“ H ey there, cuties.” I reached out to give some attention to my rescue cats, Taco and Burrito.

They were both gorgeous black floofs with bright golden eyes—basically identical, save for Burrito’s slightly fluffier tail.

Burrito was chilling in one of the many cat beds, his injured leg in a neon wrap sticking out over the edge.

Poor babies had been in rough shape when I’d found them tucked in the bushes in front of my house, but after seven weeks of love and care they were almost as good as new.

I kneeled down and kissed the top of Burrito’s head. “Are you having a good time finally free of the kennel? How’s your leggy?”

He meowed at me and headbutted my mouth for another kiss.

Taco had been out of his recovery kennel for a few days already, having healed up faster than his companion.

He purred and arched under my touch, forcing his way onto what little of my lap came into existence when I kneeled down.

I nudged him off and laughed at his plaintive meow.

“I’m sorry. I’ve got to check on the babies so I can’t be a bed for you. ”

They both followed me into the spare bedroom I’d turned into a kitten nursery.

Burrito hobbled along insistently, refusing to be left behind now that he was feeling better.

I pulled my hair into a bun to keep it out of the way, tucking back the uncooperative brown strands that snuck free.

I did the weight check and feeding for the three foster kittens I’d brought home two weeks ago.

Burrito and Taco brushed against my ankles.

“If I trip on you it’s your own fault.” I sidestepped them, trying to avoid face planting as I returned each kitten to the incubator, smiling at the sign I’d hung over it. Future Familiars . I’d painted it myself with one of my fellow witchy friends when I’d started taking in fosters.

When I finished with the babies, I turned to my boys. “Are you guys going to take your pills peacefully today, or are we going to war?”

I’d take them peacefully if they didn’t taste like a skunk’s ass .

The voice filled my head as clearly as if someone had spoken next to me. I whipped around, looking for the speaker, but there was no one I could see except for my cats, staring at me.

Had someone gotten inside?

“Wait here.”

I slipped out of the kitten nursery and picked up the baseball bat I kept stowed near the door. I paused, listening for any sign of an intruder. Taco wound around my ankle.

What are we looking for?

“Who’s there? Come out.” My body vibrated with tension, stomach clenching and heart racing.

Both cats stood at attention.

Someone’s here? I didn’t hear anyone.

I looked down at them. Oookay. Maybe I was losing it…

Their golden eyes watched me, heads tilted as if it would help them comprehend my panicked demand. They looked at one another for a brief moment and then back to me. Taco sat up like a meerkat and put a paw on my calf.

Logan, if you can hear this, say something .

“What the fuck!” I bolted away, scooting up against my living room couch and away from the talking cats.

Okay, she can definitely hear us.

I didn’t know humans could hear us…

I clutched the bat in my hands before deciding that was probably a bit ridiculous. What kind of risk were these cats even if they could apparently talk? I set the bat aside and Taco took a tentative step toward me.

He set one small paw on my leg, and, when I didn’t panic-flail, climbed up into my lap. Don’t be afraid, okay?

“Yeah, I’ll get right on not being freaked out by my fucking telepathic talking cats! ”

I squeezed my eyes shut and focused on breathing.

This was fine.

Just some…magic cats.

Totally normal.

I should book an appointment with my therapist. Perhaps the lack of sleep while taking care of neonatal kittens was getting to me.

Burrito headbutted my arm. We’re still the same. Mostly. Maybe smarter than you expected. We’re also not technically cats, at least not regular ones .

“What the fuck are you then?” Gods. My brain throbbed. It was so weird to hear a voice in my head instead of through my ears. Taco started purring up a storm and Burrito wedged himself under my arm, my fingers automatically scratching his chin.

Shifters. But we haven’t been well enough to shift out of this form. Taco stood and booped my chin with his nose. I’m Caden.

Burrito purred so loud I could’ve mistaken him for a mini buzzsaw. My name’s Seth, but if it makes you feel better you can still call me Burrito . It’s pretty cute.

“Is this like a werewolf thing? You shift into people, right? You’re not like…aliens or something, are you?”

Not quite a werewolf thing, but yes, we shift into people, one of them said. All shifters used to be regular humans before our ancestors were gifted magic.

My eyes had gone unfocused as I stared into space over these revelations.

Why can she hear us?

I dunno. She shouldn’t be able to. Maybe an omega bloodline that’s diluted so much you’d never know she’s not one hundred percent human?

“What the fuck is an omega?”

Taco blinked up at me. Subset of magical beings. Almost all witches are omegas, and some shifters but those are usually ones born of witches. Shifters tend to be alphas and betas. Our magic types split off a long time ago but the human base is the same.

A freakish level of calm settled over me.

I didn’t want to think about what I might be.

I was pretty sure my brain had tapped out of the entire situation.

I stared ahead blankly, a cat—no, a shifter —under each hand.

Purrs vibrated their bodies and it went a long way toward relaxing me.

How could I be stressed when I was surrounded by purring kitties?

I latched onto one of the lone coherent thoughts that was ping-ponging around my brain. “Why do you fight your medicine if you’re so smart?”

Burrito—Seth snorted. It’s gross. And we’re smarter, but our brains are still the size of a walnut in this form. Limits a few things.

“You’ve been here for weeks . Why can I hear you now?”

Taco—Caden, I corrected, kneaded my stomach. We weren’t strong enough before. It takes energy. We weren’t being careful about the direction of our thoughts since pure humans can’t normally hear it anyway.

I pet his fur absently, trying to process the information without tipping myself over some invisible edge.

“Can you guys hear my thoughts?”

Nope , said Seth. We can project ours, but if you don’t have telepathy it’s not a two-way street.

Well, thank the gods for that. They didn’t need to hear the scream inside my head right now.

We can leave soon, if you want us to , said Caden. Once we’re able to get back to human form we can handle our own care .

Hmm. I didn’t like that idea. “Where do you even live?”

Caden settled more comfortably in my lap. Nowhere permanent.

“I’m supposed to be your forever home,” I said, brain still refusing to process the fact that they weren’t regular cats. “You’re mine .”

Caden looked up at me with saucer eyes. You still want us to stay?

I didn’t want them to leave , even if they weren’t the Taco and Burrito I’d adopted. I’d already gotten attached to these furballs and the part of my brain ignoring the fantastical elements was already screaming that they belonged with me.

I buried my face in my hands to collect myself a bit more. “I don’t know what it means for you to stay, but I’m not kicking you out. I have to know more about you and the whole shifter dealio before I agree to magical roommates.”

Fair point . Caden’s eyes drifted shut. I like it here.

Quit hogging all the lap . Seth tried to crawl up but there wasn’t enough space so I scooped him into my arms. He nestled in, his face tucked into my hair, paws over my shoulder. Fuck yeah.

Another thought occurred to me and made me cackle.

Caden looked up at me, head tilted. What?

I covered a snort with my hand. “I guess this means I won’t have to book your appointments to get neutered.”

Both cats tensed.

Please don’t steal my balls, said Seth.

That only made me laugh harder. Yep. Brain had definitely checked out.

We sat together, me giggling like a madwoman until my butt started to go numb and my stomach began its growly demands for food.

“I should make dinner.” Neither of my fuzzy anchors seemed interested in moving. “You guys, I'm hungry.”

Seth lifted a sleepy head and rubbed his cheek against mine. Caden yawned and slid off my lap. He stretched with his front legs long and his butt up in the air before transitioning to sticking each back leg out and giving himself a shake.

I fought down the urge to narrate with my usual “oooh, big stretch!”

When I have opposable thumbs again, I can make you dinner , Caden said. As many as you like for as long as you let me stay .

I hadn’t had anyone to cook for me regularly since my parents had passed. It sounded like heaven to have someone else take over that role.

“You can cook as much as your heart desires,” I said to Caden.

Except the idea of him turning into a person capable of cooking pushed me closer to the invisible edge, so I tucked the thought away under a heaping pile of denial to deal with later.

I slipped away into the kitchen. I still had a few hours of work to finish for the night, so dinner was going to have to be a quick affair. Seth looked longingly at the counter.

When do I get this thing off my leg?

“Tomorrow, probably. We have a vet appointment to make sure it’s all healed up.”

Hell yes. I’m sick of looking like a highlighter.

Caden hopped up—ignoring Seth’s plight over being trapped on the floor—and sat on the counter as I boiled water for some ramen.

It was nice to have company I could talk to for a change.

They watched me quietly while I sucked back my noodles, taking turns on my lap and desk while I worked, accompanying me on my kitten chores, and eventually following me to bed.

The past few nights they’d slept on the bed with me instead of staying in the nursery while they were healing, but tonight I was self-conscious, knowing they weren’t just cats.

They turned away while I changed without my having to ask, and when I curled up to sleep they fought over the best spot in my arms. Seth had to settle for draping over my legs, at least until I got up for middle-of-the-night kitten feeding.

They followed me with sleepy, squinty eyes and welcomed me back to bed with soft purrs and warm bodies.

In the morning things were still weird , but I didn’t feel quite as fragile as yesterday.

There were a lot of questions I wanted to ask.

I’d resolved to take my time with them and tend to my mental well-being by going slow.

I took Seth to the vet for his check-up and they deemed him ready to have his cast removed.

I sidestepped when they asked me about booking in for the big snip , saying I would call and arrange when I had more spare cash for it.

Seth thanked me profusely the entire trip home.

I spent most of the day working and watching Seth practice jumping to test his strength after his broken leg. He tired out quickly and wandered over for lap naps a lot.

We fell into a pattern over the next couple of weeks.

The two of them kept me company at all hours, headbutting me when it was time to take a break from my work-from-home finance job, curling up in my bed at night with me, and singing me the song of their people when they got hungry.

I suspected it was as much to lure me into the kitchen to feed myself as it was to feed them.

I worked each day at pulling questions from the denial pile. Sometimes the answers made me shove it right back in, but I was trying my best.

“How old are you guys?” I asked one night while we watched a game show in the living room, the two of them tucked on each side of me.

Ninety-six , said Caden. Seth’s seventy-six .

I tucked that fact into the denial pile for future-Logan to deal with when magic cats older than my grandparents didn’t hurt my brain quite so much.

For the sake of my own sanity, I left the concept alone most of the time and went about my regular day and treated them as typical kitties when they weren’t talking to me. It soothed the sharp edges of my new reality.

Getting out of the house once in a while helped a lot with pretending things were still normal. When I returned with the groceries, the house was suspiciously quiet.

“Where is everyone?” I called out.

Nursery! Seth’s voice sounded off in my head.

I wandered down the hall and opened the door. Panic whipped me in the chest as I let out a shriek. “Fucking hell! ”