•Among the supernatural—at least, those in the know—it is considered good luck to be chosen my a murmurkin
•They may be the source of the “witch’s familiar;” witches have been known to consult with murmurkin, though the cats give advice on their own terms
•Succubi and other long-lived creatures will form centuries-long bonds with them, the cat seemingly not aging (naturally, murmurkin do not comment on this, so their natural lifespan is unknown)
•Fae creatures are known to treat murmurkin with deference, though the relationship between the fairies and cats remains as mysterious as the cats themselves
“Well, that’s extremely interesting,” I say, closing the book and reevaluating Spenser’s cat, who is still watching me. “How did you and Flicker meet?”
“I found her in the basement about a week after I bought this building. I have no idea how she got down there, but when I opened the door, she came up, inspected the place, and seemed to approve. I live in the apartment above the store, so she comes home with me at night. All choices she made, but I like her company, so it worked out quite well. Believe it or not, she’s pretty good with customers. I’ve seen her recommend books on multiple occasions and she’s never wrong.”
“Well,” I say, shooting the cat a smile, “I look forward to working with you, Flick.”
JULIET
I head to Gabe and Maggie’s for dinner that night, where I meet Maggie’s cat Jasper for the first time. He’s a fluffy orange and white thing, who immediately greets me withallthe sniffs, weaving though my ankles and carefully inspecting my boots. I guess I pass whatever test he’s giving me, because after a minute, he sits back, looks at me and blinks slowly. I blink back in greeting. He meows once, as if to say hello, before turning and disappearing down the hall, his giant tail standing up and curved like a question mark.
Okay, then.
Maggie grins at me. “I think he likes you.”
I unzip my coat and hang it on the hook in the foyer. “I think he smelled Flick on me. Any chance Jasper is a fellow murmurkin?”
Her brow creases. “What’s a murmurkin?”
Good to know I’m not the only one who’d never heard of them. “Well, according to the book Spenser showed me, they’re an offshoot of domestic cats who can understand English and like to engage in matchmaking. I guess they’re vaguely supernatural? And have a tendency to be right about everything.”
Her eyes widen. “That’s…something else.”
“It was news to me too,” I say, adding my hat and scarf to the hook. “Apparently, they also choose their owners.”
“Huh,” she says as she leads me down the hall, past an entry table sporting a giant bouquet of winter flowers. It must have come from Bloom & Vine. “He did kind of choose me. He was hanging out in my yard for a while before he deigned to come in. And I think he picked his own name.”
“Did he play a role in you getting together with Gabe?”
She blinks. “Now that you mention it, I think he kind of did. Wow. That’s unsettling.”
“Well, there you have it,” I tell her. “Sounds like he could be a murmurkin.”
“Sounds like who could be a what?” Gabe says as we enter the kitchen. He’s standing at the stove, looking comfy in a sweater and sweats that accommodate his own fluffy tail, stirring a pot of soup.
“You have a magic cat,” I say.
His brow furrows. “Come again?”
Maggie tells him our theory as she sets the kitchen table. The room is warm and homey, with honey-colored wood cabinets, traditional white appliances, and walls painted a soft, buttery yellow. The soup makes the whole room smell delectable, like garlic and celery.
Before long, we’re settled in our seats, talking, laughing, and slurping up Gabe’s delicious meal. Along with crusty bread, baked potatoes, and wine, it’s a hearty meal on a chilly night. Once again, a sense of gratitude for these two washes over me. I’ll never be able to repay them for all the help they’ve given me.
“So,” Maggie says, “how exactly did you end up here? I mean, I know you lost your job, but what happened with Braeden? Did you finally kick his loser ass to the curb? And what on earth is going on with your mom? Her social media posts arewild.”
“Ugh.” I take a gulp of wine for fortitude. “Braeden told me that it had become clear in the time we were together I would never be the kind of woman he wanted.”
Maggie wrinkles her nose. “What the hell does that mean?”
“And how long were you together?” Gabe adds.
“Two years. In short, he wanted a tradwife. He was annoyed that I had a job and my own apartment, that I didn’t cook his dinner every night, that he was responsible for his own laundry, that I wasn’t ecstatic to pop out his babies, et cetera”
