Cat's Meow

By Robin Wainwright

Irish sentinel Catlin Burchfield is a downright snob, believing his level of witchcraft ranks far above any of his peers. When an evil witch with a vendetta against his brethren wreaks havoc amongst other witches, Catlin is sent to America to uncover the witch's vile plan. To his utter disbelief and dismay, Catlin finds himself in over his head and cursed by the witch's powers.

Crossing paths with a novice witch, Kathleen Mallery, is Catlin's only saving grace. To think a witch-in-training could save an expert like him is ludicrous, but she does just that. As Kathleen and Catlin search for the evil sorceress, they realize they've got more than magic between them. As their desire increases, so does the danger lurking in every corner. Can Catlin and Kathleen find a way to stop the vengeful witch before it's too late or will their magic end with evil's final revenge?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Purrfect Publishing
• Release date: May 5, 2016
• ISBN: 9781533738707

Robin Wainwright

As a child, Robin Wainwright's Irish mother filled Robin's active imagination with stories of magic and the wee people. Her days were filled with other worlds where magic and the paranormal were an accepted way of life. As soon as Robin learned how to write, she continued her mother's tradition of storytelling. She shared her stories with her mother, but no one else. In 2013, Robin decided to begin sharing her stories with a broader audience and so The Widow's Walk trilogy was born. Robin lives in Southern California with her wonderful husband and two cats. She loves the rain, thunder, and lightning (although she doesn't see much of it where she lives) as well as chocolate, coffee, and Halloween. She continues to write (sometimes with the help of her cats) while sitting in her recliner, appearing to look out her window into her green yard, while in reality her vision is focused on other locales.

Book preview

Cat's Meow

Robin Wainwright

Published by Purrfect Publishing, 2016.

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

CAT'S MEOW

First edition. May 5, 2016.

Copyright © 2016 Robin Wainwright.

ISBN: 978-1533738707

Written by Robin Wainwright.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Cat's Meow

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Further Reading: Adrift

Also By Robin Wainwright

About the Author

Incense smoke swirled heavy and fragrant through the small room, which was lit by flickering candlelight. A beautiful woman knelt before a small altar.

The woman chanted and rocked faster and faster until the words of her chant seemed to blur into one continuous sound. I bind thy hand, I bind thy mouth, I bind thy feet. I bind thy hand, I bind thy mouth, I bind thy feet.

The woman flung her arms up to the sky and shouted, A thrall to me you shall ever be.

Breathing heavily, the woman picked up a human-shaped cloth doll from the altar. The doll’s arms and legs were bound together with a piece of rough twine and a piece of black tape was stretched across the doll’s face where its mouth would have been.

For as I will, so mote it be! Now you may see evil, and you may hear evil, but you won’t be able to tell anyone about it. An evil smile distorted the beautiful woman’s face as she placed the doll into a small wooden chest and locked it with a tiny brass lock. She took the key from the lock and slipped it onto a long chain hanging around her neck. It clicked against other small keys, which hung suspended from the chain.

Another addition to my menagerie, the woman said as she blew out the candles, plunging the room into darkness.

––––––––

Kathleen Malley was running late, and there was nothing she hated more than being late. Kathleen worked as a vet tech at Haven Pet Hospital and her shift started in just ten minutes. She took a moment to look at herself in the car mirror and her brown eyes frantically checked that her light makeup was still in place and that her shoulder-length curly hair was still cleanly tucked into its hair clips. Grabbing her purse, she opened the car door and began to sprint for the front door only to be stopped in her tracks by a loud male voice.

Hey, Kathleen. I got one for ‘ya!

Kathleen froze in her tracks and her shoulders slumped. The voice belonged to Ralph, a fellow vet tech who loved needling Kathleen about her religion. Kathleen was a witch, and although she didn’t flaunt her religion, she didn’t hide it either. Kathleen wore a discrete stylized pentagram on a long chain under her clothing and one evening Ralph had seen it.

A severely injured dog had been rushed into the clinic. When she and Ralph had bent over to pick the dog up and place it on the examination table, Kathleen’s pentagram had slipped out from under her shirt.

Ralph had grabbed it and exclaimed, What’s this, a pentagram? Oh my god Kathleen, are you a Satanist?

No, I’m a witch.

What’s the difference? Ralph had asked.

I live my life following the Wiccan Rede.

Rede? What the heck is that?

It’s like the Christian golden rule, only for Wiccans.

Wiccans? I thought you said you were a witch.

I am.

So then what’s a Wiccan?

Look, I really don’t want to get into it, let’s just say I am a witch who practices the Wiccan Rede.

Ralph had shaken his head in confusion. Then why wear a pentagram? You know it’s a sign of Satanism, right?

Not for me. To me, it represents the four elements of nature and spirit. The pentagram is actually a very ancient symbol of protection.

So you’re a witch. That’s kind of cool, Ralph had said grinning.

Kathleen had hoped that Ralph would stop there, but he hadn’t. Ever since that night, he had taken great joy in annoying Kathleen with dumb witch jokes.

Knowing that she wouldn’t be able to avoid Ralph, she stopped and turned to face him.

Good morning Ralph.

Good morning. Okay, tell me this. What’s the difference between a good witch and a bad witch?

Kathleen shook her head, I don’t know Ralph, what’s the difference?

Practice Kathleen, practice, Ralph let out a big belly laugh and held the door to the clinic open so that Kathleen could enter the building.

Not a good start for a Monday, Kathleen thought as she went into the employee-only locker room to change into her scrubs. She smiled when she saw her friend Bonnie sitting on a bench. Bonnie hair was golden blond and had been cut into a wedge shape that tapering down to hit precisely at her chin. She had already changed into blue scrubs that accentuated her dark blue eyes nicely.

Ready for tonight? Bonnie asked.

Yep, Kathleen said. The moon was full and Kathleen and Bonnie’s coven, the Crescent and Horns, was going to meet and celebrate.

Don’t forget you’re in charge of the wine, Bonnie said.

I won’t, Kathy said. Since it’s the Hare Moon I thought I’d bring something sweet like a Pinot Grigio.

Perfect, plus it will piss off Angela.

Bonnie! Kathleen cried in mock shock, In perfect love and perfect trust.

Bonnie grinned. Oh I love and trust Angela; I just don’t like her stuck up attitude about wine. Honestly, with a budget of forty dollars per ritual, we can’t afford a twenty dollar bottle of wine.

Remember when Gayle brought that bottle of two-buck Chuck to circle? I thought Angela was going to refuse to take a sip from the chalice, Kathy said.

Me too.

Grinning, Bonnie and Kathleen exited the locker room to begin their busy day.

Although it was officially spring, the nights were still cold in the mountain town of Haven. Inside the covenstead, the coven members huddled in the kitchen trying to delay the moment when they’d have to go outside.

As the Maiden of the Crescent and Horns coven, Gayle Browning didn’t have the same luxury. Gayle’s white robe flapped around her ankles as she rushed back and forth from the inside of the house to the outdoor ritual space. It was her job to make sure everything was in place and ready for the ritual. She paused for a moment, brushed her wavy black hair out her face, and surveyed the altar she had set up in the backyard.

She worked in tandem with the coven’s Red Priest, Phillip Eastman. Phillip was in charge of preparing the physical ritual space and everything that involved fire.

We good, Gayle? Phillip asked.

Gayle’s intense green eyes swung up to meet Phillip’s eyes and she smiled. Yep, you can go tell those wimps that it’s time to face the elements.

Will do. Phillip went into the house and Gayle began to fill the chalice, smiling at Kathleen’s choice of wine.

It looks lovely, Anna, the coven’s High Priestess, said as she walked up to Gayle.

Thanks, I think everything is ready to go. Gayle walked out of the center of the circle space to stand at its perimeter. She and other coveners watched attentively as the High Priestess and High Priest created a magic circle for their ritual.

Items representing the four elements air, fire, water, and earth were cleansed, blessed, and used to sanctify the space. Ritual blades, both the long sword of the High Priest and the smaller athame of the High Priestess, glinted in the light of the ritual fire that was burning in the south. Incense filled the air with a seductive scent that called to the souls of all who stood in attendance. With a final flick of her wand, the High Priestess completed the circle and the High Priest cut a doorway in the energy of the circle so that the coveners could enter the sacred space.

Gayle stepped forward to the doorway and smiled as Rhett, the coven’s High Priest, cleansed, blessed, and spun her into the energy of the circle. Gayle stepped back to watch as the rest of the coveners were brought into the sacred space in the same manner. Everyone was vibrating with anticipation for the ritual ahead.

The coven met to celebrate both the full moon and the changing of the seasons. Each ritual was unique. During the dark time of the year, from August through January, the rituals were more somber and focused on inner growth. During the light time of the year, from February through July, the rituals were festive and joyous. Tonight the ritual was both reverent and fun. The coven was celebrating the rush of spring energy and the fertility of the wild hares that were said to dance in the light of the moon. When it came time to raise energy for their spells, everyone participated in a conga line dancing the Bunny Hop. The dance ended with a lot of laughter and raised an abundance of energy.

When everyone’s spell working was done, it was time to celebrate the union of the God and Goddess with the Great Rite and the blessing of the cakes and wine. The dual blessings of may you never thirst, and may you never hunger were echoed around the circle as each participant took a sip from the chalice and a crescent shaped cookie from the offering plate.

Gayle, Bonnie, and Kathleen shared a secret smile when Angela took a sip from the chalice and grimaced slightly.

Everyone sat down on the ground sharing what was left of the wine and cookies and catching up with their fellow coven mates.

Moondancer, how was your visit with Silver Wolf? Anna asked.

Once inside the ritual space everyone was addressed by their chosen magical name and Moondancer was Marissa’s magical name.

Marissa was one of the coven’s elders, she had completed all of her training and instead of opting to spin off and create her own coven, she had decided to stay and help with the running of the Crescent and Horns. Marissa was very active in the local Pagan community and she was known as the go-to girl for new seekers.

Fine, Moondancer replied. Silver Wolf is doing well. Everyone waited for more information and when none was forthcoming Anna laughed, Okay, I guess that covers it. Thanks for the in-depth report.

The group laughed, but Bonnie spied Moondancer surreptitiously raise a hand to her eye and wipe away a tear. She resolved to talk to her privately after the ritual was over to find out why she was upset.

When everyone had had their say, the coveners reluctantly stood up to say goodbye to the God, the Goddess, and the elements. As soon as the energy of the circle dissolved the cold night air rushed back into the space, causing people to scurry toward the warmth of the house.

Stop! Anna called. Everyone come back and ask Gayle how you can help clean up. There is no reason for her to freeze while everyone else changes into warmer clothing.

Thank you, Gayle whispered to Anna, who only smiled and headed for the house herself. Gayle knew that although the ritual was complete her elder’s evening was far from over. They would now begin the dance of teacher and student as various coveners sought them out for some one-on-one counseling.

With everyone’s help, the cleanup went quickly and soon the house was filled with the joyous voices of friends and the warmth of shared faith.

Bonnie sought out Marissa and found her in one of the spare bedrooms changing out of her ritual robe and back into her street clothes.

Marissa, is something wrong? Bonnie asked. I saw you trying not to cry in circle.

Marissa looked miserable and sank onto the bed as tears began to slide down her face.

Oh Marissa, Bonnie said as she rushed forward to gather Marissa into her arms. I’m sure whatever it is we can help you. You’ve helped all of us so much throughout the years.

Marissa just shook her head and wept silently.

Let me get Abby, she’ll know what to do, Bonnie offered.

No, please Bonnie, just let it go, Marissa said desperately.

But Marissa –

No Bonnie, I’m fine, Marissa interrupted and pulled out of Bonnie’s arms. Trust me, leave it alone. Before Bonnie could say another word, Marissa stood up and rushed out of the room.

Bonnie sat on the bed, confused about what to do next. Marissa was an elder, and as such she deserved her respect, but if something was wrong Bonnie didn’t want her to suffer alone. One of the benefits of being a member of the Crescent and Horns coven was support when you needed it most.

The light in the room shifted and Bonnie looked up to see Abby standing in the doorway. Abby was the coven’s Crone and she looked the part. Her hair was long and silver and her face was decorated with lines that spoke of both the hardships and joys that her life had brought.

Bonnie, what are you doing sitting in here by yourself? Are you okay? Abby asked.

I’m okay, although I’m confused. Did you notice that during circle Marissa was trying not to cry?

No, I didn’t. She was sitting across the circle from me and my eyes don’t see that well in the dark. Did you speak with her?

I did and she broke down, but she wouldn’t tell me what was wrong. When I said I’d go find you she told me to leave it alone and ran out.

Strange, Abby said with a faraway look in her eyes.

Why did she go to see Silver Wolf, oops, I mean Carmella?

Nothing you need to worry yourself about, Abby said absently. It was just a courtesy call. We were concerned because we hadn’t heard from Carmella since she decided to work as a solitary.

Oh.

Don’t worry about Marissa, I’ll check in on her tomorrow. Now why don’t you go out and join everyone else, I think someone just cracked open a bottle of mead, Abby said smiling.

Well, in that case, I’d better hurry before it’s all gone.

––––––––

Marissa sat in her living room on her comfortable old couch, surrounded by books and holding a mug. She lifted the mug to her lips, took a sip of the steaming brew and her face grimaced in disgust. She tried to swallow, but she found that her throat wouldn’t work. Finally, she spat the brew back into the cup and slumped back onto the couch in defeat.

She closed her eyes, and as if on cue, the front doorbell rang.

Shit, it had better not be some JWs, because that’s the last thing I need today, Marissa said as she stood up and made her way to the door.

Pulling it open, she froze in shock when she saw Abby standing on the other side of her screen door.

Morning Marissa, may I come in? Abby asked.

Marissa looked guiltily over her shoulder at her book-covered living room and then opened the screen door.

Sure, come on in. I’m sorry, but the living room is a mess. We can sit in the kitchen. Marissa turned away from the door and began to lead Abby toward her kitchen.

Oh I don’t mind a mess dear; besides kitchen chairs are hard on my old bones. I’ll just take a seat on your couch. Marissa spun around to stop Abby, but it was too late, she had already scurried into the living room and was settling down on the couch.

My, it looks like most of your library is here on your coffee table, Abby said as she started reading some of the titles aloud. A Cunningwoman’s Guide to Herbs, Elixirs and Potions for Healing, Grimoire of a Garden Witch, Unhexing, Magic Reversals, and Banishings. Aren’t you feeling well, dear? Abby asked.

Marissa flinched when Abby looked up at her. Abby’s pale blue eyes seemed to pierce right through her barriers and into the most private parts of her soul.

Just an itchy throat that’s all, Marissa said.

Hmm, Abby replied in a doubtful tone. She reached out, picked up Marissa’s mug, and took a sniff. Ginger, St. John’s wort, chamomile, vervain and vinegar. It probably would have gone down a little better with some honey, but then you probably don’t want to bind this energy to you, do you? Abby asked.

Marissa tried to shake her head, no, but she found that her head wouldn’t move. One small tear crept from the corner of her left eye and began to travel down her cheek.

I see, Abby said speculatively. Why don’t you sit down dear and we’ll have a talk?

Marissa sat down across from Abby and looked at her mutely.

How long has your throat been itchy?

About two days.

Was it itchy before you went to Carmella’s?

No.

Was it itchy after you saw Carmella?

Marissa’s mouth snapped shut and her eyes widened.

Interesting, Abby said as she began to rummage through her large purse. Here, she said as she pulled a pad of paper and pen from her purse. Write down what you liked best about last night’s ritual. Marissa took the pen and paper and began to write.

Wait, Abby interrupted, write down what happened at Camilla’s. Marissa’s hand sprang open and the pen she was holding fell to the floor.

Nasty. Okay, I think I’m beginning to understand.

Marissa looked hopefully at Abby.

I’m sorry to say that nasty tasting teas are not going to help your throat.

More tears began to flow down Marissa’s face.

Now honey, I didn’t say that it was hopeless, just that you can stop ingesting this nasty brew. The spell seems very specific. You can still function in other ways right?

Marissa just looked at Abby with a miserable look on her face.

Okay, it’s a little broader than I thought. Did you go to work on Thursday?

Yes.

Good. If I asked you to take me shopping could you do that?

Yes.

Let’s go, Abby said as she stood up and walked toward the front door. With a confused look on her face, Marissa rose and followed her. By the way, we’re going to swing by Marissa’s and ask her what she has done to you. Abby turned around and saw that Marissa was frozen in place and couldn’t move her legs.

Looks like she covered most of the details. Never mind about the shopping trip, let’s go ahead and sit back down. Marissa’s legs unlocked and she turned to sink down miserably into her chair.

If I made you a special tea to help your throat, could you drink it?

Yes, Marissa said a little hesitantly.

If I made you a special tea to break Carmella’s spell could you drink it? Once again Marissa sat frozen but her face tightened up as she tried to respond to Abby’s question.

Abby leaned forward to pat Marissa’s hand, It’s okay honey, relax I’m just trying to figure out the parameters. I’m going to have to do some research, but I don’t want you to worry. Now that I know what’s going on you’re not alone.

Abby gathered Marissa into her arms and gently stroked her hair as she crooned words of comfort to the crying woman. Carmella’s been a naughty witch, I’ll have to poke around and see what else she’s been up to. Hopefully, we can keep this within the family; otherwise, I may have to contact the Leanaí de Danu.

Marissa stiffened in Abby’s arms and pulled away to search Abby’s face. It’s okay; I think we can handle it. No need for you to worry just yet. Live your life as you have been. Don’t worry about Marissa or the Leanaí de Danu. This is no longer your concern. Let your Crone handle it.

Marissa nodded and Abby kissed her in the middle of her forehead, right over her third-eye. Be at peace sister. Marissa felt the Crone’s blessing as a calming blue energy entered her body, starting from the place where Abby’s lips had touched her third eye and pouring down her body all the way to her toes.

Blessed be, Marissa murmured calmly.

Blessed be, Abby responded.

––––––––

Kathleen parked her car in the public parking lot and went in search of her friend Gayle. She smiled as she strolled down Puca Lane, the main thoroughfare in Haven. The day was cool with a few puffy clouds in the sky and the streets were packed with tourists, which meant it would be a profitable day for many of her fellow citizens.

Kathleen spotted Gayle standing in front of the Historical Society and crossed the street to say hello.

Are we still on for lunch? Kathleen asked.

Yep, I just need to give my history spiel to this next group and then I’m handing them off to Mike for the rest of their tour.

Good, because I’m starving.

Then I guess I’d better get started, Gayle made her way through the crowd and up the steps in front of the old brick building. She turned on a small amplifier and picked up a microphone to address the tour group.

"Good morning, my name is Gayle Browning and I’m the director of the Haven Historical Society. On behalf of the citizens of Haven, I’d like to welcome you to our town and wish you a pleasant stay.

"I’m going to give you a little background on Haven and then Mike will lead you on a walking tour of our town.

Back in 1875, Patrick O’Neill came to California in search of gold. He spent about five years learning the ropes of the mining industry and in the process he developed a reputation for having a nose for silver.

Some members of the tour group laughed.

"But Patrick wasn’t discouraged, sure silver was less profitable than gold, but it was still a good way to become rich.

"What did discourage him was the way that the workers were treated in the mining camps. The miners were no better than slaves for the mine owners, working as much as 20 hours days, living in miserable conditions, and receiving wages that were so low they could never hope to improve their lives.

"Joseph decided to take his nose for silver and strike out on his own. He and his faithful coon dog Puca began walking the mountains of California in search of silver. In 1880, he thought he had found the perfect spot to begin his own mining operation and he approached the owner, a Mr. Andrew Samuel, about purchasing the land.

"Mr. Samuel couldn’t understand why Patrick would want to buy 6000 acres of heavily wooded rolling mountains, valleys and tapped out gold mines. In fact, he stated that only an idjit would want to buy such a worthless piece of land.

"When he asked Patrick why he wanted the land, Patrick stated that it would be heaven.

Well, Mr. Samuel was hard of hearing and apparently he was having trouble understanding Patrick because of his heavy Irish brogue. He thought that Patrick had said it would be a haven, not heaven. At that moment Mr. Samuel understood why Patrick wanted the land; he was obviously an outlaw in search of a hiding place.

Another round of polite laughter rippled through the group.

"He told Patrick that it didn’t matter what he’d done in the past but if he was looking for somewhere to hide he supposed these hills were as good as any.

"He sold Patrick the land and in time Patrick struck a rich vein of silver. He began to offer jobs to his friends and family back in Ireland and soon the area was teeming with new immigrants.

Homes and businesses sprung up around the mine and in time folks were wondering what to name their growing town. They asked Patrick what he’d like to name it and remembering his conversation with Mr. Samuel he named the town Idjit’s Haven.

The group burst into laughter and Gayle waited for the laughter to die down.

"In the 1970s, a well-meaning council member decided that the term idjit was bad for our image and campaigned to change the town’s name to just Haven. His campaign was successful, but those of us who grew up here still like to refer to ourselves as idjitzens."

Now if you all will follow Mike, he will lead you to the next stop on your tour.

There was a polite smattering of applause and Gayle turned off the amplifier.

Okay Idjitzen, are you ready for lunch? Kathleen asked Gayle.

I am. I never get tired of that story. In fact, I wish we were still known as Idjit’s Haven.

Well there sure are enough idjits in this town, Kathleen insisted.

Especially on the weekends. Let’s hurry before Bonnie comes looking for us.

Idjit’s Haven, or Haven as it was now called, was a small mountain town in Southern California. The town had been declared a national heritage site and the exteriors of the shops on Puca Lane retained the original rough-hewn carpentry typical of an old mining town. The sidewalks were made of wood and made a wonderfully resonant sound under the soles of people’s shoes.

The slopes of the mountain were covered in pine, fir and cedar trees, making the area green no matter the season. In the autumn, the weather was clear and cool and the town cashed in on the harvest craze with wagon rides and pumpkin patches.

In the winter, the town could expect enough snow to pull in day-tourists for bobsledding and snowball fights.

During the spring, Haven was a stopover destination for people who were traveling over the mountains and into the desert in search of wildflowers.

Historically, the summer season had always been a slow time for the tourist trade in Haven, until the 100th anniversary of the founding of the town. That was when the chamber of commerce had created Haven Heritage Month. The event had been such a success that it was now observed yearly during the month of June.

During Heritage Month, Katie’s Kettle added both Shepherd’s Pie and corned beef and cabbage to their menu. The Silver Hare pub had learned to double their regular order of Guinness and Harp to keep up with the influx of tourists.

During the celebration, the Silver Lining Mine offered tours and sold specially pressed silver ingots. One side of the ingot featured the image of a smiling cross-eyed mule and on the reverse were the words Mined in Idjit’s Haven.

Haven’s Heritage Park was the center of the yearly festivities with booths showcasing items created by the citizens of Haven, many of which were labeled as having been made by A Genuine idjitzen, and a large central stage.

At night, traditional Irish bands took the stage and the sounds of bodhrans, fiddles and flutes filled the air.

Kathy and Gayle stepped inside the pub and spotted Bonnie sitting at a round table near the back of the bar.

Sorry we’re late, Kathleen said. I had to wait for this idjitzen to finish her tourist talk.

It’s no problem Kathleen. Besides, you guys are only five minutes late. You really need to learn to chill out, Bonnie said.

It’s not about me being stressed, it’s about respect for other people’s time. That’s why I hate being late.

Well I know you respect me, I’m almost a coven elder after all, Bonnie said with a grin.

Not yet, you still have to finish your paperwork and the ritual, Gayle insisted.

And you have to be offered elder training, Kathleen added.

Oh, I’ll be offered elder training, Bonnie said with a mock-arrogant air, making her friends laugh.

The three of them had entered the coven at the same time, but they had progressed through their magical training at different speeds.

Kathleen was plodding through her training at a slow and meticulous pace. She wanted to make sure that she was mastering every task given to her and that she