Chapter 1
Violet
“Ready to open the library, Stacks?”
“Meo-uff!” The fluffy, gray tabby takes off and starts running circles around me.
“You could at least pretend to be a cat,” I tell him.
He pulls to a stop and starts wagging his tail happily in response.
“I can find you a book on how to be a cat,” I suggest.
Stacks starts panting. Like a dog.
“Oh, never mind. It’s not like you’ve got any reason to hide who you are.” I lean on my walker and start to slowly make my way across Spell Library.
My eighty-year-old body disapproves. My hip protests, my joints ache, and I briefly daydream about shifting into someone else: a vampire? A dragon? A chupacabra? I wouldn’t even need to fully shift—just my lower body should do.
Unlike my sister, I can control my chameleon powers—most of the time, anyway. That, and I’ve got old lady clothes on—baggy dress pants paired with an oversized, buttoned up cardigan. I could hide an entire set of angel wings underneath this getup. I could even half-shift into that hairy, scarlet-skinned demon I’ve seen at Jewels Cafe, and no one would ever notice! Well, except maybe for the height difference. Which is why I could just go with the safe choice and half-shift into my twenty-year-old self. Would anyone find out?
I look around the silent, empty library. “Nole’s going to be late again, isn’t he, Stacks?”
The moment I utter those words, I feel butterflies in my stomach. My cheeks flush, and my heart starts to race. Not because I’m thinking of Nolan Barrett, my twenty-year-old bear shifter library assistant. No way, no how. It’s probably just over-exertion from crossing the library.
“I swear the door seems farther and farther away every day,” I mutter, though I’m not sure who I’m trying to convince: myself? Or Stacks?
“Meo-uff!” The cat—who’d gone back to running circles around me—pulls to a stop, sits on his haunches, and wags his tail in agreement.
Should I just shift?
For a split second, I almost convince myself to do it.
The library’s still closed. Nole isn’t here. And it’s not like there’s some Peeping Tom outside one of the floor-to-ceiling windows, watching old lady Violet shuffle across the faded carpet.
There are a few seniors gathered outside, but they’re either lost in thought or chatting away happily while they wait for the library to open. Betty—the only one who might be paying me any attention, has her back to me. And even if she were to turn around, she always complains her eyesight isn’t what it used to be.
“That only leaves you, doesn’t it, Stacks?” I glance down at the tabby.
Stacks wags his tail happily. I almost expect him to bark. Instead, he lets out another happy “Meo-uff!”
“You’re not secretly a shifter, are you? Our last library cat was, you know. But now he’s happily mated to a snarky vampire now.”
Stacks wags his tail some more.
“I know you’re not like Handkerchief, Stacks.” If you were, I’d be able to shift into you. “When I bought you, Calluna assured me you were a cat, or a dog cursed to look like a cat. Which one are you, Stacks?”
“Meo-uff!”
“That doesn’t really help.” I chuckle. Whatever he is, he’s definitely a pet. Which means he won’t be able to talk... or tell anyone if I shift. Especially not them.
Even the thought of them makes my eighty-year-old heart nearly explode out of my chest.
Shit! The last thing I need is to have a heart attack and die in this body... or be forced to fully shift and get discovered.
I tighten my grip on my walker and try to take deep, steady breaths.
Focus, Violet. You’re just being paranoid, always thinking someone’s watching you. I bet they’re nowhere near Silver Springs. And they definitely don’t know you’re posing as Old Lady Violet. Now, put one foot in front of the other. Open the library. Let the patrons in.
“We’re almost there, Stacks,” I say—more for my own benefit than his—and take another small step. Stacks ignores me and starts sniffing the carpet, which I take as my cue to stop talking and start walking.
An eternity later, I finally make it across the foyer. Okay, fine, not an actual eternity, more like five minutes... but still. I have to pause just inside the double-doors to catch my breath before I finally twist the lock.
“Isn’t it a beautiful morning?” I greet the waiting seniors. “Come in. Come in!”
“Meo-uff!” Stacks cries happily.
“Is that a new library cat I see?” Betty coos, shooting the little guy a warm smile. “If I’d known, I would have brought cat treats!”
“Meo-uff!” Stacks runs over to sniff Betty’s black orthopedic shoes, tail wagging, while the seniors fawn over him.
I beam. “Everyone, meet Stacks. Today’s his first day.”
This earns me a few chuckles before their attention returns to Stacks.
“You can go on in, I’m just going to sit for a minute,” I say, settling down on my walker. Ten points!
I’ve got a mental scoring system for whenever I manage to act or sound old, and this time, I do both. I kind of feel bad for being a total stereotype, but it’s how I’ve managed to keep up my disguise for the past year.
“Let me give this little guy a pet.” Betty hands me her books, followed by her purse, and then, ever so slowly, bends down. Stacks gets a scratch behind the ear, and then a belly rub when he flops over onto his back, tail wagging.
“Oh my. He’s an odd one, isn’t he?” she asks.
A few of the others nod in agreement.
“The poor dear”—five points—”thinks he’s a dog,” I say like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Here in Silver Springs, it is. Cats who think they’re dogs. Bunnies with uncontrollable hairballs. Guinea pigs who lose all their fur during a full moon. Just not twenty-year-olds who spend a year pretending to be eighty—well, except me.
“Is Stacks cursed?” Betty asks, since so many of the pets Calluna finds are.
I nod.
“Poor pussy.”
I nearly choke. If I’d been drinking something, there’d be no stopping it. I struggle not to laugh as I wait for one of the seniors to explain. No one does.
Do I tell her? When I’m supposedly so old that I’ve spent half my life calling cats pussies with the best of them?
“I heard Magnolia’s pup started pooping glitter,” an older gentleman chimes in, effectively moving on to a different subject.
The supes in the group murmur in sympathy, while the one human among them shrugs, already having forgotten the entire conversation. The wards in place throughout Silver Springs make sure of it.
“Stacks sure is more friendly than your last library cat, though, isn’t he?” Betty chuckles. “How is Handkerchief getting along with Sapphire?”
I could totally use ‘pussy’ in a sentence right now—it would be worth at least twenty points—but I don’t think I could do it with a straight face.
“I ran into them on my way home last week. Or was it two weeks ago?” I frown dramatically, even though I know for a fact that it was last Thursday. Ten points. “Sapphire and her young men looked very happy together.” Another five points for young men, and not a pussy in sight. Go Violet!