Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 115432 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115432 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
* * *
“Come, she needs your help,” the cat—yes, the small invisible feline—ordered me from atop of the maze hedge.
“Who?” I asked.
“Who what?” Atarah asked. “Is someone here?”
Melora sprang up, excited, looking left to right. “A ghost?”
“No, a cat,” I said and pointed to the hedge, hoping they’d see it this time.
“A ghost cat?” Atarah said though it sounded like she was trying not to laugh at me.
“Come!” the cat demanded again.
“I’m serious,” I replied, getting up off the grass and dusting my dress. “There is a cat up there, trying to order me around.”
“Meow,” Atarah replied and then laughed at herself.
“Really?” I said to her.
“Sorry,” she said, getting up as well.
“What is this cat asking you to do?” Melora asked, a little more serious, looking to where I said the cat was sitting, its long tail now up.
“Can you see it now?”
“No, but if you can, and it speaks, then it’s magical,” she replied, rising from the ground and dusting her hands off. “And if it is magical, that means someone is using magic. And the only one who can do that is a witch. So, it is either you or another witch. I do not sense any magic coming out of you right now. Do you feel as if you are using magic?”
“No.” I had no reason to use it.
“So, a witch is calling, and with a cat…that cat would be familiar, right?” Atarah questioned. “But familiars never reveal themselves to anyone other than their owners or those their master has strong enough family bonds with.”
“Druella? Do you know this cat?” Melora asked me with all seriousness.
Once again, I’d entered into supernatural territory I knew nothing about. I’d seen images and paintings of cats in many painted works before. I could write an essay about the allegorical use of felines in Renoir’s Impressionism. But witches and who could see their familiars? Huh?
“Come,” the cat demanded again.
“Where?” I asked it.
“Forest,” it said back.
“Why me?” I demanded.
The cat stared at me, and as I found myself unable to look away from its mismatched eyes, now remembering where I had seen them before. It was that vision or memory. The night Theseus and I were swimming in the sea, I’d seen this cat on the shoulder of the witch with dark hair. She had the same mismatched eyes.
“It’s an Omeron witch.” I said to it, “You wish to take me to her.”
“She needs help. Hurt,” it said again, and this time, it almost sounded…pained? Worried?
“More Omeron witches?” Atarah asked, stepping closer to me. “Is it a trap? Are they trying to get to you?”
“I don’t know. It feels…odd,” I replied, knowing that didn’t explain anything.
“Please,” the cat begged again. “Help her.”
“Why me? Why are you coming to me to help her?”
“Help who? The witch?” Melora asked.
I nodded. “Yes, it’s begging for me to come help. But I don’t understand. Why me? Why here? This has to be a trap.”
“Covens are like a family, or at least they should be. Maybe the familiar still recognizes you as part of the coven and came to you for help,” Melora added.
“Or maybe this is a trap,” Atarah repeated.
“True, but it came to you, so it trusts you, which means it won’t lie to you. Actually, I don’t know that for sure. It could be a spell by the witch and not a real familiar. Either way, what do you want to do?”
I looked at her, surprised she was asking me.
“We must hurry!” the cat called out, already up on all fours, ready to move.
In the movies and books, the main character would often do something stupid. Like go charging into dangerous situations or go for a walk or a meeting alone, which almost always led to them being kidnapped without anyone knowing. I always thought it was silly, and yet here I was thinking about following an invisible cat to meet an injured person from a coven that seemed hellbent on ruining my vampire life.
“Theseus!” I called out.
I turned around, and before I could even take a step, he was there, staring down at me with those eyes of his, anxiously, happily. It made me wonder how long he’d been waiting and watching or hoping I’d call for him. Having him in front of me again, I found myself feeling happy, too. But I’d be gushy later. Now, I had something more pressing. “I’m possibly about to do something stupid or dangerous or both…do you want to come with me?”
His lips turned up into a smile, and he outstretched his hand for me. When I gave it to him, he kissed the back of it before saying, “To the ends and the depths of the world, I’ll go with you—always.”
“Am I going to get in trouble for ditching our welcoming?” I asked him.
“No one ever stays for the whole thing,” he replied.