The Curse of the Black Cat by Lou Wilham

Author:Lou Wilham [Wilham, Lou]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lou Wilham

That night as Yuuki slept, Alrik crept down to the kitchen. He pushed a stool across the floor and used it to fish as many pieces of the mug as he was able from the bin, then stashed them beneath the couch before going back to bed.

In the morning, he watched Yuuki get ready for a long day at work. “Do you want to come in with me today, Prince? I know it’s getting cold, but everyone keeps asking about you.”

Alrik shook his head in response. It wasn’t only that New York was growing colder—he could handle the cold—he had other plans. Although he hadn’t figured out how he would fix the stupid mug, he would do something.

Yuuki nodded, pressing a kiss to Alrik’s furry forehead, and headed out to work. The door shut behind him, and the cat sprang to action.

“There has to be a way to buy a new one,” he muttered, batting the buttons on Yuuki’s old laptop until it woke up. It took some doing, but he managed to type in the words ‘black cat Luna mug.’ There were plenty of pictures of the blasted thing, but no one seemed to be selling one. “And how would you have paid for it anyway, Alrik?” he muttered to himself.

The next thought was to glue it back together. This, too, Alrik realized belatedly, was an idiotic idea.

He yelped when one of the sharper pieces cut the pad of his paw open. “Damn it. Blast it. Stupid mug!” he growled, licking the bleeding cut. “I just wanted to do something nice for Yuuki, why does it have to be so hard,” he lamented flopping onto his back on the counter. “Useless, that’s what you are, Alrik. Bloody useless. Useless as a human. Useless as a cat.”

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. There had not been a time during all the centuries that Alrik had felt so worthless. He had lost an owner to the witch trials, been hit by many vehicles, and had several people hurt him in various forms. But never had he felt entirely futile.

“What point is there in living forever if I can’t help the one person I like? Answer me that, Gwydion!” he yelled; his eyes squeezed shut in agitation.

“All right, all right, no need to shout,” a voice tutted.

Alrik’s eyes flew open to find the red-headed witch leaning over him. Gwydion hadn’t aged a day; they still looked beautiful and youthful, as they had all those centuries ago. The only difference was that instead of scarves obscuring their face, Gwydion was wearing a pair of very fashionable cat-eye sunglasses, and they had their hair pulled back into an elegant braid.

“Well? You rang, dear boy. I was in the middle of getting my nails done, so make this quick.” Gwydion wiggled long fingers at the cat to show off a half-finished manicure.

Alrik rolled over, his mouth hanging open and eyes wide. “Gwydion?” He asked, not sure that he was seeing the witch or had merely dreamt them into being.

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