t last long as a plaintive yowl emitted from the magazine basket.
Regge pulled away and sighed. “I know what she said, Archie. Can I have a minute to kiss my lover good morning?”
“I like that. Lover.”
“I understand boyfriend is the more modern term, but it feels so juvenile. And possibly premature?” He looked suddenly vulnerable.
I rushed to reassure him. “Not at all. I’ve been wanting you for a boyfriend for a very long time. If you want that, I’m up for it.”
“Definitely more than friends with benefits. That simply caused heartache.” He pulled me in close, his arms strong and comforting. This time the yowl was closer, at our feet where Archie sat, his tail swishing with impatience.
By the time breakfast was over, I sat back in my chair, listening as a fully open and unleashed Regge told stories of Shakespearean plays and the Elizabethan era that were equal parts hilarious and inappropriate. My mother didn’t even blush.
Sometime that morning, Theo had texted that they were back in Manhattan for a meeting. I’d urged Regge to invite them for dinner at my mom’s. It would be a family dinner.
After a day of shopping for whatever was on my mom’s list, we walked through Brooklyn Bridge Park, holding hands, seeing the sights, and talking. Talking most of all.
I’d placed the last of the groceries in the fridge when I felt Regge’s hands on my hips.
“Your mum’s not home.” His breath was hot against my neck.
The kitchen clock—a kitschy retro rooster with a dial in its belly—crowed two thirty. Theo and Izzy would be at the house at seven. Plenty of time for Mom’s baked ziti.
“It’s the second Saturday, right?”
“What?”
“Today. It’s the second Saturday of the month, right? Mom has her aqua class.”
Regge spun me around, his lips nipping along my jawline. “Why do I love that you know your mum’s schedule so well?”
I closed the fridge. “I’ll tell you why. Because I know that she loves her aqua class—says it keeps her arms from getting flabby. She never misses it. And the best thing is, she won’t be home until four.” I grabbed Regge’s hand to haul him upstairs.