Chapter 5

Sawyer had very quiet footfalls,but I knew every creaky floorboard in this house, every warped windowsill that groaned when a cat hopped onto it. Pretending not to notice his arrival, I set the second batch of tuna cookies—my spell to lure him in, as it were—on the wire rack to cool before turning back to the oven. The wire rack was positioned on the counter just right of the sink, within range of sneaky, slinky cats who could balance their front paws on the faucet and lean forward to snatch a treat and be gone out the window in the blink of an eye.

My ears straining, I listened for the exact moment that his little white teeth bit down on a cookie to spirit away.

At the snap of my fingers, the potted goldish plant on the windowsill came to life, its supple tendrils simultaneously lashing Sawyer across his fanny while yanking the window down to trap him inside the kitchen. Overhead, Mrs. White the seven-legged spider clung tightly to her web as the strands shook.

The tabby cat yowled, more out of surprise than pain, falling into the sink and flipping the wire rack of cookies into the air.

“Ah-ha!” I cried, lunging forward to scruff him as fish-flavored treats rained around us.

He hissed, twisting and clawing, really putting up a fight to get free and away. I think that angered me even more than his moodiness. That he would actually prefer to draw blood rather than talk to me. Well, I certainly wasn’t going to tolerate that kind of behavior in my own house. Maybe this was the reason Grandmother had banned all familiars from the manor.

“Sawyer Blackfoot,” I admonished, getting a better grip on his scruff and bracing his scrawny hips with my other hand so those vicious claws and teeth faced away from me. “What is the matter with you?”

“Me? You ambushed me! Now let me go!”

“Nope! Not until you tell me why in the world you’ve been so unbearable these past few weeks. Is it school? Are you sick? You’re so skinny—did you get tapeworms? Did something happen in the warlock’s wagon—”

“You happened!” the cat screamed.

Shocked, I actually dropped him.

He landed on all four paws, fur bristling, ears flattened against his skull. His tail lashed back and forth against the hardwood floors, sweeping a small area clean of tuna cookie crumbs.

Tears pricked at the backs of my eyes. “M-me?”

“When Ame bonded us, I didn’t just see the memory,” he spat, “I saw what was in your heart!”

“Wha—”

“You’re going to leave me! You’re going to break the curse and just leave. Me, the hobs, the farm, everyone and everything! Without a word to anyone—”

“You don’t know that,” I snapped. Sure, I hadn’t planned on making a big deal of my exodus, but I wouldn’t have just left my closest friends wondering why I’d just vanished without a trace. Though I wouldn’t have explained myself, I’d at least tell them I was leaving. Especially Sawyer.

“I-I could set up some kind of trust for this place,” I said at the same time I came to the realization. I didn’t know how, but if my family welcomed me back, they had more than enough money to keep this place running. Though, it was doing a pretty good job of that on its own. But the hobs needed a caretaker, that had always been the deal. “It wouldn’t change ownership, not much, anyway, and the hobs could manage the day-to-day, you’ll have a place to stay—”

“But you’d be gone! And you can’t take me with you, I saw that myself.”

“Why do you care?” I finally shouted. “You want to be a farm cat! I belong at the manor! You don’t want to bond with me—”

“But we’re still friends! You’re… you’re my family.” The tabby cat was crying now, tiny tears spattering and staining the floorboards at his feet. “Who’s gonna take the thorns out of my paws? Or the burs out of my fur? O-or put salve on my ear if it gets torn again? The hobs? They’re too busy with their apples and chickens. If you leave, they’ll take me back to the university. To someone like Brandi!”

The weeks of hurt and confusion he’d been harboring inside drained out with his confession, his little body collapsing limp to the floor.

“Sawyer,” I cried, my own tears muddling my voice. Crouching down, I extended a tentative hand, touching his soft fur. It flattened beneath my palm, the cat having no more spite, or hope, left in him. He didn’t resist when I lifted him into my arms and buried my face into his body. “I’ll find a way to keep you, if you want me to. I want to. You’re mine, little cat, familiar bond or not.”

His wet nose touched my cheek, and he choked back another sob. “You mean that?”

“It’s the least my family can do when they find out it was us who freed the grimoire of its curse.”

His ears pricked, whiskers perking.

“I mean, you might need to finally wear a collar—”

Sawyer wrinkled his nose at that.

“—but it’d be a small price to pay, right?”

The cat shifted into a more comfortable position in my arms before grumbling, “I suppose so.”

Sitting on the floor in the kitchen, our relationship mended and fortified, I felt a weight lift from my heart. At least something was fixed in my little world. “We need to clean up this kitchen. These treats were supposed to lure you in and compensate Ame, but something tells me she won’t like them if she knows they’ve been on the floor.”

“Wouldn’t stop me,” the cat said, jumping down to help clean up by eating the cookies. “’ere derrishus.”

I smiled. “Glad you think so.”

As another roundof tuna cookies cooled on the counter, we left for an afternoon stroll while the kitchen aired out. I didn’t like preparing dough for my bakery stand when the house smelled of fish. Once beyond the wildflower fields that separated the farmhouse from the orchard, its grasses tawny-colored and void of flowers, I removed my boots and socks and wiggled my toes into the dark soil.

I needed to ground myself, to draw strength from the earth for… whatever was to come. These magic hunters… I didn’t remember hearing about any such human back at the manor. A Hawthorne could defend herself against almost any threat—had my elders never bothered to mention them because they didn’t consider them worth the discussion? And that bright light I’d released… hard to say if that was me specifically or a result of the moonflower-milk bath. With all these unknowns, one thing was sure: my time at Redbud was coming to an end.

I could feel it, this finish line, creeping ever closer, yet I still didn’t know what to do about that half-heart in the grimoire cover. “So long as the main heart beats, this one will never cease.” Perhaps I didn’t need Shari. Perhaps all I needed was a cleverer version of the Seeking Spell. Maybe combine it with the Scouting Spell and laser right in on the Big Nasty that bore the main heart. If I found find it, maybe I could kill it.

Opening my eyes, I swept my jacket sleeve up my arm to my elbow. Fine white scars tracked down to the cuff at my wrist. I hadn’t killed that one, and I’d barely made it away with my life. But my magic was stronger now. And… there was a way to train my body to be stronger than just chopping an endless supply of wood or running the perimeter of the farm.

Sparring against a shifter.

Except the only shifter in town didn’t want anything to do with me.

“Misty?” Sawyer asked. “I felt your aura change. You okay?”

The cat had remained close by while I’d grounded myself, playing with the pixies.

“Just a lot of thoughts running around in here.” I tapped my temple. “Want to keep walking?”

The pixies joined us on our meanderings, but only the big ones. The rest didn’t venture beyond the comfort of their birdhouse in this cooler weather, but soon, when the dead of winter was upon us, they wouldn’t come out at all. Daphne, who had told me of their preference for ribbons, had also told me at our most recent Crafting Circle night how to winterize their home for their upcoming hibernation. They wanted fur, usually finding it by burrowing in caves with bears or in warrens with rabbits.

Emmett Trinket might have some vintage fur mufflers or hats at his Barn Market, plus it would be good to check on him. And plant the black tourmaline sphere to protect him and Monkfoot. Cohen and had the protection of the public. Cody had Arthur. Emmett had no one.

Twilight came fast at this time of year, its teal-colored skies lingering before true night set in. With the sleeping of the sun came the singing of the coyotes, raising the fur along Sawyer’s spine.

“They’re close this time,” he whispered.

It made sense, unfortunately. One of the ways the hobs had successfully kept the deer from helping themselves to the apples in the orchard during the harvest was by taking out all the mash that hadn’t been used for making vinegar or butter, along with all the unsalvageable apples, and dumping it all along the fence line. It served as a buffet for the deer, as well as rabbits and other herbivores, who didn’t feel the need to come any closer when the food was right here. Though, it made their habits predictable to their predators.

Luminous eyes came to life like waking stars.

“Let’s go,” I said firmly, calling emerald green magic to my hand. These beasts weren’t stupid, or desperate, enough to attack me right now, but that would change when they started to starve.

Tail low, Sawyer slunk along the ground beside, casting furtive glances over his shoulder as the singing grew louder.

Soon, the light of the hobs’ barn came into view, and the little cat relaxed as his confidence returned.

“Too late to start a stew,” I said, sliding open the barn door just enough for him to slip through but not enough for a chicken to make a break for it. “Tell them I’ll bring over a cottage pie in an hour?”

“And tuna cookies?”

I rolled my eyes. He’d eaten an entire tray already just by “cleaning them up off the floor.” But his anxiety over the last few weeks had robbed him of all of his baby fat, maybe even some muscle. He needed to bulk up. “Of course,” I answered.