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“What are you doing here?” I whisper-yelled.
“I know you left the house to get away from me,” he said, his tail swaying in a large sweeping motion behind him.
“What?” I said. “That’s—no. No, I didn’t. Um, how did you get here?”
He sighed, letting out the unpleasant scent of stale milk, thanks to the ice cream we’d shared earlier. “I used magic, obviously.”
“Oh, um. Why? I can handle things on my own here?” I wasn’t sure why that came out as a question. I guess my nerves were still rattled by the fact my boss was dead and my cat could talk.
“Sure, you can.” Merlin scoffed at my alleged independence, then shook his head and continued. “Look, I don’t care why you killed this Harold guy. That’s your business, not mine. But the thing is since you’re my familiar now, I’m going to have to ask you to stop taking wild risks with your safety.”
“Come again now? I’m your what?”
“My familiar. All good witches and wizards have them, and you’re looking at one of the best.”
“I don’t want to be your—”
“Too late! Since I confided my secret in you, we are now bonded. N
o take-backsies.” That irksome feline had the audacity to smile as he announced this.
I swooned and staggered backward. “I’m sorry. This is all a little much. Also I didn’t kill Harold.”
“Sure, you didn’t.”
“I didn’t! That’s why I’m here. I’m looking for proof that someone else did it. Although the best option is still that he died of natural causes.”
“He didn’t,” my cat informed me matter-of-factly as he sniffed at the air. “I can sense the rage and ill feelings in this place. It’s thick like a smog.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Oh, then you know who did it, too?”
“Not a clue, but it’s probably better you let the police handle this. You’ll have enough to keep you busy now that you need to learn the ropes of being someone’s familiar.”
“I really don’t have the energy for this,” I pouted, then let out a long yawn.
Merlin touched my foot with his paw, and a little jolt of energy ran through me—a sudden pick-me-up that was even more powerful than a double shot of espresso.
I stopped to gape at my feline companion. “Whoa, you really are magic. Aren’t you?”
“Yes, clearly.” He rolled his eyes at me, a gesture I didn’t even know a cat could make. “Oh, and also, you can’t tell anyone.”
“I won’t,” I promised as my hands shook with fear. “Who would I tell?”
“Not my problem,” he informed me, turning to trot away. “But if you do tell, you’ll be immediately transported to the dirtiest, seediest, awfullest magical prison that ever existed.”
“Oh.” My hands shook even harder now, and I dropped the stapler. A loud clatter rang through the empty coffeehouse, and my heart practically stopped beating in my chest.
My cat returned with a sneer. “Stop futzing. You’re my representative now, and I don’t take kindly to being embarrassed.”
Ugh. What had my life become?
5
When we returned home, Merlin disappeared into the darkness, mumbling something about witchy business that needed seeing to and continuing my familiar education tomorrow.
I fell into bed in an exhausted heap and with a desperate prayer that tomorrow would be different.
I awoke the next morning to an insistent pounding on my front door. Upon squinting my eyes open, I realized that the sun already hung high in the sky. Normally my cat woke me in the pre-dawn hours to demand I refill his food bowl, but today he’d allowed me to sleep in. Why?
