Page 21 of Bewitched By the Sea Monster
My fingers dug into Jackson’s arm when the warped planks of wood grumbled beneath our feet.
“I trust you’ve had a pleasant trip?” The cat’s shadow moved, its head following our trek across the dock.
“Babe.” Jackson’s breath danced over my ear. “Did that cat just talk?”
“Oh good,” I whispered back. “You heard that too?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Thank the stars. I thought I was losing it.”
The novelty of the talking cat didn’t sink in for most folks, though. Not right away, at least. Some were so deep in conversations, they likely hadn’t heard the welcome statement. And others were probably expecting to find a person lurking behind the veil of smog. But then the first cluster of people reached the end of the dock, and their whispered titters wove their way back to us.
“Aw, it’s a cat!”
“It’s talking?”
“Well, he’s amagicalcat. Obviously.”
Waves belted the bottom of the dock, making the wood rasp in protest. I shivered when icy water flecked under the hems of my jeans and bit back the urge to cry in relief when the swirling curtains of fog thinned, revealing the craggy surface of the island.
The cat blinked at Jackson and me as we stepped off the dock and joined the group of people queuing around a dinky, pockmarked sign that read, “Welcome to Niverwick Isle! Please wait for an attendant.”
“Welcome,” the cat drawled.
He was a long and lanky orange tabby. A real handsome feller too, sitting all proud and tall, with his little pouchy cat belly sploshed over his feet. His wide, bottle-green eyes were sweet and innocent looking, and almost too big for his face.
“Oh, my!” A woman behind me cooed, excitement boinging off her as she shuffled flush against my back, peering over my shoulder at the cat. “Howprecious.I can’t! Oh my goodness, Icannot.”
“Don’t know that I’d call itprecious, Melany. It’s a little creepy,” another woman muttered.
“Pft, don’t be silly, love,” Melany trilled. “He’s atreasure.”
I had to smile.
The woman behind me smelled crisp and fresh—like the perfume counter at a high-end department store. All those fragrances that were decadent and sharp and rich and very, very,veryexpensive. And Melany looked the expensive and sophisticated sort. She was older, in her late-sixties, maybe early-seventies. Although I would never presume that a sophisticated dame, such as herself, would fall on the olderend of the scale. So, I’d guess her age was around sixty. She was dressed to the nines in a cleanly pressed long skirt, which fluttered down to her booted ankles, a form-fitted suit jacket, and an elegant black coat. A neat plait of silvery hair twined over her left shoulder.
And here she was, this elegant woman, all hunched up against my back, probably getting some good whiffs of my sweat-rank skin and vomit breath.
But she smiled at me when she noticed I’d turned to look at her. A big, white-toothed grin that wrinkled the skin around her mouth and temple—skin untouched by either the chemicals the Standies often turned to or the cosmetic magic the Sorcerers could wield. Her sophisticated beauty wasau naturel.
“Don’t you just wanna march over there and give the cat a good smooshing?” I said to Melany, being mindful to keep my foul breath aimed away from her face.
“Yes.”She gave my shoulder a giddy swat.
And I immediately decided I liked her. A lot.
Some people just gave off good vibes. Happyvibes.
“You arenotsmooshing that cat,” Jackson hissed in my ear.
I stood on my tiptoes and nuzzled his neck, peppering little kisses there.
“I wonder if it’s actually the cat talking, or if a Sorcerer is throwing his voice,” Melany pondered out loud to her partner. “Remember when we went to that safari thing? And that handsome Sorcerer boy was doing voices for all the creatures. You were ready to scoop up that little raccoon.”
Her partner sniffed and ran her hand down the front of her slate grey trousers. She looked a few years younger than Melany and had a softer kind of suave to her. From the artfully untidy bob of chocolate-and-grey-specked hair that brushed her cheeks, to the crooked smile she threw at Melany, down to the simple, but well-fitted trousers and peacoat she wore. “The racoon was cute?—”
“So is this cat.”
