To Conjure a Killer by Clea Simon

To Conjure a Killer by Clea Simon

Author:Clea Simon [Simon, Clea]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781957957494
Publisher: Polis Books


Twenty-Five

Becca slept fitfully, despite the best efforts of her pets, who surrounded her on the bed. Wakeful herself, Clara thought about removing the kitten—the little tortie was still small enough that she could have easily lifted her by her scruff and deposited her elsewhere. But to her surprise, Becca seemed comforted by the bundle of fluff that had nestled under her chin. At least, as she lay awake, occasionally sighing with a vehemence that tore at her calico’s heart, she seemed to enjoy reaching up and stroking the kitten’s powder-soft fur.

The tortie, who Clara was now nearly convinced had not spoken, slept through it all. Granted, the kitten’s strange coloring, the butterscotch running into the darker brown, made it hard to read the little beast. But even after Becca drifted off, turning on her side and sliding the kitten back onto the pillow, the tiny creature seemed oblivious. As Clara let her own eyes close—even when worried about their people, cats rarely suffer from insomnia—she could picture that one peach-colored paw sticking up into the air, the other, black, flung to the side, a portrait of feline contentment.

Her few hours of sleep didn’t seem to do Becca much good, however. Waking before the alarm, she puttered into the kitchen slowly, opening cans as if on automatic pilot.

“She’s worried.” Clara caught her sisters up. “She didn’t sleep well.”

“Tell me about it.” Laurel, her brown muzzle deep into her dish, did her best to sound aggrieved. “She rolled over on my tail.”

“Well, I did what I could.” Harriet licked the last bit of her own breakfast from her gold-rimmed dish and looked around. “I’m softer and warmer than that lumpy old comforter.”

“It isn’t that.” Clara licked at her own breakfast, conscious of her big sister’s interest. “She’s thinking about Jeff and what happened.”

“She should move on,” Laurel muttered, while Harriet bent over the kitten. Clara sat up, ready to protect the tortie’s meal, but Harriet only began to groom the little creature. Who had, Clara could now see, managed to get wet food on her ears.

Becca, usually so involved with her pets, ignored all this, which made Clara sad. She had no idea what the future held for the kitten. But the fact that the three sisters had accepted the little tortie had to bode well. At the very least, Becca didn’t have to worry about the kitten when she left for work.



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