Page 14 of Catalyst


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They are all huge. Bigger than Charlie. The smallest one has wings that look like stretched leather and are almost the same size as him. He has little stubby horns poking out of his head. He has a huge smile and is so cute that I was surprised when he said he was a—”

“Demon,” Winnie gasped.

Yes, how did you know?

“What? A demon? One of the otherworlders is a demon?” Mary was suddenly excited, which made me very wary. Winnie told her what I’d said about them. Mary got up and ran to the bookcase.

No. Not in the Christian sense. He’s so happy and seems sweet. I think his species was just written in myths as bad.

Mary returned to the sofa with a book and quickly flipped to a page. “Does he look like this?” She showed me an illustration of a creature that looked like Savida. The drawing looked angry and aggressive but otherwise had his defining features.

Yes. Sort of. He didn’t pull that face. Why are you so excited?

Winnie informed Mary of what I said and then responded, “Why wouldn’t we be excited, Clawds? There’s a creature next door that we’ve learned about in our studies as witches. What’s not to be excited about?” She gave me a brittle smile, and I tilted my head to look at her curiously.

Was that a lie? Was that her lying smile?

Mary stood up suddenly. Winnie looked at her sharply and glanced at me, then back at her. They were communicating something with their eyes and twitching brows. I didn’t know what was going on, but something felt strange. I didn’t like it.

Mary turned her quick movement into a slow and exaggerated stretch and yawn. “Wow, that wine has really hit me. I’m suddenly so tired. I think I’ll go home.”

“I’ll see you out,” Winnie said and jumped up.

You don’t want to know what the others looked like?I was confused and hurt that they’d cut me off halfway through my story. They didn’t know about the otherworlders looking for someone named Margaret. How Zaide was my favorite. How beautiful and powerful Daithi was.

“Maybe you can tell us tomorrow.” Winnie continued walking to the door, leaving me on the sofa.

I huffed. Still annoyed, and with my fur on end from the strange tension in the air, I went to bed.

Falling into a dream.

A memory.

My past.

CHAPTER4

MARGARET CLAUDIA

MONDAY 6THSEPTEMBER 1920

“Where are you going?”

The cruel tone to my father’s voice gave me pause as I packed my satchel with my lunch.

When I turned, he was leaning against the doorway, still in his clothes from the day before.

Archibald John Smith used to be a tall and strong man, with a quick smile, a caring nature, dark hair that was thick and clean, and blue eyes that lit up at the sight of me.

But his eyes no longer gazed at me with light, or clarity, or sobriety. His hair was greasy and thinning. His strength and height turned soft and slumped as he stood glaring at me, one hand holding his suspender strap and the other holding a bottle of homebrewed beer.

It was a sight that was becoming all too familiar.

“I’m going to work.”

“Work,” he scoffed. “What do you know about work?”

I didn’t know how to reply. He knew both mother and I had turned our hands to work while he was at war. A volunteer at the hospital wasn’t comparable to the heroic service he’d done for our country, but I did know work. Especially now that I was a student nurse at the Free Hospital.

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