Хармони Харт - Basic Witch

The rows of shops on either side of us all appeared to be closed, but intricately-carved wooden signs told me what awaited behind each door. Cook’s Fine Books. Designs by Destiny. And… Fae Fashion & Fabrics. Pixie Potions Apothecary Shop? Wendell’s Wands & Brooms?

So maybe it was less like a Hallmark movie, and more like an animated Disney film. I half expected Flora, Fauna, and Merryweather to come flitting across the sidewalk.

Titus swished her tail and flipped over onto her back, so I was cradling her like an infant. “ Sleeping Beauty was okay, but I always liked The Aristocats better.”

I frowned down at my cat. I didn’t think I mentioned the fairies out loud. Or did I? Obviously I did, because otherwise, she wouldn’t be talking—thinking?—about her preferences in Disney flicks. Unless this was all some weird dream, which was beginning to seem like the most plausible explanation. In real life, I was probably passed out on the couch with some television show broadcasting snippets of weird-dream material into my subconscious. In a few hours, I’d wake up with a bad case of bedhead, and this would all be over.

With a deep breath and a long, slow exhale, I told myself, I’m not crazy.

“You’re not crazy! Except for that one time you thought about getting a dog. I was really worried we might be getting a dog. I’m so glad you changed your mind about that. I mean, you change your mind about a lot of things, really, but that doesn’t mean you’re crazy.”

Gilmer cast a mildly annoyed glance at me as we walked. “Chatty familiar you have there.”

“Chatty what? Famil—oh, you mean my cat.” Of course these people—who believe they’re actually witches—would refer to cats as familiars. Because why wouldn’t they?

“Yes. I assume this feline is your witchy companion. If not, you should have a frank discussion about boundaries. He might just be the clingiest cat I’ve ever seen.”

“Hey! I heard that.” Titus bristled. My protective instinct flared, and I cuddled her closer to my chest.

“I’m pretty sure you’re working with some faulty intel. I’m not a witch. And it’s she . Titus is a female. She was a rescue kitten. She had a rough start in life.”

“My intel is quite accurate, I assure you.” He frowned. “Titus is not a female name.”

“She’s named for that character in Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt ?”

“I don’t know any Kimmy Schmidt.”

“It’s a television show.”

“Television?”

“Yeah, you know. The little living room box that shows movies?”

“Honestly, Ms. Bradbury. This is no time for gibberish.”

“Nevermind.” I caught my bottom lip between my teeth as I pondered Gilmer’s responses. He came across as an educated guy, so his cluelessness about pop culture and entertainment was pretty weird. I knew people who didn’t watch television, but I’d never met someone who didn’t even know what a television was . And don’t even get me started on his confusion over Starbucks. That was just beyond weird. “Anyway, the foster program told me she was a boy when I picked her up. By the time she was old enough for us to confirm her gender, she was already answering to Titus.” I scratched the top of her head, eliciting a purr of satisfaction. “Besides, it suits her. She and her namesake share a flare for the dramatic.”

“Now that, I believe.”

“Wait, so you can hear what she’s saying?” I asked.

“No. It would be impossible to ignore that much noise, but it all sounds like typical feline sounds to me. You’re the only one who can hear her thoughts. Oh, and other familiars, of course.”

“So can Titus hear my thoughts, too?”

“Yes. Although the intensity of the witch-familiar bond dictates just how much she can hear. Many witches find they have to direct their thoughts at their familiar in order to be heard. But a particularly well-bonded pair tends to experience an open flow of telepathic communication.” He peered over at Titus, who was purring happily in my arms. “I suspect you and this… Titus ... may fall into the latter category.”

“Maybe you should point out that a guy who calls himself Gilmer has no room to mock other people’s—cats’—names,” Titus complained.

“Agreed. But let’s maybe refrain from picking on the guy who rescued us from a trip to the slammer? I gave her ear a quick scratch of reassurance. Plus, it’s nice to know we can talk to each other without people overhearing, right?”

“Fine. But I reserve the right to hold a very serious grudge. And you know cats do grudges like nobody’s business.”

“Deal.”

“Right this way.” Gilmer swept his arm to the side, gesturing for us to walk down a narrow street nestled between two rows of shops.

“So, I don’t usually make it a habit of following strange men into dark alleys. Where exactly are we going again?”

“Coven Headquarters.”

“Not so fast. This whole situation,” I waved my hand toward the alley, “looks more like tomorrow’s front page news— Naive Woman Found Murdered in Dark Alley —than any sort of official coven anything.”

Gilmer pursed his lips. “Honestly, Ms. Bradbury. It doesn’t please me to admit this, but in the event of a physical altercation, I’m certain you would hold your own against me.” He motioned to his body, drawing my attention to his slight, bony frame and general lack of muscle. I wasn’t a fan of violence except when necessary for self-defense, so I almost felt bad for thinking it, but it would probably only take one solid punch to protect myself from a guy like Gilmer Gayle. “In a battle of wits, however…” he muttered.

“Rude.”

“Ms. Bradbury, I haven’t got all night. I’d be happy to tell the Coven you insisted on spending the night in jail under the careful watch of Detective Winterbottom.”

“Fine,” I replied. Whatever surprises lurked in the shadows had to be better than being arrested for murder, right? “Lead the way.”

“Remember the grudge. He touches you, I claw his eyes out.”

“Noted.”

I followed Gilmer into the alley, taking care to stay a few steps back in the name of self-preservation. His pace slowed, and he paused, spinning on his heel to face a solid brick wall. “Aha! This will do.” He drew a wooden wand from his belt with a flourish and tapped it on the brick, muttering something under his breath.

In an instant, a grand doorway appeared before us, shimmering with golden light. I gasped and took a step back. Beyond the doorway, I could see a magnificent room adorned with black marble floors, ornate carved wood and silver accents, and what seemed like endless hallways, spiraling staircases and hundreds of doors.

“Wow,” I said. “This is not what I expected.” But a random door appearing in an alley wouldn’t be the craziest thing to happen today. Or even the craziest thing to happen in the last 20 minutes.

“And what exactly did you expect?” Gilmer asked.

“Three old hags bowed over a bubbling cauldron in a dank cave?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. This is Salem, not Darkwater Cove.” He choked back a nervous laugh, dropping his voice to a whisper. “And besides, best not to speak of such things. Especially not here at Coven Headquarters. You’d be well-served to pretend you know nothing about it.”

I opened my mouth to tell Gilmer I was just kidding but changed my mind when I saw the anxious look in his eyes. Whatever Darkwater Cove was, he seemed pretty adamant that I stay away from it. Worried, even.

“Thanks for the advice,” I offered, patting his arm. “I appreciate you looking out for me.” He smiled, a goofy, sheepish grin framed by a rising flush in his cheeks that told me appreciation and compliments must be in short supply for poor Gilmer. I suddenly felt bad for coming off as less-than-grateful for his intervention in my situation with the Detective.