“Good boy! Do you want another one?” Undrea backed out of the kitchen, holding the treat out. When she was about halfway to the carrier, she tossed it to Bowie.
He snarfed it down and kept following.
She stayed where she was but turned toward the carrier and tossed a treat at it. The little chicken-flavored snack landed a couple of inches away. Bowie went after it and made it disappear. “Good boy,” she cooed at him again.
She went over and sat beside the carrier, putting a treat directly in front of her crossed legs.
Bowie ate it, then rubbed his face on her knee.
She leaned down and scratched his head. “Are you going to get into that carrier and let me zip it up? Because this is important. And I really like you, but if I have to drag you out from under a bed, things could get awkward between us, you know?”
He leaned into her hand.
She stopped scratching him to grab a few more treats and toss them into the carrier.
Bowie looked at them. Then hopped in.
“Good boy!” While he was occupied with the treats, she zipped the top closed, then exhaled in relief. “Thank you, Bowie. I appreciate your willingness to be hornswoggled by food. I think that might make you my spirit animal, because I’m pretty sure I could be captured that way myself.”
She snatched her keys, then hitched the carrier’s long strap over her shoulder. “All right, handsome, let’s go do some magic.”
Ethan woke in the same dark room with the same spinning head and sick stomach. Or at least it felt like the same one. Had he been here before? Or was the strange sense of déjà vu just some awful new twist to these stupid episodes?
He honestly wasn’t sure.
He kept his eyes closed and tried to think back to the previous episodes. Had he ever felt déjà vu with them before? He didn’t think so. But then his ability to remember the aftermath of those episodes was weak.
That was part of what the spells did to him. They erased portions of his memory. Always the bit right before he blacked out. He had yet to remember having a single one of them.
When he woke up from them, he was left groggy, dizzy, occasionally forgetful, and this time…angry.
That was a new feeling. But not that surprising. Having unexplainable blackouts was enough to tick anyone off, he imagined.
He’d tried numerous doctors. A list of medications and therapies longer than his arm. Nothing had worked. The last thing that remained was changing his diet, something Nina had been pushing him to do. He’d been reluctant to do that, however, because he’d eaten the same way all his life. Why now would it be the cause of something that had only just started happening to him?
But it was time to clean up his food choices and see if that made a difference. There was nothing left to try. Nina would be happy about that decision.
He’d have to tell her just as soon as he was well enough. Tell her. Something about that caused a fragment of memory to come back. The idea of wanting to—no, needing to talk to Nina. Was that what it was about? His diet? He couldn’t remember. Must have been. Although, maybe not…he couldn’t remember.
He sighed out a soft curse and pushed his face into the pillow, balling his fists in frustration.
Even that small amount of movement exhausted him. He was too tired and too drained to think about anything except sleep. He closed his eyes and let the blackness take him.
By the time Undrea got back to Corette’s, Bowie had finally stopped yowling. She didn’t know if it was the carrier or the car ride, but he’d been pretty vocal about his displeasure at one of them. Nothing she’d said or done had calmed him down, either. Maybe it was both.
“I’m sorry you were so miserable, but we’re here now.” She picked up the carrier and went to the front door. He was still making small, grumpy noises.
Stanhill opened it before she could knock. “They’re waiting for you in Corette’s practice.”
Undrea frowned. “Her practice?”
“Her craft room, if you will.”
“Ah.” She understood he meant crafts of the witchy variety, not the bedazzling kind.
Bowie let out a little growl.
Stanhill shifted his gaze to the carrier. “Hello there, young man.”
Bowie let out a slightly miffed meow.
“He’s not happy about being in the carrier.”
Stanhill nodded. “Poor fellow needs his freedom, don’t you? Although he might like a piece of chicken, too. He’s one of those hairless ones, I see.” He laughed. “About as different from Captain Underpants as you can get.”
Captain Underpants was Delaney’s enormous black and white Maine Coon cat, an animal Stanhill knew well because he was Delaney’s husband’s rook. Hugh was a vampire, and Stanhill was sort of a half-turned butler. He had some heightened abilities but none of the sensitivity to the sun, enabling him to take care of any daytime things Hugh couldn’t.
Not that Hugh and Delaney really needed that kind of help. All of the Ellinghams had some special gift that allowed them to be out during the day, so Stanhill was really more of a regular butler. And since he and Corette had married, he only worked at the Ellinghams’ during the day anyway, or evenings if he was needed for a dinner party or something.
“Follow me,” he said. “I’ll show you through.”
“Great.” She followed him into the house and to a door off the kitchen. Bowie made one small meep but then settled down. Maybe the new surroundings were more to his liking.
He opened the door, and she could hear female voices. “Just down those steps.”
“Thanks.” She started down. Stanhill shut the door behind her. She put her hand on the side of the carrier to steady it and called out, “I’m back, and I’ve got Ethan’s cat.”
“Perfect timing,” Pandora said as Undrea joined them. “We’re ready for him.”
Undrea lifted the carrier. “This is Bowie. I think he’s a little freaked out.”
Corette’s basement practice looked pretty much like what Undrea thought it would: cream plastered walls, bronze lighting fixtures with Edison bulbs, a wide-planked dark wood floor, and a crackling fire in the fireplace on the rear wall. Beside that was a large, whitewashed worktable. On one end, a delicate crystal vase held ivory roses and greenery. On the other sat a collection of beeswax candles in mercury glass holders.
Shelves spanned the adjacent wall, each one filled with the books, jars, boxes, bags, and containers that made up her accumulated supplies—years of gathering, Undrea imagined. A beautiful rug of woven jewel tones had been rolled out of the way, and now a salt circle took its place.
The scents of woodsmoke, beeswax, and roses perfumed the air. It was a gorgeous, refined space.
Corette came over, speaking in hushed tones to Bowie. “Welcome to my home, sweet cat. We know your father is in trouble, and we want to protect him, but we need you to be a part of that. Will you help us?” She held her hand in front of the mesh opening at the carrier’s end.
Bowie sniffed her, then pushed his head against her fingers through the mesh.
Corette smiled. “What a good boy.” She nodded at Undrea. “Bring him into the center of the circle. You can leave him in the carrier. There’s no need to stress him any further by taking him out of it.”