Клеа Саймон - An Incantation Of Cats

On top of all that, the bike messenger had disappeared by the time the detective had released her. Embarrassed, perhaps, or regretting his hasty words, which Becca had finally had a chance to absorb. Clara didn’t know how her person would respond, though she was pretty sure Laurel would want to weigh in, but she could see Becca’s increasing frustration as she scanned the room. And now she couldn’t get in to see Gaia either. Maybe it was understandable that her person had lost her cool.

Following her outburst, it did appear as if she were trying to be reasonable. “Please, can you at least tell me if she’s being admitted?”

From her tone, her pet realized, Becca was close to tears, and her tender feline heart went out to her person as she tried once more to explain why she should be given this really quite basic information. Already, she had told the nurse that she had been visiting with Gaia only minutes before. That it had been her quick action that had resulted in her friend being brought in to the ER. It did no good. Becca wasn’t authorized to receive confidential information. And so, no, she couldn’t even tell her if Gaia was being admitted or what her status was.

“I gather there’s a security issue,” the nurse said without looking up from the screen. “And I’m not going to say anymore. Do I have to call security?”

“No.” Becca admitted defeat as the other occupants of the waiting area quickly returned to their phones. It really wasn’t surprising that her person had lost her temper. And since all she had done was raise her voice, Clara didn’t think that any person, no matter how sensitive, could blame her.

“I’m not blaming her.”

Clara jumped. She had forgotten Laurel.

Shaded into near invisibility, her sister was crouched beside her, under one of the waiting area’s molded chairs. “Really, Clara, sometimes you act like you’re the only one who cares.”

Clara rounded on her sister, ready to hiss. It had been a trying day, and having her sibling read her mind was the final invasion of privacy.

“I’m trying to help, silly.” Laurel’s blue eyes, the only part of her visible, flared as she backed away. “You could tell she was thinking of Tiger.”

“She shouldn’t be.” Clara felt her ears go back. “The last thing she needs now is to be romanced by some stranger.”

“No, silly,” Laurel started to explain, but just then Becca turned and walked out into the night, and the two cats leaped to follow. Although Becca was striding swiftly, Clara caught up to her as she exited the hospital grounds. But while she wished with all her heart that her dear person would simply go home, her desires lacked the power of persuasion. Worse, Becca stood on the sidewalk, staring at the passing cars, long enough for Laurel to make her way up behind them. The Siamese might be nearly silent, but Clara was determined not to be taken by surprise again.

“What’s the matter?” Clara couldn’t resist. Even though she had no problem shimmying through the door that had swung closed in Becca’s wake, she had seen her sister struggle. “Did you find another man for Becca?”

“Hush, baby sister.” Laurel’s tail might be invisible, but Clara could see the swirls of dust as it lashed back and forth. “She’s about to—”

“Who told the police I was down at the car lot?” Becca might have been talking to herself, but her voice was clearly audible to the cats’ sensitive ears. And as she looked around the darkened parking area, Clara could feel her sister’s eyes on her. “ And why did Tiger run off?”

“Enough!” Clara was ready to take on her sister, precedence or not. But before she could even raise a paw, a car pulled up.

“Becca Colwin?” As their person climbed inside, the two feline sisters exchanged a glance and jumped to follow her. Out of habit, as much as anything, Clara even waited for Laurel to go first. If she had to, she knew, she could sidle into the trunk, even as the vehicle pulled away.

She didn’t have to. Becca, it seemed, had changed her destination. “I know I said that car lot down by the river, but it’s late.” She leaned forward to explain to the driver. “I think I’ll just go home, if you don’t mind.”

“It’s your ride.” With a shrug, the driver took off, and Clara began to relax.

“This is incredible.” Laurel, meanwhile, was entranced. Now that she knew where to look, Clara could just make out her sister’s outline. Standing with her forelegs on the car door, the sealpoint was staring out at the street, her eyes wide as she watched the world go pass. “No wonder you like this.”

“I don’t go out in the world because I like it.” Clara, whose nerves were a bit frayed, wasn’t so easily mollified. “I do it because I worry about Becca.”

“ Yes, but…” Laurel adjusted, as the car took a turn. “I’ve got to tell Harriet about this.”

Clara closed her eyes, regretting all the times she had wished her sisters shared her concerns. Bad enough that she had to deal with Laurel and Harriet’s interference at home. If the two of them really did start to follow her out in the world, protecting Becca was going to become exponentially more difficult.

“Maddy?”

Clara woke with a start.

Becca was speaking quietly into her phone. “Are you free tomorrow? I need your help with a kind of experiment. Call me?”

Clara looked around to see Laurel staring back, eyes wide with curiosity.

Nothing the rest of the evening made Becca’s plans any more clear. As soon as she was home, she reached for her laptop.

“Nothing new on Frank Cross.” She clicked on the keypad. “They’re still looking for that driver though.”

Within minutes, she’d gone quiet, and when Clara slipped behind her, she could see that Becca was focused on an image she had often spent time with before. Laurel had gone to sleep on her usual shelf by then, exhausted, Clara figured, by the outing. Even though she could feel her own lids growing heavy, Clara remained perched behind her person, determined to figure out what she was up to.

“ I don’t understand why that thing is so fascinating to her.” Harriet landed with a thud on the sofa and began kneading her pillow by Becca’s side. “She can just as easily look at us as at those pictures.”

Clara started. Yes, it was true. The familiar engraving that Becca often consulted was more detailed than she had first noticed. The odd flatness of the computer screen had obscured its details, as did the technique of the original. To Clara, it looked like it had been scratched out with particularly dexterous claws. But as she stared, she realized that although she had been taken by the likeness of the woman in the picture to Becca, albeit with that strange headdress, and to the calico at the picture’s center, there was more to the image. Almost hidden in the crosshatching of the sitter’s background—or maybe shaded—two other cats peered out. One large and pale, the other with the distinctive round head of a Siamese.

“The wise woman came to the aid of her community,” Becca read quietly to herself. “With the aid of her familiars.” Clara looked over at Harriet, but her oldest sister was focused on her pillow, clearly ready for her evening nap, while Laurel’s faint snores let her know that their middle sister was also otherwise engaged. Even as she felt her own eyes start to close, Becca shifted again, this time reaching for her phone.

“Not that kind of detective,” was all she said. But as Clara looked on, wide awake now, her person seemed to second guess the move, and put the phone away for the night.