41. The Magic of Cats
FORTY-ONE
THE MAGIC OF CATS
Cats, long favored as familiars by witches, offer a certain elegance and independence that aligns with the pure-blooded lifestyle. Their keen intuition and ability to sense magical energies make them valuable companions for detecting unseen threats or disturbances.
However, their aloof nature can sometimes prove a disadvantage, as they may be less obedient or reliable in certain situations.
Moreover, their tendency to attract Ordinary attention may compromise discretion, an essential trait for any well-bred witch.
Careful consideration should be given as to whether a cat’s temperament truly complements the household’s needs.
–EXCERPT FROM THE ARCANE ELITE: UPHOLDING THE SANCTITY OF WITCH BLOODLINES
Minerva made her way back to the foyer and ducked into the dusty space between the walls.
While not ideal for navigating the house, it did bring her closer to the Archives.
As far as she could tell, there were no mouse passages that could deliver her down to where she needed to go.
She would have to make her way down the long hallway to the cellar door.
She would have to elude Gemini.
How absurd, after a lifetime of facing so many wicked and whimsical beasts, to find herself quaking over a common house cat.
Creeping a few feet further, Minerva peeked through the ornate iron grate. As far as she could tell, the coast was clear. No shadows shifted to reveal the furry beast. She pressed her ear to the grate as well, listening for the sly footfall of her new nemesis.
Once she slipped out through the grate, there would be no turning back. She would have to make it all the way down the hallway to the reinforced iron door. There was no room for error. She’d have to be quick.
Once inside the vault she planned to rappel down the side of the staircase, directly to the cellar floor. She wondered if the house might help her. It had been so quiet of late. Minerva feared it had moved on, now that she was no longer its mistress.
She’d stuffed her apron pockets full of all sorts of useful things; a jar of sticky jam, a thick length of rainbow colored rope, and an assortment of snacks. She would need to keep nibbling to keep her energy up.
She felt the rope one more time, running her fingers over the cabled bundle and checking the slip knot.
The rope was braided from scraps of yarn pulled from the unraveled edge of one of the half-finished mittens in the mudroom.
The fine merino wool was well up to the task of holding her weight when she rappelled.
She also intended to use the rope as a lasso, using it to pull herself up to undo the latch on the center of the Archives door.
She was probably half mad to be attempting something so dangerous. But she couldn’t keep having the same repetitive dreams about Zephyr and his mirror night after night. Minerva rotated her neck and did a quick set of stretches in the little crawlspace, limbering up and giving herself a pep talk.
Once she made it up to the large skull shaped knob that worked the latch, she would be home free. Two pokes in the left eyeball, one in the right, pick the nose and wiggle the eyeteeth.
She didn’t even need her wand to unlock it. She had the perfect tool for picking the persnickety lock.
Minerva jumped at the sound of footsteps. She felt the rush of cold air through the grate as the front door was opened and shut again. There were voices in the bookshop. Maida, Arthur, Granny Luna and someone else—was that Will Porter?
They were speaking in the sort of low, hushed tones one tended to use at funerals, or after getting particularly bad news.
Her stomach dropped, fearing the worst for Rosie.
She hesitated, listening, pressing her soft cheek against the grate.
She could barely make out their shadows moving in the distance. They seemed miles away.
“Then it’s settled,” Granny was saying. “Will and Arthur will go meet with the police and fetch Rosie. I’ll go back to Boston and wake the doctor and bring him back here, in case we need him for anything. It’s looking like it might be a long night.”
“And I’ll stay put, wait for you all here,” Maida finished.
“You shouldn’t be alone!” Arthur objected.
“I’ll be fine,” Maida argued. “It’s just for a little bit. I never really feel completely alone here, you know. The house has a certain presence. And I’ve got Hildegarde,” she gestured to the sleeping witch.
“At least when she’s sleeping she can’t turn anything into a fish,” Will said.
“Poor Hildegarde.” Granny tutted. “It must be frustrating to have all your spells come out so scaly.” She turned to Maida. “You’ll be just fine, love. I’ll be back in two twinkles of a shooting star.”
“Beryl!!!” Minerva shouted as loud as she could. If only she could get Granny Luna to listen to her and warn the others about that mage who’d stopped by earlier. But it was too late. The fairy had already flitted out the front door.
“I can’t thank you enough for all your help.
You were there for Rosie when she felt like she couldn’t turn to me.
” Arthur was staring into Maida’s eyes now.
Minerva couldn’t see this exactly, but she could make out their silhouettes in the hallway.
They were standing close, and he had one hand placed beneath her chin.
Then the shifter leaned forward to plant a quick kiss on her lips!
Minerva’s hand flew to her chest, an old habit.
But as she held it there, she realized it was not the scandalousness of that kiss that she was feeling.
It was joy. She was happy for her great niece.
Whatever happened next, she knew Maida wouldn’t have to spend the next eighty years alone, as she had.
“We should go now,” Will said to Arthur. “I’m ready if you are.”
Minerva watched as the porter use his hand to quickly draw a circle on the wall near the end of the hallway.
There was a flash of bright light and a sucking sound as the world inside the circle fell away.
She had to squint, to avoid being blinded by the bright light streaming in through the grate.
Lacy shadows sped across the walls behind her, making her feel dizzy.
The vacuum effect threatened to suck the air from her lungs.
She took a deep breath and wrapped her paws around the grate, rattling it as hard as she could.
“No! Don’t you all leave! The Mudpuddle isn’t safe!” Minerva squealed in vain. “Don’t go! Don’t leave us here alone!”
The portal closed with a pop. The hallway seemed darker, gloomier in the aftermath.
“No!” Minerva felt the tears rolling down her cheeks again.
“We’ll be just fine, won’t we?” Maida was saying. For a moment Minerva thought she was talking to her. Was that possible? She gave the grate a cautious shove and slipped out through the space she’d made in the bottom corner.
“It’s just you and me, Hildegarde,” Maida was saying now.
Minerva heard snoring coming from the back of the cafe. It reminded her of Zephyr, but this was a soft snore, nothing like the old wizard’s rasp. Peeking around the corner, she recognized the bumbling witch’s sensible shoes. But that’s not all she recognized.
Seated in Hildegarde’s lap, curled up in an unfinished afghan, she saw a large cat shaped blob of white fur. The plume of Gemini’s tail dangled down towards the floor, sweeping back and forth like a metronome, stirring up dust.
“Grizzled gremlins!” Minerva sucked her breath in through her teeth and flattened herself against the wall. She didn’t think the beast had seen her, at least.
Quietly, she crept along the baseboards, moving more slowly than she would have liked. But she didn’t want to dart too fast. The cat’s eyesight was far keener than her own. Everyone knew that the worst thing to do when confronted by a ferocious feline was to turn your back and run away.
She passed the hall closet and the door to the mudroom. From here, she could no longer see the main lobby of the bookstore and cafe. But she could hear Maida talking to Gemini.
“I’m so sorry, Gemmy. Nobody’s fed you tonight, have they? Where does Rosie keep your food?”
Minerva glanced back at the closet, where she knew Gemini’s smelly kibble was kept. She could still duck into the mudroom if needed, but it would mean abandoning her mission. The cellar door was so close now.
“Come on, Gem,” Maida called. Minerva heard footsteps and picked up the pace. Her skirts swirled around her petite feet as she silently sidled along.
Another two yards, and she’d be there.
“Come on, Hildegarde’s lap will still be there after you’ve eaten.” Maida paused in the doorway to the hall, calling to the cat.
And then Minerva heard the most dreadful sound.
A muffled deadly thunk as four paws touched down on the wood floor.
She could feel the floorboards vibrating, even though she was yards away.
Instinctively, her right hand curled around the end of her tail.
Her left hand reached into her pocket and pulled out the closed jar of jam.
The glass jar would make a perfect missile to lob at the cat if need be.
Now she was moving more quickly, hopping and skipping sideways along the baseboards as fast as she could scurry.
She didn’t dare look up. She kept her eyes fixed on the floor, pausing only briefly to check her progress.
Finally, she was close enough to cast her rope.
But she would need to move to the center of the hallway to get the right angle.
She needed the lasso to catch on the knob.
Minerva withdrew the colorful cord from her pocket.
She wrapped the loose end around her waist and recited a charm for luck.