He shook his head at me, in the same exasperated manner my daughter Alex had shown when she was a teenager and I’d done something cringy.
“Please?” I asked.
“Where would you go?” He pointed his tail straight at the ceiling, which, in all fairness, topped out at ten feet.
“Outside?” I suggested, although I already knew I was fighting a losing battle.
“Which would involve calculating your body mass, wind speed and direction, and how to prevent you from being spotted. It’s not as if witches flying around Willowmere on a broomstick, with a black cat steering, are an everyday occurrence.”
“Wish not granted then, I assume.” I must have sounded seriously deflated, because the next thing I heard was, “Hop onto your vacuum cleaner.”
My upright Hoover was a far cry from my dream of soaring in the air like the heroine in the movie “Bewitched”. I felt ridiculous straddling it. Nothing happened.
“Switch it on,” Cosmo said.
When I pressed the button, it sprang to life and shot forward so fast, I nearly crashed into the wall. What it didn’t do was leave the ground. I jumped off and hit the off button at the same time before I hurt myself. “What on earth was that?”
“A demonstration of what is currently possible for you and what isn’t.” He softened the blow. “Maybe one day we’ll get to the stage where I can let you whizz around in your apartment for a short spin. For now, your wish has to be slightly more – down to earth.”
He rubbed his head against my leg. “How about you take a raincheck? You can think about your wish while you’re gone.”
“That’s very generous of you.” I returned my attention to the sofa. One of the reasons I was inspecting every inch was my upcoming trip to Cannon Hill. Whatever material I needed, I hoped to find in the city. “It’s also very sweet that you’re okay with spending the night on your own.”
He’d originally pleaded to come along but relented when I pointed out that I hadn’t had a real girls’ night out with my best friends Ange, Harper, and Reina, aka the crazy coven, in years. We’d spent a lot of time together since my return, but never done an overnighter, free from jobs, families, and familiars, for once with nary a felon in sight. I couldn’t wait for the fun to begin.
Chapter 2
Ms. Vine, my former English teacher and one of the driving forces behind Willowmere’s thriving community spirit, arrived an hour early. She’d volunteered to take care of the library while I was gone, and to watch over Cosmo. Since she’d been one of my aunt’s closest friends, I had absolute trust that she could handle both tasks.
It would also give Cosmo a good chance to see if she spiked his witch-o-meter. So far, the jury was out on deciding if she was one of us, which in itself was weird. I’d not picked up any suspicious vibes, but she’d dropped hints that made us wonder about her. It also made me wonder about my familiar’s abilities.
Cosmo had easily figured out that I’d inherited my aunt’s position. My two cousins had also been in the running (all Merriweathers had a small magical bent, he’d told me, but the real inherited powers were not passed down in a straight line). He’d confirmed that Reina Fox, a jazz and blues singer with an enchanting voice, had a drop of siren blood, and that dedicated Wiccan and fellow artisan Ange Gale was as good as a witch, as attuned to healing and nature as she was.
Ms. Vine chuckled as she saw the long list with instructions I’d put in the checkout counter in the library. I’d replenished the jar with the non-magical cookies and relocated the enhanced treats to the safety of my pantry upstairs.
She adjusted her funky red-rimmed glasses and read aloud, “Three treats may be given after every meal, to be served in the handmade ceramic bowl. Ideally placed between the dish with wet food and the water bowl. If children pet him during story time, he likes to be brushed afterwards. The soft brush is for every day, and if someone had sticky fingers, he prefers the one with natural bristles.” She stopped, although the list went on. “It seems His Highness has you firmly under his paw.”
“My aunt asked me to look after him exactly the way she used to,” I defended myself. Not that she was wrong, but I didn’t like to be labeled a pushover.
“And you’re doing a splendid job, with everything.”
There it was again, the unspoken hint that she knew a lot more than she let on. I focused on my witchy sense. Did I feel the slightest tingle or rise in temperature that could not be explained by my going through The Change (an HRT patch on my hip and cooling pajamas at night took care of most symptoms)? Any unusually strong hot flash was usually connected to someone using occult powers in the vicinity or planning evil. Nope, no signs of witchfire going on. Or maybe it simply meant that she meant no harm? Oh, the joys of ambiguous pointers.
I looked at Ms. Vine. She’d lately embraced the freedom from judgement and decorum that retirement offered and replaced her sensible knitwear, skirts and slacks with embroidered jeans, sequins in all colors of the rainbow, and faux fur. Next to her, I faded into the background, despite my blue hair.
Cosmo strolled over to us and pressed himself against my leg. He meowed.
Ms. Vine patted the counter. He jumped up, next to the list and stretched.
“He’ll be fine, I promise, and so will everything else. I appreciate your dedication, but you need to learn to relax a little. What’s the point of being free and single if you can’t let go of your duties for one single night?”
“I can, I mean, I do. Otherwise, I wouldn’t leave Cosmo alone in the house.” I failed to mention that he’d been the one who insisted on staying home instead of going with Ms. Vine, after it was clear he wasn’t going to be part of the trip.
I had no idea what a familiar did on his own, but we all deserved a little me-time, even a cat.
When Ange arrived to pick me up, Ms. Vine had settled at the desk with a cup of my Peace of Mind tea, a copy of Practical Magic by Alice Hoffman, and an air of quiet competence.
I stroked Cosmo. He snuggled against my hand and nodded. I took this as his way to silently tell me he had everything under control.
