Клеа Саймон - An Incantation Of Cats

“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.

“What aren’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 he can 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.