The Wiccan Kitten

The Wiccan Kitten by Susanne Saville

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental. The Wiccan Kitten COPYRIGHT © 2008 by Susanne Saville All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. Contact Information: [email protected] Cover Art by Rae Monet The Wild Rose Press PO Box 708 Adams Basin, NY 14410-0706 Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com Publishing History First Faery Rose Edition, 2008 Published in the United States of America

Dedication For Boo and Ri

Praise for Susanne Saville Ms. Saville tells a lively tale. I look forward to more books from her. ~Dawnie, Fallen Angel Reviews on Captain Devlin’s Captive This is a lively tale with a subtle vein of humour which very much pleased this reader….I anticipate more books from this author. ~Annie, Euro-Reviews on Vampire Close

Chapter One Salem, Massachusetts Thursday, October 29th “Hey, Kitten, I’m home.” Freyja Amador stood at the threshold of her unlit apartment, her fingers resting upon the cold brass doorknob, and waited. Light from the communal hallway made a weak attempt to penetrate the blackness of her rooms and failed. Which was exactly how she wanted it. He only replied in the dark. She waited a moment longer, heart thumping in the silence of her held breath. It was so quiet. Not even the tick of a clock. A waft of air, chilly as a New England winter, licked across her hand. The skin on her arms and the back of her neck prickled with goose bumps. Any moment she would receive her answer. An eerie meow wafted out of the darkness. Reaching inside for the light switch, Freyja snapped on the old-fashioned hanging lamp with its onion-shaped glass globe, to reveal her empty living room. Well, it wasn’t empty of furniture. Nor of books. She had plenty of books. And there were also plenty of dust bunnies, truth be told. Unlike television’s Samantha Stevens, around whose statue tourists clustered in downtown Salem, real witches couldn’t wriggle out of housework with a wiggle of their nose. But there was one thing totally absent from her apartment—a cat. Or rather, no living cat resided here. The ancient floorboards beneath her worn carpet creaked as she left the door and crossed to the center of the living room. “Meow to you, too, Baby Cat,” she announced to the area at large. The ghost probably wasn’t a kitten. He could shift 1

Susanne Saville chairs when he wanted to. She had seen her kitchen chair squeak and stutter into a reel on the linoleum like a little, invisible bull was pushing against one of its legs. So he was probably an eighteen-pound, Maine Coon tomcat. Nevertheless she thought of him as her kitten. “I heard that,” a cultured male voice chided from behind her. Freyja whirled to face Mr. Harrison standing in her doorway, a piece of paper clutched in one of his burly fists and a smirk on his face. Her good mood evaporated in an instant. Why, oh why, hadn’t she closed her door immediately? “You have a cat,” Mr. Harrison continued as he strode inside, wagging his finger at her as if she were a naughty child. “Your lease specifically says no pets, Miss Amador.” “And there aren’t any.” She tried to sound polite, but she knew her irritation was showing. The man had seemed so nice and respectable when she filled out the rental application. Attractive, even. Then after she moved in, he had started popping by at inconvenient times with dubious excuses. Though he wasn’t threatening, he was getting to be a terribly tiresome nuisance. Especially since his excuses never involved her requested repairs nor updates to the apartment. Yet she could not leave. She loved her haunted home—or rather, she loved her ghost cat. While rumor had it there were several haunted buildings in historic Salem, this was the only one with a spectral kitty. A kitty who had become as much of a pet to her over the past three years as any real cat could be. He had been her first companion when she was new in town. Only for him had she endured her increasingly annoying landlord. Mr. Harrison prowled around her living room. Unfortunately, he didn’t believe in ghosts. They’d had this conversation before. It had been closely followed by a lecture on why he thought Wicca wasn’t a valid religion. She sighed. As he wasn’t going to believe he had just heard a phantom, she would simply have to show him she had not broken the lease—and the sooner she convinced him of that fact, the sooner he would leave. “You can see for yourself,” she offered in measured 2

The Wiccan Kitten tones, one arm gesturing to the rooms beyond. “No cat.” Freyja followed Mr. Harrison from room to room as he searched for the forbidden feline. It was a small place. The search did not take long. But it certainly felt interminable. Each time he passed one of her pentacles he snorted. And she had to sharply remind him not to touch the objects on her altar. “I’ll never understand what you people see in devil worship.” “We’ve been through this.” She attempted—in vain— to relax her clenched jaw. “I work with the Egyptian pantheon. I don’t worship the Devil. In fact, the Egyptian gods and goddesses have nothing whatsoever to do with Satanism since Satan isn’t one of them. Satan is a JudeoChristian concept. Apples and oranges, you see? Wicca is a nature-based religion—” His arm swiped the air in one dismissive stroke. “Whatever. Look, where’s the cat?” She took a deep breath and crossed her arms. “There isn’t one.” His narrowed eyes scanned her face for a moment then he shrugged. “Doesn’t matter anyway.” He thrust the piece of paper he had been carrying at her face. She snatched it out of his hand. It was bad news; she could tell from the first typed line. “You’re not renewing my lease,” she said slowly. A cold, empty void seemed to open in the pit of her stomach. She could find a new place, no problem, but what about her ghost kitty? She couldn’t imagine not having his presence in her life. Not having his greeting when she returned home. Not having him cuddle up to her when she was reading. And what if the next tenant did something to harm him? “I’ve had an offer for the land.” “The land?” she repeated, still staring at the terrible piece of paper. “Yeah, some developer or other wants to tear down the building and make it a parking lot. You know how parking spaces sell at a premium here.” His words lanced through her. “Tear it down?” Her heart felt like it might pound right out of her chest. “Oh, no. No.” 3

Susanne Saville “Are you crying? Hey, babe, if you need a place to stay, you can always move in with me.” Grinning, he stepped toward her and tried to slip his arm around her shoulders. She stepped away, wiping her wet eyelashes with the back of her hand. “No, I’m fine, thank you.” “Don’t be so uptight. Aren’t you pentacle people always having orgies or something?” “No. Absolutely not.” “I’m sure I saw that on the news.” “I think you’ll find you’re mistaken. Now, if you don’t mind...” “Well, I do think you could use a little relaxation.” He tried to grab her shoulders. Freyja flinched away from him. Good fucking grief. She was in crisis and here he was hitting on her. She wouldn’t have sex with the insensitive bastard even if he were the last man on Earth. “No,” she snapped. “Now please leave. You’ve seen that there’s no cat. You have to leave now.” She had important things to consider, like the fate of her kitten. Her kitten... A chill tickled her spine, raising goose-bumps all the way to her scalp, and she suddenly realized that the room had become icy cold. Bitter cold. The sort of uncanny cold that commonly presaged paranormal activity. Something was coming. “Mr. Harrison—” she began. It was too late. With unexpected violence, Mr. Harrison jerked back, flailing and swatting at his own arms. “What the hell?” He squealed in pain as he fumbled frantically with the buttons of his cuffs then pushed up his sleeves. Long, angry welts scored his arms. Bright red drops of blood peeked out at various points along the raw stripes. It looked like he had been scratched by a colossal cat. And yet the fabric of his shirt had been untouched. “You do worship the Devil,” he whispered, sounding truly horrified. As he spoke, a ridge began to form on his skin. Right before their eyes, it slowly and silently peeled up his 4

The Wiccan Kitten forearm. Throat dry, Freyja tried to swallow. Never had she seen anything like this before. “You’ll pay for this,” Mr. Harrison continued, his words almost a screech as he ran for the door. The hatred cramming his voice made her wince. “I didn’t—” “I’ll have an exorcist here by Sunday! The whole building will be exorcised.” He was in the hall now. “Exorcised! You hear me?” Swearing under her breath, Freyja moved to close the door behind him. “Satan’s whore!” Mr. Harrison yelled up the stairwell. “Goodnight, Mr. Harrison,” she called back, in as pleasant a tone as she could muster. She slammed the door. Sometimes it was difficult being an ambassador for one’s faith. Taking a deep breath, she walked to her wall of bookshelves. These days most everyone in town knew enough about Wicca not to conflate it with Satanism. Mr. Harrison obviously lived under a rock. “Don’t worry, there are spells for this,” she assured both herself and the cat. “I’m sure there are. I can protect you.” Her words sounded nervous and hollow even to her own ears. Freyja pulled down book after book, from leatherbound antiques to dog-eared paperbacks, and flipped through their pages. She didn’t want to bind the exorcist, as that person would just be doing their job, and she didn’t want to use negative energy since it was ethically important to harm none. She just wanted to save her cat. Surely there was a spell for this. Finally, she unearthed a promising volume. Freyja flopped down on the couch, open book in hand. As she stretched into a reclining position, a wraith of silver fog glided down from the high, wood-beamed ceiling and gradually formed into a wispy ball above her shins. She smiled. “Hey there, Kitten.” She knew that next there would be a light yet solid pressure upon her leg, and she was not disappointed. “You’re a little wild thing, aren’t you?” 5

Susanne Saville There came the rumbling vibration of a purr. She could feel the pleasant thrumming all the way down her shinbone. She returned to her book. “Hey, what do you think about this? I’ve found a spell to free a grounded spirit here.” Freyja read further, her pulse quickening. This was it. With this spell, she could free her ghost kitty from the structure of the building and then he could go where he wished. When the exorcist came, the cat simply wouldn’t be home. When the bulldozers came, the cat would be unaffected. It was perfect. She scanned the requirements for the spell. Oh, great goddess Bastet, work with me.

6

The Wiccan Kitten

Chapter Two Friday, October 30th “I need a man.” Freyja slumped into the wheeled, office chair next to Lenore at the reception desk. It skated to the wall, and its wheels made little clicking sounds as she pushed off the metal filing cabinet and glided back to the counter beside her friend. They had a few moments before the doors to the veterinary practice opened and the first client was due. “Don’t we all?” Lenore finished organizing the files for the day. “No, I mean seriously. It’s for a spell.” Lenore’s head jerked up. Her eyes sparked with interest. “Sex magick?” Freyja smiled. As a fellow Wiccan, Lenore had correctly jumped to the right conclusion. “Yes. And I can’t simply use my vibrator, either. The spell requires the energy raised from two bodies, not just one.” Lenore nodded. “Some spells are like that.” “Well, it fucking bites.” “Swear much?” Lenore teased. Freyja returned her grin. “Not fucking enough, considering.” “I hear you.” Lenore laughed. “What are you going to do?” Freyja inhaled deeply. “I’ll have to find someone, won’t I? I’ve got to at least try. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to my ghost kitty.” “What do you mean?” She filled Lenore in on the details of the horrible Mr. Harrison, the exorcist, and the proposed destruction of her home. “And the spell to free a grounded spirit requires sex magick. Consequently, in order to save my cat, I need 7

Susanne Saville a man.” “Right. So, have you got any early favorites we can dig out?” “What?” “Names, woman. Give me some names. Who are you attracted to?” Freyja concentrated on straightening the practice’s big, black appointment book. “That’s just it. Men I’m attracted to aren’t attracted to me.” Lenore heaved a theatrical sigh. “Isn’t that always the way.” Freyja smiled but didn’t look up. What neither of them were saying, what Freyja felt was screamingly obvious, was that she was rather...plump. Plump and plain. Not what most men were looking for when they went looking to hook up. “Y’know, Eric from my coven would be more than willing to help out,” Lenore volunteered. “I dunno.” Lenore’s coven had always been friendly and supportive, even with Freyja’s decision to remain a solitary practitioner. Still she had never felt comfortable around Eric, and the few other male members just weren’t her type. She bit her lip. “I don’t think I could...” “Hey, don’t be afraid to say no. If you’re not attracted to him, the spell won’t work.” “I’m not attracted to him.” “Then that’s a no.” Lenore leaned over and gave her a hug. “Don’t worry. Come out with me tonight and we’ll collect some irresistible men.” Freyja chuckled. “Okay, so the plan is you’ll be the Tall, Gorgeous Hottie and I’ll be the Hottie’s Plain Friend?” She tapped her forefinger against her chin and feigned a thoughtful look. “Umm, who gets laid in this scenario? ‘Cuz I forget.” Lenore grinned. “Honestly, if you’re giving it away for free, you’ll get laid. Trust me. Men are always interested in free sex. Sex isn’t love.” Her words slapped Freyja upside the head. Of course! Why hadn’t she thought of that? She didn’t need to find a committed relationship by tomorrow night. She just needed to find a willing man. “And you really think it’ll be that easy?” 8

The Wiccan Kitten “Sure.” Lenore cocked her head to one side. “I know you’re the poster child for body-image insecurity, but are you seriously saying that you don’t ever just hook up?” “No. No, I don’t. And there’s nothing wrong with that, either.” “Absolutely. One day some man will think it’s totally sweet. Like you waited for him.” Lenore grinned mischievously. “He’ll have to clean out the cobwebs, of course, but he’ll think it’s sweet.” Freyja laughed. “Oh, fuck off.” The bell above the front door dinged. Freyja turned to greet the arriving client. And almost fell out of her chair. Oh, Goddess. The man standing in front of her counter was seriously, shockingly handsome. He had an angular face, with high cheekbones, tousled hair the color of caramel and piercing green eyes that gazed down at her expectantly. Quite down. He was very tall. The expression in his eyes was somehow simultaneously critical and curious. His gaze continued, unwavering, and she felt like something electric passed between them. Freyja sucked in her breath. He was waiting for her to speak. She needed to say something—something witty. Something impressive. Something at least vaguely coherent. Nothing. She had nothing. Apparently her brain had left the building. A piercing meow from the direction of the floor caused the man to turn and, in one fluid motion, lift a large plastic carrier box into her line of sight. The way he filled out his red-plaid, flannel shirt, he might be able to lift even Freyja with the same ease. “We’ve an appointment,” he said, indicating the box, and smiled. It was a bright, friendly smile, with very nice teeth. Freyja’s heart thudded madly. This man was precisely what she had been waiting for. “Shane Logan,” he prompted. “And Cleo.” Cleo meowed angrily, right on cue. Freyja giggled and, though her heart continued its frantic beat, her power to form sentences returned. “Pleased to meet you. You’re here for...?” She glanced at the appointment book, momentarily anxious that she 9

Susanne Saville might forget how to read it. “A health check,” he supplied. “I just adopted Cleo from the animal shelter.” Adopting an adult cat from a shelter. He really was perfect. On her back she felt what must be Lenore’s hand administer a subtle push. Freyja took the hint, stood, and made her way around the counter. She could see the bottom half of him now, and she was not disappointed. Well-fitting jeans complimented his muscular legs and stylish black boots added a hint of rakish charm to his appearance. It added up to wicked, yummy hot. “This way, Mr. Logan.” “Call me Shane.” He smiled again. “And what might I be calling you?” Just a trace of an Irish accent danced in his smoky tones, as exotic as the sensations it evoked. Heat sizzled up Freyja’s insides, straight to her cheeks. She stammered as she introduced herself. He was probably just being sociable and yet she felt like any moment she might melt. “Didn’t the goddess Freyja possess a chariot drawn by cats?” “Yes.” She laughed, pleasantly surprised at his familiarity with Norse mythology. “That’s my Gift, actually. Cat wrangling.” Sometimes she wished her parents had picked a more useful magick talent to Gift her with. Not today. Today she was precisely where she wanted to be. “Then it’s proud I am to have my cat handled by the goddess of beauty herself.” Cheeks burning, Freyja opened the door to the examination room and ushered Shane and his boxed Cleo inside. “Doctor Todd will be along in a moment. You can take Cleo out of her carrier now and put her on the table.” She moved to shut the door and had to stop short as Ingrid and Marie barged in. All of us vet assistants are here now. The presence of a handsome man had apparently permeated the office like blood in the water. Freyja sighed to herself and left the door open. Close it now and she’d feel like a sardine in a can. A tubby, little sardine with no chance at all of diverting Shane’s 10

The Wiccan Kitten attention from the man-eating Ingrid and Marie. Ingrid strode to the examination table where the unboxed Cleo now sat. Cleo had turned out to be a large, pure white, short-haired cat. She looked like a grumpy marshmallow. “She’s a big girl,” Ingrid observed, reaching out a hand to pet her. Cleo slashed a long-clawed paw in her direction. Ingrid jumped back with a startled titter, although she wasn’t entirely amused. “Oooh, you’re fat and sassy with it.” Marie, who was staying well back from Cleo, grinned. “Apparently her owner doesn’t mind.” He shrugged good-naturedly. “I like ‘em fat and sassy.” Both Ingrid and Marie turned and looked at Freyja, while Shane’s words hung in the air more conspicuously than if they had been levitating pink elephants. Freyja’s face burned. Why did she have to be the heaviest person in the room? If she could have turned invisible in that instant, she would have done so. Shane, blessedly oblivious to her consternation, bent forward to pet Cleo. In a complete attitude reversal, the cat demurely rubbed her face against his hand. Freyja glanced back through the doorway to Lenore at the reception desk. Ask him! Lenore mouthed silently. Freyja gave one quick, negative shake of her head. Lenore rolled her eyes and made little urging motions with her palms. No, Freyja mouthed back. “Freyja?” It was Shane’s voice. Surprised, she whirled to face him. He looked at her questioningly, like he was wondering what she had been doing. Brushing her hair back from her face, Freyja strode toward the examination table. “Yes, sorry, we do need to start.” “I’ll help,” Marie and Ingrid chorused, lunging for the table as well. The cat on the table bristled, hissed and swatted her front paws, toes wide and claws exposed, at the approaching women. Apparently Cleo, Warrior Queen, 11

Susanne Saville was determined that everyone should feel her wrath. “No, no, I’ve got her.” Freyja expertly scooped Cleo into her arms and made soothing noises while trying to establish mental contact. Normally she could read any cat she touched, even in the veterinary environment. But Cleo was completely closed to her. And although she had calmed, the cat still looked exceedingly cross, as if she might launch into some yowls of feline invective at any moment. “Poor baby.” Freyja smiled sympathetically. “All this just does not befit the dignity of cats, does it?” Cleo meowed her agreement. Shane chuckled. “I’m glad you two are agreeing on something.” At that point, Doctor Todd entered. A trifle perplexed by the number of vet assistants in the examination room, she sent both Ingrid and Marie out and, in a wonderful stroke of luck, Freyja was asked to stay. Freyja glowed as the rest of the appointment proceeded nicely. Perhaps, if her good fortune held, she really should risk asking Shane out. Cleo turned out to be an exceedingly healthy feline. Too soon, she was back in her box, with the doctor moving on to her next client. Freyja escorted the man and his cat back out to the reception desk. Her knees felt as loose as spilled kibble. A bag of food and Shane would be on his way. Gone until next year and his cat’s annual check-up. Her pulse fluttered. She had to ask him now. It was her last chance. He was about to leave. Now. “Excuse me.” The words sounded scratchy from her suddenly dry throat. Freyja coughed and almost wished she hadn’t started to speak. Impossible to turn back, though. He had already turned to look at her. “Yes?” He had such intense eyes. Such a handsome face. Why would he even consider going out with her? She ducked her head and then sensed Lenore’s encouraging presence behind her. She could do this. Baby Cat needed her help. She must do this. Freyja raised her eyes and plunged ahead, trying to ignore her inner critic. “You’re probably really busy 12

The Wiccan Kitten tonight, right?” “Pardon?” He was smiling. Don’t be mesmerized by the brilliant smile. Keep talking. “I mean...if you’re not busy...if you’d like to...” She swallowed while hastily marshaling her thoughts. “I know of a great place for dinner. Maybe you’d like to go? With me I mean. Only if you’re not too busy.” Her stumbling offer would have meandered further but he interrupted her. “Sure.” Yes! She might have to buy a lottery card next. For her, this sort of luck was unnatural. They arranged to meet at the restaurant at eight then Shane and Cleo left. Once she was certain they were gone, Freyja looked to Lenore, sighed melodramatically and, giggling with nervous release, pretended to collapse against the counter. “You got him,” Lenore cheered, running over to hug her. “I want to hear all the orgasmic details on Monday. Every single one.” Freyja stuck out her tongue. “I’m doing this for my ghost cat, you remember. It’s not just recreational sex.” “Hey, it’s recreational to me. Think of this as collateral entertainment.” Freyja smiled, but the butterflies in her stomach weren’t amused. It was only going to get more difficult from here. **** Sunlight streamed through the open window onto the hardwood floor just inches from Shane’s crossed feet. He leaned back in his black leather chair and stroked the big, alabaster cat reclining upon his lap. “So what do you think of her?” Cleo meowed irritably. He grinned. “You don’t reckon the Tuatha Dé Danann would approve, then?” The cat rolled over and batted at his hand with her front paws. “Watch the claws.” Avoiding her vigorous swats, he continued to pet her. “Ah, was there ever a less helpful cat?” 13

Susanne Saville Cleo caught his hand and triumphantly bit him. Patiently, he extracted his thumb from her jaws. “Jealous, that’s what you are.” With that, the cat got up, jumped down, and haughtily strutted away in the direction of her food bowl. “Sure ‘n’ I have a good feeling about her, I do.” He stretched and folded his hands behind his head. “I think she’s the one.” He waited for a reaction to his words and was not disappointed. With a shimmer and a flash of rainbowcolored sparks, Cleo the cat elongated, distorted, and shifted into Clíodna the slinky, young woman clad in a flowing, white dress. “Ah, it’s herself at last.” Clíodna’s bare feet were silent upon the polished wood as she padded over to the row of tall windows and gazed out upon the grassy Common. Her translucent complexion and long, silver-blonde curls seemed luminous in the sunlight. Still Shane found himself preferring Freyja’s café-au-lait skin and glossy black hair. “And it’s an ungrateful wretch you are.” Clíodna turned and pouted prettily at him. “I have woven you back into the fabric of this world. I’ve relocated you to Salem, the best place to be for magickal endeavors at Samhain, and I’ve given you familiarity with the 21st century so you’ll not seem like an eejit. For you, I created this grand house—with a view, mind,” she gestured at the nearest tall window, “to impress the girls and I fixed it so everyone thinks the house has always been here so you’ll not attract suspicion. How could I help you more?” “Considering I’ve been trapped in the Otherworld for nearly three centuries, it’s the least you could do.” Smiling, she shrugged. “You must admit it’s a grand house.” “Ah, yes, grand. But I’ll not be bringing any women back here. As you well know, they have to love me for me, not for any riches they erroneously believe I have.” The pretty pout returned. “You think I’d deliberately undermine your one opportunity of escape?” “Of course not,” he replied pleasantly. “I just don’t fancy my chances with your aid.” She sauntered toward him, a mischievous grin 14

The Wiccan Kitten playing on her lips. “You know me so well.” With a flourish, she hiked her dress up and rested her hip on the arm of his chair. The leather squeaked softly as, wiggling, she slid down to once again recline on his lap. “Now isn’t this better?” He grunted. “You were much lighter as a cat.” She snuggled against his chest. “Behave, boy-o. Though that reminds me—why a veterinary clinic? Why not a tavern or a market?” “A woman who cares for animals must have a caring heart.” “So?” “So such a one might be capable of falling in love with me within the prescribed three days.” A thoughtful frown scrunched her forehead as she looked up and met his eyes. “I suppose. Just remember the geis—no sex. The woman you choose must fall in love with you within three days without any sex during that time. If you have sex, you lose. If she fails to fall in love with you, you lose. And if you explain the situation to her, that’s cheating and you lose. You lose and the centuries catch up to you...” “And I rejoin humanity as dust,” he finished for her. “I know.” Clíodna frowned sympathetically. “Forget this.” She stroked his cheek. “Return with me to the Otherworld.” He caught her hand and gently returned it to her lap. “I’ve spent too long there and I’m weary.” She laughed, her amusement brimming with disbelief. “What? Weary of pleasure?” “Weary of empty pleasures, perhaps,” he answered darkly. Her laughter sounded again. “Oh, jaded and prickly. Now that’s attractive. This is the attitude with which you’re going to win a lady-love?” “When I was offered this chance, I was promised that my perfect woman was waiting for me here in Salem, though she may not know it.” He shrugged. “Perhaps she likes jaded and prickly.” Clíodna shook her head. “No one ever gets the better of the Tuatha Dé Danann. If we have set you a challenge, you can be sure it is impossible to succeed. We always 15

Susanne Saville win, even if we have to cheat.” She rested a forefinger against his lips, stilling his protest. “Remember King Conaire’s geis—he could not allow any single woman to cross his threshold after sunset. So when a woman arrived in the night and demanded entry, he quite rightly refused. And what happened? She turned out to be a goddess and cursed him for his inhospitality.” Her finger left his lips and lightly traced down his neck. “Doomed from the beginning, wasn’t he? If he’d admitted her, he would have broken the geis and been cursed, and since he didn’t admit her, she cursed him.” Shane closed his eyes. “I’m not bothered. Whether I rejoin humanity or become dust is growing increasingly irrelevant to me.” He drew a deep breath. “Perhaps I have existed too long.” “Oh, well, if you’re not going to play...” “No, I shall try, regardless.” Unbidden, the dusty memories of his dissolute life flickered in his mind’s eye. The hedonistic, earth-bound life from which Clíodna had whisked him away...to exist as much the same hedonistic rake in her happy Otherworld. “Never was I accused of not trying.” He heard her snicker, a ribald sound. “Hmmm, yes, you were always up for anything.” She paused suggestively, but as he did not react, she continued. “Of course, if you’re truly going to have a go, then I think you should pick a better candidate. This Freyja person is simply not your type.” “You reckon so?” “Yes. Don’t you?” He shook his head. “Not a bit of it. She’s cute, kind, a bit shy, and loves cats. Suits me down to the ground.” She snorted. “Well, I don’t like her.” Shane smiled to himself. “Now I know she’s the one.” **** Shane had said yes! Freyja still could hardly believe it. Holding her breeze-ruffled hair back from her face, she watched the progress of two dry, brown leaves as they scuttled through the lengthening shadows along the restaurant’s sidewalk. She had been watching them for a while now and time was chipping away at her elation. 16

The Wiccan Kitten Mustn’t look at her watch. Mustn’t look at the line of curious tourists simply waiting to snap up her reservation. He wasn’t standing her up. He was just late. That’s all. She turned to focus on a few seagulls bobbing upon the dark, harbor waters and calling their melancholy cries. Please let him appear soon. Surrendering to her dread, she checked her watch. He could still be coming. There was yet time. She sucked in a quick breath. Maybe it would be better if he didn’t show up. What if he arrived and then was offended by her offer? No, that was silly. Men never turn down sex. But what if he weren’t good in bed and the spell didn’t work? Stop it! She closed her eyes and tried to quiet her racing thoughts. Perhaps they should practice, though. That wasn’t a bad idea. She would only get one chance at the ritual on Saturday, and if they tried it unrehearsed they might get it wrong. They could have a run-through tonight. That way he’d know what to expect. Then again...what if he didn’t enjoy it? What if he thought she wasn’t any good and he didn’t come back for Saturday? A puff of warm air on the bare skin of the back of her neck startled her. With a gasp, she turned and saw Shane standing there, grinning. He had blown on the back of her neck. Tingles raced up and down her spine. “Good evening.” He smiled. He had such a lovely smile. Her mouth felt dry as she floundered for words. “Did you have trouble finding the place?” “You said the sign of the flying pig. Couldn’t miss it, could I?” He reached for the door and held it open for her. They were seated at a window booth, where they could watch the pink and orange sky gradually melt into the soft purple of twilight above the waterfront. The little lighthouse’s bright white beam would grow ever more distinct as the darkness spread. “Beautiful view,” he murmured. “Yes, I love it. And I think we got the best window, too.” “So do I.” He smiled. “Because any window graced by your presence would necessarily be possessing the best 17

Susanne Saville view.” “Thanks.” Heat scuttled up her cheeks and she hid behind her menu. “Doesn’t the clam chowder sound good?” “Compliments make you uncomfortable.” She lowered her menu, the movement sluggish with reluctance. “Not exactly. I just...I just...” Could she explain her unfamiliarity with male praise without him amending his good opinion of her? He might judge her to be substandard dating material. “May I?” The gentle tone of his voice settled her anxious thoughts. His hand was hovering near hers. He was waiting for her permission to clasp it. “Yes,” she whispered. He took her hand in his, his grip firm, yet tender. Turning her hand over to expose her palm, he traced one of its lines with the forefinger of his other hand. His touch was light, yet it seemed to leave a trail of sparks along her sensitive skin. “You’re going to meet a man.” “Really?” She giggled. “What remarkable fortunetelling skills you have.” He grinned. “It’s a bit of the gypsy I’ve got in me. This man, now...” “Is he handsome?” “Well...” He shrugged. “Some women might think so.” “Does he like cats?” “These are your important questions?” He chuckled. “Yes, he likes cats. Now let me tell this story.” “Sorry.” “Not at all. Now then. This man was a...a type of knight, a very long time ago.” “Oh, goodie.” “What did I say about interruptions?” Cheerfully, she stuck out her bottom lip at his mock reproach and pretended to be chastised. “So, although he always enjoyed women’s company— ” “He was a bit of a slut, then?” “Yes, well...” He coughed. “At any rate, he still remembers how to be a gentleman. And he wants you to know you needn’t be feeling uncomfortable with him at 18

The Wiccan Kitten all. He’ll let you set the pace of the date.” “Oh, I’m going to date him, am I?” “Of course. You have impeccably good taste. That’s this line right here.” Again he caressed her palm, and the teasing touch made her shiver. “And how will this date end?” she asked, her pulse racing with anticipation. Before he could answer, the waitress arrived to take their order. Though their conversation never returned to palmistry, they had a thoroughly entertaining meal. Shane had a notable lack of familiarity with popular movies, but they had several lively literature debates and traded many cat stories. Freyja was inordinately pleased. Maybe this could go beyond just one night of sex magick. He seemed to enjoy her company as much as she enjoyed his. Perhaps they had the beginnings of a relationship here. So delightful was the evening, it wasn’t until their after-dinner coffee was served that Freyja realized she was running out of time to proposition him. Her coffee cup clinked as she returned it to its saucer. Trying for a sophisticated air, she folded her nervous hands in her lap so they would be hidden from him by the tablecloth and, taking a deep breath, she plunged ahead. “I have something serious to ask you.” “Do I have any communicable diseases?” he suggested. “What? No!” Freyja coughed. She could feel her cheeks burning. “No, that’s not it.” “Just so you know, I don’t.” “Well, that’s—that’s good. You’re right, I should have asked.” Her hands unclasped and one flew to fiddle with her coffee cup. “I’m not married either.” “I should have asked that one too.” “And no girlfriends.” “I’m very glad to hear that.” And she was. Glad and grateful and relieved. She ran her fingertips back and forth along the white linen tablecloth where it concealed the table’s edge. His answers were so much more 19

Susanne Saville practical, so much more apropos than her pending query. “Thanks for your candor.” “But none of those were the answer to your question.” “Nope.” “So what were you going to ask?” She took a deep breath. “Do you believe in ghosts?” There was what felt like an interminable silence as he reached for his water and drank. Ice clinked against the glass. Then he replaced it carefully, precisely on the tablecloth. Finally, he glanced at her. “Is that all?” His eyes glinted with mirth. For a moment she thought he might laugh at her, and her hands tightened into fists. “I said it was a serious question.” “That you did.” He frowned thoughtfully. “Then I would have to say...yes.” “You do?” “In my experience...” His voice trailed off as a small smile quirked his lips. “Never underestimate the wonders of this world...or any other.” She sighed. “Good.” That was one hurdle crossed. “And what might this have to do with...anything?” “Okay.” She took another deep breath. “I have a ghost cat living in my apartment.” “A ghost living...isn’t that a contradiction in terms?” Jovially, she grimaced at him. “What I mean to say is he’s grounded. He isn’t just residual energy and he’s not in visitation. His spirit is grounded to the building. And he needs to be released.” She took a swig of her coffee then glanced at him, anxious to see his reaction to her information. Amusement still sparkled in his eyes, but at least he was chivalrously waiting for her to continue, not groaning nor dismissing her belief out of hand. “You’re with me so far?” He nodded. “You have a ghost cat that needs to be freed from your apartment.” “Exactly. It would be really nice if he came to me in visitation afterwards, but the main thing is to release him from the building. And to do that...” Here we go. “I need to use sex magick.” He coughed and reached for his water glass again. 20

The Wiccan Kitten “Are you laughing?” This time she rather hoped it was laughter. Not...rejection. Anything but rejection. “No.” He took another drink. Ice jingled again as he put the glass back down. “No, it’s not laughing I’d be.” He looked at her closely, his gaze direct. There was no mirth present now. “Let me guess. The sex magick is where you’ll be needing me?” Her stomach was quickly sinking beneath her chair. She wished she could hide under the chair with it. “Is that a problem?” He shrugged. It was a noncommittal gesture. “When are you looking to perform the spell?” Was this a good sign? He was merely thinking of scheduling conflicts? She wished she still had some wine left. Perhaps an outright refusal would have been more humane. “For best results, the spell should be done at Samhain. Which, as it happens, is tomorrow. Halloween.” “Tomorrow.” “Yes. We should cast the spell tomorrow night, actually. The veil between the worlds is thinnest then, so it makes for easier contact with the dead. And obviously that means a better chance of success with spirit-work. It’s an unbelievable bit of luck, really, Samhain being tomorrow.” “An unbelievable bit of luck,” he repeated. He glanced out the restaurant’s picture window, nodding thoughtfully, however it looked as if his thoughts were anything but pleasant. “Because the exorcist is coming sometime on Sunday. So we would have to cast the spell tomorrow regardless.” “Exorcist?” He turned to her, his eyebrows raised in surprise. “This is why he needs to be freed?” “Yes, sorry, I hadn’t got to that part yet. My landlord said he’s bringing an exorcist over on Sunday to eliminate my cat. So I’m on a deadline here. Time-sensitive material, as it were.” He looked out the window again. His expression remained dark, unresponsive to her attempted light tone. “So...umm...yeah, my ghost kitty must be released before Sunday,” she continued. “Which means it’s Saturday or nothing. Well, I guess you could count tonight. Tonight or Saturday or nothing. And so Saturday 21

Susanne Saville being Samhain is, consequently, perfect timing.” He shook his head but did not respond. “And since my landlord wants to demolish the building, too...well, performing the spell on Saturday would solve everything perfectly.” She could feel her cheeks getting hot. She needed to stop repeating herself. He understood the situation. He just wasn’t interested. In fact, he couldn’t bear to look at her. “You don’t have to answer now.” She threw the words out, desperately wishing she could leave. Leave the table. Leave the restaurant. This was just too humiliating. “It’s not really important. I can get someone else. No big deal.” His gaze returned to her, his expression oddly wistful. Then a little smile quirked the corners of his mouth. “Don’t be worrying yourself now. Your cat shall be safe. We’ll sort something out.” Despite the sincerity in his voice, Freyja did not find his words overly comforting. Her offer of sex certainly had not been met with the enthusiasm for which she had hoped. At least he picked up the check. He also accompanied her on her walk back home, giving her his arm like a gentleman in an old movie. Several times she caught other women on the sidewalk watching them with envious expressions. They were probably wondering what a scrumptious man like him was doing walking with her. He was probably wondering it himself. She should have aimed for a man more in her league. What had she been thinking? “This is me,” she announced, halting outside her house. Or what had once been a large, Federalist house of red brick and white trim. Long ago it had been carved up into tiny apartments. He glanced up at the building and nodded approvingly. “Mind if I take a look at your flat?” “You...you want to come up?” “I feel I should at least make the acquaintance of your cat if I’m going to be rescuing him tomorrow.” “Oh! Oh, yes. Of course.” Excitement made her fingers shake and she fumbled for her keys. So he was going to do the spell. Why don’t men send clearer signals? She led him upstairs then stopped to do her ghostgreeting routine after opening her front door. 22

The Wiccan Kitten “Kitten?” There was no answering mew. She glanced back at Shane. “Sorry. He doesn’t often show himself to strangers.” “Wise moggie.” “Pardon?” “Moggie. Cat. You Americans should learn English.” She giggled as she ushered him inside. He nodded appreciatively as he looked around her living room, so she gave him the full tour. He smiled at her pentacles and studied her altar but touched nothing. “Mind telling me again what your Gift is?” He asked the question as if he were familiar with the ancient tradition of bestowing one exceptionally supernatural talent upon a newborn baby. Most magick followed a gradual, subtle process. A person’s Gift was their only flashy paranormal skill. “Communicating with cats. Being able to tame and handle any domestic cat no matter how feral. Cat wrangling. That type of thing.” So much for flash. “That’s a strange sort of Gift, isn’t it?” “Yeah. But my parents read the runes when I was born and apparently that was the Gift which would be most necessary to me someday. Go figure.” “Are you able to communicate with your cat ghost?” “Unfortunately not. To communicate brain to brain, my fingers have to make contact. He’s not solid enough for me to touch him.” “His loss.” He was looking at her intently. She could feel a rush of heat flood her cheeks. That glint in his eye had to mean something positive. Like he found her attractive. It simply had to. Be brave. She took one pace forward and placed her palms upon his chest. He had such a nice, broad chest. He felt so solid and muscular beneath her hands. She had never been so close to such a perfectly handsome man. A stab of panic pierced her heart and for an instant she feared to look up into his face. What if she were wrong? What if he weren’t interested in her? Perhaps she had been deluding herself. Her stomach knotted. How could there be anything in his expression for her except awkward pity...or disgust? He could have any woman he wanted. He couldn’t possibly want her. She forced herself to raise 23

Susanne Saville her eyes. Time seemed to stop. The intensity of his burning, green gaze was dazzling. She felt his desire for her all the way to her bones, and it tugged at her insides and curled her toes. Slow and gentle, he reached for her. His fingers closed around her upper arms, his grip hot to her skin and possessively, almost uncomfortably, firm. Rather like the line of his mouth. There was a subtle, fierce twist to his lips now. His expression set off pangs of excruciating excitement deep within her. She wanted him, too. She wanted to feel the pleasure that novels always talked about. Her lips parted in an involuntary gasp as he leaned toward her. He was going to kiss her. The pounding in her ears was deafening. He really was going to kiss her. What if she drooled? What if... His mouth took hers and silenced all her thoughts save one—he was an excellent kisser. With tantalizing, nudging licks, his tongue parted her lips and explored her mouth. She felt each stroke acutely and her skin tingled in response. Suddenly he broke the kiss. His chest rose beneath her palms as he inhaled deeply. Then, still gripping her upper arms, he stepped back and, with significant control, he held her away from him. “I must beg your pardon.” His words sounded composed and well-mannered despite having been forced through unmistakably clenched teeth. Head bowed, she started to step away herself, but found it impossible as he did not loosen his grip. Her eyes darted up to his face, seeking explanation. A muscle in his jaw was twitching. Then, with some effort, a rueful smile graced his lips. “I’ll just be taking a moment.” Shane swallowed. An urgent, burning need was rising within him. His hands had locked around her arms. If he released his grip now there was no telling what he might do. Every hot pulse of his heart goaded him to take her, to plunge deep inside her and claim her as his own. It had been a ridiculously long time since he had watched a woman the way he had watched Freyja. He had 24

The Wiccan Kitten watched her throughout their meal. Watched how her succulent red lips closed around each forkful. Waited for a peek at her tongue when she licked the trace of whipped cream topping from her dessert off her lips. Marveled at how her eyes lit up when she smiled. And appreciated the music of her laugh. He had spent the better part of the date in a delectable state of yearning. Which had made him grateful for the long tablecloth, as it disguised the bulge straining against the denim of his jeans. There was no such convenient camouflage now. While trying to steady his breathing, his mind flailed about for distracting images. A stream of cold, clear water cascading down from the mountains. The sparkle of ice crystals on frozen snow. The sparkle of her eyes when she gazed at him. He groaned. Sex magick was impossible. Simply impossible. If he wanted to have a life with her, he had to resist the allure of her bed. Yet perhaps he could still rescue her spectral pet. Cat-shifting Clíodna was partial to felines. There was a fair chance she would know of a means to release Freyja’s phantom without resorting to sex magick. Oh, but if only he could indulge her. His heart pounded in his ears. His need for her ate at him, a terrible itch demanding to be scratched. He gritted his teeth. He couldn’t give in. She was biting her bottom lip now. Probably uncertain what to make of him. He was uncertain what to make of himself. Here she was, the picture of bashful desire, with her eyes dark and her lipstick smudged from their earlier kisses, and he was trying to clear off. Maybe just one more kiss. She possessed such luscious lips. One more kiss and then he’d leave. No, he had to stop this. He had to walk away directly. Directly. The compulsion was too great. Passion intensifying his actions, he pulled her into an embrace, pressing her full breasts hard against his chest. His hands skimmed down her back, caressed her hips, and then gently squeezing her tempting, rounded arse. She was soft and yielding in all the right places. It was too much. She surrendered wholeheartedly to his tongue’s 25

Susanne Saville invasion as his mouth captured hers. While they kissed, he felt a tug at his waistband. Her hands had found his belt. She was loosening it, then suddenly his shirt was up and her fingers were fumbling with the fly of his jeans. More than anything in the world, he wanted to feel her tender grip upon him, stroking him. His cock ached for release. With a moan he barely recognized as his own, his hands were eagerly helping her divest himself of his clothing. He was going to take her, right here on the living room carpet, and there was absolutely nothing that could stop him. Then the doorbell rang. “I don’t believe this.” Freyja groaned as the bell rang a third time. Then footsteps thumped up the communal stairs and stomped along the landing to stop outside her apartment. “I know you’re home, Miss Amador.” It was Mr. Harrison yelling, his voice muffled by the closed door. A flurry of knocking followed. Shane looked perplexed. “You have chastity police?” “No, I have a totally evil bastard of a landlord.” With a growl of frustration, she headed toward the entrance. Before turning the knob, she glanced back to make certain Shane had straightened his clothing. He had. “I am so sorry about this.” She checked her own clothes then opened the door. Mr. Harrison chucked a piece of paper at her. “The exorcist will be here on Sunday at nine in the morning. That’s your written notice.” She let the paper flutter to the floor. “Thank you, Mr. Harrison. Goodbye.” Instead of leaving, her landlord struggled to peer past her. His eyes narrowed. “You got a man in there?” “The lease says ‘no pets,’ not ‘no men.’” Behind her, she heard Shane moving and suddenly he was at her side. Although she did not turn to look at him, she felt his presence as if he threw off sparks. Mr. Harrison turned his scowling attention up to him. “She’s one of Satan’s whores, you realize. You’d better beware. Who knows what diseases you’ll catch from her.” 26

The Wiccan Kitten Freyja’s jaw dropped. How could Mr. Harrison—how could anyone—say such a spiteful thing? She was too stunned to think of a retort. “Sure, and I’m thinking that Mr. Harrison and I should be leaving now.” Shane took hold of Mr. Harrison’s arm. His voice was light but, judging from her landlord’s wince, his grip was not. “Let go of me. I can find my own way home.” “And where might that be?” “Out of your price range,” Mr. Harrison blustered. However he quickly wilted under Shane’s fierce, unrelenting glare. “I live on the Common.” “Myself as well. Goodnight then, Miss Amador. I’ll just be making certain this gentleman gets home all right.” Giving Shane a forlorn little wave of farewell, she watched him drag Mr. Harrison off down the stairs. The evening certainly had not gone as planned. She smiled grimly. That was an understatement. It had been a humiliating disaster. She’d be lucky if Shane came back after that. Which meant her ghost kitten was still in jeopardy. **** Shane paced along the line of evenly planted trees that framed the perimeter of the large, central park known as the Common. The moon, only just shy of full, bathed the grass and the fallen leaves in blue and silver hues. It was quite a decent night for a walk. He reached the corner, playfully scuffed through a pile of leaves as he turned, and paced back. It was also a decent night to keep watch on that Harrison bugger’s abode. He glanced up at the residence in question. A single light still shone from one of the tall windows. Only once the man had retired would he feel Freyja was completely safe. “Come inside.” Clíodna’s voice floated on the moonlight. Then he felt more than heard the air crinkle, which meant she was materializing beside him. “The landlord’s in for the night, so he is.” Shane refused to look at her. “Did you send him?” “What an angry fellow you are.” She gave him a flirty pat on the arm. 27

Susanne Saville “Did you send him?” he repeated, without altering his brusque tone. She sighed histrionically. “Well, I simply had to break that up, now didn’t I? It was for your own good.” “Is there no end to your goodness?” She frowned at him. “You do know this is about more than getting your leg over.” “It’s also not about endangering the girl.” “Women fight their own battles these days, my lad. Keep up with this prowling behavior and she’ll be thinking you’re a psychopath soon enough.” He scowled at her and kept walking, but her words had pricked him unexpectedly. He had been a long time in the Otherworld. Perhaps she was correct, perhaps his actions would not be perceived as nobly as they would have been centuries ago. If he had remained in his own time, if he had never allowed Clíodna to lure him away to the Otherworld, he would have found little difficulty winning a woman’s affection. Then again, if he had remained in the past, he would never have met Freyja. “Well, she won’t be knowing about it, will she, being as she isn’t here.” He glanced across at the row of houses. At that moment the single light disappeared, leaving Harrison’s dwelling dark and still. “Can we be going now?” After waiting a few moments longer, he nodded. “Since you’re in a helpful mood,” he began as they headed for home. “Oh, I’m all about being helpful,” she said gaily. “Quite. Tell me, how does one go about releasing a grounded spirit from its host building?”

28

The Wiccan Kitten

Chapter Three Saturday, Halloween Freyja’s doorbell wouldn’t ring itself, more’s the pity. Holding the white paper bag full of donuts in one hand, Shane carefully placed the cardboard take-out tray with its two tall, lidded—and ever so slightly leaking—cups of coffee on the granite stoop outside her front door, freeing a hand for the button. He had to ring it a second time before he heard the snap of the deadbolt sliding back. The old wooden door creaked open, revealing Freyja standing in the entryway. An awkward silence followed while she just stared at him, her red-rimmed eyes wide. He spoke first, mostly to get the nervous smile off his face. “You weren’t expecting me?” “I was...umm...no.” Long lashes swept down as she blinked. “I thought...maybe you...” Picking up the tray of coffee, he flourished both it and the bag. “I come bearing gifts of caffeine and sugar.” “Such gifts are always welcome,” she responded, her bright grin returning to her face. “Come in, come in.” He admired the sway of her voluptuous hips as he followed her upstairs. The compulsion to reach out and pet her ripe, beckoning curves was difficult to resist. What was happening to him? Around her, he had no more restraint than a green lad. Once inside her modest apartment, she turned and looked up at him. Her smile was both infectious and enticing. He wanted to laugh and kiss her at the same time. It was a struggle to remember he was no longer some improper rogue but a modern gentleman. A modern gentleman with a plan. “I was just on the phone.” She pointed toward the kitchen, where the phone apparently resided. “Lemme...excuse me for just a moment, please.” 29

Susanne Saville “Certainly.” She disappeared into the kitchen. Shane waited a few moments. He could hear Freyja’s muffled voice telling someone that he was back. He glanced up at the ceiling and whispered, “So?” No answer. “Results?” he whispered again. The air crinkled and shimmered. A big, white cat appeared sitting on the worn carpet of the living room. She stood, whipping her tail back and forth in an annoyed fashion. “We need to talk.” Cleo the cat flattened her ears and hissed menacingly. “I’ll not say it again,” he growled. The atmosphere crinkled once more and then Clíodna appeared, arms folded, her expression cross. “I cannot believe you’re thinking I’m at your beck and call. You’re getting terribly arrogant for a mortal. It’s fortunate you are that it pleases me to indulge you.” He ignored her outburst. “Did you locate any alternatives to sex magick?” Clíodna drew a slender finger along the surface of the nearby coffee table. “I reckon this girl never dusts.” She raised her fingertip toward him. “What do you think?” “I think you should answer my question.” She rolled her eyes. “My original answer stands. Alternatives do not exist.” “I’m telling you to find a way.” “And I’ll be telling you to the crack of doom, there is no other way. This feline spectral entity of hers is practically embedded into the fabric of the brick. I sensed it the moment I got here. You need a spell worked with sex magick. And that’s it. Sex magick is the only way.” Shane swore under his breath. “Let her find another man, and let us be getting along with ourselves.” The atmosphere around Clíodna shimmered and she vanished. He frowned. Clíodna was right. He was being an imbecile. He should tell Freyja it was impossible and move on. In fact, he was being a selfish imbecile. He was jeopardizing her ability to perform the spell by delaying 30

The Wiccan Kitten his refusal. Half a word from the whispered telephone conversation caught his attention. He couldn’t determine what Freyja was saying now, but he wondered if she had been seeking out another man and his heart beat faster. It was entirely correct of her to look for another participant if she felt he wasn’t going to return. Still the thought of another man performing sex magick with her roused such a terrible feeling within him. He wanted her, warm and pliant, in his arms, not another’s. The phone call ended. “I’ll bring out some plates,” she called. In a minute she was bouncing toward him, brandishing china. “We can eat at the coffee table.” She smiled at him and in a flash he saw her face, flushed and enthralled, as she enjoyed the ministrations of another man. His fists clenched. He could not let someone else touch his woman. His woman. After such a short time, did he deserve to call her so? He had only just met her, yet she was never far from his thoughts. He could not bear to lose her now. There had to be a way to both save her cat and himself as well. **** Salem’s Puritan forefathers would have been appalled. The town that had once been so terrified of witchcraft that it had descended into lethal hysteria now embraced Halloween—and all the frivolous delights it entailed—with a fervor not often witnessed. Ancient, cobbled streets, which ages ago had felt nothing save for somber tread, tonight were congested by a massive street party. Vast herds of costumed people resolutely threw themselves into traffic intersections, as heedless of the oncoming cars as lemmings were to cliffs. Soon the entire perplexing network of narrow streets would be closed to all vehicles and the great sea of pedestrians would finally, officially have dominion. As the third group of giggling girls wearing little more than lace underwear and flimsy, low-cut, push-up bras sauntered past, Freyja sighed and wondered precisely when nudity had qualified as a costume. Where was the creativity in that? And, come to think of it, where 31

Susanne Saville was their central nervous system? Weren’t they cold? Her heel slipped on a particularly rounded cobblestone and she clutched onto Shane’s sweater sleeve. Neither of them had costumes. As a Wiccan, her Samhain was generally spent in quiet reflection. So she had worn her favorite black dress—knee length and cut to emphasize some of her curves and disguise the others. “Mind how you go,” he said jovially as he stopped to steady her. She chuckled. “It’s the night. Makes it difficult to judge the rocks.” She could hardly believe that they had spent the entire day talking. Just like during their dinner date, he had seemed to genuinely value her opinions and want her to share her thoughts. The hours had flown by. This would rank as one of her best days ever. Her pulse fairly hummed with happiness. Any moment now, she was going to wake up from this wonderful dream. Somewhere out there was a shoe just waiting to drop. Like a bucket of blood on a certain fictional prom night. With her luck, this actually could turn out to be some elaborate prank. “It’s light enough inside there.” Shane indicated the door of the neighborhood ice cream parlor with a nod of his head and a smile. “Would you care for an ice cream?” “Yes, please. It’s never too cold for ice cream.” It was hard, locally-made ice cream and the serving sizes were immense, which made her glad of the cool, autumnal weather—the ice cream would not be messily melting down her hand before she could finish it. Freyja licked her chocolate cone as she watched the metal scoop gouge a creamy channel across the surface of a pristine tub of mint chocolate chip. She might have heard a little sound from Shane. Or perhaps he merely moved beside her at the counter. In any case, her attention turned from the enticing array of ice cream tubs and their eyes met. He was looking at her, a strange, compelling shine to his eyes. What had she done now? Feeling almost mesmerized by his intense stare, she mechanically tasted her cone again. Her tongue lapped the chilly treat. And ever so slightly his nostrils flared. It couldn’t be. She exaggerated the action, 32

The Wiccan Kitten deliberately curling her tongue as she licked her ice cream. He smiled at her, recognizing her game, but the taut muscles of his jaw proclaimed his tension. And she was responsible. Simply watching her made him aroused. Delectable shivers flew up her spine. He wanted her. Truly wanted her. Excitement tickled deep inside her belly. She could barely wait to get him back to her apartment. This spell was definitely going to work. The girl behind the counter cleared her throat loudly. She was offering them an impatient expression along with Shane’s completed mint chocolate chip cone. Freyja turned away, hiding her smile with more rich chocolate. His desire for her had held up the ice cream dispensing. Ah, the heady thrill of power. The experience felt so unreal, she almost laughed aloud. When they had finished their cones, they returned to the colorful crowd outside. In front of them, a young man costumed in green jungle camouflage and a knotted red bandana recognized an oncoming teenaged nurse sporting an ultra-short, white uniform with matching garters. The strutting nurse squealed with surprised delight as he saluted her and the two embraced. Their hugging reminded Freyja that it was almost time for her spell. Her pulse skipped a beat. Not too much longer and she would experience what Shane was like in bed. She wondered if he could hear the sudden, frantic thudding of her heart. At the thought, she turned to look up at him. He was gazing down at her. His back was to the streetlight, yet even with his face cloaked in shadows, she knew his eyes held that distinctive spark again. Warmth flooded her veins. As if sharing the same impulse, she stepped forward just as he opened his arms. He took her in a tight embrace. His arms felt so strong encircling her, hugging her to his wool sweater, both warm and scratchy against her cheek. She tipped her face up to his and they kissed. His tongue was cool from the ice cream and he tasted deliciously like mint. The bustling crowd around them fell away as a piercing ache began deep inside her. She felt everything, the way the breeze raised gooseflesh on her arms, the way his lips felt smooth as 33

Susanne Saville they skimmed down her throat, the way his skin felt ever so slightly rough when he pressed his cheek against hers. The throbbing at her core was becoming unbearable. She pressed herself hard against his chest. Abruptly he broke away from her and stepped back. His breathing was coming quick and ragged. Tension practically vibrated off him, like a rubber band stretched to its limit and about to snap. “Sure ‘n’ you’ve bewitched me, you have,” he murmured. “Not me.” She smiled. “Although it is a night for magick. Are you...ready?” His eyes smoldered. The space between them seemed to evaporate. She could practically feel his warmth against her skin. And it provoked such delicious pangs deep inside her. She yearned to feel the weight of his strapping, solid body upon hers. Rising up on her tiptoes, she leaned forward, lips parted, hoping for another mindmelting kiss. Instead he drew farther away from her. Bewildered and off balance, she stumbled forward but quickly righted herself and shied back, mortified. How had she misread his signals so badly? She raked her eyes over him, trying to figure out how he really felt or what she had done wrong. He stood rigidly and his fists were clenched. But his expression was one of pure longing and she knew that at any moment he was going to sweep her into his arms. He certainly wanted to. If nothing else, the straining bulge in his jeans told her as much. Yet he made no move to touch her. Suddenly an unexpected sound sliced between them—a sultry female voice. “Séighín?” The word was clearly Shane’s name, although her melodic Irish accent made ‘Shane’ sound more like ‘shay-een.’ Practically as one, they turned to face the newcomer. The scantily clad newcomer. The exotically, scantily clad newcomer. What scraps the woman was wearing were fashioned from black leather. Thin straps of it, adorned with little metal studs, looped around her breasts and about her thighs, connecting petite, strategically-positioned, leather 34

The Wiccan Kitten triangles. How she kept the tiny costume in place was a mystery. “You’re a bad boy,” she purred, making a show of stretching her right leg and toying with the top of her black, thigh-high, fish-net stocking. The woman spoke only to Shane and her eyes never left him. Freyja could have been invisible for all the notice she gave her. Apprehensively, Freyja glanced at Shane, hoping he didn’t return this interloper’s interest. Her heart sank. He was smiling. “Clíodna. What are you doing here...like this?” She played with one of her pale blonde curls. “I was thinking you might be needing me.” “You were, were you?” “Yes.” With a shocking familiarity, she stepped right up against him and rubbed her hands along his denimclad thighs. “You need to come with me.” She enunciated each word slowly, with breathless emphasis. Freyja sighed to herself. Clíodna the Leather Bitch was going to steal her date away right in front of her face. She was mentally debating how to best inject herself into the conversation when Clíodna turned a cool and pointed glance at her. “Might we have some privacy?” Freyja snorted. “In the middle of this crowd? I doubt it.” Clíodna’s eyes widened slightly. “Pardon?” Shane chuckled. “Never fear, anything she has to say to me will only be taking a moment.” Freyja inhaled deeply. Be polite. No one likes a sore loser. “I’ll be over there,” she told Shane, pointing toward a private parking lot a few steps away from the sidewalk. The people in that building had to be resigned to trespassers on this night of the year. Shane watched her slip through the crowd. Then he turned to Clíodna. “What is it you want?” She smiled. “Impatient boy.” “I appreciate your concern, Clíodna. Truly. We’ve had some great times together. However...I reckon I’ve made my choice.” “What choice? I don’t see any choice here. I see you going to a pointless destruction.” 35

Susanne Saville “Not pointless.” “I don’t understand this.” Her hands languidly wandered up and down his thighs. “Did you not find pleasure in my kingdom?” Roughly he caught her wrists, halting her progress. She gazed up at him with a soft, wounded expression. She was one of the Tuatha Dé Danann, a mystical being lost to time and meaning, and with no yearning for either. She honestly did not understand. She never would. He stepped away from her and shifted so he could hold her hands in his. “I followed you across to the Otherworld gladly. And you are the same beguiling creature you were when I met you on the road to Cork all those centuries ago. But I am not the same man.” She shook her head, resisting his words. “Now I must be getting back to Freyja. We have a spell to perform.” “There’s no need for you to be worrying about that any more.” The hairs on the back of his neck raised. Something in her eyes. Something in her tone. Something was wrong. “What have you done?” Her hand fluttered to her voluptuous chest as she gazed up at him with wide, hurt eyes. “Me? How could I do anything when I’m here with you?” His heart was pounding now. She had definitely done something and there was no telling to what lengths she would resort. He whirled to follow where Freyja had gone but Clíodna grabbed his arm, her fingernails digging into his sweater. “Don’t go, Séighín.” Her voice was soft, almost pleading. Shane pulled away, breaking her grasp. “Don’t fuck with me. She’s the one. My one. I’m not letting you harm her.” “Please don’t interfere.” She clasped her hands tightly together beneath her chin. “Return with me. Let’s go now.” He ignored her and pushed his way through the crowd toward the parking lot. “You can never come back,” he heard Clíodna call 36

The Wiccan Kitten after him. But he already knew that. **** As Freyja watched, droves of people flowed along the sidewalk. Meanwhile time seemed to trickle to a standstill. Maybe now the crowd would part and Shane would come through to meet up with her. Nope. The crowd flowed on. How about now? A high-pitched peal of laughter cut through the general burble of noise. Someone was having fun. She traced a crack in the parking lot’s blacktop with the toe of her shoe. Eventually Shane would come. Any time now. She glanced up at the crowded sidewalk and this time saw one big silhouette separate from the throng and start walking toward her. Unfortunately, it wasn’t Shane. “I found you, you Satanist,” Mr. Harrison announced as he approached. Freyja rolled her eyes. While Shane was chatting up Clíodna the Leather Bitch, she was about to be trapped in a conversation with Mr. Harrison. Could the evening get any worse? Suddenly, incredibly, Mr. Harrison was behind her. “What the—?” His hand slapped over her mouth, cutting off her words, as his other arm pinned both of hers in a giant bear hug. He moved with a speed he should not have possessed. Now he was pulling her backward into the darkness behind the building. There were hordes of people not twenty yards away yet soon no one would be able to see them. Struggling madly, Freyja kicked back at Mr. Harrison’s shins. He grunted as her blows connected and his momentum slowed. He was panting. Freyja felt a grim satisfaction. Finally, an advantage to being heavy. She was wearing him out. Continuing the scuffle, she kicked and thrashed more. Salem’s historic graveyard wasn’t that far from here and the police always patrolled its gate, to enforce the law forbidding the living from entrance after dark. If she could just get to the graveyard, she’d be safe. Her foot banged hollowly against metal. A dumpster. 37

Susanne Saville He was dragging her behind the building’s dumpster. Now there would be no hope of anyone seeing them from the street. Whatever he was going to do to her, he was going to be doing it now. She didn’t have much time. Lashing back with her heels, she caught his knees. He fell, pulling her down to the harsh blacktop with him. But he momentarily loosened his grip. She wrestled free and dashed for the safety of the cemetery. Somehow he seized her again. How could he have recovered so fast? She tried to scream but his palm clapped over her mouth once more. She refused to surrender. Fear gave extra strength to her blows, however nothing she did seemed to have any affect on him. This couldn’t be happening. Simply couldn’t be happening. Not here. Not to her. Not tonight. Suddenly Shane rounded the dumpster. With spontaneous joy, she called out to him. Mr. Harrison’s bruising fingers muffled her cries. “Release her.” Shane’s voice was threatening and intense. “What’s she to you?” “Keep your hold on her and find out.” Her blood shuddered through her body as the seconds crawled by and Mr. Harrison’s grip on her only squeezed tighter. Then without warning, he threw her away from him, propelling her into the side of the dumpster. The impact made a terrible boom, but sounded worse than it felt. She was turning to see what Mr. Harrison would do, to determine how she could help Shane, before the reverberations even ceased. Shane was already moving. He strode forward, drawing back his right arm as he did so, and punched Mr. Harrison squarely on the nose. Mr. Harrison tumbled backwards, falling like a log of wood. He struck the ground with a decided thud. “Get up,” Shane ordered, standing above him with fists still clenched. “No,” Mr. Harrison whimpered and squeezed his eyes shut. “Coward.” Mr. Harrison whimpered again but Shane was already backing away from him. 38

The Wiccan Kitten Air that had been pent up in Freyja’s lungs came rushing out in a loud sigh. “Are you injured?” Shane turned to her, his eyebrows crooked in concern. “No, no. I think I’m in shock.” Putting a gentle arm around her shoulders, Shane drew her to him. He kissed the top of her head as she nestled against his side. His embrace was warm and protective. “What the fuck got into him?” she mumbled into Shane’s thick wool sweater. Even the subtle scratchiness of the wool felt comforting. “Clíodna, I fancy.” A muffled groaning brought their attention back to Mr. Harrison, who was sitting up, groggily feeling his bloody nose. “What...what happened? Where am I?” “Clíodna freed urges he never would have acted upon otherwise.” Freyja grimaced. “So he was enchanted. That’s why he moved with such unnatural speed and all.” Apparently Clíodna the Leather Bitch was, in actual fact, a witch. A very powerful witch. “Why would she do a thing like that? Does she have something against me personally or is her Gift just to indulge in random acts of evil?” “I can’t explain her actions.” There was an odd regretfulness to his tone. “Well, I’m certainly game for kicking an explanation out of her.” Fists clenched, she started forward and stumbled with her first step. He caught her in his arms, holding her as if she had no more weight than a feather. “Are you certain you’re all right?” “Yes.” She closed her eyes, enjoying his arms about her. He was just like a knight from an Arthurian legend, protecting her like that. She had always wanted a knight. “You’re wonderful. Do you want to go do the spell now?” Shane’s stomach felt hollow. He had been dreading that question. It was the first step on the path to his demise. Then Clíodna’s voice whispered inside his head, “Come away.” He blinked. This was new. “You don’t need to die,” she whispered again. 39

Susanne Saville He inhaled deeply. The night smelled fresh with just a hint of winter in the air. A surge of gooseflesh prickled his arms and up his spine. If he had sex with Freyja, this would be the last night he would feel such things. The last night he would feel anything. For a fleeting moment he wondered if he had made the right choice. It was so tempting to save himself, to walk away. Freyja’s eyes narrowed. “You are going to...we are going to have sex, right?” He swallowed. Clíodna’s private whisper came again, “Come back to the Otherworld now and you might have a chance at a future challenge.” But he did not want a future challenge. He wanted Freyja. He didn’t want to just live. He wanted his life to mean something to someone. To Freyja. He had known it might come to this, and he had already taken his decision. “No,” Shane replied softly. Freyja backed away from him. She looked like she had been struck in the stomach. “You bastard.” “Not you,” he added quickly. The injured expression in her widened eyes tugged at his heart. He stepped toward her, trying to take her in his arms. “It’s Clíodna—” “Clíodna?” Freyja interrupted, recoiling from him. She glanced about wildly, as if she feared something were closing in around her. Meanwhile Clíodna’s haunting whisper sounded once more inside his brain, “Come away.” “For the last time, no,” he growled under his breath at Clíodna. But Freyja responded. “Is this a joke?” She spoke quietly and held herself unnaturally straight. “Obviously!” Clíodna’s voice was no longer private. Her disembodied laughter rolled about them, loud enough for the entire street to hear. “As if he’d ever pick you over me.” Freyja flinched. “I knew it.” The words seemed wrenched from her and filled with horror. “I knew.” Her eyes darted toward the street and then with a whimper she quickly shied away. He followed her gaze. A group of inquisitive onlookers had gathered at the foot of the parking lot and were staring, whispering and pointing 40

The Wiccan Kitten at them. Shane turned back to Freyja and tried to catch hold of her arm. “Don’t be listening to her. Or anyone.” She dodged his hand. “You total fucking bastard! Get off me. I have a cat to save.” She sprinted toward the crowded road, pushed her way through the curiosity seekers, and disappeared into the costumed throng before he could respond. Shane wove his way through the cobbled street, marching against the tide of pedestrian traffic. Suddenly Clíodna appeared at his side, panting as if she had run to catch up with him. “Come with me. It’s not too late. I can get you back into the Otherworld, I’m sure.” Her stiletto heels clicked madly as she tried to keep up with his long, determined strides. “Thanks, but no.” “I can’t believe you’re following that fat girl.” “Freyja needs me to make love to her.” “Honey, a lot of women need that. And the line starts here.” He shook his head. “It’s to save her ghost cat.” “But you can’t have sex with her,” Clíodna pleaded. “She’s not in love with you yet. She has to be truly in love with you first in order to break the spell.” “And you’re thinking I don’t know that?” “So you’re going to turn to dust simply to rescue a phantom cat?” He halted and turned to face her. “You can tell the Tuatha Dé Danann that I appreciate the terrible artistry of their challenge. I understand.” “What do you understand?” She spoke the words halfheartedly, as if she knew his answer. “My perfect woman is fated to break my geis. If I help her, I’ll die. If I don’t help her, since I cannot explain my reasons or I’ll die, she’ll be gutted by the loss of her cat— and won’t be feeling too loving toward me, so I won’t have completed my task and I’ll die all the same. So, yes, I’m turning to dust to save her cat. Satisfied?” “No, not when you could escape with me.” When he didn’t answer, she continued, “Why won’t you be with me? It’s impossible for you to be with that Freyja person.” 41

Susanne Saville “I want to be of service to her. My rather useless life will save her cat and her cat will make her happy. I want her to be happy.” “Why? Why her?” He shrugged. Her eyes narrowed. “You love that Freyja, don’t you.” It was an accusation, not a question. He shrugged again. Slamming her clenched fists against her hip bones, she practically shrieked with frustration. “Damn you.” He felt his lips twist in a grin though he did not feel like smiling. “Already been done, darlin’.” **** Trying to run and cry at the same time totally bites. Freyja slammed her apartment door just as a fit of coughing wracked her body. She collapsed against the wooden panels with a thud and struggled for breath. Her lungs seemed to be rebelling against the invasion of the brisk, evening air by going on strike. The fit passed and, swiping at her eyes, she stumbled toward the bathroom and a box of tissue. It had been a joke. A terrible, cruel prank. Shane had been stringing her along, for some reason known only to him and that nasty blonde woman. He had never intended to perform the spell with her. They were probably laughing about it right now. Laughing at her. Well, she wouldn’t let that stop her. She’d think of something. Lenore’s coven. It was looking like she would have to develop a desire for Eric after all. She shuddered. Unwelcome thoughts of Shane made her swear bitterly. She wasn’t going to let his treachery stop her from rescuing her cat. She was performing this spell tonight if it killed her. Multiple tissues later, along with some soap and a sizeable splash of cold water, and she was feeling slightly more rational. Slightly. She headed for the phone. A terrible banging upon her front door made her jump. As she stood looking across the living room at the door, it banged again. The door shuddered under the pounding force. Could it be...Shane? Not unless another tenant let him in the outside door. It was much more likely to be Mr. Harrison. Heart hammering within her 42

The Wiccan Kitten chest, she edged forward, glancing about for objects with which to rig up an impromptu barrier. Then, muffled by the wood but definitely male and distinctively Irish, she heard a longed-for voice calling her name. She swung open her door to find Shane standing there looking adorably disheveled. “I’ve come to save your cat.” With a swift violence that surprised her, he took her in his arms. His mouth captured hers, kissing her possessively, passionately, as if it were their last kiss for all time. A kiss that left her breathless. Overwhelmed, she was still recovering as he stepped back, kicked the door closed and, with what seemed like one swift motion, pulled off his sweater. He tossed it in the direction of her couch. She heard the soft thump of the heavy wool landing upon what was probably the carpet instead, but he didn’t seem to care. His shirt summarily followed it. He had a well-defined, muscular chest, with just the right amount of hair, which trailed down his very nice abdomen to teasingly descend out of sight behind the waistband of his jeans. “I thought...” “Whatever you were thinking, you had the wrong end of the stick.” “What?” “I was rejecting Clíodna, not you.” “Oh.” She swallowed, too surprised to feel anything. “So I’m here to perform the spell.” “The spell,” she repeated. “Yes, the spell to free a grounded spirit. The sex magick. Freyja?” “Yeah?” “What must we do?” He was looking at her, smiling, waiting for her to answer. “Oh, right. The spell. Right.” She endeavored to get her brain functioning again as her shaking fingers fumbled with the zipper of her dress. He stepped forward and covered her hands with his. “Allow me.” With slow, measured progress, he drew the zipper down the length of the dress, letting each snick of the zip crackle through the silent atmosphere. 43

Susanne Saville The dress gaped open, making it simple for him to ease it off. The fabric slipped along her arms. revealing her matching black undergarments as the dress fluttered to the floor. She glanced down to the carpet after it, prickles rising on her bare skin, resisting the urge to cross her arms over her stomach. Like that would conceal anything. He did not seem to think anything needed to be concealed. His eyes traveled up and down her body, savoring the journey. “Gorgeous,” he whispered with open admiration evident in his tone. Sudden confidence glowed within her like a candle. The candle. Stepping out of her shoes, she licked her dry lips. “We need to get the candle.” He nodded. “Here or your bedroom?” “Bedroom.” Earlier in the day, she had prepared her bedroom. The candle, a long, crimson taper, was picked out and waiting for them on her bedside table, along with several condoms. “Ta-da.” She giggled nervously as she opened her bedroom door. “That’s a good, large bed.” “Yeah, I like a lot of room when I sleep.” “It’ll come in convenient for when you’re not sleeping tonight.” He grinned. “Now get up on that mattress, my girl, and let’s free your ghost cat.” “You don’t have to tell me twice.” Laughing, she bounced up on the bed and lay back. The clean, cotton sheets felt cool and smooth but everything else felt amazingly unreal. Shane picked up the red candle and gently brought it to her knee. Then, with a leisurely stroke, he began to roll the cool column of wax up the inside of her thigh. “Like this?” “Oh, yes.” She chuckled as the taper rolled higher, then a little higher, tickling her vulnerable skin. Gradually he rolled the candle back down to her knee and bent to blaze a trail of kisses along her skin where it had been. As his warm breath caressed her inner thigh, shivers zinged up her spine all the way to her scalp. It felt so good. Her hands clenched. Desperate as she was to 44

The Wiccan Kitten touch him, the spell had to come first. “Candle,” she whispered. “Right. Sorry.” He spoke with effort, passion making his voice husky. With a gentle grin, he straightened and the candle resumed its upward roll. Captivated she waited, holding her breath, keenly aware of the candle, anticipating the taper reaching the top of her inner thigh. It would be the most intimate contact they had experienced yet. Heat built within her at the thought. Her body was going overboard. She was already wet and simply aching for his touch. Just when his fingers were about to graze the delicate fabric of her underwear, suddenly the candle rolled away. She involuntarily moaned in disappointment as it gradually retreated to the inside of her knee again. “Am I not doing it correctly?” She giggled. “Too correctly.” He smiled and once again slowly rolled the candle up her leg. The smooth wax felt warmer now, gaining heat from her skin. Her heart beat faster as the taper approached the crux of her inner thigh. She trembled as, with firm yet gentle pressure, he held the candle against her. “That should do it.” He removed the red candle and placed it in its opaque crystal holder on the bedside table. It was time for the next step. She sat up to unhook her bra. He shifted to help her. The multiple clasps proved no hindrance to his nimble fingers. Slowly he slid the satiny fabric off her breasts. She sighed as his hot mouth closed over her nipple. He swirled his tongue, then ever so slightly grazed the hardening bud with his teeth. Electricity shot through her, zipped down to her core, and a gush of wetness surged within. She clutched at his back, ran her hands up into his hair, desperate for more sensation. He suckled harder. He closed his hand over her other breast, rubbing his palm across the nipple. His touch was doing things to her body she had never felt before. Then his mouth left her breast, moving to kiss the hollow of her throat, reverently. He mumbled something. She couldn’t understand the language, but it was clearly appreciative. She felt practically incandescent. 45

Susanne Saville His burning kisses descended in a line from her throat, between her breasts, to her abdomen, and then to the feminine swell of her belly. She felt his fingers tug on her panties and she raised her hips, helping him as he slipped them down her legs and off. Another day, another time, she might have felt insecure at being suddenly so vulnerable, but he gave her no time to feel anything except pleasure. His long fingers petted her gently, stroking her ever so lightly, playing with her plump folds with adoring fascination. His fingertips skimmed her, teasingly close and then away. The ache deep within her core grew with each stroke. Grew and simmered and itched so that she could hardly bear it. She wanted him inside her. She wanted his fingers inside her. She ached for penetration. He grazed her clit and she convulsed, a surge of wetness gushing within her. She twitched her hips, hoping he would slide inside. First one finger gently pushed within her, slowly moving in, then out. Then a second finger. She rocked her hips to his slow rhythm. He curled his fingers. She could feel his fingertips stroking deep within her. Her breath came in quick puffs. She rocked her hips faster. His touch felt wonderful. Excitement built within her, rushing toward an uncharted peak. Everything was happening so fast. Too fast. “Wait, we need to mentally recite...oh, just a second.” Sitting up, she struggled to locate her wits amongst her passion-flooded senses. Taking advantage of the pause, he stripped off the rest of his things. His erection sprang free from its confinement. She almost gasped in wonder. Never had she seen a more glorious naked man. Remember the spell. Hastily, she told him the words of the spell to free a grounded spirit as she grabbed a condom off the bedside table. “That’s not what they used to look like,” he commented upon seeing the condom unwrapped. “What?” “Never mind.” He groaned as she unrolled it with languorous strokes down the length of his cock. “And I’m supposed to be thinking of the spell during this?” 46

The Wiccan Kitten “Yep. It might not be easy for you...” He grinned. “Sure and it shan’t be easy for you, either, or I’m not the man you deserve.” Tenderly, he laid her back against the mattress, kissing her all the while. Then he was on top of her, his weight pushing her down into the mattress, his hard cock prodding her lower belly...and then lower, sliding over her damp curls and into the center of her sex. She wrapped her legs around him, enjoying the sensations of him stretching her, filling her. He was almost too much, but he moved slowly, inching his way inside, and allowing her body to ease and accept him before he moved again. It seemed like she could feel each individual muscle within her quivering at the expansion, at the strain. And every once in a while there was a twitch, an ever so pleasurable release, and he moaned as her sex clasped him and plunged forward to fill her still more. Sheathed to the hilt, his balls pressing against her, he paused. “Ready?” His teeth gritted as he held on to what little control he had left. “Yes.” She swallowed. “Picture the words to the spell in your mind,” she instructed between panting breaths. He nodded. “Much harder to do in practice than in theory.” He was breathing hard, too. She chuckled in agreement. “Okay, I think we’re ready.” He began to move within her, leisurely at first, then a little quicker and quicker. She matched his rhythm, mentally chanting the spell in time to his thrusts. As his urgency increased, her fingers dug into his back. Energy was building and surging all around them. What if it didn’t happen? She was so close, quivering on the edge of a precipice, and yet orgasm remained just beyond her reach. Her rhythm faltered. Now her mind was wandering. She had to concentrate on the words to the spell. But what if she failed to come? “Relax.” He must have sensed her anxiety. “The spell will work. Nothing can stop it. I’ll be giving you the most intense orgasm ever and you will live happily ever after. Enjoy.” Her body shuddered with anticipation at his words 47

Susanne Saville and she moaned softly as their rhythm was restored. The spell became her focus while pangs of desire throbbed in every fiber of her body. Then his hand slipped between them and pressed her clit. Muscles deep in her belly fluttered. She was tingling all over like the air before summer lightning. This was it. “Candle! The candle,” Freyja gasped, her hand blindly fumbling about for it, as the wave of pulsating energy started to engulf her. Swiftly Shane reached. There was a clatter from the candleholder falling over, and then he thrust the solid, wax column onto her open palm. Her fingers snapped closed over it, catching his hand as well. His skin felt hot. He moved his hand to interweave his fingers with hers, pressing the candle between their palms. Just in time. Her body went rigid and she clenched her jaw as wave after wave of energy took her, shuddered through her, threatened to jolt her body apart. Suddenly she heard him groan urgently through gritted teeth and knew that his crisis had erupted upon him as well. With what tatters of concentration she had left, she channeled their combined energy into the red taper. Several moments passed before she gradually became aware of their surroundings, of the fact that they lay in each other’s arms, exhausted, panting. The sheen of sweat upon her skin made her sensitive to the apartment’s cool air. Goose-bumps raised along her arms and she giggled, her senses simply too inundated with tingles to process more. She felt him shift his weight and then he kissed her cheek. “I love the way your nose crinkles up when you come.” “Stop it.” A rush of heat went straight to her cheeks. He moved to look directly into her eyes. He was so handsome, and his grin so tender. “You’re adorable,” he declared and kissed her sweetly on the lips. She returned the kiss. “Thank you. And thank you for helping me like this. Now all that remains is to light the candle and wait for tomorrow. I hope it works.” “It felt like it should work. I’m not known for my 48

The Wiccan Kitten priapic prowess...” She laughed, interrupting him. “Well you definitely should be. You should be known far and wide for your skills. But I’m willing to keep it our little secret.” He smiled and pulled her into his arms. “No matter what happens, it was worth it.” “Pardon?” “I mean it was worth a try.” He kissed the top of her head. “Your better class of lovers probably wouldn’t say this, but you are an incomparable tumble. May I tell you that?” She snuggled against his chest. “As many times as you wish.”

49

Susanne Saville

Chapter Four Sunday, November 1st “Be gone, demons from the underworld. Leave! We cast you out, back to the fires from whence you came.” With a flourish of his voluminous black sleeve, the exorcist raised an umber-colored bottle and sloshed some of its contents onto Freyja’s living room wall. Clear liquid trickled in crooked lines all the way down to the carpet. “Leave this place, we command you.” Freyja folded her arms and whispered to Shane. “What that’s going to leave is a stain.” They stood at the far end of the room, well back from the dreaded ceremony. She didn’t really want to be there at all, but Mr. Harrison would probably try to exorcise all her Wiccan gear if she wasn’t present. “Make sure you do the bedroom,” Mr. Harrison advised. Nodding, the exorcist pushed back his velvet hood. He was a young man, much younger than she had expected. His narrowed eyes glanced warily at her. She wondered exactly what Mr. Harrison had been telling him about her, and decided it was a very good thing that she had hidden all her pentacles plus the contents of her altar inside her dresser drawers. The exorcist’s assortment of protection medallions, dangling from the belt of his robe, clinked and jingled as he crept toward the bedroom. Unfortunately, the metal bits were not loud enough to drown out the scandalized gasp he emitted as he crossed the threshold. “I reckon we might have burned a little too much incense in there then,” Shane whispered. “This is so embarrassing.” She covered her face with her hands. The exorcist began chanting, “I cleanse this place. Let all its evils be taken away.” 50

The Wiccan Kitten She groaned. “I can imagine him in there, searching with one of those blue luminescent, crime scene thingies exclaiming, ‘Look, there’s evil all over the ceiling.’” “Poor darlin’ girl.” Laughing, Shane put an arm around her shoulders, hugging her against his side. “So are we believing he’s really a priest?” “No way. Of course, he doesn’t have to be. Many different faiths have a rite of exorcism. There are also hobbyists who perform the rites...and amateurs.” The exorcist peered out of the bedroom. “I may need extra protection for the kitchen.” He shook his umber bottle in front of him as if he were trying to clear a path using the liquid that splattered upon the floor. “I’d turn and leave in a dignified huff,” Freyja muttered to Shane. “Except I’m still a bit tender from last night and I don’t think I could carry off a dignified huff.” She chuckled. “Maybe an indignant hobble.” Without a word, Shane strode to the front door, opened it wide and then, leaving it open, returned to her side. “Hold on.” Before she could protest, he swept her up in his arms and proceeded to carry her out the door. Her peals of laughter probably interrupted the ceremony behind them but she didn’t care. Although she did manage to convince him to put her down before they attempted the stairs. Once they were outside on the sidewalk, he picked her right back up. She felt like a bride in search of a threshold as he carried her down the street. The exceedingly decorated street. Streamers and other bits of glittery debris festooned the gutters. Salem had stayed up late last night and even the pavement seemed to be merrily exhausted. Other than the clean-up crews, only a few people wandered the streets this morning. But they were alert enough to stare as he carried her past. “People are watching us,” she mumbled, embarrassed by the attention. “Let them. People should always watch you. You’re worth watching. Remember that.” She let her head fall back. Being carried was almost like flying. “How about you just tell me. Repeatedly.” “I want you to remember, even when I’m not here.” He did not release her from his arms until they 51

Susanne Saville reached Derby Wharf. Once a bustling port filled with ships and sheds, the long wharf was now a park—a grassy peninsula stretching from far out into the water back to the old red brick Custom House, where years ago Nathaniel Hawthorne once worked. At its end sat Salem Harbor’s squat, square lighthouse, blinking only a pale beacon in the bright morning light. Shane set her down at the edge of the empty meadow. She inhaled deeply. It was a brilliant day. The short grass seemed unexpectedly green, the sky a particularly clear blue, and sunlight glinted off the gilded eagle perched patriotically atop the Custom House’s roof. Good things could happen today. “We should try to call the cat now. See if our spell was successful.” Excitement churned within her. “Give it a go, then.” Using her forefinger, Freyja drew an invoking Air pentagram in the atmosphere at arm’s length. Then, singing quietly, she chanted an invitation to her ghost kitty to appear. And they waited. The lonely cry of a seagull flying out over the harbor only accentuated the silence of the morning. Apprehension seizing her insides, she chanted the invitation again. “Is it working?” he asked, sounding as concerned as she felt. “I don’t know.” Suddenly a chill zinged up Freyja’s spine, lifting the hairs on the back of her neck. “Do you feel that?” she whispered. Before he could respond, a wraith of silver fog, barely visible in the sunlight, formed around her ankles. She felt a push, and then a rumbling purr against her calf. “It worked! He’s here at my legs. Can you see him?” She glanced at Shane. He was looking at her feet. Then he crouched down, held out his hand and slowly waved it back and forth, in and out of the mist. “Interesting. I don’t see anything particularly catlike, but there’s a definite cold spot here. Is that your spectral cat?” “Yup. You’ve got him.” She couldn’t stop grinning despite her jaw muscles beginning to ache. “We did it!” 52

The Wiccan Kitten A whispery meow drifted up to them. Freyja sighed happily. Her ghost kitty was free. The spell had worked and now he was safe from everything. Safe from the exorcist. Safe from the house’s demolition. Completely safe. “Did you hear that meow?” “I heard.” He smiled. “And it’s very glad I am that you two will live happily ever after.” “We three, you mean.” Her step toward him turned into a hobble and she giggled. “I am so sore.” It was a delightful soreness, though, one which rather tickled and grew with every tender step. “I think I still have some residual charge here.” She stepped and giggled again. “Perhaps we should take advantage of this. Have any stray spells in mind?” Though the smile remained on his face, the expression in his eyes became sad and distant, like his thoughts had wandered a thousand miles away. Why didn’t he answer? Concern gnawed at her stomach. Maybe he wasn’t interested in a relationship. Why had she said we three? Of all the stupid things to say. Like she was pushing for a serious commitment. Or maybe he was having second thoughts about her in general. Maybe he thought she was a slut. “You do realize...or maybe you don’t...I’m not the type of person that...” She cleared her throat and began again, “I generally don’t exercise my perfectly natural right to engage in...” “You’re not easy to get,” he supplied. “Exactly. Thank you. So. I know I’m closing the barn door after every last horse, pig and chicken has got out—” “I don’t think they keep chickens in barns. Don’t they have their own—” He was teasing her now. She gently slapped his shoulder. “That is so not the point! The point is that...I want to get to know you...more. Y’know? Even though the need for spells is over, I’d like to know you better.” “I’d like that, too.” “Really? You’re not going to be mentally rolling your eyes and thinking, ‘ho, hum, when’s the sex’?” He chuckled. “No. I would relish getting to know you.” Reaching out, he took her hand. Then, with old53

Susanne Saville fashioned gallantry, he brought it up to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. Her heart skipped a beat at the touch of his lips. Everything he did seemed to possess a sort of magic. Butterflies zipped about her stomach as she happily looked forward to discovering more and more about him. It had been such a lucky day, the day he walked into the veterinary practice. But when he glanced up at her, without releasing her hand, the merriment had faded from his countenance. “Unfortunately, I fear I must leave you now.” He sounded so grave. Like he wasn’t coming back. “We can continue this later, though, right?” she asked hopefully. He shook his head. “No.” “What?” Surely she had misheard him. “I must depart. I haven’t a choice.” Her insides turned icy cold. “I don’t understand.” For a moment, he gazed out at the calm harbor waters. Wrinkles knit his brow, as if his thoughts troubled him. Then he seemed to come to some decision and his attention returned to her. “Remember how you asked me if I believed in ghosts? I ask you now, as a Wiccan, if you believe in the divine tribe of Ireland known as the Tuatha Dé Danann.” “I actually work with the Egyptian pantheon, but yes, I’ve heard of them. Well, wait, do you mean ‘believe in their existence’ or ‘believe one might actually meet one of them when walking down the street’?” “Is there a difference?” “I...I guess not. I get the feeling we’re going with the ‘believe you could meet them when walking down the street’ option.” He inhaled deeply. “You already have done.” “Excuse me?” “Last night. Clíodna.” Freyja blinked. She could feel her mouth open and shut but it took several tries before words emerged. “You’re saying she’s the Clíodna? The Goddess of the Happy Otherworld? You’re telling me that Leather Bitch is the goddess Clíodna.” “Leather Bitch?” 54

The Wiccan Kitten “Nevermind.” A wrinkle in the air was the sole herald of Clíodna’s arrival. Although she no longer dressed in leather, wearing instead a flowing, white dress with gauzy skirts that barely concealed her legs, she was definitely the woman from last night. “Nevermind, indeed,” she huffed. Freyja recoiled at the unexpected intrusion. “That’s...she’s...so she really is more than a witch, then.” “Yes, she’s one of the Tuatha Dé Danann.” Freyja collapsed to her knees on the grass. “This cannot be happening.” Perhaps this weekend was a dream. Perhaps she would wake up now. He knelt beside her and raised her to her feet. “A terrible long time ago I was...” “A knight?” she asked dazedly. “Yes, but not the dragon-slaying sort. I was more in the way of being an aristocratic rake. I didn’t do much with my life, not like you and your job helping animals. And one day, when I was...at a bit of a loose end, to put it politely, I met an enchanting woman.” “Clíodna.” “Yes. She invited me to follow her to her domain. And I did. Little did I know I would be trapped.” Though her mind felt numb, she nodded. She knew the laws of the Irish pantheon, even though she rarely worked with it. “No one ever returns from the Otherworld.” “Precisely. However this year at Samhain, when the veil between the worlds is thinnest, I was offered a chance to cross back—and to remain, if I could meet certain conditions. So this weekend I have been laboring under a sort of curse.” Clíodna yawned. “Talk faster. Your time is running out.” Freyja’s pulse quickened with alarm as her gaze jumped from Clíodna to Shane. “Why, what’s going to happen?” He continued his story as if Clíodna had not interrupted. “I was required to find a woman who would fall in love with me within three days without having sex. I failed.” 55

Susanne Saville “Oh, no...” He shrugged. “It was my choice.” “And now his age will catch up to him,” finished Clíodna. Freyja clutched his arms. “But I do love you.” “It doesn’t matter. We had sex. I broke the geis.” Gently he disengaged her hands and took them in his own. “Sure ‘n’ I’m wondrous pleased that I did. Never forget that.” Releasing his grip, he stepped away from her. Cold horror twisted in her belly. “No, no, I won’t accept it.” Her vision blurred and she swiped the tears away from her eyes. “There must be something we can do.” “You can be happy, you and your cat. That’s all I want you to do.” “But...but...It’s not fair.” She could barely force the words past the lump in her throat. “Perhaps. That’s the way of it. The Tuatha Dé Danann always win.” A gray sheen started to seep up over Shane’s feet. It crawled up his legs, up his abdomen, draining the color from his jeans and his sweater, turning everything the same sooty hue. Gradually his entire body was engulfed by the drab miasma until even his face had turned a sickly gray. “I love you.” His lips crumbled as they formed the words. Then his entire body was spilling forward, like the sand in an hourglass. “No,” Freyja screamed, but it was too late for him to hear her. Nothing was left. Just a pillar of dust. Don’t let his ashes get away! Pointing, she opened her mouth to shout the words but her ghost kitty was already moving. He did not need her to speak, he had received her thought. Swooping up to the ashes that had once been Shane, the cat’s spectral body elongated into a silvery ribbon which he wound around the column. As the dust crumbled away, he caught it within his body and balled himself around it. In seconds there was a curled up cat floating in the autumn air, inside of whom Shane’s ashes coalesced into a gray orb. 56

The Wiccan Kitten “Good boy!” “I don’t know what good that will do, but good luck to you.” The air crinkled as Clíodna started to fade away. “Oh, no you don’t.” Freyja pounced forward and grabbed Clíodna by the wrist. With a yelp of shock, Clíodna tried to pull away. If she departed for the Otherworld now Shane would be forever lost. Oh, goddess! Bastet! Freyja invoked a grounding spell. Her grip on Clíodna’s wrist never weakened. Would the lingering charge empower her magick-work enough to keep Clíodna here? Hissing like a startled cat, Clíodna seemed genuinely surprised that her dematerialization had been halted. Suddenly distorting, she threw off a shockwave of energy. It broke Freyja’s grip and knocked her to the ground. The earth was cold and hard, but Freyja barely felt it. She rolled and came up sitting in time to see that Clíodna had shifted, transforming into her white, furry Cleo incarnation. The cat snarled and bounded toward her. Fangs bared, Cleo leapt, her extended claws reaching for Freyja’s face. Instinctively Freyja raised her arms. Not to protect herself, but to catch Cleo. Snatching her out of mid-air, her fingers tightened around the furry body. She curled toward the cat, cradling her in a professional hold. A frustrated feline yowl pierced her ears. “Cat wrangler, remember?” Cleo wriggled and snapped, but Freyja held on, concentrating on contacting the cat’s mind. She was blocking her. Freyja felt nothing except the cat in her arms. Plush, white fur. Freyja focused on the fur, soft and warm beneath her fingers. Cat hair. Cat whiskers. Cat. Abruptly she was through. She had contacted the cat’s mind, and it was like a blazing chandelier being snapped on when before there had been total darkness. Mentally she squinted in the brilliance of Clíodna’s being as the goddess’s thoughts assailed her. So many thoughts at once, amassing into an incomprehensible, unbearable roar. So much knowledge. Freyja struggled to maintain the tenuous link. She could not hold it for long. 57

Susanne Saville “Undo...How do I undo...How do I undo Shane’s curse?” she asked inside Clíodna’s mind. Finally one thought separated from the tsunami of sound and she could understand it clearly. “Get out, get out, get out!” The words reverberated in her skull. “No.” Freyja’s jaw ached, she was gritting her teeth so tightly. It took all her strength to maintain contact. “Reverse spell. Restore Shane.” Multiple shouts answered, “I cannot do that. I cannot do that.” It was a crazy, angry echo. However, Freyja was over her initial shock. Her mind was getting accustomed to Clíodna’s, and she sensed a fleeting vacillation. Then came a sharp snick sound, as if a closet door had been locked. There was something in particular here that Clíodna wished to keep from her. Freyja raked the dark recesses of the cat’s brain, hunting for that closeted thought. Clíodna tried to distract her, tried to lead her astray. That only made her search easier. The harder she tried to hide that bit of knowledge, the more it crossed her mind, the easier it was for Freyja to pinpoint. A spell. She had figured a goddess would have a spell for everything. How could she not? This wasn’t just any incantation, though. This was a spell so ancient the language had not been spoken in centuries. A spell so powerful it could make real any intent. A spell so dangerous the Tuatha Dé Danann had sworn a blood oath never to speak the words. “You see.” Clíodna’s internal voice stated solemnly. “I cannot cast that spell.” She had spoken truthfully. It was impossible for her to cast it. Freyja smiled grimly. “But I can.” Reading the pronunciation of the words from Clíodna’s mind, Freyja chanted the spell. As she uttered the final syllable, a terrible gale rushed through her body, blowing away the mind link and flattening her to the ground. She released Cleo and felt hard paws push off her stomach as the cat scrambled away. The wind was blowing so strong Freyja’s lungs could scarce catch a breath. Her fingers hurt, digging into the 58

The Wiccan Kitten hard earth, trying not to fall off the world. Leaves whipped across her body. Twigs snagged in her hair. She attempted to flatten herself against the prickly grass and hoped her ghost cat was all right, and that he was holding tight to Shane’s remains. Meanwhile everything was rushing, rushing into eternity. Silence came so suddenly she did not recognize it at first. Slowly she raised her head. The wind storm had stopped. Quiet. Sunlight. Everything looked absolutely normal. “Kitten?” Her voice was no more than a whisper. She coughed and tried calling her spectral cat again. “Kitten? Shane?” Had the spell worked? “Shane?” “Sure ‘n’ that was a strange feeling,” Shane declared. Freyja scrambled from the grass to her feet. Shane stood in front of her, smiling. He looked the same as he did when they first entered the field. With a sob of relief, she threw herself into his arms. He chuckled. “Easy, my girl.” “Is my cat here?” she asked, her voice muffled as her face remained buried in the rough wool of his sweater. A cool breeze fanned her ear and she heard an unmistakable meow. “I’m still here, too, if anyone’s keeping track,” muttered Clíodna. Freyja glanced over at her. She had shifted to her human form and the expression on her face was decidedly disgruntled. “I cannot believe I’ve had human in my brain.” In a sort of cleansing motion, Clíodna ran her hands through her long, blonde locks. “Is it like getting chocolate in your peanut butter? Because that’s really good,” Freyja teased. When Clíodna swore at her in response, she adopted a look of injured innocence. “Such language.” Shane laughed. “Behave, you two.” Clíodna snorted and shook her head. “I don’t know why I tolerate you, really I don’t.” She fluffed out her filmy skirts. “Well, enjoy your victory, however shortlived.” Shane cocked an eyebrow. “Pardon?” 59

Susanne Saville She pointed at Freyja. “That vixen cast the spell we are never allowed to utter.” Holding her a little away from him, Shane gazed down into Freyja’s eyes. “You did?” Feeling her cheeks grow hot, she looked away. “I had to bring you back.” “Such knowledge is too dangerous to be allowed to exist in this world,” Clíodna stated with grim certainty. “Eventually the Tuatha Dé Danann will send a paladin to see to you.” Shane smiled defiantly. “I’m not bothered. I have rejoined the world of the living, and living is about risk.” “Can I vote for living being about lying on a beach?” Freyja asked. With a tender grin, he hugged her close. “We can face anything together. We’ll be ready.” Clíodna nodded. “I rather suppose you will be, at that. Well, no one shall be hearing about this from me. Not my finest hour, I must say.” She paused and looked wistfully at Shane. “Farewell, Séighín.” Then the air crinkled and shimmered and she disappeared. “That was fucking amazing.” Freyja grappled with her dazed mind, trying to find finer words to express her jumbled thoughts. After a moment of silent struggle, she gave up. “Super-fucking amazing.” “You are amazing.” He kissed the top of her head. “Thank you. You know, I think we now know why I have such an odd Gift.” His arms tightened around her. “Because you’re my one, the one destined to break the curse. We were meant for each other.” She sighed contentedly. “You’re going to have to teach me how to say your name the way Clíodna says it. That accent sounds very cool. Shay-een.” He shook his head as he released her from his arms. “I like the way you say my name just fine. Now come with me. And bring your ghost cat.” “Here, kitten, kitten,” she called as she took his proffered hand. “Where are we going?” He didn’t answer, but she allowed him to lead her along nevertheless, the silver wisp of kitten following them. Hand in hand, they walked the several blocks up to 60

The Wiccan Kitten the broad Common. Then Shane stopped. “There.” He pointed toward his house, the house that Clíodna had created for him. It was still in existence. Clíodna was magnanimous in defeat, he had to give her that. He turned and grinned at Freyja. “We’re going home.” She squealed gleefully and hugged him, then bounced away and cocked her head, frowning as if still considering the idea. “Well, I do need a new place. Mine is being torn down, after all.” “And mine is in need of a ghost cat.” She raised her eyebrows and pretended surprise. “What, it didn’t come with one?” “No, and I’m quite disappointed. I thought all homes in Salem were haunted.” “It’s a common misconception. But don’t worry. I happen to have in my acquaintance a certain spectral feline whom I believe would be willing to visit us. Wouldn’t you, kitten?” The phantom cat gave a distinct meow. Shane smiled. “That would be grand.” He hugged her close. She returned the embrace with a blissful sigh. And the ghost kitty mewed contentedly as it glided in circles around their feet.

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