06211ac5699831bcc33b1196ecea3c60

Chapter 32

As the familiar storefront came into view, Clara let herself hope. While she didn’t like the idea of Becca asking more questions—certainly didn’t like the way that that woman Elizabeth seemed to know more than she should—at least she could understand such an action. Her person was thorough, a researcher at heart. Maybe Becca wanted something clarified. Maybe she had forgotten some important information. Maybe she had left her hat. But a quick glance to the velvet cloche that still topped Becca’s brown curls killed that hope.

Still, as Becca approached the storefront, Clara dared to believe. The store’s darkened interior showed no sign of life, and Becca knocked and waited—normal behavior, her cat told herself. Not rash at all. Only Becca wasn’t giving up. After trying to peer inside, her face pressed against the painted glass, she tried again, rapping on the window, to no avail. And so when Becca ducked around the back of the building, hurrying down the alley like some small and timid animal, the little cat began to feel ill.

“No, Becca!” She tried once again to project her thoughts. To implant the idea of the library, so safe and warm. Or, even better, of the cozy sofa at home. Maybe she had too much imagination, however, and she could see all too well where this was all heading. Because Becca, despite Clara’s fervent desire to warn her, appeared to be doing just what her pet feared most. She was going to try to duplicate her stunt of the previous day—only, this time, without a friend to stand guard. Not a friend who could call out to warn her, at any rate.

If she needed to, she would alert Becca somehow, Clara promised herself. Sure enough, as Clara watched, tail whipping in anxiety, Becca stared up at a high inset window with the intensity Laurel would use to gauge the jump to the top of the bookshelf. But Becca was no cat, and when her bottom didn’t twitch in anticipation, Clara began to breathe easier. Until, that is, she saw that Becca’s gaze had been distracted and she remembered. What Becca lacked in feline grace, she more than made up for in logic. Sure enough, a quick exploration of the back lot uncovered that plastic milk crate over by the dumpster, and it occurred to Clara that someone might have left it for just such an illicit entrance. Someone like Gaia, who wanted an easy way in and out. And although Becca was a good three inches shorter than the goth shop girl, when she stood on the milk crate and raised herself on tiptoe, she was able to reach the window.

“Now if only…” Clara’s ears perked up as Becca spoke, more to herself than to any possible passerby, her pet realized. “Yes!” Her agile fingers, so much more flexible than any talon, had managed to raise the edge of the window and from there it slid easily. With a grunt and a bit of a squeal, Becca pulled herself up, her sneakers finding purchase on the brick. And a moment later, she was inside.

“I’m getting rather good at this.” Becca’s musing would have been inaudible to most, but Clara heard her self-congratulations with dread. As much as she wanted her person to learn new skills, breaking into locked buildings was not a good thing. Surely, Becca knew that. Her reluctance to alert her friend and onetime lookout was proof of that. In Maddy’s absence, Clara hunkered down, determined to keep watch and to be ready to alert her person in case of trouble.

This late in the afternoon, the street was quiet, and Clara was grateful for the shadow of the building, which cloaked her spotted coat further even than her abilities allowed. Invisibility wasn’t everything, however. Despite her abilities, the calico was a housecat by nature, only venturing outside to accompany her person. Not being able to see Becca or, even worse, smell her warm scent, was unnerving, making the little beast feel even more vulnerable. As much as she trusted Becca, shecouldn’t help but wonder if this entire venture was misguided and if, perhaps, the person she loved was in way over her head.

A muted crash made Clara jump. Here, in the rear of the building, she was protected from the street. Even if a car were to pull into the lot, she could duck behind the dumpster. Besides, that sound was from inside the building, she realized as she willed her fur back into its proper confirmation. That sound, more of a thud, had probably been occasioned by Becca knocking into something inside the darkened store. No cries of alarm or pain had followed, and none of that horrid squealing of bicycle tires that she could only too well remember.

“Becca?”Clara tried once more to reach her person. The only response was a thump and a soft grunt. The cat could stand it no longer and, bracing herself against what she might find, she shimmied through the brick wall toward her person.

The room Clara found herself in wasn’t that dark. Granted, the afternoon sun was clouded by the glazing on the bathroom window as well as a rime of dirt. And while Becca had opted against turning on the electrical light, she had opened the door to the storefront, where the early twilight illumined the colored paint on the window, if not much else. Still, there was no reason for a creature to bump and flail, as Becca seemed to be doing. An upended side table explained the earlier crash, and even now her person shuffled slowly, hands out in some weak improvisation of whiskers.

Whiskers! Of course! Clara had forgotten how dull human senses were, and so as she sat back and watched her person fuddle, she tried to come up with a way to help her. Clara couldn’t exactly turn on the lights for her. Cats simply didn’t do that, and she was sure there was a good reason why. Nor could she guide her, as dogs seemed to do for their humans at times.

“If only Laurel were here.” She never thought she’d miss her sister. Only now it would be so useful to have her here. She could suggest that Becca close the door to the storefront. If she did that, she could turn on the overhead light. Surely, the slight glow that would leak out the bathroom window would not cause any alarm.

“If only…”

Her thought was interrupted by another crash and muted cursing as Becca reached down to caress her shin. But even as she did, hopping a bit as she rubbed the sore spot, she reached out her other hand for balance and soon found herself leaning on the open doorframe. As if a light had gone on in her mind, she stood, closed the door, and, running her hand along the doorframe, found the light switch. The light that flooded the room was almost too bright for Clara, who squinted as she ducked back into the shadow of the shelving. To Becca, though, it must have seemed wondrous. Clara looked up to see her person beaming back up at the fixture, like it had come to her aid by itself.

Newly empowered, Becca began a search in earnest. Working her way around the store room, she looked inside boxes and behind shelves. She opened canisters to check out their contents, and even though she sniffed some of the more pungent ones—Clara could smell ginseng and ginger, before the stench of asafetida filled the room—she was careful enough not to taste any.

When she moved on to the small kitchen area, Clara crept closer. Becca was concentrating too hard to notice the slight shadow she still cast, and the little cat wanted to observe her person at work. Becca was methodical, moving slowly through the items on top of the tiny fridge one by one and replacing them with care. Opening the fridge, she made a point of sniffing at various jars and bottles, even when the rancid nature of some long-forgotten takeout nearly knocked her head back. For Clara, this was enlightening. She’d only seen Becca research in books or on her computer. Here she could witness for herself the disciplined and thorough nature of her work.

It wasn’t quick, though, and Clara was aware of the passage of time as her person made her way around the room. Although it wasn’t spacious, taking up maybe half as much footage as the tiny shop out front, the room was packed. And the lounge area that had been carved out of one corner, with that overstuffed couch and the coffee table, the tiny kitchenette and the bathroom, were the only areas not lined with shelving and boxes and paper. Clara didn’t know much about inventory, but she had a sneaking suspicion that Margaret was as disorganized a record keeper as she was an employer.Missing funds indeed, the little cat thought with a disdainful sniff.

As she watched, Clara grew increasingly aware of the daylight fading outside—and increasingly alarmed that Becca was not. Becca still had not closed the bathroom door, and while the indoor light would not be that noticeable during the afternoon, as twilight descended, the illuminated window would certainly call attention to itself. Even if Margaret or Elizabeth came by to turn off a forgotten light, Becca could get in trouble, she realized with growing concern. If only her person would notice and shut that door. If only she had Laurel’s power of implanting a suggestion in a human’s brain. If only her sealpoint sister was here with her now.

Clara did her best, concentrating on the window, the light, trying to visualize the portal from Becca’s viewpoint, only showing it as brighter and more obvious. When she failed at transmitting that image to her human, she pictured it instead as it might seem from outside, glowing in the growing dark like a beacon. A clear indicator, if anyone was looking, that someone was inside.

It was no use. Becca was oblivious. And as her cat, all Clara could do was wait, which she did, with an impatience more akin to a hungry Harriet than her usual forgiving self. By then, Becca was working her way down the shelving behind the lounge area, and Clara could only hope she would soon turn and notice the bathroom light. Indeed, when Becca stopped and stared for a moment at the open door, her feline heart leaped. Either her thoughts were finally getting through to her person, or Becca had realized her error.

“The windowsill!” Becca exclaimed out loud, confusing her cat. “Of course!”

Following her person back to the small bathroom, Clara soon had her hopes dashed. Instead of flicking off the light, Becca simply stopped in the doorway and studied the long, high window. Open on one side, where Becca had made her way in, the window had a deep sill that ran along the top of the wall. Sure enough, down at the other end, three potted plants enjoyed the fading glow of the back room’s only natural light. Two were succulents, the closest, an aloe, showing signs of a recent trimming. The third, however, had glossy green leaves and a dying blossom, a sad bruised purple, still hanging from its stem. As Clara watched, Becca climbed up on the toilet seat and, reaching, broke off one of those leaves as well as the limp flower. Wrapping them in toilet tissue, she slipped them in her pocket and washed her hands. Smart moves, Clara knew, but steps that kept her pet from giving the plant material the thorough sniffing she would have liked.

The running water also covered a sound that immediately put Clara’s fur on edge. A sound that Becca’s less sensitive ears were likely to miss. The scrape of metal on metal, followed by the slide of a bolt.

Someone was unlocking the shop’s front door.

Clara whirled around as the door creaked ever so faintly, her tail fluffing as her multicolored fur spiked in alarm. She and Becca would make a run for it. They would fight. They would…but Becca did not react. Whoever was out there was being careful, opening the door carefully so as to not cause the bells to jingle. Was it possible that Becca really hadn’t heard anything? How could she not be aware, as the cat at her side was, of the slow footsteps making their way into the front room?

To Clara’s horror, Becca appeared lost in thought—or in contemplation of the paper towel she was using to dry her hands—and no amount of concentration on her cat’s part was getting her attention. To make matters worse, Becca had pulled her phone from her pocket and had begun fussing with it.

“This is no time to check your messages!”Clara’s urgent warning went unheeded. As the footsteps approached, the calico considered her meager options. Should she run to the front room? Perhaps if she dropped her shading, she could startle the intruder into making some sound. Or better yet, trip the person and also slow her—his?—approach.

If only Laurel were here…

“Move over!”The hiss startled Clara so badly, she nearly fell. But as she scrambled back, she was able to see a chocolate-tipped shadow leap to the sink. Blue eyes blazed down at her for a split second, then turned upward to focus on the pale and distracted face of their human.

“Becca! Listen! Someone’s coming!”Laurel’s thoughts were so loud, even Clara could hear them.“You’ve got to get out of here. Now!”

It wasn’t a tone Clara would ever take with Becca. Even as a silent suggestion, her sister’s distinctive Siamese yowl was sharp enough to pin Clara’s ears back. But whether it was that psychic caterwaul or Becca had finally come to her own senses, it broke through their person’s preoccupied daze. Suddenly alert, Becca started, staring wide-eyed at the open bathroom door.

“She’s going to close it.” Clara began to panic.“She’s going to try and hide!”

“No!”Laurel’s silent cry stretched out into three syllables, and Clara could have sworn she heard the rasp of claws.“Na-oh-wow!”

Becca turned at last back toward the window. From the toilet to the sill, she clambered, almost as graceful as a cat herself. And then through the window and out.

“Thank you!” Clara turned to her sister once Becca was safely through.

“No more sense than a kitten!” Those blue eyes flashed, and then Laurel, too, was gone.

Chapter 33

Clara didn’t even stop to smooth her fur before she leaped too, emerging in the lot behind the store in time to see Becca dashing for the dumpster. After a quick grooming—necessary for her nerves as well as comfort and appearance—Clara joined her, slipping behind the metal container to where her personwas crouching.

“Laurel?” Clara cast about for any sense that her sister was still around.“Are you here?”

A faint shimmer in the air made her turn. But when neither Laurel’s blue eyes nor her distinctive yowl emerged from the darkness around them, she settled back. Her sister had come to the rescue of their person, Clara told herself. She had heard her call and done what Clara could not. For that, the plump calico knew, she should be grateful.

If only she could get Becca to move on. Although her sensitive feline ears could pick up movement from inside the building, all appeared still out here. And yet Becca remained in what had to be an uncomfortable position for a human, squatting behind the dumpster like she was stalking prey.

“Of course!” Clara turned toward Becca with a new appreciation. Now that her person was out of danger, she would want to gather information and find out what was going on.

She didn’t have long to wait. With a squeak like a frightened rodent, the back door swung open. Although Clara’s eyes were trained on the entrance, she could hear the intake of breath as Becca saw the door swing open. Maybe it was the shadow that reached across the lot as the back room’s light spilled out. Maybe it was the way the figure paused, scanning the empty space and seeming to settle, if briefly, on the dumpster, where Becca had frozen motionless following that one quick gasp.

Or maybe it was who had stepped into the darkness, holding the back door open behind her. Elizabeth Sherman, a scowl on her hawk-like face, stared into the darkness as if she could see the young woman and the cat hidden there. Then, without a word, she stepped back inside and closed the door. A moment later, the light went out, and all was still.

“Elizabeth.” Becca said the name out loud, like she was trying out the taste in her mouth. “She can’t know…” Her voice dropped off as her awareness of her surroundings grew, but Clara could fill in what her person left unsaid. Becca had been careful during her brief exploration of the store’s back room. It was unlikely that the older woman would be able to tell if anyone had been there—a light could have so easily been left on by accident. There was certainly no way for Margaret’s sister to know that Becca had been the trespasser. And yet, the way she had stared at the dumpster had been unnerving, reminding Clara of how the woman had apparently seen her the day they had first met, despite the magical shading that cloaked her from others’ eyes.

After a few more minutes went by, Becca rose cautiously and, hanging close to the wall, made her way to the street. She walked slowly, and at first Clara wondered if the prolonged hiding had left her stiff. But a glimpse of her person’s face revealed Becca’s preoccupation. Clara couldn’t be sure if Becca had been able to see how the older woman had stared, with almost catlike focus, at their hiding place. But Becca was certainly mulling over the ramifications of that plant—proof, it seemed, of a dangerous lie.

A metallic shriek had them both spinning around, and Clara’s back arched in fear.

“Tiger!” Despite her excitement, Becca kept her outcry to a whisper, for which Clara was grateful. Still, the little cat eyed the black bicycle, which had come to an abrupt halt by the curb, warily. “You were right!”

“You checked out the shop?” He sounded impressed. “They let you in?”

“I snuck in, to be honest.” Becca sounded half ashamed and half proud of her feat.

“Wow, good for you!” Smiling, he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial hush. “You’re getting good at this.”

“Thanks.” Becca didn’t bother to hide her answering grin. “When you told me that Gaia used to sneak in, I realized it was possible to get in through the back window.” She stood up straight, head back. “She’s a little taller than me, but not by much. And you were right. I found the wolf’s bane in the bathroom. Up on the ledge, where it could get some light.”

“You think the cops will believe you?”

“They have to.” Becca was beaming. “I’ve got proof. I broke off a branch for evidence.”

“This is so great.” He laughed, showing those white teeth. “You’re brilliant, Becca!”

“Thanks.” Becca looked down, blushing, though whether because of the young man’s praise or the way he was looking at her, Clara couldn’t tell.

“I couldn’t have done it better myself.” He reached for her hand. To Clara’s surprise, Becca stepped away.

“I don’t know…” Even in the dim light, Clara could see that her person had gone pale. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.”

“What?” Tiger appeared confused by Becca’s sudden change in mood.

“I’m wondering if it was foolish of me to take a sample. I mean, if I show up with some of the poisonous plant, that could make police suspect me, don’t you think?”

He laughed.“You? Becca, come on. They’d know better.”

“I don’t know.” She bit her lip. “I think maybe I’ve got to think about this a bit. Maybe go see Gaia again.”

“Gaia?”

“Yeah.” Becca’s brow wrinkled in thought. “I want to find out more about when Elizabeth warned her about the wolf’s bane and when it disappeared. I mean, maybe there’s been a mistake. I’m getting the feeling that I’m missing something.”

“But if you wait, then Elizabeth might get rid of it.”

“Doesn’t matter. I also took some photos of the shelf in the bathroom, but the light wasn’t great.” She held her phone over for Tiger to see as she clicked on the app. “See?”

He took the device.“Is this inside the store?”

She nodded as he thumbed through, growing more concerned as his face grew serious.“They’re not great shots, are they?”

“I don’t know.” He sounded doubtful.

“Of course! They can still say it was a plant, so to speak.” Becca leaned over. “Wait, that was from earlier. Here, this is the best one. Between this and the sprig, that’s got to be enough for them to at least look into Elizabeth, right? Even if they also suspect me?”

“You know, maybe the police have a point. Maybe you should just let it go.” Tiger sounded shaken. “The cops are already investigating Margaret, and Gaia’s had a hard enough time. Besides, this could still implicate you.”

“That’s sweet of you.” Becca didn’t sound convinced. “But this is what I do, Tiger. Or, well, what I want to do. I’m a researcher, and that means I’m an investigator, and Gaia is my client, so I owe it to her to find out what I can and bring her the results. Besides, I kind of have a friend in the department.”

“Well, just leave me out of it, okay?” He chuckled, but there was a brittle edge to his laugh. “Gaia already thinks I’m kind of a nut. Next thing you know, she’ll think I’m trying to get back together with her or something, and I, well, you know how I feel, Becca.”

“Thanks, Tiger. I do.” Becca smiled at Tiger as he righted his bike and rode off down the street. But even as she began to walk the other way, back to the square, it was clear to her cat that her mind was already a million miles away.

Chapter 34

“If only I could ask you three for advice.” Becca appeared lost in thought. “Maybe you could help me decide what I should do.”

Worried about any additional detours, Clara had stuck close to Becca’s side as she walked home. Still, she managed to slip in moments before Becca unlocked the door to find Harriet and Laurel sitting there waiting.

“What took you so long?” Laurel’s sharp Siamese yawp sounded like a question and an accusation all at once.“Can’t you manage her any better?”

“Now, now, Laurel.” Once Becca had fed them, Harriet immediately became more conciliatory.“We each have our tasks.”

“What tasks?” Clara looked up at her oldest sister, but Harriet’s round golden eyes merely blinked once before returning to her dish.

“If only you were really my familiars.” Becca was leaning back on the counter. Although Clara’s ears flipped back to catch the sigh that followed those words, it was clear that Becca was simply airing her thoughts. “My great-great-grandmother referred to her cat as her familiar, but maybe that was just a figure of speech. Or, I don’t know, a convention of the time. She couldn’t have actually conversed with her cat, could she?”

Clara’s ears flicked, but a heavy paw came down on hers. Harriet.

“No.”

Clara pulled back.“But you were the one who started her on this whole magic thing. If you hadn’t summoned…” She stopped. There was no way to remind Harriet that it was her laziness that had prompted their person to believe she was a witch without insulting her. Besides, Becca had already shown an interest in magic by then.

“It’s in the family,” Harriet mumbled, her mouth full.“It was going to happen anyway.”

“And you’re the one who is supposed to look out for her.” Laurel shot a glance Clara’s way as she sat back and began to wash her face.“Not lecture your elder sisters!”

“I’m sorry.” Clara dipped her head and stepped back from her food dish. Laurel eyed the leftovers, but wisely let Harriet dive in.“But I don’t understand.”

“Don’t be such a kitten.” Laurel sat back to wash her face, scrubbing at her tawny fur with one brown mitt.

“I just feel like you could help me sort this out.” Becca was speaking to herself. Clara knew that. And yet she couldn’t help reaching out to her person, which she did, batting at her leg with one gentle paw.

“What is it, Clara?” Becca roused to lift her pet, cradling her in her arms. “Did Harriet steal your food again?”

“Did not!” A faint grunt of protest as the marmalade cat looked up, her yellow eyes narrowing.

“I didn’t say you did,” Clara mewed softly.“I only wanted to let Becca know that we’re here.”

“So much for being discreet.”Laurel’s implication was clear.

“That’s not fair.”Clara squirmed in Becca’s grasp, desperate to make her sisters understand.

“Whoa, okay!” Becca released her and she jumped to the floor, but even as she did, she turned toward her person with a plaintive mew.

“You three.” Becca shook her head. “You’re worse than the coven sometimes.”

The three littermates froze. This was too close to home.

“Speaking of, I wonder if I should consult the coven?” Becca wandered back into the living room.

“We have to be more careful!” Clara did her best to keep the hiss out of her tone. It wouldn’t help to antagonize her sisters more.“You know the law!”

“I’m not the one who was squealing like a…like a…”Harriet’s short nose bunched up in thought.

“Like a little mouse,” Laurel purred.“Clara, you’re such a clown sometimes.”

“Clara the clown!”Harriet echoed, her voice taking on a singsong quality.

It was all Clara could do to keep from snarling in her own defense. Instead, tail down in a dispirited droop, she followed her person into the living room and jumped up on the sofa beside her.

“Hi, Ande?” As Clara leaned in, Becca absently stroked her spotted back. “Do you have a few minutes?”

Clara couldn’t hear the response as Becca shifted, reaching for her laptop. And as much as she would have liked to spread herself across the warm keyboard, she contented herself with leaning against Becca’s hip as her person quickly typed out some notes.

“Thanks. I’ve been working on this case, and I’ve sort of hit an impasse.” As Clara watched, Becca summoned up a familiar picture. The plant they had just seen, only set in what looked like a lush summer garden. “What can you tell me about aconite—wolf’s bane?”

A slight squawk, as if from a startled sparrow, had Becca shifting.“No, I’m not. I’m trying to stay clear of what happened to Frank Cross. I promise.” Clara looked up at her person. Becca rarely lied, but this was stretching the truth. “Though I do wonder…”

More squawking, and Becca put the phone on the table.

“Hang on,” she said. “Okay, I’ve put you on speaker so I can look it up. Yup, this looks right.”

“What? Becca, what’s going on?” The voice of the other coven member was tinny but recognizable. “You have an aconite plant there? With your cats?”

“No.” Becca shook her head, although the other witch couldn’t see her. “I mean, I have a cutting, but it’s all wrapped up. I wanted to make sure it was from Gaia’s plant.”

“Wait, Gaia, who was having an affair with Frank? Asafetida Gaia? She has aconite, the real thing? Do the police know? Because aconite poisoning can look like a heart attack.”

“I gathered that already.” Becca’s voice dropped. “I also think it might be what made her so sick. I don’t know if you heard—she’s in the hospital.”

“She’s—” Ande caught herself. “Becca, this sounds bad. You don’t think it was some murder-suicide pact, do you?”

“I don’t think so.” Becca bit her lip, deep in thought. “Though someone told me that Gaia knew Frank had a heart condition. A ‘bad ticker.’ Only Gaia’s plant was stolen. That’s the one that I have a clipping from.”

“Wait, I’m missing something.” Ande’s confusion came through loud and clear. “Back up. You have a cutting, but you got it from a plant that was stolen?”

“Yeah, it’s a longish story, Ande. Gaia said Elizabeth Sherman, you know, Margaret Cross’s sister, took the plant from her after telling her how dangerous it was. But Elizabeth said she didn’t, even though I found it at Charm and Cherish, in the back room, and—”

“Hold on.” Clara could almost see the taller witch holding up a long, slim hand to stop Becca from going further. “You went into the back room? I thought the store was closed.”

“It is.” Becca lowered her eyes even as she worked to keep the embarrassment from her voice. “But, Ande, I had a tip. And, well, this is what I do now. I investigate.”

“You got atip?” Clara’s ears pricked up. The other witch sounded suitably disturbed. “Becca, why aren’t you taking this to the police? This is serious.”

The calico breathed a sigh of relief at this good common sense, but Becca was shaking her head.“I can’t, exactly,” she told her friend. “I mean, Tiger pointed out that it could make it look like I’m involved. You know?”

“Tiger?” Ande might not have been able to see the slight flush that crept over her cheeks, but she must have heard something in her tone. “I don’t think I’ve heard about any Tiger.”

“Oh, Tiger? He’s, uh, he’s Gaia’s ex. He’s been helping. Well, kind of…” There was no hiding the stammer now.

“Becca.” Ande cut her off. “I don’t need any special powers to know that something else is going on here.”

“It’s not…it’s not what it seems.” Becca rallied to complete the sentence. “They’re broken up, but he still cares about her. She told me that herself.”

“Uh-huh.” Ande’s voice dripped with skepticism. “And he’s telling you all of this and not her, why?”

“Because.” Becca was firm. “He doesn’t want to talk with her. He feels he needs to keep his distance and not, you know, give her false hope.”

“Well, then, that makes things easy for you.” Clara looked up as Becca drew a breath. “I didn’t mean like that, Becca. Though, if they really aren’t together, well, why not? But what I meant was kind of the opposite. I may be wrong, but it sounds like this guy is getting your head in a muddle.”

Clara looked at her person, but Becca didn’t respond and Ande kept talking.

“Okay, I don’t like any of this, but you want my advice, right? I say you should go to the cops. But if you’re not ready to do that, and you want to know more about this plant and the sisters Gaia used to work for, then why don’t you ask Gaia? She doesn’t have to know her ex-boyfriend wasinvolved. Does she?”

Chapter 35

“I don’t like it. But I never liked any of this.” Laurel was grooming as Becca hurried to get dressed the next morning. Much to the sealpoint’s dismay, Tiger hadn’t called, and Becca had spent the evening online. Her one call in the morning had been to the hospital to ask about visiting hours.“I blame that girl, with her fake hair and all those piercings. That girl is a liar.”

“If someone wasn’t such a stickler for the rules…” Harriet fixed Clara with her yellow eyes. For once, Clara felt she couldn’t meet her gaze.

“I know,” the multicolored cat acknowledged, dipping her head. She had already let her fluffy oldest sister finish her breakfast, the uncertainty of the day having chipped away at the plump calico’s own appetite.“But we have to be extra careful,” she murmured to her sisters in her own defense.“Becca suspects something, I know it.”

“Well, of course. Because you let yourself be seen by that Elizabeth woman.”Laurel wasn’t letting this drop. But Clara didn’t hear her. She was already shimmying through the door to follow Becca as her person hurried down to the street.

That didn’t mean the calico wasn’t mulling over what her sisters had said as her person set out at a brisk pace, her hat jammed down over her brown curls. Laurel’s claim that Clara herself was responsible for the cats almost being revealed struck particularly close to home, she thought as she trotted down the sidewalk, careful to stay shaded in the early morning sun. Clara still couldn’t forget how the store owner’s older sister had looked at her—hadaddressedher—although Clara had thought she was being so careful, and she replayed the scene again and again as Becca made her way swiftly through the morning commuters. Clara had to dart to keep up, but the questions kept resurfacing, distracting the little cat as she ran. Had she let something slip in her concern for Becca? Was Becca beginning to suspect that her three cats were more than ordinary house pets? If their person kept up with her research, she was sure to uncover more about the long interaction between the women of her line and the cats who loved them.

That history, Clara knew, was why the rules had been initiated. Centuries may be long to humans, but to cats, who pass along memories from generation to generation, they were only a swish of the tail. And Clara knew as well as her sisters that when humans had last found out that their cats had the powers to protect and serve them, well, that had ended badly for both the pets and their people. Those bad old days were why the cats had the rules that now governed Clara’s family.

But was it time for them to change? As Clara followed Becca back to the hospital, she thought about the coven that her person had joined so openly. Witchcraft was no longer forbidden, and while it seemed in some ways like magic had become devalued, it also appeared that any actual danger in practicing the old ways was past. Clara had always been so careful in how she observed the law, even taking on her sisters. Only now that she thought about it, about Elizabeth seeing her and how much easier it would make things for Becca if she could do the same, she couldn’t help but wonder.

Would it really be that awful if Becca knew what her feline family could do for her and how much the three of them really loved her?

That is, assuming they did.

“I’m pretty sure Laurel and Harriet love Becca. They have to…” Clara barely voiced the thought. After all, Laurel had come to Becca’s aid. Or was that only because Clara had called her? And surely Harriet had grown fond of the curly-haired young woman who had proved so reliable with the treats.“Just because they complain…”

The little cat was brought up short as Becca stopped suddenly before her. It took her a moment to realize they had already arrived at the main entrance to the hospital, and the law-abiding Becca was taking a moment to power down her cell.

Gaia was expected to be released today, she had gathered from Becca’s earlier inquiry. That explained why she had rushed right down after feeding the cats and before even taking any coffee for herself. But Clara could see no sign of the slight, black-haired girl anywhere on the sidewalk or inside the big glass doors once Becca had stepped through them. In fact, she could only make out three people in the lobby, an elderly couple and an orderly, his eyes on the elevator as it pinged its way down.

“Hey there!” The voice made Becca turn. Gaia, looking pale but happy, was walking toward her, a white hospital bag under one arm. “Did your sensitivities let you know I was being released?”

“Not exactly.” Clara could hear the happiness in her person’s voice. “Admissions did. But I’m glad. Actually, I was hoping we could talk, really talk. I’ve got a ton of questions.”

The other woman nodded. Without her usual makeup, she looked younger. Better, too, thought Clara.“Sure, I owe you, I think. Besides,” she held up her phone, which, contrary to the posted regulations, glowed with life. “My ride’s going to be a few. I’m not quite up to walking yet.”

“I’m sorry.” Becca backtracked. “I didn’t even ask. How are you feeling?”

“A little weak. I’m glad you…well, you may have saved my life.”

“I wish I could credit my powers, but I really just kept calling you because I wanted to get you to come down to the police with me.”

“Stupid me, huh?” The pierced brow rose as she smiled. “But now I’ve told that fat cop everything I know.”

“You told him about the wolf’s bane?” Becca asked. The other woman dipped her head in a quick, embarrassed acknowledgment. “Did you tell him that you thought Elizabeth stole it?”

Gaia’s expression turned equivocal. “I told him that it disappeared, but I don’t know…”

“That’s just it.” Becca leaned in. “I do. I saw it. Tiger told me where to look.”

“Tiger? How did he know?”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought him up. Though, to be honest, I have some questions about him, too.”

“I know, you want him to talk to the cops, and I’ll work on him.” She sighed. “I think he’s hoping that, after all this, we’ll get back together.”

Whatever Becca had been about to say appeared stuck in her throat.“Gaia?” After a moment’s pause, she tried again. “How well do you know Tiger?”

A snort of laughter.“What’s to know? He’s a nice guy. Hey, he brought me a change of clothes.” She hefted the white plastic bag. “I did not want to wear these home again. Not after being so sick.”

Becca wasn’t going to be distracted. “You don’t think he’s a bit too involved in what’s going on? I mean, with Frank and all?”

“Tiger?” She didn’t bother to hide her humor. “No way. He’s sweet, but he’s a straight shooter. I mean, his motives are clear.”

“Poor Becca.” As much as Clara wanted to, she couldn’t rub against her person. She didn’t really understand what Becca was getting at, but she did know she didn’t want her person to be hurt again.“And Laurel didn’t see this coming.”

“I’m glad for you.” Becca managed to sound normal. She even wrangled a smile as the other woman turned toward her. “I mean, if that’s what you want.”

“Yeah, I think so.” A girlish shrug and another smile. “We’ll see, right? Hey, you want a ride? We can talk to him together.”

“Now?” Becca squeaked like a cornered mouse. “No, no, thanks.”

“Okay.” Gaia was too distracted to notice. “Well, thanks for coming by. I appreciate the visits, and, you know, everything you’ve done. Maybe that crazy Elizabeth is right.” She flashed a wide grin. “Maybe you really do have some magic powers after all.”

“Miss, are you feeling ill?”

The orderly hovered. Becca had stepped back as Gaia had headed out the door. She’d only closed her eyes for a moment, but the hospital staff was alert.

“I’m fine.” Becca stood up straight. “It’s just…personal stuff. Men.” She was trying for brave, Clara knew, and loved her all the more for it.

“Tell me about it.” The woman in scrubs turned toward the glass double doors. Gaia could be seen on the sidewalk, craning her head eagerly toward the street. “They go for the fragile type, don’t they? She has that poor Tiger wrapped around her finger.”

Becca’s smile wobbled, only to give out entirely as she made her own slow way toward the exit. Clara couldn’t blame her. As grateful as she was that her person found out about Tiger’s duplicity before anything had happened between them, she still understood her disappointment. It might not be exactly the same as waiting at a promising mouse hole all night, only to realize it was really a crack in a baseboard, but it was similar. One got one’s hopes up, and it hurt to reconcile with reality.

Clara kept her eyes on Becca as she ambled through the hospital lobby. Of course, Becca was dispirited, but she was moving so slowly her cat began to worry. Was she remembering her questions, the ones she hadn’t asked? Or, no…as Clara caught her looking out through the lobby’s glass doors, she understood. Becca was waiting for Gaia to be picked up, hoping to avoid an awkward meeting with the faithless Tiger.

“She could have him if she wanted.” An unexpected voice in her ear caused Clara to jump. Although she couldn’t see Laurel, she would recognize her sister’s distinctive yowl anywhere.“He was seriously interested in her. I could tell.”

“She doesn’t want him if he really wants to get back with Gaia.” Clara turned toward the where a glint of blue betrayed her sister’s presence.“Even if he doesn’t, he’s nasty to lead Gaia on.”

“She was sad.” A faint disturbance in the air signaled the flick of a tail.“He wanted to make her feel better.”

Clara wisely held her tongue. Besides, Becca had stepped closer to the windows that looked out on the entrance. If her person was braving the visual confirmation of her crush reuniting with Gaia, she was going to stand there with her, whether she could comfort her or not. She could feel the shuddering breath Becca drew as she watched Gaia raise an arm in greeting. A tan beater—a Toyota, easily twenty years old—pulled up, its fender held in place with a bungee cord. But it wasn’t the reappearance of the battered old car that made Becca gasp.

The young man who had jumped out of the driver’s seat wasn’t the tall, pale bike messenger Becca had come to know. This man wore a leather jacket with his jeans, and the blond tips of his black hair stood out as he reached for Gaia’s bag.

Chapter 36

“Gaia, wait!” Becca broke into a run, plowing through the knot of people waiting for the revolving door. “Gaia!”

But even the haste that won her several hard stares and one loud complaint wasn’t enough. By the time she was through, the car had driven off, with Gaia settled in the passenger seat. Becca pulled her phone from her pocket and stared at its blank screen in disbelief.

“Guard!” Becca whirled around and then raced back inside, looking for a uniform. An official. Anyone.

“That girl your friend?” A graying man stroked what looked like a day’s growth of beard.

“Yes, and she just—that driver…she thinks it’s her ride share, but he may be dangerous.” She punched a code into her phone. “Come on!”

“She got in the car willingly?” the man asked, his voice thoughtful.

“Yeah, but…” Glancing up from her device, Becca looked once more out the window and then, turning back, she took in the slight, elderly man on crutches beside her. Purple bruising ran from the edge of his tonsure of graying hair down to his whiskery chin, but the dark eyes that peered into hers were clear, their gaze piercing.

“I’m sorry,” she said with a sigh of resignation. “That was rude of me to push through like that. Pointless, too.”

He shrugged and a smile brightened his features.“You were scared. I’m used to it. Nobody sees us old folks. ’Specially not girls like that. I wouldn’t worry too much about that one, though. Like I said, she got into that car with her eyes wide open.”

“I really am sorry.” Beck paused to take in the man before her. It wasn’t just the beard that gave him a slightly scruffy appearance. His khakis, which dragged as if sized for a taller man, were stained, and that cheery smile revealed several missing teeth. “Do you need some assistance?” Her voice, as she asked, became soft, like she was afraid of offending.

“Me? Nah.” He waved her off with hands chapped rough. “I’m doing better than anyone expected. Charmed, I am. One vet helps another.” He chuckled at some private joke.

“Mr. Harris?” a worried male voice called across the lobby. “There you are. Come on, Bill, we’ve been waiting.” A tall orderly in lime green scrubs was loping toward them.

“My valet,” the ragged man said with a wink to Becca.

“Bill Harris.” The orderly took the older man’s upper arm. “You’re due in PT. You weren’t trying to walk out again, were you?”

“Just keeping an eye on the young lady here.” That smile again. “Sentry duty.”

“More like an old sailor’s tricks.” The orderly looked over at Becca, his wide face creased with concern. “He wasn’t bothering you, was he, miss?”

“No, not at all.” She shook off the suggestion as comprehension dawned. “Wait—Bill Harris, are you the man who was hurt in the hit-and-run? They said a veteran…”

“At your service, miss.” A dip of the tonsured head. “Only it may be a while before I’m cleared for duty again. Gotta watch out for those waves.”

“Mr. Harris?” The orderly tugged gently, turning the man. “Don’t you remember we talked about this? You’re not in the Navy anymore.”

“We’re still at war, son.” The bruised face gone serious. “And this young lady, she’s on the front lines. You remember what I told you, missy,” he said as he was led away. “Eyes wide open!”

***

“What was that about?” Becca mused as the two slowly ambled off. “Maybe he thought I was USO? I mean, I’ve heard of the WAVEs but…” Although she wasn’t addressing Clara, the calico took her question seriously. Becca was mostly concerned with Gaia and with the identity of the man who had driven her off, the little cat knew. But the stranger who had accosted her person was of more interest to the little cat.

“I wish I understood.” Clara looked up to see Becca chewing on her lower lip, a sure sign that she was deep in thought. When she once again consulted her phone, Clara breathed a sigh of relief. Surely, her person was going to call for aid or a consult. As much as her cats were not fans of Becca’s coven, there was a place for other humans in their person’s life. But when Becca simply stood there, staring at the device, she realized something else was going on.

“Is it possible?” Becca’s voice was too quiet for any but her cat to hear. But lacking Laurel’s particular skill, the shadowed feline could do nothing but wait.

The hospital lobby, however, was not a safe place for a small creature. Although Becca was standing by the door, Clara soon realized that she needed to take cover. The same craft that enabled her to virtually disappear could all too easily cause even the most careful pet lover to trip over the little feline. So after the third near collision, Clara scooted over to a bench that ran along the window. She might not be able to hear everything that Becca said from here, but she could keep an eye on her and keep herself safe.

“Watch it!”

Clara whirled at the unmistakable hiss.“Laurel?”

A slow blink made the almond-shaped blue eyes disappear and then appear again in the shadow by the bench’s legs.“I was wondering when you’d have the sense to get out of the way.”

“What are you doing here?”This was the second time Laurel had surprised her, and as much as she welcomed her sister’s assistance, Clara had to admit the sealpoint’s sudden appearance had unnerved her.

“Whataren’t you doing is more like it.”Laurel’s distinctive voice wound her own question up into a caterwaul, and Clara looked around in concern.“Oh, don’t be such a clown, Clara! You think these people can even hear themselves think?”

That stopped her, and she looked toward where her sister’s shadow could be seen as a vaguely lighter area against the bench.“Laurel, can you hear what Becca’s thinking? The way she was staring at her phone has me a little concerned.”

The eyes went wide in mock surprise.“But I thought you didn’t want me listening in on Becca. Now this is interesting…”

“Please, Laurel.”Clara was at a loss to explain.“Something is going on, and I’m worried.”

“Why don’t you just go back out there?” Her sister blinked, her shade retreating into the darkness.“And listen for yourself?”

Sure enough, Clara saw, Becca was no longer staring at her phone. Instead, she held it up to her ear. But even feline senses were no match for the cacophony of the lobby, and so Clara made her way back to her person, darting around a family of four and a large man on crutches to stand as close to Becca’s feet as she could without touching.

“Detective Abrams, please.” She kept walking, the phone up to her ear. “It’s Becca Colwin returning his call. Calls, I guess. He’s…what? He’s looking for me? I’m—no, you don’t have to pick me up. I’m going to Charm and Cherish. I should be there in about fifteen minutes. If hecan meet me there, I expect to have something to show him.”

Chapter 37

Clara looked around for her sister, but Laurel’s blue eyes didn’t peer back from under the bench. When the calico’s sensitive nose failed to catch any hint of another feline in the crowded foyer, she realized her sister had slipped away without her.

For one awful moment, Clara thought Becca had, too. Then she saw her person on the sidewalk and with a leap made it through the glass of the front window to land on the sidewalk beside her. But even had Clara not been shaded, Becca might not have noticed the sudden appearance of her pet beside her. As she walked through the small crowd of a taxi line, Clara’s person seemed to be focusing on another world. Almost, the cat thought, as if she could see the unseen.

Could it be? As recently as a week before, the little cat would have thought this to be impossible. As much as Becca wanted to have magical powers, such abilities were solely the province of cats, or so the little calico had always believed. And although Becca’s research had brought her perilously close to the truth about her ancestors—those brave women who assisted their felines in the application of the craft—her approach was all wrong. As much as she loved the three littermates she’d adopted, Becca still viewed them merely as pets, rather than guides and teachers, a mistake that Clara had blithely assumed doomed any attempts at magic to failure.

In the last few days, however, Clara had found some of her core beliefs about her beloved person, and about her own powers, to be challenged. She simply didn’t know.

To be on the safe side, Clara kept herself cloaked as she tagged along after her person. Although they had cleared the crowd immediately outside the hospital, the little cat was concerned. Becca seemed to be lost in thought, oblivious to the city around her. Trotting alongside her person, Clara saw that she was frowning, her sweet face intent on something beyond the little cat’s perception. But since Clara could not smell any predators in the immediate vicinity, all she could do was fret over what was occupying her person so.

Hearing, however, was different. Clara was a city cat, and from her earliest days in the shelter she had become accustomed to the sounds of people and their machines. As a reasonable creature, she had an aversion to cars, and thus she was grateful when Becca turned down a residential street. She had a sense of where her person was heading—the store where she had asked that big detective to meet her was not that far away, especially if she took the bus from Harvard Square. Still, she stuck close by Becca’s feet.

As they turned down another corner, Clara realized that Becca was retracing her path of the other day, when she and the bike messenger had walked to the nearby square. This route was not only quieter, it was, Clara suspected, what her person would term a“shortcut,” a very human concept, but one that she accepted as her person’s choice.

As one tree-lined block followed another, Clara began to relax. The roar of the city’s traffic never totally disappeared, but as she trotted alongside Becca, she could hear other sounds that recalled different times. A bird sang somewhere unseen, and two squirrels squabbled over the first of the season’s acorns. In such a setting, the click of a bicycle gear merited no more than the flick of an ear. The squeak of a brake, though, that caused the cat to turn, as a sudden whiff of a familiar scent made her fur begin to rise.

“Becca!” The voice, friendly if a bit breathless, startled Clara’s person, who whirled around with a gasp.

“Sorry.” He smiled as he jumped off his bike and walked it up to her. He reached to embrace her and Becca almost tripped as she scrambled out of reach. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Tiger! Goddess bless.” Those were strong words for Becca, and for a moment Clara worried that her person had fallen harder than her pet knew. Only, there was a note in Becca’s voice that Clara couldn’t place. What was her person thinking? “It’s Gaia. I think she’s in trouble,” she started to explain, her face clouded with worry.

“Gaia?” He stepped back, considering.

“Yeah, I came by to talk to her. Only she left with someone, and, well, I’m heading over to meet with the police now.” Becca could have been talking to herself, she seemed so preoccupied. “But I think you were right. I think maybe Elizabeth was behind the poisoning.”

“I knew it.” Tiger nodded, a grim half smile spreading across his face. “I bet they’ll tie the poison in with Frank’s death, too.”

“That’s right.” Becca looked up at him. “You said Frank was poisoned from the start. Back before any of us had heard anything.”

She paused ever so briefly, lost in thought, and began to walk once more, heading, Clara knew, into the square.“Before Gaia had heard anything, come to think of it. Although, didn’t you say Gaia knew he had a bad heart?”

“Yeah, she did.” His face was unreadable as he walked beside her, rolling his bike by his side. “I remember her telling me. She must’ve forgot.”

“Funny thing for her to forget.” Becca could have been addressing the bricks of the sidewalk. “Come to think of it, you knew about Gaia being poisoned before anyone else, too.”

“Well, yeah. I was with her.” Those blue eyes went wide with innocence as he strode beside her.

“No, you weren’t.” Becca shook off his assertion as she kept walking. If her pace picked up a little, it was barely perceptible to any but the small cat who trotted by her side. “I was on the phone with her when she started getting sick. She was alone. I’m the one who called 9-1-1.”

As she talked, Becca turned a corner, and Clara saw the traffic of Harvard Square ahead. His bicycle at his side, Tiger lengthened his stride to move slightly ahead, a tilt of that handsome head as he tried once again to catch her eye.“And am I ever glad you did, but she called me first, and then I came by.” The assertion came out with force, like he was claiming the sick girl. “Truth is, I thought she was just being dramatic. Trying to get my attention.”

Becca shook her head again slowly and sighed, Clara thought, with a trace of sadness.“She wouldn’t do that. She broke up with you. She’s told me you’re the one who’s been trying to get back together.”

“Well, yeah.” That grin as he sped up, moving slightly ahead of Becca. Trying to get in front of her. To catch her eye. “The girl has some pride, after all. Good old Gaia. Crazy girl.”

“Not like her buddy Gail Linquist, huh?” Becca’s voice was flat. She was waiting as she walked, Clara realized, though for what, the loyal calico couldn’t tell.

“No way.” He was laughing, a broad chuckle that matched the slight rattle of his bike, as he shifted his grip on the black metal frame. “I never understood that friendship.”

“You don’t know her, do you?”

“Excuse me?” A burst of laughter followed, but when Becca finally turned to face him, she didn’t join in.

“Gaia—Gail—they’re the same person, and you don’t know her. You’re not her ex-boyfriend.” She said it simply, her voice a trifle sad. The noise of the traffic would have drowned out her words if they hadn’t stood so close to each other. “Your name isn’t Tiger.”

“I’m not?” One look. A laugh, and he gave it up. “Yeah, well…” With a tilt of his head, the tall, lean man smiled down at her. “You made that assumption, didn’t you? I just went with it. Come on, Becca. It was no big deal.”

“No big deal?” Her voice had taken on a steeliness that Clara didn’t recognize. “Why did you pursue me?”

Neither, apparently, did the cyclist beside her.“Why?” He chortled as if she had told a joke. “Why does a guy like me usually pursue a girl like you?”

“Why?” The steel replaced by ice. Another laugh, but something had shifted. He leaned back, straightening the bike. Becca started toward the intersection ahead, then stopped once more. “It had to do with the photos, didn’t it? The plant I saw, or…”

She paused, her eyes going wide.“You were the one who suggested I go back to the store. You egged me on, hoping I’d get caught. You called Margaret to tell her that you saw someone breaking in, only I hadn’t done it yet. But then, when I was foolish enough to break off a branch…” A gasp as the implications of that call—the missed messages, the police looking for her—hit home.

“Now wait a minute.” He reached out to take her hand, but she jerked her arm away. To Clara’s relief, Becca began to walk again, heading swiftly toward the noise and bustle of the busy street ahead. Taller than her by a head, the bike messenger had no problem keeping up, wheeling his black-framed bike by his side. They were almost at the corner. Clara lashed her tail, unsure what to do or how to intervene. “I never told you to climb in a window—”

“You knew I would.” Becca pulled her phone from her pocket and peered down at it as she walked, talking all the while. “You knew, because you saw me break into Frank Cross’s office. You must have been the one who told the police. Only you didn’t know what I’d found, did you? Until you saw…”

She slowed as she began poking at her phone.

“I’m sending that photo to the police.”

What happened next was too fast for Clara to react. Like a real jungle beast, the man they knew as Tiger lunged, grabbing for the phone in Becca’s hand. But Clara jumped as his bike clattered to the ground, tripping him as he surged forward.

“No, you don’t understand!” The fake Tiger struggled to his feet, reaching for Becca as she stumbled backward. Stumbled to the curb, desperate to get away. “I was trying to protect you. I would have if I could—”

To Clara’s dismay, Becca stopped. “What?”

“My bosses.” He stood and brushed off his knees as two women in suits pushed by. When he looked up, his face was sad. “They are not people you cross.”

“His new business partners…” Becca could have been talking to herself. “The ones Ande knew about but Margaret didn’t. The ones Gaia didn’t like…”

“I’m just the messenger,” he said, taking a careful step forward. “I pick things up and I drop them off. Sometimes, they have me clean up the mess.”

“Like Frank Cross?” Becca took another step backward. Already, the noise of the busy traffic was enough to nearly drown out her quiet query. “You knew about his affairs. About how he’d died before anyone else did.”

He nodded, coming closer.“He had a sweet deal, but he panicked. All he had to do was change out the plates and keep his mouth shut.”

Waves. The Ocean State, the symbol of Rhode Island. Clara didn’t know if she was picking up Becca’s thoughts or if she had heard this. Only that it was true.

“The hit-and-run?” Becca must have made the same connection. In the midst of the square’s bustle, she was a point of quiet inquiry.

The man before her nodded once again, his pale face sad.“It was an accident. One of the boss’s sons. He was drinking.” He shrugged. “We could get rid of the car, but we needed clean plates right away to make the trail disappear. All Frank had to do was keep quiet.”

Pedestrians parted around them. Behind her, the morning traffic was only beginning to die down.

“That’s all you have to do, too, Becca.” His voice was soft. The warmth had returned. “I don’t want to hurt you. Never did. Honest. I really like you. Now, just give me the phone.”

Time stood still as Clara looked from the man back to her person. Surely, the little device wasn’t worth the trouble. As the calico looked on, Becca held it up and took a step back.

He lunged. Grabbing the arm that held the phone, he wrestled it from her grasp. Only then did Clara see the cold glint in his eye as he pulled it free and pushed her backward into traffic.

“No!” Clara yowled. She was too small to push Becca to safety, too small to take down this predator with the assumed name. But appearing out of nowhere, she had the element of surprise. As Becca’s hat went flying, the calico leaped, making herself visible as her person stumbled after the little cloche, into the street.

“Clara?” Crying out the name, Becca caught herself, and, turning, fell to her knees beside the curb as a passing pickup truck crushed the hat into the pavement. “How…?”

But whatever she was going to say was caught up in a thunderclap of pain and noise, and Clara knew no more.

Chapter 38

“Wake up, little one.”A kind voice, long remembered.“Wake up!” The rough warmth of a tongue.“Wake up!”

“Mama?” Clara struggled to open her eyes, only to find Laurel’s steely blues glaring down at her.

“Move it!”Her sister’s hiss had an edge of—could it be?—fear, and Clara struggled to her feet.“Quickly!”

She was in Harvard Square, with Laurel’s shaded body, the merest hint of milky coffee in the afternoon light, propping her up against a curbstone.

“What happened?”Clara took a step and nearly fell as her right front leg gave out. Before she could hit the pavement, however, she felt herself pulled upright. Laurel had her by the scruff of the neck. Despite the pain—her paw was throbbing—the grip was strangely comforting, and Clara relaxed.

“Great Bast, you’re heavy!”Laurel muttered, her breath warm on Clara’s neck.“All righty, then. Off we go!”

Clara felt herself being lifted into the air, and the strange tingling of her guard hairs that signaled a passage through an earthly barrier.“Wait!” she managed to yell as she felt her sister begin to take flight.“We can’t leave Becca!”

“Becca’s fine.” Laurel growled through clenched teeth.“See for yourself.”

She turned, maneuvering Clara like a kitten. Sure enough, Becca was standing on the sidewalk, alone. The man she had known as Tiger appeared to have fled, leaving her gaping, her head swiveling between the sidewalk and the hat that now lay squashed flat in the road before her. But it wasn’t the cloche she seemed to see.

“Clara?” She was blinking at the traffic, which sped past unabated. “Clara kitty?”

“She can’t see us.”Laurel muttered.“Not now.”

“But she’ll be worried.” Despite the pulse of pain, she yearned to be back on the ground with her person.

“She’s about to be very busy,”said her sister. Sure enough, a siren added its wail to the noise, causing Becca to turn in its direction and set off at a run.“Now are you content, you silly clown? Because I’ve got enough to do to get us both home without having to answer all your questions.”

With that, Laurel began to purr, and the rising and falling vibration lulled Clara, who closed her eyes and felt herself a kitten again. She was carried like this once. She recalled a storm and a sudden exodus. The abandoned shed where she and her sisters had been born was no longer safe, a soft voice purred. They were going to a new home and to a new responsibility. They were to take up the mantle of the cats before them, joining forces to assist a young woman who was also just beginning to make her way in the world.

“You’ll be fine here.”She recalled a gentle push. A nudge with a wet nose sending her waddling after her sisters into the box trap the shelter worker had set out.“Look out for each other, girls!”

“We will, Mama,” Clara called. And her sisters? They must have been there before her. All she could remember was that rough, warm tongue.

“There we go. Almost all better now.”

It felt so good. The pain was almost gone, and Clara looked up to see not green eyes but gold. Harriet’s warm bulk towered over her as she groomed Clara’s injured leg. They were on the sofa, in Becca’s apartment. Safe.

“Harriet?” Clara blinked, confused.

“Hush, little one.” Between Harriet’s warm bulk and the reassurance of her purr, Clara relaxed. Strangely, she did feel better. She didn’t know Harriet could heal.

“There’s lots you don’t know, Clown.” Laurel, washing her own booties, murmured from her perch on the sofa’s back.“Not that you’d ever listen…”

“Hush.” Harriet looked up. Clara felt it too, the rapid patter of footsteps running up the stairs. A moment later, the sound of a key in the lock, and then Becca,their Becca, was racing in. She scooped Clara up in her arms.

“Clara! I was so worried.” She hugged the calico close. “I thought I saw you outside. I thought you were hit by a car. I was so scared.”

Clara mewed softly and squirmed to be put down. The affection was lovely, but the embrace was making her leg ache.

“Clara?” Becca held her pet before her, then gently placed her on the floor. Clara stepped gingerly. Yes, her leg no longer throbbed, and it bore her weight. Still, she lifted it ever so slightly. “You’re limping,” her person noted.

As if to prove her wrong, Clara walked over to Harriet and nuzzled her oldest sister. It was the least she could do.“Thank you.”

***

“I don’t understand. I was sure…” Becca shook her head. Without her new hat, her curls sprang free. Clara had never seen a more welcome sight. “Anyway, you’re here. All three of you, and now I’ve got to go. I’ve got to meet Detective Abrams and explain everything. The minute this isall settled, though, I’m taking you to the vet.”

“Good job.” Laurel’s retort lacked its usual bite, and Clara looked over at her sister.“Little Miss Know-it-all.”

Harriet, settling back on the carpet, simply closed her eyes and continued with that self-satisfied, healing purr.

“I have to say, this one is coming along rather well.”Laurel watched as, after another round of pets and some treats, Becca found another hat and, with a last backward glance, locked the door behind her.

“Coming along?”Clara looked at her sister.“You mean, she can learn?”

But Laurel only gave the feline equivalent of a shrug. And since Harriet was now sound asleep—snoring, in fact—Clara lifted her tender paw, shimmied her hind quarters, and leaped through the wall to follow their person back down to the street.

“Oh, don’t be silly.”The voice beside her startled Clara, and she landed hard on the sidewalk. Laurel’s presence was unnerving. Even more so was the feel of teeth on her skin as her older sister once again lifted her by the scruff. Sleepiness and that strange tingling, and then they were in Central Square, outside Charm and Cherish, as Becca came up the block.

“How did you…?”Clara twisted around to face her sister.

“Quiet, silly! Listen and learn.”

“Elizabeth!” Becca was banging on the door.

“Calm down, child.” The older sister was opening it, still in her cleaning clothes. “I knew you’d be back. All of you.”

“All? Never mind, I’m here to warn you. A plant, a poisonous plant, has been planted…I mean, someone is trying to frame…”

“Ah, Ms. Colwin.” She stopped talking as a large, familiar man stepped out of the back room. “Why am I not surprised to see you again?”

“I left a message that I’d meet you here.” Becca sounded a bit defensive. “I had to make a stop first.”

“And you thought you’d warn Ms. Elizabeth?” His voice rumbled like a growl. “Tell her to get rid of evidence?”

“It’s a plant.” Becca caught herself. “In both senses. I don’t think Elizabeth took it. I think Tiger, or whatever his real name is, did. He’s had it all along. The real Tiger said he’d seen someone hanging around. He must have stolen it from the shop after hearing Elizabeth lecture Gaia. He thought it might come in handy while he was keeping an eye on Frank Cross. Maybe he knew Elizabeth did some gardening—she had an aloe plant. Maybe he’d seen that and it gave him the idea, and when questions came up about Frank’s death, he tried to frame Margaret and Elizabeth.”

“I think you’re forgetting someone.”

“Gaia? She was an afterthought. Part of his ‘cleanup,’ in case she knew anything. Though I guess he might have wanted it to look like a guilt-ridden suicide attempt.”

Abrams was shaking his head.“No, Becca. You.”

“Me?” Becca blanched, and her hand went to her bag.

But the detective only smiled.“An over-eager amateur poking her nose in where it doesn’t belong could get in trouble, you know.”

Becca’s color turned from pale to pink. “You wouldn’t have known about the license plate without me. Or the wolf’s bane, for that matter.”

“We have Frank Cross’s financial records,” he said gently. “We have a description of the car. We knew he was in over his head.”

“But I gave you Tiger.”

“And I’m not going to prosecute you for soliciting as a private investigator without a license.”

Becca didn’t need Laurel’s suggestion to let the detective have the last word.

Chapter 39

The next few days were crazy, with phone calls and visits from Detective Abrams and his colleagues. Harriet was permanently fluffed with annoyance, and Laurel had taken to sleeping on her perch on the bookshelf, what with all the interruptions. Clara, however, kept closer to her person than ever. She’d seen the hat and remembered all too well how close she’d been to losing her. The plump calico was on the back of the sofa, nuzzling up to Becca’s neck, when Maddy came by with the news.

“They’ve found him. Tiger, that is.” Maddy held out her phone. “Your Tiger, I mean. That’s him, right?”

“Yeah.” Becca’s voice went soft as she read out loud. “That’s him—Thomas O’Hara. ‘A onetime bicycle racer, O’Hara had been disqualified for betting on his own races.’”

On the small screen, Clara could see that wide grin and the jet-black hair that fell over his eyes. Before she could examine the photo more closely, Becca let out a small cry.

“He’s dead,” she said. “Found unresponsive and later pronounced dead. Traces of the same toxic substance that have been linked to both an earlier homicide and an attempted poisoning of a potential witness were found on the victim.’” Becca looked at her friend, eyes wide. “The wolf’sbane.”

“Read on.” Maddy’s voice was grim. “They’re calling it an apparent suicide.”

“Suicide?” Becca didn’t sound convinced. “I remember what he said about his bosses. ‘Men you don’t want to cross.’”

“Either way, good riddance.”

Becca didn’t respond to that, but Clara could see how sad she was, even if her friend chose not to, and leaned in, purring. Sometimes, all you can offer is love.

***

When the carrier came out later that same day, Clara stared at it, confused. Surely, Becca didn’t think that her attentiveness, those extra cuddles and purrs, signaled something wrong. But before Clara could object, she was bundled inside the box-like contraption.

“Have fun!” Laurel looked at her through the metal grid.“Remember to howl like you’re suffering.”

“Maybe they’ll give you treats.” Harriet pushed her sister aside to stare into the case.“Maybe I should come, too.”

“Too late, Fatso.”Laurel ducked as Harriet’s big paw came swinging.

“Kitties! Cut it out!” Becca was putting on her coat. “I promise, your little sister will be back soon.”

“Like we care,”said Laurel. But Laurel, Clara was beginning to understand, talked a very different game than what she felt.

***

That realization, as well as the growing idea that perhaps her sisters were less useless than she had once thought, kept Clara distracted during the bumpy T ride that followed. Accustomed to moving freely, the little cat found the so-called cat carrier particularly uncomfortable. She knew, however, that sidling through its plastic sides to take a seat beside her person would cause more trouble than it was worth, and so she settled in as best she could, thinking about her strange deliverance as the subway rumbled along.

“Look after each other.” The voice, so warm and strangely familiar, didn’t belong to Becca. Even as her eyes closed in thought, Clara felt that to be true. Felt, as well, that Becca was part of the larger story, one that was only now being revealed.“You must all help each other to learn and to be strong.”

“Hello.” The deep male voice that broke into Clara’s reverie sounded vaguely familiar, as did the plain but friendly face that looked through the carrier’s grill.

“What happened to you, Miss Kitty?”

“Her name’s Clara.” Becca’s voice was tight with concern. “And I’m not exactly sure. I thought I saw, well…I thought maybe she had an accident, and then she was limping, so I thought I should bring her in.”

“Always better to check.” Warm hands lifted Clara out of the case and deposited her on a metal surface. “You know, if it’s an emergency, you can come in right away.”

“I know. I thought about it.” Clara glanced up, concerned. She had never meant to worry her person. To her surprise, Becca looked slightly flushed. “But I heard the hospital had a new feline specialist, and I really wanted you to see her.”

“Well, we can do some X-rays.” Those warm hands ran gently down her leg, which, by this point, barely ached. “Though she isn’t reacting like a cat ordinarily would to a break.”

“She’s very special.” The catch in her voice made Clara look up. The vet, too, apparently.

“Of course she is.” That deep voice sounded sympathetic, the brown eyes wide with concern. “Ms. Colwin? Didn’t we run into each other…I’m sorry, bad turn of phrase.”

Becca summoned a flash of a smile.“Yes, you pulled me out from under a cyclist. You told me to be careful, not that I listened. Wait…” She blinked, looking rather catlike, Clara thought. “You’re the one—the vet who helped the homeless man.”

That smile at last, with the dimples.“Yeah, I guess I should be glad that all emergency medicine is pretty much the same.”

“They said a vet, but I figured…never mind. I spoke with him, you know. I guess he’s going to be okay.”

“I’m glad.” Silence fell as their eyes met over the cat. “I gather he was living rough,” said the vet as the moment passed. “Maybe now he’ll get some support. Speaking of which…”

While the two humans had been speaking, Clara had stood and begun to explore the metal table. Sure enough, her leg now took her weight without any pain at all. Tail up and ears erect, she stood at the table’s end, looking from the vet to her person.

“Mew,” she ventured.

Chapter 40

“Frank Cross was mobbed up.” Becca’s bombshell elicited the expected gasp from Marcia, who sat back and stared, wide-eyed, at her host.

Ande, however, seemed unnaturally involved with the tea, fussing with the measurements as if they were rocket science.

“Ande, you knew?” Becca reached out to still her friend’s hands.

“I told you what I could.” She looked up, her face sad. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know for sure, and I didn’t want any trouble. I told you I wasn’t doing his books anymore.”

“I thought that was because he acted inappropriately.” Becca bit her lip. “Gaia said he was in league with some sleazy guys, and all the while Margaret kept insisting he worked alone. I should have figured it out.”

“You’re not psychic.” A trace of a smile lit up her dark eyes. “Even if you are a fine witch detective.”

“Yeah, but I thought…” Becca fondled the lapis pendant. “I guess I should trust my instincts more, and the magic less.”

“Man, this doesn’t look good for Charm and Cherish.” Marcia had recovered, though her eyes were still saucer-wide.

“No.” Ande’s voice was firm. “I made very sure that the store’s accounts were not involved with Frank’s. Money went out to him for his allowance, but that was it.”

“That’s good news.” Becca looked from one friend to the other, a grin spread across her face. “Because I’ve taken a part-time job there. Elizabeth insisted, and, honestly, I can use a regular income. She seems to think I have real potential—as a sales girl at least.”

Becca shrugged, and Clara looked from her to her sisters. The gray-haired woman had implied more than that, she knew. And for once, the little cat wanted her person to believe. Becca was good at what she did. She had figured out that Tiger was involved before her pet had. More to the point, there was more to their shared history than Clara had ever before considered.

Maybe some of that cautious optimism got through to Becca. Or maybe, the calico realized, there were other powers at work, because Becca looked around and then down at her favorite pet.

“Besides,” she said as her grin grew wider, “Charm and Cherish is a great resource—and I’ll get an employee discount.”

Chapter 41

“Dear Becca.”

Laurel was right! If she concentrated, she could“hear” Becca’s thoughts.

“How lovely to hear from you. I’ve been hoping you would contact me. I have so much to tell you, but, of course, I had to wait for you to ask…”

Clara’s eavesdropping was interrupted by Harriet.

“What’s going on?”

“She’s reading.” Clara tried to step around her sister. Contact, it seemed, was necessary for her to exercise this particular skill.“Something about her family.”

“Huh.”Harriet plopped down and began grooming her snowy belly fur, blocking her calico sibling.

“What’s up with you two?” Becca turned to look. “You’d think you want to read over my shoulder.” She paused and looked back at the screen. “Aunt Tabby does say I should pay attention to my cats. Funny, Elizabeth says that, too.”

“What are we doing?”Laurel appeared on Becca’s other side and stepped over her lap.

“Watch the…” Becca grabbed up the laptop. “Well, I guess that’s the universe giving me a clue.”

She set the computer aside and reached to rub Clara’s ear, even as the two older cats nudged her for a position.

“Laurel, it worked.” Clara looked up, excited.“I wonder if I could try…”

“I know what you three want.” Becca extricated herself from the fur pile. “Treats, coming up.”

“Wait.”Clara looked from Laurel to Harriet.“Did one of you do that?”

“Family meeting.” Laurel lashed her tail and then, distracted by the movement, began to lick it. Hours later, the treats had all been eaten and Becca gone to bed. All three cats had accompanied her, of course, and now lounged around their person in various stages of repose.“It’s time!”

“Ahem.” Harriet, who had been napping, puffed herself up. Turning from Laurel to Clara, she pulled her large head back into her considerable marmalade ruff and began.“It has come to my attention that perhaps we have been lax in our lessons. Granted, we’ve had other concerns.”

“Like the pursuit of treats.”Laurel’s muttered aside was nearly muffled as she dug into one brown bootie.

Clara, who lay by Becca’s side, felt her whiskers twitch. Harriet didn’t often speak of anything at such length—anything but food, that is. Something was up.

“While we have been hoping that your natural feline intelligence would clue you in, it has become increasingly obvious that you have missed our role in your adventures.” Harriet’s voice rumbled with an almost growl-like solemnity that alarmed her baby sister.

“Your role? I’ve seen Laurel, but…” Clara turned to her littermate, but Laurel only shrugged, her caf? au lait fur shimmering in the moonlight.

“Our role,” Harriet repeated, slowly closing her round gold eyes for emphasis.“While you certainly have incipient powers, Laurel and I have been doing our best to boost those powers. Partly to aid you in your work, and partly to foster your independence.”

“My independence?”

A true growl, or it could have been the start of a furball, cut her off.

“Clearly, our person has chosen you as her familiar. For reasons of history and heritage, this makes sense. However, you must understand that the care of a human is a serious obligation, and all three of us must do our bit. So, while we’ve tried to encourage your strengths and your independence, it will not do for you to disparage or try to disown your family. We are your family, Clara, for good or ill. Your sisters.”

“So… you’ve been helping me?” Clara nearly squeaked. So much began to make sense—the failures of her shading, Laurel’s aid. Even Harriet’s magical grooming, which had healed her wounds. A warmth that could not be attributed only to her sleeping person’s proximity began to fill her, and she could feel the purr begin to start, deep in her chest.“Both of you?”

“Of course we’ve been helping you.” Laurel focused on her bootie and refusing to meet Clara’s eye, even as Becca sighed in a dream and nestled closer. Harriet, by her feet, was once more sound asleep.“We’re family.” Laurel’s distinctive yowl, softer now. “And that means we love you, Clown.”