‘HE GOT 6 PAGES,’ Oliver texted on the spirit board. He was sitting in the kitchen next to the open backdoor.

  “Well, I can’t remember what was on any single page, specifically. If I could, I wouldn’t need notes,” Scaggs said, stepping away from the porch.

  A mug of rot brew in one hand, she pointed to the chest with the other. It rose into the air and thunked down again, taking yet another step toward the white carriage that was parked in her back garden. With the strain, the remainder of her tea dumped into the dirt.

  Scaggs sighed at the empty mug. “But, all things considered, I’ll take it. You did good.”

  When Oliver stepped out the backdoor, the two horses harnessed to the carriage jittered and whinnied, probably worried that ‘Throat Ripper’ was going to eat them.

  Scaggs laid a hand on each, calming them instantly. “Charms work well on horses.”

  She continued levitating the chest step-by-step to the carriage. The final heave sounded more like a crash, gouging the white paint, but it got the chest onboard nonetheless.

  Shaking as she lowered to the dirt, Scaggs didn’t look tired, not exactly. She wasn’t sweating, but her motions were stiff and her eyes were drooping. Both were signs, Oliver had learned, that went along with overusing one’s spark, though he had never experienced it himself. He guessed the greater the spark, the greater the fatigue.

  After a few minutes’ rest, Scaggs stood up and lifted her hand to the carriage. Oliver felt the tingle of her spark, like echoing white noise, reverberate throughout it.

  “That should hold off any tracking wards Thelemule has on this thing, but the sooner we take care of all this, the better,” she said, then climbed aboard and patted the seat next to her. “Come on, we’ve got a long night ahead of us.”

  ? ? ?

  As the Sun rose the next morning, they pulled off the road near the burnt-out remains of a riverside cottage.

  “Welcome to my old home. Look, there’s been a change of plans, kitty.” Scaggs downed the last of a large pot of rot brew tea. “I know I should destroy these, but the council…” She shook her head.

  “They think the Shivari are working on a flame weapon. Drake—I wasn’t supposed to mention his name, but to Hells with it. Drake said that’s why they wanted the weapon in the first place. We might need them as some kind of ‘deterrent.’”

  She stopped the carriage along the river, just past the house, and hopped down. “Honestly, I don’t trust him. He’s constantly lying to me, but if he’s a liar, he’s Noria’s liar, and I can’t just turn my back on everyone else. So, I guess I’m going to have to dump an arsenal of firebombs…”

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  She held out her hand, and the flame-bloom chest rose up, then fell into the water with a loud kerplunk. “Into the River Tembus… for safekeeping. What could possibly go wrong?!”

  Scaggs let out an exasperated breath. “It’s the best I could come up with.” And then she jumped right back on the carriage. “Sleep if you can. We need to get back before my ward wears off and Thelemule can track us.”

  Her tired eyes looked to his, gathering strength, before she urged the horses on and headed back to the city.

  ? ? ?

  The next morning, they were back in her townhouse, and on his way to breakfast, Oliver poked his head into the library. A man was sitting at the desk, poring over the Sylvan text: A svelte Shivari with curly black hair and a sunny demeanor, Stephan, Thelemule’s butler. He looked up from his work and waved, giving a warm smile.

  Oliver meowed back, then slid down the banister, crashing into the sofa, and found Scaggs pacing in the kitchen.

  ‘WHYS STEPH HERE?’ he texted on the spirit board.

  “Oh, that’s part of the favor I promised Thelemule for the wagon. He’s transcribing the counter spell.” Scaggs laid a chunk of mutton on a plate for him. “It seems like a good idea to have more than one copy of it anyway. I don’t want to have to worry about you getting stuck again.”

  She scratched him behind the ears. “It’ll be a few more days before I’m ready to transform you. I know we were going to do ‘eagle,’ but I don’t suppose you’d be okay with returning to humanity until things calm down?”

  That would mean pausing the whole girl thing, which was depressing, and relieving, and gut-wrenching all at once. He slid the puck to ‘YES.’

  “On a lighter note, now that I’ve given up weapons development, hopefully for good, you can help me come up with a new profession.”

  He purred, having finally got the hang of it, and texted, ‘OK.’

  “Maybe I’ll research a way to talk to animals. This whole…” She motioned to the spirit board. “Has to be weighing on you.”

  Oliver tapped once, climbed into his chair, and swallowed the mutton whole.

  ? ? ?

  The only times Oliver saw Ms. Scaggs during the next few days were when she’d come in to tell him she was heading over to Thelemule’s.

  She left an attic window open for him, rather than the one on the second floor. It was slightly harder to get in and out of, but was far more secure as the attic was filled with wards that would only let Scaggs and Oliver pass.

  Anxious and lonely, he spent most of his time rehearsing in his mind, asking about the whole girl thing… Maybe he could invent some offhand reason to just ‘give it a try.’ Like, was there somewhere only women could go, and Ms. Scaggs would need him to accompany her? But besides a lady’s room or a bathhouse, he couldn’t really think of anywhere, and both those places seemed… Well, he didn’t want her getting the wrong idea.

  ‘Throat Ripper’ still stalked the rooftops in the evenings, but the playhouse was closed, and he felt like a shut-in with no one to talk to.

  And then after a few days, he found Ms. Scaggs waiting in the attic.

  “Just one last thing to double-check, but I’m ready,” she said, holding the book under her arm.

  The spirit board was out and, too full of doubt to meet her eyes, he texted, ‘I HAVE 2 TELL U SOMETHING.’

  “What about?”

  ‘ME.’ Was he really going to do this as a cat? His paws were shaking.

  Her eyes met his. “Sure you want to talk now? It’ll be easier tomorrow, you know, when you can talk.”

  ‘NERVOUS.’

  “You all right?” she asked, kneeling beside him.

  Oliver eyed the ‘NO’ on the spirit board, then moved the puck to, ‘YES.’

  “Nothing that’s going to be a problem before tomorrow?”

  ‘NO.’

  “Then we’ll talk about it just as long as you want. And everything’s going to be all right. I… promise.”

  ‘OK WHAT U NEED 2 CHECK?’

  “Nevermind.” She tousled the fur on his head. “I figured it out. Let’s get started.”

  Sorry for the short chapters this week and the next, but we have some of the longest/best chapters coming up after that.

  And, if you're looking for more to read, you might give my other story "Whim Manor" a try. This week's chapter is one of favorites

  https://discord.gg/fQtFt2sYdf