Witch Catcher

  Moura glanced at the cat. "You are indeed a bad cat, Tink."

  Tink lashed his tail, but he stood his ground. Moura turned away from him, uninterested. "Speaking of cats, your father tells me you found a kitten today." She smiled her shivery smile.

  "A little gray one." I said. "I named her Mist."

  "I've heard there's a colony of feral cats in the woods," Moura said softly. "You can't tame a wild cat, you know. They don't trust people. I'm surprised it came near you."

  "Mist's very sweet. She's not a bit wild."

  "She may be carrying disease. Fleas, too." Moura touched my cheek lightly with a long red fingernail. "Why that kitten could turn on you and rake your face open with her claws."

  My skin tingled where she'd touched it, and I drew back from her.

  Dad stepped into the room just in time to hear Moura's last words. "I don't think the cat's vicious," he said. "Anyway, we're taking her to the vet first thing tomorrow."

  "That's a very good idea." Moura flashed her chilly smile at Dad. "Perhaps I could take a look at her after dinner. I know something about cats."

  Cadoc entered the room then, moving as silently as a shadow, and lay down beside Moura. Tink flowed out the other door and vanished into the kitchen. Moura would not look at the kitten. I decided, no matter what Dad said.

  I ate silently so I could listen to Moura and Dad. Mostly they discussed books and poetry, a play they'd both seen at the Kennedy Center years ago, movies they'd enjoyed. Nobody noticed I had nothing to say. Nobody looked at me. Nobody asked me a question or sought my opinion. I might as well have stayed upstairs reading to Kieryn.

  When we'd finished dinner, Dad turned to me. At last, I thought, he's going to include me in the conversation. I sat up straight and smiled at him, waiting for a question.

  "How about clearing the table, Jen, and bringing in dessert?" he asked.

  I stared at him, too hurt to say a word. Next, I supposed he'd tell me to eat my meals in the kitchen. A good servant knows her place. Instead of jumping up, I toyed with a bit of broccoli, pushing it this way and that with my fork.

  "Jen." Dad leaned toward me. "Will you please do as you're told?"

  Under the table, near my feet, I felt Cadoc stir. I pushed my chair back and stood up. "I'm not hungry," I said as calmly as I could. "I'm going to bed."

  Without looking at either of them, I left the dining room. Let them get their own dessert. Let them clear the table and wash the dishes. I'd had enough.

  "Jen," Dad called after me, but I heard Moura say, "Let her go sulk in her room if that's what she wishes."

  "But this isn't like her," Dad began. "Normally she—"

  I didn't wait to hear what I normally did or didn't do. "Normal" was how I'd acted before Moura came. "Normal" was Dad and me. Couldn't he understand that?

  With Tink bounding ahead, I fled to my room. Kieryn was still in cat shape, sound asleep on my bed. She opened her eyes and watched as I flung myself down beside her.

  "Where's my food?" she asked. "That good stuff ye promised me?"

  "Just because you're a cat doesn't mean you have to act like one," I said. "Always thinking about food, just like Tink. Can't you see I'm upset?"

  Kieryn twitched her tail in annoyance. "All I've had today is half a bowl of milk. Skimmed, at that. Wouldn't ye be hungry, too?"

  I sighed and turned my head away from the cat's probing eyes. "Of course I'd be hungry," I said. "But I couldn't stand sitting at that table another minute." I reached out and stroked Kieryn's head. "I'll sneak down and raid the refrigerator later. I promise."

  Somewhat placated, Kieryn moved closer. "How did things go down below?"

  "Nobody said a word to me, not even 'pass the butter.' They talked and talked, mostly about movies and books and music. Then Dad finally looked at me. Do you know what he said?"

  Kieryn pondered a moment. "Most likely he told ye to clear the table."

  "How did you know?"

  "A lucky guess." Kieryn snuggled closer. "And ye came upstairs without a morsel for me."

  "Yes."

  "That was foolish of ye."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Ye left yer daddy alone with her. Every time ye look bad, for looks better. Ye're digging yer own grave, ye dimbob."

  I cradled my head in my arms. Kieryn was right. I'd made a mistake. "Should I go down and apologize?"

  "It might help." Kieryn stuck her rump up in the air and stretched her front legs, just like a real cat. "And don't forget my dinner this time," she added.

  I washed my face and went slowly downstairs. Cadoc raised his head and narrowed his eyes at the sight of me, but Dad and Moura were too interested in each other to notice my presence. Cadoc rose to his feet and walked slowly toward me. Terrified, I stood still and let Mm sniff my clothes.

  Moura noticed the dog and laughed. "He must smell cat on you, Jen. Wouldn't it be wonderful to have a nose like his? Think of the secrets it teds him."

  "Please call him," I asked her. "He makes me nervous."

  "Nonsense. Cadoc's a darling." Nonetheless, she did as I asked, and Cadoc left me reluctantly. To him I was a half-read book, and he wanted to know the ending.

  I walked over to my father and put my arms around his neck. "I'm sorry I was rude, Dad."

  He kissed my cheek. "It's ad right. We left some cake for you. It's double chocolate with raspberry sauce, your favorite."

  Avoiding Moura's eyes, I gathered plates and silverware and cleared the table. A few minutes later, while I was washing the dishes, I heard Dad say, "Your room is in the east wing. It has a lovely view of the woods and its own little sitting room and bath. You should be very comfortable."

  "I'm sure it will be perfect, Hugh."

  "Shall I help you carry your bags?"

  Moura must have nodded because I heard them both climbing the stairs to the second door. Cadoc's toenails clicked on the steps behind them.

  In their absence, I filled a plastic bag with leftovers, as wed as enough chocolate cake for two. Safely back in my room, I locked my door and spread out the feast for Kieryn. She changed into a girl again.

  "This is just like a slumber party," I said, thinking about my old friends back home and the good times we had sleeping over at each other's houses.

  Kieryn looked at me, obviously puzzled. "Slumber party? How can ye have a party if everyone's asleep?"

  "Oh, we talk in our sleep and walk in our sleep. Why, we even dance and play games and eat in our sleep." I sat back to see if she believed me. It was hard to imagine not knowing what a slumber party was, and I couldn't help teasing her.

  Kieryn narrowed her strange green eyes. "I think ye're jesting," she said.

  "Sorry. I guess you don't have slumber parties in your world."

  Kieryn shook her head. "Are they fun?"

  I nodded. "We stay at each other's houses all night, and the whole point is not to sleep. We all try to be the one who stays awake longest. We eat and play games and watch scary movies."

  "Movies?"

  I explained movies. At first Kieryn thought I was teasing her again, but I finally convinced her. "Back home, I had a television in my room, but TVs don't work here unless you have a satellite dish. And Dad hasn't gotten around to that. He says we'll do just fine without TV."

  Kieryn was totally bewildered by now, so I had to explain TV and satellite dishes and all sorts of things I didn't really know much about.

  "Your world must be very old-fashioned," I finally said.

  Kieryn shrugged. "We have magic. We don't need anything else."

  I didn't have an answer to that, so I changed the subject. "Did you like the chocolate cake?"

  "Scrumptidy-licious, the best cake ever." Kieryn licked the icing from her fingers and smiled. "Yer father is indeed a marvel."

  "Just so he stays that way," I grumbled. "Who knows what Moura will do to him?"

  Just as I spoke, I heard Dad's footsteps in the hall. "Who are you talking to, Jen?"


  "The cats," I said.

  Dad turned the knob. "Can I come in to say good night?" In a flash, Kieryn vanished and a little gray cat sat beside me, licking chocolate from its paws.

  "Sure," I called.

  "The door's locked."

  I jumped up and turned the key. "Sorry. I just wanted to be sure Cadoc couldn't get in here."

  Dad shook his head. "Cadoc is superintelligent, but I've never heard of a dog opening a door."

  Dad looked past me at the remnants of my feast. "How often have I told you not to feed Tink leftovers? And you'd never teach Mist to eat cat food if you feed her table scraps."

  "Sorry. She was just so hungry." I scooped up the cat and cuddled her till she rumbled with purrs.

  Dad sighed. "Now, go brush your teeth and take a bath. Then into bed with you!"

  "Yes, sir!"

  Dad hesitated in the doorway. "Please try to treat Moura with respect. You know she'll be my wife soon."

  His words shattered my good mood. "Oh, Dad, don't marry that woman. Please, please, please don't. Can't you see what she's really like?"

  Dad frowned. "Jen, it's late and I'm tired. I just can't talk about this right now." He backed out of my room and closed the door behind him.

  Still holding Kieryn. I sank down on my bed. Dad simply would not listen to a word against Moura. Even worse, she and her hateful dog were in our house, sleeping here every night. In the guise of taking inventory, they'd soon be poking their sharp noses into every room, including mine. How long could I keep Kieryn's true nature a secret?

  Kieryn stirred in my arms. "I know ye're a wee bit cross, and maybe upset as well, but a bath would be a treat. Hot water, soap. It's been a long, dirty time since I've had me a good wash."

  Wearily, I headed for the bathroom carrying Kieryn. A bath ... all I wanted was to get in bed and sleep for a hundred years.

  11

  STILL IN HER CAT body, Kieryn perched on the edge of the tub and watched me turn on the hot water. "Do ye have sweet-smelling bath salts?" she asked. "I'd so love a long soak to wash off the grime. It were dirty in that globe, ye know. Dust to make ye sneeze your head clean off."

  Obediently. I produced what she wanted and added it to the water. The steamy air filled with the sweet scent of my favorite bath foam, a Christmas present from my best friend, Janie.

  Kieryn jumped into the water and became a girl again, her body hidden in bubbles. "Lovely," she sighed. "Absolutely lovely."

  I watched her sink down to wet her hair. Her black curls spread in the water, framing her little pointed face. She closed her eyes and smiled. "Ye cannot imagine how good hot water feels."

  After that, she had nothing to say. She splashed in the tub like a child, splattering water everywhere. Floors, walls, even me. She laughed and I laughed, too. For the first time in a long while, I let myself have fun.

  It didn't last long. Someone pounded on the bathroom door, and I heard Dad shout, "Jen, what on earth are you doing in there?"

  Instantly, Kieryn transformed herself into Mist. Bad decision. She began swimming in the tub, her eyes wide with fear. Quickly I lifted her out and wrapped her in a towel.

  When I opened the door, Dad and Moura stood in the hall, staring at me. His face was bewildered hers expressionless. "I was giving Mist a bath," I said.

  "How did you get so much water on the floor?" Dad asked.

  I shrugged. "Mist didn't like being in the tub."

  "Cats don't need baths," Moura observed. "They clean themselves."

  "Well, she'd been in the woods, and she was dirty," I muttered. "I thought she'd like a bath."

  Dad sighed. "I suggest you clean up the bathroom and go to bed."

  "And put the cats outside," Moura added. "Like all nocturnal animals, they hunt by night."

  I held Kieryn so tightly she mewed. "Tink sleeps on my bed, and Mist will, too."

  Moura glanced at Dad, hoping he'd back her up. To her obvious disappointment, he sided with me. "Jen's lonely at night," he explained. "Having Tink close by comforts her. And Mist's too small to leave outside in the dark."

  "Don't be silly." Moura frowned at Kieryn. "That cat was living in the woods when Jen found her."

  "Moura," Dad said gently, "if it makes her feel better, why shouldn't Jen keep the cats in her room? I see no harm in it."

  Moura shrugged. "Do as you wish. Jen is your daughter. You know her far better than I do." Her voice was sweet and light, and she smiled at Dad to show him he'd convinced her.

  Dad put his arm around her shoulders, pleased to see she wasn't cross with him. He put his other arm around me and drew me close for a good-night kiss. Once again the musky smell of Moura's perfume filled my nostrils. Fine cobweb strands of her black hair brushed my face. In my arms, Kieryn shrank down as small as she could. I wouldn't have been surprised if she'd changed herself into a mouse. But, of course, she couldn't do that without giving herself away.

  I gave Dad a tight one-armed hug, nearly squashing Kieryn in the process, and went to my room. Safe behind my locked door, I put Kieryn on the bed, changed into my pajamas, and climbed in beside her.

  "That was scary," I whispered. "The way Moura was looking at me, almost as if she knew—"

  "Ah, her's a witchy old thing, her is. Her knows something's going on, but she don't know what, and that drives her dafty." Kieryn shivered and snuggled closer. "Ye be careful, Jen. Her's a tricksy one."

  The next morning, I left Kieryn dozing on my windowsill. The sunlight glistened on her sweet, clean fur. Her sides rose and fell, and she purred softly, content to stay where she was and wait for me to bring her breakfast. Tink chose to follow me down to the kitchen.

  Moura sat at the table, drinking a cup of coffee. Today she'd braided her long hair into one thick black rope. She wore black jeans and a long-sleeved black T-shirt that made her look even slimmer. The red stone in her pendant caught the morning sunlight and sent reflections bouncing over the wall and ceiling whenever she moved.

  "Where's Dad?" I picked up the bowl of cereal and glass of orange juice he'd left on the counter for me.

  "He's gone to Mingo to pick up a few things at the hardware store. I've encouraged him to work on the garden behind the house. Your uncle had a way with flowers and herbs."

  She paused and waited for me to join her at the table. When I hesitated, she smiled. "Come and sit beside me. I don't eat little girls, you know."

  Held by her eyes, I sat down reluctantly and began to eat my cereal.

  "I'm so happy to have this opportunity to talk to you, Jen." Moura eyed me over the rim of her coffee cup. The sun lit blue highlights in her hair, almost as iridescent as a starling's feathers. The house was silent except for the ticking of the clock and the hum of the refrigerator. By Moura's side, Cadoc sat still as a statue, and Tink huddled by my feet.

  I met Moura's eyes briefly but said nothing. Outside, on the windowsill, a robin strutted up and down, cocking its head at us now and then.

  "May I tell you a story?" she asked.

  I shrugged. The only way to escape the story was to leave the kitchen, but for some reason I couldn't summon the energy to excuse myself.

  "Once upon a time, people believed the woods behind this house were enchanted," she began in that soft, musical voice of hers. "Rumors abounded of entrances to other worlds. Magic worlds. Fairyland, perhaps. Believers traveled from great distances to explore the paths and rivers. Some disappeared, never to be seen again. Others searched without success. Frustrated and angry, they denounced the stories as lies."

  Moura paused, but I said nothing. I continued to eat my cereal as if I took no interest in her story.

  "Your great-uncle built his house here because of the stories. He had a deep interest in the occult, as his tower indicates. All his life he sought the entrance to that other world. He never found it. But he did find something else."

  Once again, Moura paused to gauge my reaction. Without looking at her, I nodded. "Dad said Uncle Thaddeus was eccentric." r />
  "That's not the word I would choose," Moura said softly. "Thaddeus Mostyn had a brilliant mind. A unique curiosity."

  Unwillingly, I looked across the table at her. The sun struck her face, emphasizing its beauty but at the same time revealing tiny lines in her pale skin, like fine cracks beneath the surface of old china.

  "Don't you want to know what your great-uncle found—and trapped?" Moura asked, her voice low.

  I already knew, but I was curious to hear what Moura would say. Hoping to show my indifference, I shrugged and answered, "I guess so."

  "You recall my desire to find the witch catcher?"

  "Yes."

  "And my dismay when I found your cat had broken it?"

  "Yes."

  "Do you remember what I told you?"

  "You said I was in danger."

  She nodded and poured herself another cup of coffee. "But I didn't tell you why."

  "No." I poured myself a cup of coffee and added sugar and cream. Moura raised one fine black eyebrow but said nothing.

  She leaned toward me, her body thin and angular. "When the glass is broken, the evil spirit finds someone foolish enough to help it." She paused and looked at me sharply. "It will do anything to find its own kind."

  Moura's intensity made me uneasy. I drew back from her, glad to feel Tink leap into my lap and begin to purr as if he were telling me something. If only Kieryn had given me the gift to understand cats, I might have known what it was. At the open window, the robin chirped. Moura glanced at it, and it flew away.

  "I told you my grandmother knew your uncle," Moura went on. "She was a curious woman. When she found the witch trap hanging in the tower, she took it down and studied it ... peered through the glass, pressed her ear against it. She saw something inside, heard it begging to be released, but she knew better than to listen. She put the ball back where she'd found it."

  Liar, I thought. It wasn't your grandmother who knew Uncle Thaddeus—it was you. You gave him the traps. You wanted what he caught.

  Moura leaned across the table and tilted my chin up, forcing me to look at her. "You seem bored, Jen. Doesn't my story interest you?"