Instinct

Helpful By Jennifer Blackstream

THAT DOG MUMMY JUST MOVED.

I stared at the embalmed beast under the glass case before me, my tail swishing back and forth over the museum floor. There. The bit of loose bandage on the right of the small bundle with the vaguely canine-shaped head. It had definitely moved. Fluttering as if in a breeze.

But there was no breeze under the glass.

The dog had definitely moved.

“Majesty.”

The woman’s voice was quiet enough, but there was a sharp edge to it that made me glance to the side, more out of curiosity than anything. The colors of the Embalmed Animals of Ancient Egypt exhibit surrounded me in a veritable sea of red and gold that smelled of sand and long-dead musk. My witch, dressed as she was in her red trench coat and brightly colored leggings, looked oddly at home.

Though, based on her expression, she wasn’t enjoying the exhibit.

She took a step closer to me, bringing her within five feet of my spot in front of the moving dog mummy. “Please, don’t do anything…”

I was still learning to understand human speech, but after only a few months, I’d developed a remarkable understanding of the witch’s facial expressions and tone. Right now, she was making the “Did I Leave The Stove On” face. Since she hadn’t cooked today, that expression probably meant she was having trouble putting her thoughts together.

I tilted my head to show her I was still listening despite the prolonged pause. It was okay if she took her time. I didn’t mind waiting.

Helpful cats like me never minded waiting.

She raised a finger in the air and pointed at me, as if that would help her focus. Maybe it did.

“Don’t do anything.”

It sounded like the same words but this time there was a finality to her tone, as if the thought were finished. My tail twitched in frustration. I’d hoped she’d use one of the words I knew. Like food or bedtime. I liked those words.

“You should make him leave,” came a higher-pitched female voice from somewhere under the witch’s hair. “He’s going to cause trouble.”

My ears pricked forward. It was the pixie’s voice. The tiny pink creature that spent most of her time flitting through the air around the witch, complaining and…sparkling.

I’d almost caught her yesterday…

The witch’s eyes narrowed, reading my intentions before I’d even realized I was staring. Before she could say anything, a child’s voice pierced the air behind her.

“Mommy, it’s a kitten!”

Kitten. That meant me.

A child I recognized as the one who’d been dragging her mother around like a dead bird since the exhibit had opened suddenly bent to scoop me up. I went limp to avoid injury, watching the floor fall away as the small child hefted me into her arms with the wild abandon that would fade as soon as a less helpful cat taught her to be more cautious around strange animals.

Coincidentally, she’d lifted me just high enough to see the tiny pixie hiding underneath the witch’s hair…

Sparkle, sparkle.

Peasblossom narrowed multi-faceted pink eyes at me, staring me down.

I meowed.

The witch flinched, then closed her eyes and took a slow, deliberate breath.

“Olivia, put that poor animal down,” her mother ordered, apparently not inclined to address the issue of what a kitten was doing inside the Cleveland Museum. “I thought you wanted to see the mummies?”

Mummies. That was the word the curator kept using when she talked about the display. I turned back to the canine I’d been examining before the witch interrupted me. I blinked.

The dog mummy was gone.

“It’s empty,” the little girl complained, putting me down. She shuffled over to the stand. “What’s it say?”

Her mother frowned as she squinted at the plaque under the case. “Basenji were a type of dog breed prized by ancient Egyptians. So prized that they were often mummified after death and buried with their owners so they could continue serving their masters in the afterlife.” She glanced up at the empty case.

I looked around the room, my tail lashing as I watched for some hint of loose bandages trailing from behind one of the large potted plants. The dog mummy had escaped. I would find him. I was good at finding things.

I’d found the witch.

Lots of times.

The witch stared me down as Olivia and her mother moved on to the next mummified animal—a bird of some kind. Now she was making her “Did You Eat All The Honey” face she usually reserved for the pixie. Only she was looking at me.

“Was there a mummy under that glass when we came into the room, Peasblossom?” she asked without taking her eyes off me.

“How should I know? What do I want with a mummified dog?” The pixie tugged on the witch’s hair. “Let’s go to the cafe. Maybe they have honey.”

Honey. I knew that word too. The pixie wanted to eat.

“You had enough honey with breakfast.” The witch was still staring at me, but she flicked a hand over her hair as the pixie continued to tug. “Peasblossom, you can’t still be hungry.”

Hungry. That meant food. But she was using her “no” tone.

The pixie hated the “no” tone.

The ensuing argument was enough to distract the witch, so she forgot about the dog mummy, and I trotted along behind her as she left the Egyptian room, continuing her search for whatever it was she was here to find. She didn’t share many details with me, but that was okay. I was here to help, whenever she needed me.

Up ahead, a strip of tattered bandage disappeared around a corner with a sharp jerk.

I shot forward. Claws extended, I brought my paw down on the yellowed bandage, anchoring it to the floor.

“What are you doing?”

I looked up, finding myself face to face with the dog mummy. He looked bigger now that he wasn’t wrapped up like a caterpillar in a cocoon, its limbs bound tightly to its body in a way that could only be managed with a subject that was deceased. Now that he had legs to stand on, I could see he was tall enough that I’d be able to walk underneath him without brushing my ears against his stomach. One of his pointed ears had escaped the bandages, as had his thick, curled tail. He was a brown and white dog with a pointed snout that looked somehow familiar.

It took me a moment to realize I’d understood what he said. All of what he’d said.

“You speak cat?” I asked, impressed.

The canine wrinkled his nose as much as the bandages would allow. “I speak all languages. I am a messenger.”

“You’re dead,” I pointed out. “You must be very helpful if you’re still delivering messages.” I puffed out my chest. “Helpful like me.”

A gap in the bandages over his face gave me a glimpse of one chocolate colored eye narrowed in focus. “Yes,” he said finally. “I am. Who are you and what do you want?”

I resisted the urge to look down at the bandage still caught in my claws. “I want to help. Naturally. I’m very helpful.”

The dog tilted its head. “Are you The Finder?”

His words reached into my mind, back into my memories. A woman’s voice echoed inside my head, speaking from the past. “Find her.”

He’d said Finder not Find Her, but I wouldn’t hold a mispronunciation against him. He was a dog attempting to speak cat, after all.

“Yes,” I answered graciously. “I am.”

The dog stared at me for a long minute. He looked a little ridiculous, if I were honest. What with most of his body being bound in aged, unraveling bandages except for his legs poking out. His fur was a bit patchy, and his flesh a bit emaciated and blackened, but not bad considering how long he’d been dead. He took a step forward, and when he moved, he did so with more strength and grace than I’d have expected from a mummy.

“I am Bas. I have been sent by my master to find an amulet called the Nine Lives. It is a small pale green ceramic cat on a leather strap.”

“It sounds like a collar,” I observed.

Bas’s ears flattened, letting more of the bandages slide off. A human passing by stopped short, his eyes bulging as he raised one shaking hand to point at Bas. I glanced over at the man as he started babbling and pointing, his head swiveling to look at the other humans passing by. The crowd immediately began giving him a wide berth, with mothers pulling on their children’s arms to keep them from stopping to stare.

You could always tell the humans sensitive enough to pick up on the Otherworld.

“It is not a collar,” Bas said evenly, ignoring the security guard approaching the hysterical human. “It is an amulet. And it is very powerful.”

“Is it your…amulet?” I asked.

“No. It belongs to a sorcerer, an associate of my master, Ra. He created it to give himself nine lives.”

“Why?” I asked. “Humans don’t know what to do with the one life they have, why ask for eight more?”

“It’s just something humans do,” Bas said, a hint of exasperation creeping into his tone. “It doesn’t matter. When he finished with his eighth life, he decided he would use the final life to recharge the amulet and pass it on to someone deserving, someone who would use it to help others. Unfortunately, the man who was supposed to have it, lost it somehow. So the sorcerer asked my master to send me to fetch it.”

“He used one life to charge an amulet that would give someone else nine lives?” I spoke slowly so Bas would have a chance to hear that he wasn’t making sense.

“Power given costs less than power taken,” Bas said, using the same voice the witch used when she explained something to the pixie. Slow, with the sort of cadence that said the words were replacing violent urges.

I blinked slowly as a weight slid over my body. As if I hadn’t slept in days and it was catching up with me all at once. I shook my head. The magic was building inside me again.

“Are you all right?” Bas asked.

“Yes.” I took a deep breath. “So, the amulet was stolen and you want help finding it. Because you’re a messenger, not a finder.”

Bas shifted his weight on his mummified legs, making his bones creak. “I could find it. I know where it was, where it should be. I could track it that way. But Seth mentioned to my master that the Finder would be at the museum and would offer to help. If you are the Finder, you can make this task go more quickly.”

The magic pulsed inside me, and I swallowed it back. “Seth?”

“One of the gods.” Bas paused. “Usually he isn’t so helpful.”

“But I am,” I reminded him. “Helpful, I mean.” The magic pulsed again, stronger this time. “I need a moment. If you’ll excuse me…”

“Time is not on our side,” Bas said firmly. “The sorcerer said that whoever stole the amulet has already burned through one of the lives. We must find it before he burns through the rest.”

“Burned?” I leaned all my weight on my front paws, trying to keep from falling over as I looked for the witch. The magic was for her. I needed to go to her.

“Used. It’s what made the sorcerer check in on him. It’s how he discovered the amulet was not where it should be. He believes someone has stolen it and is using the power of the ‘lives’ the amulet grants as an energy source for other spells.”

My stomach hurt. And my paws hurt. So much magic. Where was that witch?

Bas eyed me with what must pass for concern in canines. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Fine. Just need to give something to my witch. One moment.”

“But—”

I lurched to all fours and trotted in the direction I’d last seen the witch, ignoring the sputtering dog mummy behind me.

I found her standing in the room next to the one Bas and I had been talking in. She was speaking with a man who looked like he’d just eaten something very sour. The witch held up a figurine to show him, something black and shiny that looked like a man holding some sort of weapon. She was saying something to the sour man and nodding at the figurine. The man glanced down at the object even as he turned his body as if he’d walk away. He was making the “I’m Not Eating That” face.

The witch spotted me coming toward her and her entire body tensed, no doubt preparing for the surge of magic I was bringing her. If I were honest with myself, she wasn’t great with magic. More often than not, she caused a lot of trouble with the energy I gave her. But I’d promised the pale lady that I would be helpful. Always helpful. And she’d been very specific that I was to use my magic to help this witch.

“Majesty,” the witch said, a warning in her voice.

She always spoke my name with such gravitas. Such respect. It made it easier to forgive her shortcomings.

The power inside me swelled. It crackled in the air, tickling my nose, and I sneezed.

The magic left me in a whoosh, heading for the witch. When I opened my eyes, the witch was still standing there, as was the unpleasant looking man.

The figurine in her hand was gone.

No, wait, it was back again.

No, now it was gone.

I frowned. How was making the artifact disappear and reappear helpful?

I shook my head and turned to go back to Bas. The witch would figure it out. She always did. The important thing was, I’d given her the help she needed, even if I didn’t understand it. And now it was time for me to help Bas.

When I returned to the dog mummy, he was staring at me with a look on his face I couldn’t quite read.

“What?” I asked.

“Did she call you Majesty?”

“Yes.”

Bas closed his eyes and let out a heavy sigh. “Then the worship of your kind still continues. Perfect.” He opened his eyes and shook his head, causing more of the bandages to loosen. “Humans have learned nothing.”

I waited patiently for him to return to the task at hand.

“Anubis was dog-headed, you know,” Bas muttered. “But that wasn’t good enough for the humans. Jackal-headed, that’s what they say now. It’s insulting.”

Suddenly, his entire body tensed, every muscle tightening until he looked very much like the dried mummy he’d been when I first saw him. I reached out a paw to touch his chest, relieved when his eyes refocused, and the tension left him in a visible whoosh.

“We have to hurry,” he said grimly. “The sorcerer just sent me a message. The amulet has burned through two more lives.”

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“Death,” Bas said gravely. “Or something worse.”

It took some convincing to explain to Bas that letting me ride on his back was the quickest way for us both to get to our destination. The mummy dog ran with the speed of a feather in a windstorm, and it was only after I pointed out that he could either carry me, or wait for me, that he agreed to let me ride. As unhappy as he was with our traveling arrangement, he was even more unhappy when we reached our destination.

“Cats,” he spat.

I rose up on my hind legs so I could look over his head at the sprawling yard before us. Cats, indeed. Apparently, our theft victim was an avid cat lover. My feline brethren were everywhere, dotting sunny patches on his lawn, lounging on the windowsills inside the house. And when the door opened and an old man I assumed to be the victim emerged onto the porch, he even carried a cat on one shoulder. The cat on his shoulder was young, as young as I looked. And he was clinging to the old man’s sweater with the tenacity of a youth determined to hold the high ground over his fellow felines. Literally.

“This has to be a joke.” Bas shook his head. “A horrible, horrible joke.”

Amulet Theft Victim left the door open behind him—apparently so his furry friends could come and go as they pleased—and walked down the porch steps to retrieve a package the delivery man had left by the garage door. It didn’t seem to annoy him that the delivery person hadn’t carried the package all the way to the front porch. A tolerant man, then.

Bas raised his nose to sniff the air. “I can smell the amulet, but the scent is faint.”

“There might be a faster way to track it. I held out a paw. “Excuse me,” I said, speaking to one of the cats meandering over the lawn. “Excuse me, might I have a moment of your time?”

The cat, a regal calico, turned to look at me, and her expression softened when she saw my youthful face. “So polite for one so young. What brings you here?”

I recognized a mothering instinct when I saw one. I tucked my front paws together, making my feet look even tinier, and tilted my head so the sunlight caught my blue eyes just so. “The man who feeds you. He had an amulet. A piece of clay shaped like a cat?”

“Yes,” the calico said, nodding. “I believe his granddaughter gave it to him, though where she got it, I couldn’t say. He was very sad to see it go missing. He’s worried the tiny human will think he didn’t like her gift.”

I didn’t know much about magic, but I was willing to bet the man’s granddaughter had had nothing to do with making that amulet. More likely the sorcerer had delivered it himself, in a guise that would make an old man not only accept the necklace, but treasure it.

“So, he didn’t know it was magic?” Bas asked.

The calico gave him a small smile. “He’s only human.”

“We want to get it back for him,” I said, indicating myself and Bas. “Do you have any idea where we might find it?”

Another cat approached from behind the calico. This one had sleek black fur, and a piece of his ear was missing. He stopped when he heard our conversation, and his ears flattened against his head.

“The trinket isn’t missing,” he corrected me. “It was stolen.”

“Stolen?” the calico echoed. “I didn’t see anyone.”

“You were sleeping,” the black cat informed her. “But I wasn’t. I saw him take it.”

“Who?” Bas demanded.

The black cat shot Bas a dirty look, then turned to me. “It was the mailman.”

A low growl rumbled in Bas’s throat, and more of the fur on his neck pushed through the bandages, making him look larger. “The mailman. Of course.”

“Someone you know?” I asked.

“I know his kind.” Bas looked down at the black cat and took a step forward. “Where can I find this mailman?”

“He doesn’t come here anymore,” the black cat scoffed. “He’s a thief, isn’t he? He’s not going to come back here after what he did. Not when he stole such magic.”

Bas blinked. “You knew the amulet was magic?”

Every feline in hearing range stared at the dog mummy, and I cleared my throat.

“We’re cats,” I said, trying to be gentle. “You think we wouldn’t feel that level of magic?”

“Stupid dog,” the black cat muttered under his breath.

Bas tensed, and I dug my claws into his back in a silent warning not to anger my brethren. One wrong word and the yard full of cats would become a yard full of enemies with razor sharp claws and eight lives to burn.

Blessedly, at that moment, footsteps sounded on the sidewalk behind us. Bas turned his head, then immediately pivoted so quickly that if I hadn’t already had my claws out, I’d have fallen off. I had a split second to observe that dead dogs must not feel pain, and then I was holding on for dear life as Bas charged up to a woman approaching Amulet Theft Victim’s mailbox.

The woman came to an abrupt halt, then rocked back on one foot, her right arm rising to protect her face. She didn’t lose her grip on the envelopes in her grasp, and she didn’t run, but I could see the fear in her eyes as she stared at the large dog bearing down on her.

“Bas,” I snapped. “Sit!”

Bas did not sit. But he did come to a dead halt to swivel his head around to stare at me as if I’d paid a grave insult to his dearly beloved grandmother.

“She’s the mail carrier,” I pointed out to him. “Perhaps she knows where her predecessor is now. We need to find a way to communicate with her.”

Bas wrinkled his muzzle in disgust and looked up at the mail carrier. After taking a steadying breath, he spoke.

“The mailman you replaced. Where is he now?”

The woman’s jaw dropped, her eyes bulging. She still didn’t let go of the mail. “You… Did you just… You talked.”

I lowered my face to my paws, a sudden headache forming between my eyes. The woman was doing that stuttering thing the witch did sometimes. I didn’t have to understand what she was saying to know that Bas was going to make the human crazy. It would be the human in the museum all over again, with the eye-bulging and the babbling. We’d never get the information we needed. How was I supposed to help him if he insisted on being so—

The headache blossomed, flowing up and out with enough force that I was certain it would take the top of my head and my ears with it. There was no holding onto it, and the magic poured out of me like root beer from a shaken soda can. I collapsed onto Bas’s back, blinking furiously to try and stay conscious. When I finally opened my eyes, the mail carrier was still there, and so was Bas.

Only now there was an elephant standing next to the mail carrier too.

I froze. Well, if the talking dog hadn’t done it, the elephant would. I should have brought the witch. Though, she hadn’t done much better, as I recalled. There’d been that rhinoceros inside the house…

To my surprise, the mail carrier instantly relaxed, shoulders slumping so rapidly the bag of mail nearly slid off her shoulder.

“I’m dreaming.” Her voice was higher now, and she was smiling so big I could almost hear laughter. “I knew it. Knew I had to be dreaming.” She shook her head and looked down at the letters in her hand, glancing through them before looking up at the address on the house. “It’s the stress,” she told Bas. “That’s what it is. New route. Faconi didn’t give notice, you know. He inherits a bunch of money from some aunt and—bam!—he’s gone.”

I frowned. Now she was making the “My Keys Were in My Pocket The Whole Time” face. She’d said a bunch of words I didn’t know, but one sounded familiar. Dreaming. Dream. Dreams. The witch used that word when she talked about the woman at the hotel. The sorceress.

I didn’t think this mail carrier was a sorceress. Maybe she thought Bas had made the elephant?

Regardless, she clearly seemed to be feeling better, so once again, my magic had been an immense help. “What’s she saying?” I asked Bas.

The dog ignored me. “And where has he gone?”

Where. I knew that word. He was asking her where the thief had gone.

The woman snorted. “We’re not that close. But my money’s on that fancy neighborhood on the south side. Faconi was always going on about how he’d have a mansion there someday.”

She shook her head and kept walking toward the Amulet Theft Victim’s mailbox. Bas started to turn, but suddenly seemed to notice the elephant. He tensed, then stared down at me.

I looked back at him. If he wasn’t going to ask, I wasn’t going to volunteer.

He must have been in a hurry, because he deliberately turned away from the elephant. “You said you can feel magic?”

“I’m a cat.”

He waited, as if I hadn’t just answered his question, then seemed to realize I had. “We’ll go to the neighborhood then, and you tell me when you feel the magic.”

I flattened my ears against my head. “I’m not a scent hound. The amulet isn’t so powerful it’s going to radiate magic in giant waves I can feel just walking through the neighborhood.”

“Then we’ll go to the neighborhood, and I’ll try to catch the amulet’s scent, and you try to feel for the magic. If he’s burned through three of the lives already, then he’s done something big. It shouldn’t be hard to find.”

He took off without waiting for a response, and had I been a less helpful cat, I might have leapt off his back and made him circle around and ask me nicely to continue. But being the exceptionally helpful cat I was, I dug my claws into the bandages over his back, deep enough that I felt mummified flesh, and held on as he began that supernaturally fast run in whatever direction the mail carrier had indicated.

I felt the magic as soon as we entered the neighborhood. The feel of it made my fur stand up and my nose itch. I tugged at Bas’s flesh, and the dog mummy trotted to a halt.

“I think I smell something,” he said, lifting his nose in the air.

“No need.” I pointed with one paw, leaning over so Bas could see me, and Bas followed my gesture to a large mansion on the corner at the intersection of two pristine streets. All the houses in this neighborhood were grand, but none of them came close to the monstrosity radiating magic like a field of four-leaf clovers.

It was the ugliest mansion I’d ever seen. The front of the building looked as if someone had taken two different—ugly—mansions and smashed them together. The left was red brick, curved to look like a medieval turret. The right was pale stucco, half of which drizzled down the front of the house to make it look like a termite mound. The east side of the house was made entirely of windows, giving it a modern look in complete contrast to the medieval-style door.

“That mansion was created with magic,” I said, trying to look away.

“Then that’s where we’ll find the amulet.”

Bas loped toward the house with the confidence of someone completely unconcerned at the prospect of confronting a human and his magic amulet that created mansions. I was about to ask Bas if he was certain he was up to the task, but then I remembered what he’d said. Seth—a god—had told him I would help. And I was very helpful. Perhaps Bas had the ability to use the magic I channeled, just like the witch.

No wonder he’s so confident.

Getting inside the house wasn’t difficult. One of the windows on the side made completely of windows was open, and Bas wasted no time plunging inside, into the solarium within. He padded forward a few feet, then paused to listen.

There. Voices coming from the second floor.

Bas crept up the stairs and stopped just outside a door that was partially open. I could hear a man’s voice inside. He was using the “I’m the Boss, and I’ll Smack You If You Don’t Start Cooperating” tone. Another voice responded, lower and more raspy than the first. It didn’t speak long enough for me to get a feel for its attitude.

Whatever the second voice had said made Bas freeze. For a second, I had to press my paws harder into his back to reassure myself he was still here, still flesh and blood and not turned to stone.

“What’s wrong?” I whispered.

“That voice.” Bas shook his head, as if he couldn’t believe it. “I know that voice. It’s Rayaan.”

“Who’s Rayaan?”

Bas didn’t look at me. “But he was locked away. Sealed in a cave. No one should have been able to find him.”

I dug my claws into his back. “Who’s Rayaan?”

Bas stiffened his legs, pushing himself to stand straighter as if he were staring down his opponent now. “A very powerful djinn. And that fool has released him.”

“I’ll raise it for you,” Rayaan promised. “I’ll raise the whole ship, with every last gold coin and every last jewel.”

I climbed up to sit on Bas’s head so I could see what little of his expression was visible beneath the bandages. The raspy voice was speaking again. This time, it sounded like the voice the witch used when I was under the bed and she was kneeling down beside it waving a can of Tuna. The Tuna Offering tone.

“I don’t need you.” The sound of a hand striking a heavy leather-bound book punctuated whatever Faconi had said. “I’ve been studying magic for years. I can raise the ship myself.”

Magic. I knew that word too.

Bas snorted. “Faconi fancies himself a wizard.”

That explained the “I Can Carry All the Groceries Myself” tone.

“You are no wizard,” the djinn said, a hint of a sneer creeping into his voice. “I sense no power in you. You will never raise the ship without me.”

The djinn was using the “You’re Going to Drop the Milk Again And I’m Not Helping You Clean It Up” tone. Apparently the djinn didn’t agree with Faconi’s view of himself as a wizard. Wizard was another word I knew.

“I didn’t need you to build this house,” Faconi said smugly. “With this amulet, I don’t need your magic to get what I want.” A rustling of paper. “I’ve been studying this book for years. All these spells. And now I finally have the power to make them work.”

“A true wizard wouldn’t need the amulet,” the djinn mocked. “Every human has the potential to learn magic. But not everyone has the skill. You don’t have the skill. You can memorize the spells in that book all you like, but the fact is, you’re no different from someone who hears a song and believes they can sing because they’ve learned the lyrics, and they remember the tune.”

Bas snorted in agreement with whatever the djinn had said.

“Shut up,” Faconi snapped. “The point is, I don’t need your help.”

“You needed me to find the ship,” Rayaan countered.

“I needed your knowledge. Your experience. Which is why I summoned you into that book, with everything you know written out on its pages for me to peruse as I have need. You are a resource, not an ally. I have plans—big plans. And now that I know where to find the Flor de la Mar, I’ll have all the money I need to finance them.”

I shook my head. Based on my experience with the witch and her pixie, the wizard was no doubt attempting a spell while the djinn criticized his technique. If this were the witch and the pixie, I’d smell burning potion soon.

“That amulet won’t last forever.” Rayaan’s voice turned sweeter, sliding back into the Tuna Offering tone. “I could make you powerful. Make you a true wizard, with a limitless—”

“Spare me your pathetic attempt to trick me into releasing you. I’m no fool. I didn’t need you to build this mansion, and I don’t need you to do this.”

Bas jerked his head up, fast enough that I nearly tumbled to the floor. “He’s going to burn another life. I have to stop him!”

“Wait!” I blurted out. “Don’t—”

Bas bolted forward, hitting the door to the bedroom hard enough that it smacked into the wall with a fur-raising bang. He snarled as he paused just long enough to get his bearings, his gaze quickly finding Faconi.

I knew it was Faconi because he’d clearly been to the Halloween shop and had chosen “Middle-Aged Wizard” as his costume of choice. He was wearing an honest-to-gods robe, complete with hood, in a shade of crimson that the witch outright refused to put in the washing machine for fear of the Red Die. He had resisted the slouched pointy hat, but had apparently caved in to the desire for a staff. The large piece of wood was taller than he was, making him look even more like a child playing dress up.

Less humorous was the book lying on the desk beside him. It looked brand new, but the pages were covered in red ink that dripped and shimmered in a way no mundane ink would have done. The pages rustled even though there was no breeze in the room, and when the pages moved, I swore I heard someone—or something—breathing.

The wizard had enchanted it somehow. Or…trapped something inside it?

Faconi gaped at the mummy dog, but only for a second. Then he snatched the book from the desk and ran toward a closet door at the back of the room, looking very much like a man intent on escape. I hung on for dear life as Bas took off after the wannabe wizard, mummified bones creaking as he ran. Ahead, Faconi tore open the closet door and ran inside as if it were an exit to the outdoors. Bas did the same, and I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable moment when the canine’s skull would meet the back wall of the closet.

The impact never came.

There was no wall. There was no closet. The door that should have opened to reveal a row of poorly fitting sweaters, instead opened to reveal…a lake.

I had a split second to register the fact that Bas had run out into empty air, and then we were both falling. Bas hit the water first, sending a spray of freezing water over my face a split second before I too was lost in the dark blue depths. The cold stole the breath from my lungs. Water dragged at my fur as it tried to force its way into my nose and mouth. Energy roared to life inside me, riding a wave of adrenaline, a desire to survive and protect whatever lives I had left.

The power blossomed out and up, exploding in a wave of force that pushed me a few inches deeper into the water. Warm tears leaked from the corners of my eyes. I was going to drown.

A mummified jaw grabbed me by the scruff of my neck. Seconds later, I was being held in a fierce grip, my face finally above water. I sputtered and coughed as I twisted in Bas’s grip, searching for the wizard who’d led us on this miserable chase only to leave me to die in the lake.

Before I could locate my prey, Bas dropped me. Panic seized me, and I dug my claws into his bandages, trying not to let my head slip under the water again. Furious, I opened my mouth, ready to demand an explanation.

Bas spoke first. “You have taken something that doesn’t belong to you. Give it back, or be hunted down like the cowardly thief you are.”

He wasn’t talking to me.

“Who are you?” Faconi demanded.

I clung to Bas’s back, staying close to the surface of the water. I didn’t think the wizard had seen me. That could be to our advantage. I looked around, finally spotting the middle-aged man standing at the water’s edge. Who, he’d said. I knew that word. He wanted Bas’s name.

“I am Bas, messenger of the gods. I was sent with a message for you. The amulet is not yours. Give it back now so that I might return it to its rightful owner. If you force me to take it from you, I make no promises that you’ll survive the experience.”

The wizard’s face twisted into a sneer. “Tell your master the amulet is mine now.”

Bas bared his teeth. “I’m not leaving without it.”

“Then you won’t leave.” Faconi pulled the book from under his arm and flipped it open. “And you won’t tell anyone you found the amulet.”

I didn’t need to understand what he’d said to know what he’d meant. He planned to hurt Bas, and he was opening the book for a spell to do it. Bas swam madly for the shore, but Faconi was already reading from the book.

I reached inside myself, searching for the magic, for some sign it was building again. I’d never had any control over it before, never tried. The pale lady had been very clear that the magic was to help the witch. She’d said the magic would happen when it was needed, my job was just to be there. To be helpful.

There. The magic. I felt it inside, like the flicker of a small candle flame. I concentrated on that dancing bit of light, concentrated until it grew bigger and bigger, the flame beginning to crackle and burn in earnest. Power flared out from my body in a warm rush of blessed heat—

Heat that was abruptly extinguished as the muted blue sky darkened to an ominous grey and a torrential downpour covered the lake and the banks around it.

The wizard didn’t stop chanting. He leaned forward, using his body to protect the book as best he could.

Bas floundered for a second as the rain made the surface of the lake rough and choppy, and I let out a miserable mewl as tiny waves tried to drag me off the mummified dog’s back.

Bas was still five feet from shore when the wizard’s spell struck him in the chest.

The bolt of purple energy drove into Bas’s body, expanding inside him in a wave of violet before concentrating in a single spot in his throat. Bas made a horrible choking sound, floundering in the water. It was all I could do to stay low enough on his back that the wizard couldn’t see me, but not so low that I drowned. The wizard held out his hand, then flung it skyward. The purple light inside Bas flew up and out of his mouth, then exploded in a shower of purple sparks.

I had no idea what the wizard had just done, but he wasn’t sticking around to explain himself. He ran around the edge of the lake, onto a bridge I hadn’t seen when we fell in. The bridge was a contraption of rickety wood that started with a single step just outside the door we’d fallen through before curving around what looked like the face of a cliff and extending over the very edge of the lake. That was how the wizard had left the portal without falling into the water, while we’d missed the sight of the bridge entirely. I stared in growing horror as the wizard ran over the bridge and up the curved steps to the still-open door that led to the bedroom closet.

He darted inside and slammed the door shut behind him.

Bas regained his composure and determinedly swam to the edge of the lake, climbing out on trembling legs and forcing himself to keep going until he left the reach of the rainstorm. I dropped onto the grass with a gasp, sucking in a breath of air that wasn’t heavy with rain.

“What did he do to you?” I asked.

Bas didn’t answer right away, his jaw twitching as if he were grinding his teeth. Finally he shook his head and opened his mouth.

I waited.

No sound came out.

Bas’s eyes widened. He opened his mouth again.

Still nothing.

Suddenly I remembered the bright purple light in Bas’s throat. The way the wizard had flung it into the sky, and how it had burst. My tail fell. “He took your voice.”

Bas’s snout wrinkled as he pulled back his lips to bare his teeth, and his hackles rose.

“It’s okay,” I told him. “I’ll help you.”

He darted forward. I jerked back just in time to avoid being caught in his jaws when he snapped them closed in the space I’d been a moment before.

“Bas!” I stared at him, every muscle in my body tense, ready to run. “I’m trying to help you.”

Bas stared at me as if I’d grown a second tail. He looked out at the lake, deliberately glancing up at the rainstorm.

I didn’t look. I was pretty sure I knew what he was getting at.

“I don’t tell the magic what to do. I put the magic out there, and it helps people. The wizard kept his concentration, that’s not my fault. It’s good magic.” I lifted my chin. “I’m helpful.”

Bas snorted. A sound so filled with disgust, it almost made me flinch.

All I wanted to do in that moment was find someplace warm and dry where I could clean myself off and have a nice nap. My muscles hurt, and my tail felt like it had a kink in it from the force of expelling all that magic in such a short time span. The witch usually comforted me when I felt like this. Petted me and said things in a soothing voice that was almost as welcome as a scratch behind my ears.

But the witch wasn’t here. She wasn’t here to help Bas.

But I was.

I looked up at Bas and opened my mouth.

The mummy dog snarled and snapped his jaws again, putting his mouth close enough to my face that I felt his hot breath.

He was so angry.

Tears blurred my vision, but I blinked them away. “I am helpful. I’m going to help you get out of here.”

For a second, I thought he’d jump on me. Thought he’d give into the violent urges I could see behind his eyes, take a swipe at me with his huge paw, or snap at me again with his sharp teeth. But he didn’t. Instead, he turned his back on me. He walked away.

He dismissed me.

Defiance rose inside me. No. No, he was wrong. I was helpful. The pale lady had told me so. I’d helped the witch lots of times.

I narrowed my eyes. And I would help Bas too. Whether he liked it or not.

My claws dug into the ground as I tensed my body, coiled my energy until every muscle was a loaded spring. Without a sound, I leapt forward, hitting the ground at a dead run. Bas didn’t hear me coming, and this time when I dug my claws into his bandages, I put a paw on either side of his neck, with my bottom legs digging into his back bandages for purchase.

Bas snarled in fury and spun around, but it was too late. I had kitten-sharp claws, and he was covered in convenient bandages—as well as skin the texture of beef jerky. I let him try to dislodge me for a minute or two, then raised my voice.

“The longer you take to listen to me, the more lives that wizard is going to burn through.”

Bas snapped his jaws closed, dragging his breath over his teeth in a sound that made my fur stand on end. I ignored him, focusing instead on scanning the cliff face on the other side of the lake. Cliffs usually meant caves. And caves meant shadows.

I stared grimly at the rock as I dug my claws in deeper, tugging at Bas until he broke into a run. I used my claws on either side of his neck to guide him toward the cliff face, searching for the cave I needed to get us out of here.

I was helpful. And I would prove it.

The pale lady had showed me the path through the darkness. Showed me the shadowy plane with all its twisting roads. Sound traveled differently here, she’d said. It echoed and moved. Everything said in the shadows got back to her. The pale lady had spoken cat—with the aid of magic—and I remembered every word.

Bas snarled and tried to buck me off when we entered the cave, but I wasn’t so easy to lose. The witch couldn’t hide from me, and Bas couldn’t shake me off. I was helpful.

The shadows closed around us, and I blinked my eyes, seeing the shadow plane as the pale lady had taught me. And this time, I didn’t just look for the path that led back to the bedroom and the human wizard. This time, I spoke.

I called into the shadows, giving my voice the feline lilt that no other living creature could manage. I screamed a battle cry. I called for aid. Called those I knew would come. They would come because we’d been family. Taken in by the same kind woman. The one who’d eventually delivered me to the witch.

As the pale lady had told her to do.

I didn’t wait for them, just trusted they would come. Trusted they would follow my voice into the shadows. The pale lady would hear. She would open the path for them. I believed.

The pale lady had said she was helpful too.

The closet in the wizard’s room might have been enchanted, but the closet of the room next to that one was full of mundane darkness. And Bas was angry enough that the flimsy sliding door didn’t stand a chance. He hit the door like a battering ram, barely slowing enough to get his bearings before tearing out the door and around the corner into the room with the wizard, the desk, and the enchanted closet.

The human wizard gaped at us as we burst into the room through the same door we’d entered the first time. “You,” he spat at Bas. “How did you get back here?”

Bas ground his teeth, resisting the urge to try and speak—refusing to give the wizard the satisfaction.

So, I answered for him.

I leapt onto Bas’s head and hissed.

Another hiss sounded behind me. Then another. Then a pair.

I purred.

They had come.

The wizard took a hesitant step back as my allies filed in behind me. To my right appeared a pair of Siamese cats with beautiful blue eyes, pale bodies, and dark chocolate brown coloring in their ears, tails, and legs. They stepped forward in tandem, their eyes trained on the amulet around the wizard’s neck. Faconi shifted back and forth, but the two sets of blue eyes followed the amulet with unerring focus.

To my left, a tortoise shell cat paced forward until he was level with me, then stopped and stood with his head cocked to the side. He stared at the wizard for a moment before moving three inches to the left. Then he sat. Waiting.

A rough meow that was more like a cough came from farther back, announcing the arrival of my most intimidating ally yet—a huge alley cat with a knot at the end of her tail so big it looked like a mace with a curved handle. Most of her ears were missing, and one fang stuck out of her mouth even when it was closed. She had bald patches here and there on her body where the flesh was too thick with scars for the fur to grow back, and her face bulged on the left side as if the bones of her face had been broken and hadn’t healed properly. She looked hungry.

“Get the amulet,” I told my fellow felines. “He stole it from a man who cares for our kind.”

A group hiss rose from my brethren. The wizard ignored us, focusing on Bas.

“Go back to your master, and I will let you live. You and your minions.”

Every cat in the room stiffened.

It didn’t take an understanding of human speech to recognize we’d been insulted. The way the wizard had curled his lip when he looked at me and my brethren and used the tone the pixie used when she looked at a plate of steamed vegetables said it all.

No doubt as outraged as we were by the grave insult his feline allies had been paid, Bas leapt for the wizard with his mouth open, sharp teeth bared, his muscles underneath my paws tightening as he fired himself like a mummified rocket. Faconi tightened his grip on his staff and swung it at Bas like a club. The blow struck Bas’s jaw, and one of his teeth chipped off and flew to the side, skittering over the floor. Bas crashed to the rug just short of the wizard, and I leapt off to avoid being crushed as he threw himself into the roll and came up on his feet again.

I landed in the exact spot the tortoise shell cat had been standing before he’d moved.

Faconi was about to find out that none of us were as ordinary as we looked.

The alley cat leapt at Faconi, her jaws closing around the staff before the human could wind back for a second strike. The ball-tailed feline looked like a thirty pound cat, but she had the weight and the strength of an animal ten times her size. Which Faconi discovered when he tried to raise the staff and shake her off, only to narrowly escape dislocating his shoulder for his efforts. He released the staff with a confused grunt.

“Release me.” Rayaan’s raspy voice slithered from between the pages of the book. “I will help you. I am worth more than just my knowledge and memories. My power could be at your service.”

“No!” Faconi snapped.

The Siamese crept toward the human, parting to flank him where he stood just in front of the desk. A paw touched my shoulder, and I turned to see the tortoise shell cat gesture for me to follow him. I did as he beckoned, sitting in a spot he indicated on the corner of the bed. The bed sat perpendicular to the desk, and my new position put me closer to the wizard than I would have liked, but I’d heard stories of the tortoise shell cat’s abilities. His gift of future-sight. Nothing grand, but just enough that if he told you where to be—or not be—it was best to listen.

Faconi wrapped a hand around the amulet, chanting in that same rhythmic tone he’d used earlier. Blue energy rose from the amulet, crawling down his arm, to his shoulder, and across to his other arm raised high in the air. The blue light expanded, taking form—a humanoid form with cloven feet and large horns curling out from its head. When the light faded, a crimson-skinned devil stood beside the wizard, forked tail lashing behind him, a hideous grin stretching his mouth wider than any humanoid mouth should, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth.

“You’re wasting your ‘power,’” Rayaan taunted. “Free me and you won’t need to use up your precious limited resources.”

“This is a devil from the regions of Hell,” Faconi said without taking his eyes off Bas. “It will not only fight for me, it will lead me to hidden treasure. I won’t need to raise the Flor de la Mar. I waste nothing.”

The devil twisted its body, lashing out at Bas with its tail. Bas snapped his jaws closed, catching the writhing limb in his teeth. With a hiss, the devil jerked his tail closer, dragging Bas close enough to bring its claws down on the mummy dog’s face. The bandages fell away from Bas’s left eye, along with a chunk of dried skin. The devil cried out in delight, but its joy was premature. Bas responded to the attack with a swipe of his own claws, and he caught the devil across the throat. Black blood trickled down the devil’s bare chest, and it screamed a gurgling sound of unholy rage.

A feline whine made me look toward the Siamese. One of the pair had taken his eyes off the amulet and was creeping toward the devil. I leaned forward, fascinated. The twins’ secret was perhaps the one I’d most wanted to see in action. I’d heard they were the vessels for ancient ghosts—royalty, no less. Something about an ancient duty to preserve the spirits of their masters. I’d never seen the spirits myself…

Until now.

A smoky form rose from the male Siamese’s body as he got closer to the devil. I stared at the image of an old man dressed in fine silks, his head bald, and his eyes full of ethereal silver light. The ghost chanted in a smooth, lyrical language that made the devil snarl.

Apparently, Faconi couldn’t see the ghost. He didn’t react at all to its appearance, nor did he seem to find the Siamese creeping toward his summoned devil a threat.

No wonder he’d needed the amulet to power his spells. He had no sensitivity at all. He had no idea his precious devil was about to be dismissed.

The wizard snatched his staff off the ground where the ball-tail had dropped it, and now he pointed it at Bas. I flattened my ears. No matter how many attacks he suffered at the hands of my brethren, the human seemed convinced Bas was the only threat. That getting rid of him would make his “minions” go away.

Minions. I remembered that word now. The witch used it sometimes when she was angry.

It was a dismissive word, used for the people in the fight who didn’t matter.

Energy rose with my anger. Anger at being ignored. Anger that this human had taken what wasn’t his, was using it to hurt people. Hurt Bas. Bas who was helpful. Like me. I concentrated as hard as I could, focused as hard as I could.

Nothing.

I hissed in frustration, glaring at the wizard, trying to make that anger do something.

Claws pressed down on my tail from behind me, digging past flesh and into the bone. I screeched.

A fountain of gems shot forward like a razor-sharp rainbow. And thanks to my position, they were all headed straight for Faconi. The tortoise shell cat made a sound of satisfaction as he removed his claws from my tail, watching as the gems sliced into the wizard. Shallow cuts mostly, but they bled. A lot.

The wizard’s mouth moved, but he didn’t say anything, seeming caught off guard by the sight of all the priceless gems. He actually twitched as if fighting the urge to drop to his knees and pick up as many as his flimsy pockets could carry.

The alley cat took advantage of the wizard’s hesitation and seized the staff in her jaws again. The sudden movement at the bottom of the staff threw the wizard off balance and he stumbled and fell to the floor. The Siamese that had still been focused on the amulet took her chance. She darted forward, her delicate jaws closing over the string just above the small clay cat.

There was no guardian as tenacious as a Siamese. Rumor had it, centuries ago a pair of Siamese had been tasked with guarding a precious chalice. So intense was their diligence, the sheer force of their concentration, it had left the feline—and her descendants—with the crossed-eyes her breed was known for.

Now she used that same intensity, that same determination, as she pressed her teeth together, sealing her jaws closed over the strap. Her sharp teeth pressed into the worn leather, and with a vicious tug, she jerked the amulet free.

Faconi cried out in dismay as she sprinted across the room and darted under the bed. He swiveled his head around in desperation.

Searching for his devil.

Unfortunately for him, the devil was locked in battle with the ghost of a man who sounded like he’d fought a devil or two before. The musical chanting coming from the ghost’s mouth was smooth and confident, beautiful in its simplicity. The devil screamed and slashed at the ghost, but his claws passed through it without so much as distorting the old man’s face.

“What are you doing?” Faconi shouted, clearly still not seeing the ghost. “Get the cat! It’s under the bed and it has my amulet!”

The devil growled something in a language that made my skin crawl under my fur. It lumbered toward the bed, wincing and hissing as the Siamese carried his ghost behind him, the ghost still chanting, still calm and confident.

The tortoise shell cat darted under the devil’s arm as it raced to join the Siamese. The devil crouched down and reached underneath the bed, but if the expression on its face was anything to go by, the tortoise shell cat kept himself and the Siamese with her prize out of his reach.

Suddenly the devil flinched and jerked its arm from under the bed, using it now to shield its face. The ghost’s voice rose, gaining power.

“Get the amulet!” Faconi screamed.

The devil snarled—

Then vanished.

The ghost bowed his head, spoke a few more soft words, then drifted away into smoke.

“Rayaan!” Faconi shouted, his voice high with panic. “I release you!”

“Say the words!” the djinn shouted.

I tensed and straightened. Rayaan. That was the name Bas had given the djinn. The wizard was talking to the djinn in the book. And Rayaan was using the “Yes, I Promise, Now Give Me the Honey” voice the pixie used when negotiating with the witch.

Faconi shouted something in a language more formal than the first. I recognized a spell when I heard one, had heard the witch often enough. There was a certain cadence to spells that sounded different from regular human speech.

Suddenly a figure erupted from the pages of the book. A figure of smoke and obsidian, with eyes that made you feel like you were falling if you looked into them too deeply. I would have sworn I heard the whisper of sand when the djinn stepped out of the book and onto the floor of the wizard’s bedroom. Faconi looked at Bas, a triumphant, evil look in his eyes as he waited for the djinn to destroy his enemies.

Rayaan grabbed Faconi, curling one clawed hand around the wizard’s throat.

The wizard’s end was quick, violent, and bloody. The spray of the wizard’s lifeblood colored everyone but the tortoise shell cat, who’d, of course, managed to stand exactly out of range despite having left the protection of the shelter under the bed.

The djinn faced Bas and began to speak. I didn’t understand what he said, but Bas nodded. First at the djinn, and then at me.

The djinn turned to me. When he spoke next, it was in a feline tongue, though a more ancient version with a thick accent.

“I know the divine when I feel it,” Rayaan said gravely. “And for this messenger to be blessed with the help of so many of your kin, his mission must be one of great importance.”

I raised my chin. “Yes.”

“I want only my freedom.” The djinn nodded to Bas. “He has no voice anymore. He cannot speak for me of what I did here. But you can. You will tell the gods that I helped you. You will ask them to let me be.”

“I will,” I answered seriously. “I will tell them you were very helpful. Helpful is good.”

The djinn nodded and walked away, disappearing into a puff of smoke before he reached the door.

I went to Bas, and he leaned down to let me onto his back again. That seemed like a good sign he wasn’t angry anymore. When he pushed himself to his feet, there was something in the heaviness of the movement. Something more than pain. I’d expected relief if not joy over our victory, but the mummy dog seemed…tired. Or sad.

Sometimes they felt like the same thing.

I would help him, I decided. I knew how to cheer him up.

“Thank you for your help,” I told my kin.

“You are welcome, little brother,” the alley cat said, licking the wizard’s blood from her paw.

“It was good to see you again,” the tortoise shell cat said kindly. “She misses you.”

“I miss her too,” I said, thinking of the woman who’d brought me to the witch. “Perhaps I will visit.”

“She would like that,” the Siamese said in unison. “As would we.”

Bas twitched, obviously ready to leave, so I finished my goodbyes.

He returned us to the old man’s house with the same speed as before, and I watched as he trotted up to the front door and pawed at it.

The old man answered the door, this time with a different cat on his shoulder. He looked down at Bas, and the mummy dog rose up, showing the man the amulet.

“You found my necklace,” the old man said, the skin around his eyes creasing as he smiled. “Thank you. My granddaughter would have been so sad if she thought I’d lost it.”

I would tell my brethren to keep an eye on it. Make sure no one else took it.

“What’s happened to you?” he asked, gently cupping Bas’s face in his hand and tilting it to get a look at his injuries. “Been to the wars, I see.” He nodded and pushed the door open wider. “Come on in then, let’s get you cleaned up. I have some bacon in the fridge. It’ll do you some good I think.”

I’d heard the witch use that tone lots of times. Usually before she cuddled me, petted me until the pain went away. And that word was familiar too. Bacon. A very yummy treat, if I remembered correctly.

Bas was in good hands.

I meowed happily as a somewhat bewildered Bas allowed the old man to lead him inside. I wondered if Bas had ever had a human care for him before. Not as a servant or a messenger, but as a beloved family member.

It was an experience I highly recommended.

I left Bas to soak in the love humans reserved for animals and headed for the shadows.

I had a message to deliver.

A month later, the witch once again bungled the magic I so helpfully provided to her. One minute she was chasing some sort of goblin down an alley, shouting at him in her “Stop or I’ll Dump All the Honey Down the Sink’’ voice, and the next the entire alley was covered in pitch blackness. My night vision was excellent, but even I couldn’t see in the inky dark the witch fueled with my magic.

I flicked my tail from side to side. I would never understand her choices.

But, I supposed I didn’t have to. I was just there to help.

As long as I was in complete darkness, now seemed as good a time as any to check on the amulet. Not that I doubted my brethren’s dedication to making sure the old man didn’t lose it again, but the old man had mentioned bacon last time I was there, and given his love for cats, there was a good chance some of it would be offered to me.

I walked into the shadows, blinking to see the paths through the shadowy plane. I found the one I wanted, and after a few wrong turns, I found myself crawling out from under the couch in the old man’s living room.

Bas’s face was the first thing I saw when I crawled out.

“Bas!” I said, racing over to leap onto his back. “You’re still here!” I rested my chin on his bandaged head between his ears and paused. “But why are you still here?”

Bas lifted his head, then made a sound. Or rather, tried to make a sound. Nothing came out.

I climbed on top of his head so I could look down into his eyes. “You still can’t speak?”

“His master doesn’t want him back.”

I looked up to see the black cat lounging on the armrest of the couch I’d crawled out from under. He indicated Bas with his chin.

“A messenger who can’t speak isn’t much good, is he?” the black cat added.

My chest tightened and I flopped down on Bas’s head, pressing close in a hug. “I’m sorry, Bas.”

Bas shook his head. He looked up at the old man puttering around in the kitchen, then looked down at the floor. I lifted my head enough to see there was a bowl on the floor. A bowl with dog food in it.

With bacon on top.

Bas wagged his tail.

“Oh,” I said slowly. I felt my own tail rising, my mood lifting—and not just because there was bacon. I patted Bas’s head with my paw. “You have a human now too. That’s good. He will take care of you.” I paused, then added, “Though I have to warn you, they don’t always show their appreciation for your help. You just have to know that they do appreciate it. Deep down.”

Bas made a sound in his nose that sounded like laughter, but was probably just an oncoming cold.

I flicked my tail from side to side, glancing back at the dog dish.

“Are you going to eat all that bacon?”

Jennifer Blackstream is a USA Today bestselling author of urban fantasy and paranormal romance. She is amazed and grateful to have made a writing career out of a Master’s degree in Psychology, hours of couch-detecting watching Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries, and endless research into mythology and fairy tales. She firmly believes that whether it’s a village witch deciding she wants to be a private investigator, or a single mother having a go at being a full-time writer, it’s never too late for a new adventure.

A fervent devotee of cooperative board games, Jennifer sets aside at least two nights a week for team-based adventures such as Mice & Mystics, Sentinels of the Multiverse, or Harry Potter: Battle at Hogwarts. She uses games with dice-based mechanics to lure in her ridiculously lucky-rolling son and daughter in the hope that they too will develop a passion for cooperative escapism.

Connect with Jennifer Blackstream at https://www.jenniferblackstream.com/