Fighting cats create a particularly haunting sound. The caterwauling coming from downstairs carries through the house like a ghostly wailing, hinting at murder and bloodshed.
Opening the door while simultaneously pulling on my pajama bottoms, I find Andrew scrambling to tug a T-shirt over his head.
“What’s going on?” I ask, suspecting I already know my role in setting this in motion.
“Sounds like Mr. M is defending his territory,” Andrew says, racing ahead of me down the stairs from the attic.
“From what?” I follow behind.
“That’s what we’re going to find out.” He opens the door at the bottom of the staircase.
Sam meets us in the hall, disheveled and sleepy. “Something woke me up.”
Glass shatters on a hard surface from below.
“Catfight,” Andrew tells her, not slowing his pace as he races down the final flight of steps to the first floor.
Sam’s eyes widen at the sound of more meowing and hissing. “How many cats are involved?”
“We’re about to find out.” I jog down the stairs.
A tall, human shadow in the front living room startles me and I come to an abrupt stop. Sam slams into my back and then we both tumble forward. My heart is already galloping around my chest like a spooked horse from almost face planting in the foyer, and I can’t decide if I see a blue haze or not.
For a second, I’m certain there’s a ghost in the house until the shadow solidifies into Tate.
“What are you doing here?” I whisper as he joins us by the stairs.
“Ran into Sam—”
More hissing and another crash interrupts him.
“Later,” I say, once again racing toward the sound.
A light brightens the kitchen, illuminating Andrew standing near the island. Sarah holds a broom pointed at a black cat sitting on top of the kitchen table.
Dressed in a thick black robe embroidered with red roses, her hair out of its signature bun, Sarah is still stylish even in the middle of the night and as fierce as ever.
“Has Mistoffelees gone crazy?” I ask, stopping next to Andrew. Flour and ceramic shards litter the counters and floor. Sprays of broken glass glitters in the dim light on the wood near our feet.
“Be careful you don’t cut your feet,” Andrew warns us.
“This isn’t my cat.” Sarah waves behind herself in the direction of the counter. “Mr. M is on top of the cupboards.”
Sure enough, his familiar yellow eyes glare down at us and he hisses.
“Then whose cat is that?” I point at the intruder. In the light from the pendant lights, I easily see the difference. Mistoffelees is heavier and his yellow eyes have a slight green tinge to them that makes them appear to glow. The cat on the table is skinnier and has smaller, duller eyes. While I study him, he swipes at the bristles of Sarah’s broom.
“I’m not sure. Nor do I know how it got into the house. M was locked inside tonight. At least he was when I went to bed.” Sarah blocks the cat’s attempt to jump off the table.
Andrew and I meet eyes as the truth settles in my chest like a heavy weight.
“I let him in. We were followed by a black cat earlier downtown and then when we got home, this one appeared by the front porch. I assumed it was Mistoffelees.”
“We assumed,” Andrew corrects me.
Mr. M hisses from his high perch and lets out a low growl.
“Apologies,” I tell the cat. “I’m sorry for insulting you.”
He blinks his bright yellow eyes twice.
“Andrew, will you grab the cat carrier from the basement?” Sarah keeps her voice flat and calm.
“Shouldn’t we just open the door and let it out,” Sam asks from behind me.
“No, we need to find out more information from him,” Tate explains.
The cat hisses.
“Sorry, her. Is that better?” he addresses the cat.
The cat winks and sits down.
“One mystery solved. Are you going to behave yourself? Can I put the broom down?” Sarah slowly moves the broom away from the table.
Our feline guest doesn’t move to escape, her tail twitching in restrained annoyance.
Still holding the handle, Sarah lets the bristle rest on the floor near her feet.
“Tate, can you call Dr. Philips? His number is on the laminated sheet by the phone.”
Andrew returns from the basement with the carrier. He eyes the cat on the table. “Still need this?”
“Our guest is behaving herself for now.” Sarah points at the interloper. “Set it on the chair close by in case she decides to attack Mistoffelees again.”
Slowly, Andrew steps forward, each move calculated and restrained.
When nothing happens, I exhale the breath I’d been holding.
After a brief conversation, Andrew hangs up the phone. “Philips will be here as soon as he can. Anyone else I should call?”
Sam whispers so only I can hear. “Seems a lot of effort for a stray cat getting into the house.”
“If it were an ordinary cat.” Tate joins us by the island. “She’s a spy.”
“I knew it,” I exclaim, earning a hiss from the new cat.
Andrew laughs and envelops me in his arms. “Enjoying your moment of triumph?”
“Be nice to us. Spy cats aren’t something we’re used to dealing with,” Sam says with a pout. “Don’t forget this is a whole new reality for Madison and me.”
“We know.” Tate drapes an arm over her shoulder and pulls her against his chest for a hug.
I’m reminded he never explained why he’s here. “Did you get locked out of the dorm tonight? Is that why you were sleeping on the couch?”
Tate’s eyebrows shoot toward his hairline. I can’t see Sam’s face because it’s still pressed against his chest.
Sarah giggles and then covers it with a totally fake cough. “Seems love is in the air. Must be all the rose quartz I’ve scattered around your rooms. And Tate, you don’t have to sleep on the couch for my delicate morals. You’re all adults.”
Embarrassed she might somehow know what Andrew and I were doing in his bedroom, I straighten my shirt, remembering it’s actually his.
Sam springs away from Tate so quickly she’s like an animated bunny.
“Oh, sorry. Seems I’ve overstepped. If you want to sleep on the lumpy couch, then feel free. You know where the extra pillows and blankets are.” Sarah is a master at pretending away an awkward situation.
A knocking at the front door saves Sam from turning any more red than she already is.
“Must be Philips. My house. I’ll greet him.”
Her slippers muffle the sound of her footsteps down the hall. A male voice joins hers as they return to the kitchen.
Once I confirm it’s Dr. Philips, I turn my eyes to the cat. She stands, but doesn’t arch her back or hiss. Instead, she leaps off the table and prances her way over to him with her tail in the air.
“Mildred,” he greets her, scooping her into his arms and then nuzzling her head with his cheek.
She begins purring instantly.
Glancing around the room at all of us and the chaos of the cat war, Philips shakes his head. “I’m sorry Mildred created such a scuffle. How did she get inside the house?”
I sheepishly wave my fingers at him. “I brought her in after finding her lurking around the front steps. In the dark, I mistook her for Sarah’s cat.”
“You were a long way from home,” Philips addresses Mildred in his arms.
Mistoffelees jumps down from his perch and scampers out of the room, his claws tapping on the wood floors as he races down the hallway and up the stairs.
“Someone isn’t pleased to have a late night guest.” Philips lovingly strokes Mildred’s black fur.
Aware I’m wearing my striped pajama bottoms, Andrew’s shirt, and no bra, I cross my arms and take a seat at the table, feeling suddenly underdressed. Unlike our various states of sleeping outfits, he’s neatly dressed in his typical tweed jacket and pressed trousers. With the cat and his professor costume, he’s a classic villain costume come to life.
“Were you at a function tonight, Dr. Philips?” I ask out of curiosity.
His eyes shift to find Sarah. “You could say that.”
“I think I’ll make some tea. I doubt any of us will be able to get back to sleep and it seems we have a lot to discuss.”
“Do you have anything to eat? I’m starved.” Andrew rubs his stomach.
“Cookies in the jar, an extra loaf of lemon poppyseed cake in the breadbox, and who knows what in the fridge.” Sarah busies herself with filling her electric kettle with water.
Andrew cleans up the mess on the counters and floor with Tate’s help.
Once we all settle around the kitchen table with our tea and snacks, Mildred curled on Philips’ lap, I bring up the encounter with Mildred right before we ran into Hamilton and Lucy.
Andrew corrects me. “You mean Kitty.”
I laugh when he curls his fingers and pretends to bat at me like he has paws.
“Who’s Kitty?’ Sam asks.
“Lucy has decided to change her name.” I take a bite of a cookie. “Don’t laugh at me but I thought at first the black cat could be Lucy in disguise. Is that even possible? The name change and the feline stalker seem too coincidental.”
“There are no coincidences,” Sarah says with a lighthearted tone. Addressing Philips, she says, “Time to explain some things, my old friend.”
He scratches his beard and frowns. “I suppose the time has come.”
Andrew finds my hand under the table and entwines our fingers together. I’m sure it’s supposed to be a gesture of comfort, but it only makes me feel more nervous about what’s to come.
“Mildred is my familiar. I can assure you she is not, nor has ever been Lucy Putnam. She likes to wander around Salem, keeping tabs on the local coven as well as anyone she decides interests her.”
“Can she talk? Like the cat in the show about the teenage witch?” Sam asks, her face full of excitement.
“No, not with words at least. She has been known to knock the exact book I’m searching for off of the shelf. We communicate through guided meditation.”
“Like a spirit guide?” Tate asks. “That’s cool.”
“Exactly like that. We all have animal and spirit guides, but very few witches have a physical being that acts as their familiar,” Sarah explains. “It’s an honor.”
“Is Mistoffelees your familiar?” I ask.
Sarah frowns and studies her tea. “No, he’s special to me, but he’s a regular cat.”
“Is that why they got in a fight earlier?” I’m full of questions tonight.
“Yes. He’s very territorial.”
Philips continues to pet his cat. “I’m not sure why Mildred wanted to come into the house with you. She’s cautious around other humans and rarely lets anyone but me touch her.”
“She winked at me when Andrew carried her inside,” I say, knowing I sound crazy.
“Perhaps she felt the house need extra protection tonight.” Philips stares at me and then Andrew.
There’s zero chance he knows we had sex not an hour ago, but I feel even more awkward than I did a few minutes ago.
“The four of you, under one roof perhaps? A disturbance in your energy? I don’t have the answers yet.” He sips his tea. “But there’s something else you need to be aware of.”
Andrew tenses beside me, tightening and then releasing the pressure of his hand around mine.
“The night of the winter solstice when you found the book. I wasn’t honest with you about my plans that evening.”
“No Nutcracker?” Tate asks, a sneer on his face.
“Oh, that part is true. I do love the first act. Earlier I attended a meeting of the Wicked Society in Boston. Have you heard of it?”
Sam and I shake our heads no, but Andrew, Tate and Sarah nod yes.
Philips knocks his knuckle against the wood table top. “Perhaps we need to take a mini field trip into Boston and properly introduce you.”
“Tonight?” I ask, thinking I want to at least put on my bra and maybe my underwear if we’re going to some fancy society in Boston.
“No, my dear. No one will be there at this hour.”
That’s a relief.
“They’ll be most curious about the black book,” Philips says nonchalantly.
“How do you know about it?” My voice rises. “He wasn’t told the night we found it.”
“Sarah texted me a code black. We reserve that only for information on the book.”
“But everyone was cagey when you arrived and asked questions about it.” I shoot an accusing glance at Sarah.
“My cards warned me about a potential mole in the coven. I thought it best not to share too many details in front of the entire gathering. All they needed to know was we found it and it was under an enchantment of protection.” Sarah calmly eats a bit of loaf cake.
A deep certainty comes over me. “My money is on Mrs. Howe given she’s related to Lucy Kitty.”
“Lucy Kitty did mention being at the club recently and seeing my father,” Andrew agrees with me.
“How far would she go to reunite with her estranged daughter and granddaughter?” Tate asks. “The Winthrops enjoy estrangement. It means fewer family functions we have to attend.”
“Then it’s settled. We’ll visit the Wicked Society and bring the book with us. I’ll make all the arrangements.” Phillips stands, lifting Mildred to his shoulder.
Sarah doesn’t agree with him right away. In fact, she looks to be lost in thought, staring at a random spot on the wall.
“Sarah?” I reach across the round table to gently touch her arm.
She blinks a few times and meets my concerned eyes. “I see no issue with a visit, but I think we should leave the book where it is for now. It’s enough for them to know we’ve located it. I don’t want to get ahead of the timeline.”
“What timeline?” I ask at the same time as Sam.
“Nothing to worry about until we have to.” Sarah places her hand over mine. “It’s late. We’re all safe. The book is safe. We should all go back to bed.”
I’m about to argue with her when Andrew stands up. “She’s right. Nothing’s going to be resolved tonight.”
Not if we all go to sleep it won’t. I keep this to myself by eating another cookie.
“Philips, please let us know what Mildred shares with you. I’ll be in touch.” Sarah escorts him back to the front door.
I lift my eyebrows and widen my eyes at Sam. “Can you pinch me to make sure I’m not dreaming?”
She complies, harder than necessary.
I yelp and rub my arm. “I guess I am awake. After a string of odd evenings with all of you, I can honestly say this is one of the strangest.”
“Buckle up,” Andrew says with a laugh. “Wait until we get to Boston.”