Also, the Cat by Swirsky Rachel

Author:Swirsky, Rachel
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tor Publishing Group
Published: 2024-01-10T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

“You’re sure you saw the cat around here?” Viola asked Rosalee as the three sisters trudged through the musty-smelling humidity, searching the property. Rosie and Viola felt phantom itching on their calves as they passed through the overgrown grass. Irene’s calves, however, did not, being protected by the most boring spectral pants the sour-minded sister had been able to imagine.

Rosie put on an expression of wounded indignation. “Absolutely, completely, one hundred percent,” she said with fraudulent passion.

“Calm down,” said Viola. “I’m just asking.”

“Hmff,” puffed Irene, walking behind.

Rosie had begun this trip quite pleased with herself. Irene and Viola had agreed to come surprisingly quickly after Rosie told them that she’d seen the ghost of Mrs. Fritter from a distance on one of her afternoon rambles, perhaps because Rosie had learned from her previous mistake and told them she thought they should stay away.

The only problem was they’d been out for at least a couple of hours now and, so far, there were trees and weeds and buzzing insects that made Rosie’s intangible skin twitch, but there was no sign of anything shiny.

“Why are you so sure it was the cat?” asked Viola. “If it was that far away?”

“Because I’m sure,” retorted Rosie. “You think I can’t recognize my own cat?”

“It can’t have been more than a blur,” said Viola. “Maybe it was a skunk.”

“It was Mrs. Fritter,” Rosie snapped.

“Give it up, Rosalee,” said Irene.

Rosie and Viola stopped to look back at their older sister. Irene stood planted about ten feet behind them, arms crossed over her chest.

Irene smirked which was never a good sign. “You didn’t see the cat. You never saw anything at all.”

Rosie feigned indignation. “That’s not— Of course I—”

Irene cut her off. “Don’t try it, Rosalee. We’re not stupid just because you are.”

Rosie shrank a step back. She was usually inured to her sister’s insults, but the naked simplicity of this one had an unexpected sting.

Viola’s forehead creased. “You were trying to trick us into leaving?” she asked Rosie.

“No!” Rosie protested.

Irene pointed an accusing finger at her youngest sister. “Then what’s in your pocket?”

“Nothing!”

Irene turned to Viola. “It’s a poetry book. She was planning to recite a few elegies before we dearly departed. Don’t take my word for it. Look for yourself.”

Viola made a grab for Rosie’s pocket which, deflected, became a grab for Rosie’s rear. Viola adjusted her grip while Rosie struggled to fend her off. They grappled until Viola managed to jab a finger into Rosie’s left armpit which Viola knew from childhood fights was particularly tender. Rosie yelped and twitched involuntarily, giving Viola time to snatch the poetry book with a triumphant yawp.

Viola read the title with disgust. “Collected elegies!” She waved indignant arms. “I told you I wanted to stay until after the funeral!”

“And how long are you going to want to stay after that?” Rosie shouted back. “How long am I supposed to wait to get out of here?”

Irene laughed. “I heard her practicing. ‘Shall we take the act to the grave? The ravenous grave?’ Her poetry reading is almost as ridiculous as her plan.

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