Chapter 20
Ember
CRASH!
I’d had about enough of these bloody books, so much so, that I’d ended up hurling the whole pile across my bedroom floor with such force, that a literal dust cloud formed as they hit the carpet.
Makes a mental note to hoover bedroom.
As soon as it reached morning, I was already on the first train home. Mum had grown slightly suspicious that I was leaving so early, made even worse when she saw me fighting for my life with my overnight bag on the way out of the house, but we’d had such a lovely night together beforehand, she seemed less inclined to interrogate me.
But as I sat here, staring at the mass of paper on the floor, I started to wonder whether all my efforts had been for nothing.
Who was I kidding?
I could barely pronounce the word colonel properly,let alone speak full-blown Latin and unfortunately, I didn’t think Duolingo had a step-by-step guide on how to perfectly recite a Latin spell. Where was a Latin spell pronunciation for half-witch dummies book when you needed one? There’s a huge gap in the market there I’m telling you. I hadn’t realised just how much work this whole magic ordeal would be. Ignorantly, I assumed it was an effortless thing for dad. I thought it would be a matter of reading the words and I don’t know, willing it? Kind of similar to when you’re sat in a restaurant and you’re desperately crossing your whole body and praying to all that is holy that the next plate of food in the waiter’s hand is yours.
There were hundreds of pages, hundreds!
I didn’t have the time nor patience to traipse through that many, but I also didn’t have the intellectual ability to simply skim through you know, Latin. I let out a huge sigh as I stared down at the floor at the heap of dusty hardbacks. I couldn’t admit defeat now. I had to do this, even if it took all night, I just knew it.
Poppy and Amy had both gone home for a long weekend, so I didn’t have to worry about them inevitably barging in and interrogating me, and I doubt I’d have to worry about Toby who was likely getting cosy with girl number 100, or Ryan, who had practically dropped off the face of the earth since freshers week, only seeming to resurface at the crack of dawn for food.
I could do this. I picked up one of the hardbacks from the pile and furiously flicked through the pages trying to decipher anything that looked remotely like the sort of spell I was after. A small part of me contemplated just ringing Allegra, she’d definitely know the spell I’d need. But I could imagine the disapproval I’d receive about dabbling with something I didn’t understand. I wasn’t silly, I was fully aware that I didn’t understand what I was getting myself into by doing this and I definitely couldn’t predict what the consequences would be- but weirdly- I didn’t seem to care. All I cared about was making Arthur’s life that little bit easier. After our heart to heart, something in me changed. It was as if there had been a fire in my stomach just waiting to be sparked, and our talk had somehow lit its fuse. I wanted nothing more than to turn down the volume, to shut those voices down and bring him some goddam peace. The man deserved a break, and with some luck, (and looottt’s of translating), I was going to make sure he got it.
◆◆◆
“Felis,”I whispered to the dark empty room.
Believe it or not, I had spent all dayrifling through dad’s books, I quite literally watched day turn into night, the baby blue sky transforming into a constellation of stars amongst the darkness outside my bedroom window. As miffed as I was that I’d not left the four walls of my bedroom all day, at least I had a beautiful view.
“Felis,” I whispered again, scrunching my eyes up tighter this time.
The words had all began to blur into one big smudge the more I read, google translate couldn’t even save me this time. Don’t trust anyone who says google translate is even a remotely useful source. It might has well have held it’s non-existent hands up and admit, ‘sorry pal I’ve got nothing,’ every time I tried to translate a single word. I thought I’d hit a wall; it wasn’t until I was about mid-way through the final book that I saw a page that had some English in there, albeit there weren’t too many words, and the inscriptions were fairly small and faint. However, the ones that I could make out were exactly what I wanted. I saw prompts like:
Luck,
Blessedness,
Happiness,
Fortune.
I’d felt like I’d struck gold, this was perfect.
I mean, that’s all anyone could ever want in life, right?
“Felis,” I said again, slightly louder this time.
I wasn’t just reciting the word aimlessly like a broken record. I remembered briefly what dad used to say about the importance of channelling your magic. You had to fixate your mind solely on what you desired and channel out everything else. I hadn’t anticipated just how difficult it was to stop thinking. You don’t realise how many thoughts actually pass through your mind until you’re forced to ignore them. I mean, I knew I had it within me, but because I hadn’t practiced in so long, it was honestly like trying to hotwire a car that had no fuel, had multiple flat tires and oh, was also submerged in a foot of snow for good measure. It’s safe to say that the little magic I did have was buried deep within the back of the wardrobe, neglected, and covered in cobwebs.
I blew out a deep breath, think Ember, focus on what you desire.
I squeezed my knuckles tight and pushed every thought out of my mind except Arthur, “Felis.”
Nothing.
“Oh, for god’s sake!,” I said raising my fists in the air.
I have not wasted this whole day for nothing, I was going to elicit some sort of magical response even if it killed me, (okay, maybe not that far), but I’d worked way too hard today for it all to come to nothing.
Right, I tried the nicey-nice, whispery- ASMR approach, I needed a different route.
I opened my door, looked both ways, crept down the corridor, and stuck my ear to both Ryan’s and Toby’s doors.
Silence.
I prayed that no one walked in on me right now, I’d look like a right peeping Tom.
The coast seemed clear, so I snuck back up the corridor and into my room.
Before I could rethink my decision, I inhaled a gulp of air and finally shouted, “FELIS, FELIS, FELIS!,” at the top of my lungs.
What happened next, God only knows. The ground had started to rumble, and the walls had begun to shake, causing my clock and some photos to fall off the wall and onto the floor. I thought I was about to experience my first earthquake and had genuinely already crouched down on my knees, prepped and ready to duck under my tiny desk for cover. Just as quickly as it arrived though, the sensation suddenly stopped and was replaced by a large puff of thick white smoke. I stepped back, my heart thumping in my chest, what the hell was happening. I squinted my eyes and started to choke on my own coughs as I attempted to waft away the Smokey fumes. When the air starts to become breathable again, I slowly peel the hand away from my eyes, mentally preparing myself for whatever was lurking behind the smoke, like a child who was cowering from the monster under their bed. Except for the fact that there wasn’t a monster, there wasn’t…anything?
Unless this was a curse and the reason that nothing happened in here was because I’d just cursed Arthur to an eternal doom of suffering. He could easily be out there right now lying in a ditch somewhere or cursed with three heads and it would all be my fault.
The panic starts to set in now.
Why did I seriously not think about the possibility of a curse?! Why did I think this would be a good idea, why did I let myself do thi-
Meow.
W-what was that?
I immediately swish my head round towards the sound, but I can’t see anything.
Meowwww.
The sound grows louder and longer now.
I feel a soft brush against my leg and slowly gaze my eyes down to find the culprit.
Blinking back up at me with a coat of velvet fur as dark as the night and glowing eyes of emerald green, is…a cat.
Did I just summon a cat?
I blink excessively, not quite believing what I’m seeing. You’d have thought by the look on my face that I’d never seen a cat before.
There was no way that I was responsible for this. There must be some other rational explanation.
I do my best to ignore the adorable ball of fluff sat staring at me, and pace the room, searching high and low for all of the possible entrances it could have come from. Maybe someone had left the door to the flat open and it had somehow snuck in unseen?
Who was I kidding. I knew all too well that the main flat door was shut and no one else was home besides me. Plus, I live on the third floor, so unless that cat had somehow let itself into the building and decided to take itself up in the lift, I’d say, yes, this was definitely my doing.
Meow!
It was more insistent now, nudging it’s head against me and leaving a thick blanket of Black hairs in its wake all over my pyjama bottoms. I couldn’t tell whether it was hungry and just nagging for food or whether it was doing that really annoying, (definitely not adorable), thing that cat’s do when they mark you as one of their own. Despite wanting nothing more than to sit and let it devour me in kitty love, I needed to take a minute to get my head around the weight of what I’d just done. I sit down on my bed and fidget with my clammy palms. The questions come piling in, my mind spiralling like a middle-aged person’s computer, filled with endless tabs.
How did I manage to summon a cat?
What happened to Arthur in all of this, did the spell not work?
Do I keep the cat?
If the answer is yes to the above question, how am I going to explain said cat to my flatmates?
Are we even allowed pets in student accommodation?
I couldn’t help but audibly snort at the fact that my main concern was over whether I could keep the cat, rather than question how I brought it here. I could call Allegra, but one: it was late, and two: she’d kill me.
The pressing matter at hand was also whether Arthur was okay. It was all well and good me calling it a night and cooing over my new furry friend, but I couldn’t help panicking that by me abra-cadabra-ing the cat, I’d also done some damage to Arthur. Oh my god, what if this was one of those creepy sacrifices that you see in films, a life for a life.
What if Arthur was the sacrifice for the cat?
That was it! I was calling him. Better safe than sorry.
◆◆◆
“Uh-hello?,” a voice croaks on the other end of the line. Why do men have the sexiest sleepy voices?
For god’s sake, get your head out of the gutter Ember. You’re meant to be checking whether he is okay not ogling over his voice.
I mentally give myself a slap on the wrist.
“Hey, so sorry it’s late! I just wanted to see if you were aliv-I mean, okay.”
The phone goes silent for a moment.
“Um-yeah I’m okay,” he says followed by a huge yawn, “I was just asleep.”
It was nearly midnight after all, I’d forgotten that in the time it had taken me to figure out how to do the spell, that I’d accidentally skipped both lunch and dinner and was somehow running on pure adrenaline. I hadn’t stopped to think that most people would be asleep by now.
“So sorry, go back to sleep, I’ll see you tomorrow!”
I can hear his duvet rustling as he sits up, “no wait. Ember, is everything all right?”
I froze. Shit. I needed to think of an excuse for calling.
“Uh,” I stutter, “I just wanted to make sure you were feeling okay for the presentation, I know it’s creeping closer, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it, that was all.”
“Oh, well yeah, I’m still bricking it obviously,” he responds sheepishly.
I give myself an actual slap on the wrist this time for choosing to ring him. Not only have I just disrupted his sleep, but I’ve put more anxiety-inducing thoughts into his mind now about that presentation. Round of applause to me.
“We’ll be fine!,” I say a bit too over-enthusiastically, “Anyway, goodnight, sweet dreams!,” and I end the call before he can question me further.
Smooth, real smooth.
I chuck my phone down on the bed and stretch my arms up in the air with a yawn. I really need to go to bed.
Meow.
I’m very much reminded of the tiny elephant in the room and look down to see the cat still staring me out with wide eyes.
“What are we going to do with you then?,” I say, as I gently stroke it’s head. I thought I could find a local cat shelter and take it there, but then I remembered those adverts for cat’s protection on TV, you know the ones with the sad piano scores and clips of upset fur babies looking directly into the camera, begging you to adopt them. Nope. Why give it away only to be potentially stuck there all alone for months on end, when there’s a loving home right here with me? I’m aware I sound like one of those dads who swore they’d never keep a cat, then end up being best friends, but as I look at its little face, I know I just can’t part with it.
Gurrrgle.
My stomach growls, letting me know I haven’t fed it for a good 12 hours.
“Stay here,” I whisper to the cat, who definitely didn’t understand any concept of what I just said.
I creep off into the kitchen and my bare shelf in the fridge acts as a stark reminder that I needed to do my food shop. I manage to salvage a few slices of ham, slap it into some dry bread, and make the most depressing looking sandwich known to man. I run up the corridor, caressing my pathetic sandwich to my chest as if it were the holy grail and slump back into my room. As I much on my dry sandwich, I sense some jealously coming from the ball of fluff beneath my feet. I’m not a monster, so I break off a tiny piece of ham and drop it onto the floor.
“Bon Appetite,” I say with my mouth full.
This earns me such a loud purr; the sound is practically vibrating through the floorboards below. I lick my lips as I finish the last bite of my sandwich and I’m welcomed with a pounce on my lap. The cat starts kneading my thighs so intensely, it looks as if it can’t decide whether it’s performing a Swedish massage or baking some bread.
I can see through its tricks though, “stop trying to butter me up! I haven’t got any more food, see?,” I gesture to the empty room. The cat clearly doesn’t get the memo, glaring up at me with eyes of such sweetness, he’d give puss in boots a run for his money. I wasn’t giving in though. I still needed to figure out how I was going to manage to conceal the fact that I have a living breathing animal in my flat.
“Right,” I clap my hands together, “if you’re going to live with me, I suppose I’m going to have to give you a name, aren’t I?” It nestles it’s head deeper into my lap now, I’ll take that as a yes. As embarrassing as it was, I already had a name lined up for the possible opportunity of ever owning a cat. I’d never had any pets growing up, mostly because mum thought they were messy and too much work. I’d always tried to emphasise how cats were self-sufficient, you just needed to feed them and then leave them to their own devices, but she didn’t budge. She wasn’t a cat person believe it or not, perhaps I could chalk that up as the reason for us butting heads a lot. After all, you can never trust a cat-hater. “Welcome to your new home…Robert Cattinson,” (can you tell I had an unhealthy obsession with Twilight growing up). Before committing to the name, I did a brief check to definitely confirm that he was a he, (he is), and considering by the growing purring noise, I’d say he likes his new name.