Page 3 of Casting Butterflies

“I’d rack that up to pure dumb luck,” Cedric muttered.

“You’re one to talk, Mr. Tree that got turned into a pussy.”

“It’s like you want me to pee on your pillow.”

“Do that and your pet door will be permanently locked.” To think, I’d once upon a time been so excited to have a kitty. I’d done everything to get Cedric to like me back when I thought him just a regular cat. I’d since decided I preferred dogs.

“Guess since you’re in one of your moods again, we won’t be checking out that auction.”

“What auction?”

“The estate sale I told you about in Manotick.”

“Ooh, I do like a good yard sale.”

“Excellent. Let’s go.” Cedric hopped to the floor from the back of the couch. “Shotgun.”

“You know, one day, I’m gonna call it and then enjoy myself as you admit you can’t drive and beg me to swap spots.” Only Cedric could bring out the petty in me.

“Who says I can’t drive.” A claim made as he sauntered for the front door, tail swishing.

I would have pointed out the impossibility given his short legs and lack of hands. However, as the opening of the front door sans anyone touching it reminded me, kitty had magic. Ever since the Grimoire making him a slave to its owner had been destroyed, Cedric had access to his dryad magic. He could do things like move objects, open doors, project his voice, steal a turkey leg when I pulled it from the oven for basting. What he couldn’t do? Turn into a tree.

We headed out to the Corolla, the car that never died, inherited from Charlie when she left to be the Queen of Hell. Okay, not Hell, but it sounded cool, and according to her, outside of the city, the landscape did appear like a barren, scorched wasteland.

I opened the driver side door, and Cedric hopped in and made himself comfortable on the passenger seat as I slid into my spot behind the wheel.

“Why are you so keen on a junk sale anyhow?” I asked.

“Other people’s trash can be someone’s treasure.”

“Is something I would say. I thought you were proud to not own anything but attitude.”

“I still have no interest in material possessions. However, given what Charlie told me —”

“You spoke to Charlie without me?” It might have emerged a tad indignant. How dare he steal my friend?

“You were out running errands when she called last night via the mirror.” Ah yes, the magical version of video-calling courtesy of Charlie’s hottie husband, who magicked a pair so my bestie and I could chat interdimensionally.

“And what did you chat about?” I tried to not sound too sour and failed.

“Mostly about the message she relayed from the seers.”

“Why would she bother listening to those charlatans? Because of them, Charlie’s dad”—the former King of Infernal—“almost killed her.”

“Almost but didn’t,” Cedric pointed out. “And now Charlie is the queen of the Eastern Territories.”

Way to remind me how well she was doing in comparison to me. “What did the charlatans have to say this time?”

“Apparently, they told Charlie, in their usual riddled method, that a human and her cursed feline needed to acquire a magical artifact before it fell into the wrong hands.”

“AKA me and you.” Despite myself, the prediction had me intrigued. “What else did they say?”

“Not much only that it would be found amidst the Lepidoptera.”

“The lepi what?”

“It’s the technical term for butterflies.”