“Oh, it’s not even close to freaky yet,” the cat says.
“It’s not a dream, but going back to bed isn’t a bad idea.Your familiar will know where your grimoire is, and you can find the rest of your town’s coven.You’ll need to lean on them for whatever is breaking loose there.”
“Excellent.I’ll put it on my to-do list along with ordering paperbacks and setting up my online store.”
“That’s the spirt!”Ivy chirps, my sarcasm lost on her.
“I’m going to bed.”
“Okay, I’ll call you tomorrow morning.Put some salt around your exterior doors.It’ll keep any wayward ghosts out.”Ivy yawns.“Bye!”
She hangs up.
“I could have told you that,” the cat sniffs, now licking a paw.
“You lick your own butt,” I tell her.
“Humans,” she says in a disgusted tone.“And you eat vegetables.”She spits out the word like it’s a curse, and then gags a little.
“Right.I am going to go to bed and maybe I won’t wake back up, but?—”
“No, you’re going to put salt around the doors.”
“Salt around the doors,” I repeat, slowly standing up.
The cat watches me like she’s never seen anything so stupid in all of her nine lives, but I’m not about to move too quick and risk falling down again.
Better safe than hospitalized, or something.
“How do I put salt on the doors?”I ask the cat.
In for a penny, in for a pound.Why not ask the cat for advice?Maybe I should get a CAT scan tomorrow.
CAT scan.Ha.
“You don’t put it on the doors, witch.You salt the entrance.”
“Oh, obviously.What else would I do?Of course.”
The cat ignores me, padding across the floor on silent feet.Outside, rain falls in sheets against the roof and window, the thunder and lightning show already having swept past us.
I’m wide awake, and it doesn’t take long at all to find the container of table salt I brought along with me in the car.It’s always smart to pack a few kitchen necessities where you can get to them easily.
I just… never thought I’d be using it on the floor.
“Do the bookshop door first, witch.The spirit is gone, for now, but it will be back.”The cat’s voice cracks like a whip, and there’s an undercurrent of fear that has me moving faster.
I pause, the salt spout open, and glance back at the cat.
“Yes, go on, make a thick line at the door.Graveyard brick dust would be better, but I assume you don’t have any of that?”
“Fresh out of graveyard brick dust,” I mutter.
Then I do as the cat—my familiar—says and dump a thick line of salt along the edge of the door.
Golden light and energy burst off the door the moment the threshold is sealed.
I jump back, screeching, falling on my butt all over again.
