Page 35 of A Skirl of Sorcery (The Cat Lady Chronicles #3)

Chapter

Twenty-Eight

Ihung back with She Who Loves Sunbeams. I was concerned about her; her joints were old and she was far more used to long naps than illegal incursions. Besides, I needed an excuse for loitering for the passersby who were on their way to and from their homes.

It helped that I recognised most of the people because, like the annoying witch whose ladder I’d borrowed, they would recognise me as the cat lady from around the corner. It wouldn’t appear out of the ordinary to see me lingering on this street and chatting to a furry beast.

The other four cats didn’t waste any time. Usually they were contrary moggies who didn’t take kindly to instruction, but now they understood what was at stake. Although they wouldn’t enter Jimmy Leighton’s house, they would find the best way for me to go in.

As I’d expected, it didn’t take them long to scamper into Jimmy Leighton’s front garden and start investigating the property perimeter.

‘Morning, Kit.’ It was Natasha, the troll who ran the butcher’s stall at the market and who was doubtless on her way to set up for the day.

‘Morning!’ I smiled and tried to negate the tension that was inveigling its way into every bone, sinew and muscle of my body.

‘I don’t normally see you out at this time.’

I gestured to She Who Loves Sunbeams; hopefully that would be enough of an answer for her. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the other four cats assembling by a front window on the ground floor of Leighton’s property. Excellent.

‘Ah.’ Natasha smiled and bent down to scratch a delighted She Who Loves Sunbeams beneath her chin. ‘Herding cats. That sounds like you.’

‘It’s a dirty job but someone’s gotta do it,’ I murmured.

‘Ain’t that the truth.’ She straightened up. ‘Drop by my stall later if you get the chance. I’ve got some tasty titbits that might help you corral your kitties in future.’

‘You’re fabulous.’

She grinned, waved and went on her way. As soon as her back was turned, I gestured to the cats. They’d done their job; now it was down to me.

‘Go home,’ I told them once they’d clustered around my feet. I doubted they’d listen to me any more than they’d done fifteen minutes earlier, but I had to try. ‘You can’t come inside with me. I need to do this alone – I can’t be worrying about you guys while I’m in there.’

I received five identical baleful stares. Even She Who Loves Sunbeams bristled.

‘You’re a bunch of stubborn, idiotic, contrary cats.’

She Without An Ear headbutted my shin. He Who Roams Wide licked a paw and looked pleased with himself. The others purred briefly.

I sighed. ‘Fine. But stay here and stay out of the way.’ I gave all five of them a hard glare. ‘No matter what happens or who shows up.’

I glanced up and down the street. It was empty but it wouldn’t remain that way for long. I darted across until I was standing in front of Leighton’s ground-floor window.

There was an argument to be made for swallowing a clump of fur so I could sneak into the property in cat form but I’d be vulnerable during the moments of transformation, and I needed to be on two legs with opposable thumbs if I wanted to confront Leighton in person.

Sometimes a human body could be more effective.

I smashed the window pane, reached inside to unfasten the latch and climbed in.

There was a strong probability that Leighton had heard the glass break so he’d be on high alert, not just because of what he’d been up to lately but also because of the recent break-in.

I waited for several beats, hoping he’d burst through the door to his front room and confront me because that would be the fastest and easiest way to bring all this shite to an end. Unfortunately, there were no sounds from the rest of the house and there was definitely no sign of the man himself.

I clenched and unclenched my fists. Fair enough. I started to look around.

The front room was unremarkable: a living room, with a nondescript sofa and chairs, a few plump cushions, a coffee table and a grey rug. The mantelpiece held a vase filled with dried flowers and a framed photo of Jimmy Leighton with an older couple, probably his parents. I picked it up.

Leighton’s mum and dad looked as ordinary as his living room.

His mum had the bearing of a witch and his dad displayed the tattoos of a druid, although the blue marks were simple in design and likely hinted a lack of extensive magical ability.

Jimmy Leighton, who appeared to be around forty years old in the photograph, was bearded with brown hair and sallow skin, though his pallor might have been little more than the effect of his clothes.

He appeared to have a penchant for stark monochrome: black cap, white T-shirt, black scarf, black trousers, white trainers.

I squinted. His style reminded of me something. I pursed my lips – then I realised what it was.

‘Magpie,’ I whispered. He was dressed in a way that put me in mind of the black bird with an alleged penchant for stealing shiny things. It figured.

I returned the photo to its original place and moved to the door that led to the rest of the house. I paused for a moment, my hand on the doorknob. I still couldn’t sense anything or anyone, and there was every chance that Jimmy Leighton was still out searching for more victims.

Even so, I took my time; I wasn’t daft enough to be lulled into a false sense of security.

I slowly twisted the knob and opened the door a fraction.

The air beyond was still and stale. I opened the door an inch further and prepared to step into the hallway.

That was when I heard the whisper of a footstep behind me.

I didn’t hesitate: within a single beat I’d drawn my curved titanium dagger, spun around and raised it to swipe with lethal force at whoever was there. Muscle memory is an extraordinary thing; Keres was lucky that she didn’t bleed out in front of my eyes.

I hissed, yanked back my hand and glared at her. ‘What the fuck? You should be in bed resting!’

The ban sith blinked at me. ‘I’m feeling much better.’

‘I don’t care! Get out of here!’

I caught a glimpse of the same steel-willed woman who’d shown herself to me when we’d walked home from Mallory’s place. ‘You’re here because of me,’ she stated. ‘Is the person who lives here responsible for what happened to me?’

I prevaricated. ‘Nothing has been confirmed…’

‘I knew it! So I have more right to be here than you do.’ She looked around the uninspiring room. ‘And that’s saying something, given we’ve both broken in. This guy took my voice. He stole my magic soul.’

‘It’s dangerous, Keres.’

She shrugged. ‘I’ve got nothing else to do with my time apart from wait to die.’

I cursed to myself. Keres wasn’t trained, and there was every likelihood that she would get in my way and compromise my actions. Nothing about this was a good idea.

‘How did you know I was here?’ I would have noticed her following me – I hoped.

‘I saw you leave with the trow. By the time I’d grabbed my stuff and managed to sneak past Dave, there was no sign of you but I figured you hadn’t gone far. I saw the trow turn out of this street then I saw all the cats.’ She managed a tight smile. ‘Ta-da!’

For goodness’ sake. ‘Clever,’ I acknowledged. ‘But still not sensible.’

‘I’m not leaving.’

I exhaled loudly. ‘This could get very nasty.’

‘I hope it does,’ she said calmly.

I pinched off a headache. Nothing I said would change her mind; I could try knocking her out, but she was already halfway to death’s door. ‘Fine,’ I muttered. ‘But stay behind me and don’t get in my way.’

She bowed and I rolled my eyes. If this all went tits up, I’d only have myself to blame and Keres’ blood to mop up. But this wasn’t just about Keres, it was about Thane, too. I shook my head, then returned to the door.

I was almost certain that Jimmy Leighton wasn’t home; if he hadn’t noticed intruders in his house by now, he had cottonwool for brains and sludge in his ears. Even so I took my time, stepping carefully and keeping a close eye for any magic wards or booby traps.

The small bathroom opposite was clean, tidy and smelling faintly of bleach. Next to it was a cupboard containing neatly folded towels and sheets. Jimmy Leighton certainly wasn’t a slob.

I padded down the hallway with Keres on my heels.

Although the kitchen was old-fashioned, with wooden cupboards stained an unnatural shade of brown that had gone out of fashion decades ago, it was also very clean.

And empty. Next to it a set of stairs led both upwards and downwards.

Given the choice of peeking into some neat bedrooms or venturing down to a creepy basement, there was no decision to make.

Keres found a light switch and flicked it on. ‘Behind me,’ I growled. ‘At all times.’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

We descended. The stairs were carpeted, muffling the sound of our footsteps.

I wondered if Jimmy Leighton’s house included a basement door that led to the underground vampire city – at that point it wouldn’t have surprised me – but the stairway took us into a large room lined with lots of shelves. There were no more doorways.

‘There are so many boxes,’ Keres breathed. ‘They look as if they’re made out of…’

‘Bone,’ I finished. Bin hadn’t been exaggerating: there were hundreds of them and many of them were labelled. I saw labels for numerous plants and animals but there were others, just as Bin had described. Oh God.

According to these labels, Jimmy Leighton had stolen the magic souls from about fifty people. With a sinking feeling, I realised that Thane’s box wouldn’t be here yet. If Leighton hadn’t been home all night, he would still be carrying it. We were too damned early.

Keres gave a strangled gasp. ‘Kit.’

I turned to see her reaching for one of the boxes. ‘Don’t touch anything until we’ve established there are no traps,’ I began but I was too late: she was already holding a box with Ban sith printed in neat cursive script on the side.

She turned it over and held it up, her eyes wide. ‘Is this it?’ she asked. ‘Is this me?’

‘I don’t know – but don’t open it,’ I warned her. ‘We don’t know what’s in there or how it is contained – and we certainly don’t know what will happen if we open it. I think we need to…’ I halted mid-sentence.

Keres opened her mouth to speak but I darted towards her and pressed a hand over her mouth. A moment later, we heard a creak from the staircase. I slowly withdrew my hand and Keres stepped back while I slid my dagger out for a second time.

The stairs creaked again. I cocked my head and listened hard: there was more than one person coming towards us. If Jimmy Leighton wasn’t working alone, this would be far, far harder. I stiffened.

Then an oddly familiar female voice called out. ‘Aha! I knew it!’