Eight Lives (Match Made In Hell Book 1) Page 2

  If I kept turning into a human, what would it mean for me—for us?

  “Do you think a Med-Witch can help?” I asked. What would they actually do?

  “I don’t know, but she can at least tell us if you’re dying or not.”

  Dying? Death was something I hadn’t thought about in a long time.

  Was I dying? What about my other lives? Did I still have those? Or was this it?

  Had a hundred years of life been all the curse had given me, and now my time was up?

  The last thing I wanted to do was die. If I died, Anselm would be alone. He would stop feeding. He would just stay in bed and let himself waste away. I didn’t want that. I couldn’t allow that. Then an even more frightening thought invaded my mind. Without me, he might just walk out into the sun and end it quickly.

  I pressed my face against my oldest and dearest friend. Was it vain of me to think I was what was keeping him alive? I was the only one who saw him. I saw how bad his depression could get. I knew how hard it was to get him to do basic things some days. If I died, who would look after him? Who would make sure Anselm continued to exist?

  “Will you turn me?” I asked.

  I felt his muscles tense before he pulled back. “You don’t want that, Edmund—not really,” Anselm replied, but I didn’t see the downside. I had already resigned myself to living forever as a cat. Living as a vampire, even one with cat ears, had to be better. It came with thumbs at least. It would mean that we didn’t have to worry about me dying anymore. Plus, we would save money on fish.

  If I was dying, he could stop it. I could become a vampire. We could live together forever.

  Isn’t that what Anselm wanted?

  “I want to stay with you forever,” I admitted. If I couldn’t do that as a cat, I would as a vampire.

  “Forever is a long time—a lot longer than a hundred years,” Anselm countered. I could hear the age in his voice, the weary battle he seemed to fight with himself every day. He was tired because he had been alone for so long. If we were both vampires, then he wouldn’t have to worry about that anymore.

  “I’m fine with that,” I told him.

  “Only because you don’t understand what it means to live forever,” Anselm said as he carried me back to bed. He got comfortable underneath the covers, pulling them up around both of us. His fingers ran down my spine, gently brushing my fur.

  “Promise me you will,” I whispered.

  “I’ll think about it,” Anselm replied. We both knew that was a no, but didn’t he want me to stick around? Wasn’t he so depressed right now because of what this could mean—me being human, me aging . . . me dying? If he turned me into a vampire, none of that would happen, and he wouldn’t be lonely. I could stay with him. Didn’t he want that?

  I wanted it. I wanted to stay with Anselm—as a cat, a human, or even a vampire.

  Anselm

  The Med-Witch gawked at the pair of us as I set Edmund on her patient table.

  The fluorescent lights overhead illuminated the sterile white room. The Med-Witch stepped closer to the table, her lips pressed together in a tight line as a wisp of curly dark-brown hair brushed her collarbone.

  She probably hadn’t expected me to keep the appointment I’d made.

  Maybe I wouldn’t have if not for Edmund insisting we come. He thought she could help.

  “He turned back into a cat,” I told her. He hadn’t turned back into a human since the last time, but I had a feeling it was going to keep happening. It had happened twice now, so why would it stop? “He has a tail and cat ears when it happens,” I informed her, hoping the extra information would help her figure out what the hell was going on with Edmund. “Can you make it stop?”

  I wanted it to stop. But . . .

  My gaze fell to Edmund. Did he want it to stop? I hadn’t bothered to ask.

  He had been so excited when he’d turned human. Maybe he wanted to be human again? If that was the case, I had no right to deny him that. I just wanted him happy—even at the price of my own happiness. He had been such a good friend. I really wanted the best for him, even if what was best for him was being human.

  “Or . . . I guess just make sure he’s okay,” I said.

  It didn’t matter what I wanted so long as he was healthy, so long as he wasn’t dying.

  “Thanks for caring about my health, pal,” Edmund spoke, his voice a soft hiss I had grown accustomed to over our time together.

  Would I eventually forget how he sounded? Would the soft hiss of his voice and the content purr he emitted when he was happy fade from my memory after a couple centuries? I had already forgotten so much of my early life. In time, would Edmund just be a memory and one I’d eventually forget after being without him for a long time?

  The Med-Witch was staring at my feline friend in wonder, her silver eyes glowing. “You talk?” she said at last. Maybe she hadn’t believed me when I’d told her my immortal, cursed cat was broken. Or maybe I should have mentioned he talked when I had made the appointment. It hadn’t seemed like an important detail at the time. Who cared if Edmund could speak words and form sentences? The issue was that he could turn into a man—a man with cat ears and a tail.

  The Med-Witch was still staring. “You really are cursed,” she stated.

  “For a hundred years and going,” Edmund assured her. He plopped down onto the paper, his tail swishing back and forth behind him as his ears twitched. “Or maybe I’m dying now. I died once already, by the way.”

  I knew that he wanted answers too. He was just as worried, if not more so than me. Of course, he was also handling his transformation much better than I was.

  The Med-Witch shook her head as she extended her hands toward Edmund. They glowed a soft blue, like a neon sign at sunset. She danced her fingers over his body and hummed. He purred, shifting under her fingers as he stretched with pleasure. Then suddenly, the Edmund I had grown accustomed to was gone. A small naked man with dark hair and the same neon eyes I’d peered into for a hundred years was on her table where my cat had been.

  “What did you do?!” I asked, reaching for Edmund. “Put him back!”

  He scrambled off the table and yanked on my suit coat. I turned, and he jerked it from my shoulders and wrapped himself in the fabric. His face was a soft pink as the Med-Witch peered at us with parted lips and widened eyes. She was either a terrible Med-Witch or way out of her depth.

  “I believe”—the Med-Witch slowly began to speak as Edmund slipped under my arm and pressed himself against my side, seeking safety and comfort as he often did—“whatever witch may have cursed you has probably died, and the effectiveness of her curse is wearing thin. I can’t say if you’ll ever be fully human, or even be able to maintain a human form for long periods, but you aren’t sick or dying, as far as I can tell.” She smiled.

  I exhaled softly.

  Edmund wasn’t sick or dying. If he had been I wouldn’t know what to do. I knew what he would want me to do, but he only wanted immortality because he was young and didn’t know what it was like to live a thousand years and be so tired, so weary of life but to just keep going—to keep on living when everything else, everyone else died.

  “Am I still immortal?” Edmund asked, flicking his tongue out and wetting his lips. His tail whipped back and forth behind him, swaying the same way now as it did when he was a cat. Did he even notice? “Do I even have my last eight lives? Or is this it for me? Am I going to age and fade away or what?”

  My heart squeezed with his question. I couldn’t lose him. But I also couldn’t sink my teeth into him and offer him my blood in turn. If I turned him, he would grow to regret it and maybe even hate me. I couldn’t do that. I wouldn’t do it under any circumstances.

  “I can’t know for sure without knowing the particulars of the curse,” the Med-Witch replied. “I’d like to monitor your situation, though. For now, write down when you turn human, how long you stay human, how long you’re a cat, and what may have brought on the change. I’ll
see you back in a month. Otherwise, there isn’t much I can really do for you.”

  I sighed. So in essence, she was useless. I was going to end up having an expensive medical bill, and she hadn’t done anything to help us.

  “And what are you going to do when the month is up?” Edmund asked her, his eyebrows furrowed. “Can’t you just re-curse me? I was fine being a cat.”

  “Re-curse you?” The Med-Witch sounded equal parts horrified and surprised. “I’m afraid I’m not that kind of witch.” So far, from what I could see, she wasn’t any kind of witch.

  “Where can we find that kind of witch?” I asked, despite the fact that I already knew a witch who could do exactly what we needed. Finding Cassius Ruda would be damn near impossible. But if Edmund wanted to be a cat, we’d make sure he was a cat for the rest of his eight lives.

  Then we could be together forever.

  “You have to be able to do something,” Edmund protested. “You’re a witch—”

  “I’m sorry,” she told the pair of us and offered us nothing more. Was there really nothing else she could do? Couldn’t she at least recommend us another witch of a darker nature? Surely she had friends, connections within her own community that could serve us. “I’ll see you again in a month. See the receptionist on your way out to make an appointment.”

  She left. Edmund and I turned to one another. I reached out, my fingers brushing through his midnight hair to find his ear. It was soft under my fingers and twitched at my touch. His chest rocked and vibrated as he leaned into my hand, emitting a faint purr.

  “I don’t have shoes, so you’re carrying me,” he said, his eyes closed.

  “Do you really want to remain a cat?” I asked, ignoring his silly remark. We both knew I would carry him if he so desired. I’d spent the past hundred years trotting him around in one way or another. When we left the house, he absolutely refused to dirty himself, so he often sat on my shoulder. He was too big for that as a human, but I could still easily carry his light weight in my arms. And I wouldn’t mind doing so either.

  “I’ve been a cat for a hundred years,” he replied with a soft shrug. “I was only human for twenty.”

  He was so young, had barely lived a life when he’d been cursed. It wasn’t fair.

  “But do you want to remain a cat?” I asked again. “You have a chance to be a man again.”

  “I don’t care either way,” he retorted. He found his tail and curled his fingers around it.

  “I care,” I admitted, reaching out and brushing my fingers along his jaw. He was so handsome, so unlike everything I had imagined him to be.

  Why had I never asked his age before? Why had I assumed he was so much older than he was? I knew better than most that old age was a luxury people a hundred years ago didn’t often enjoy. Death was so widespread in those hard years. Being cursed to live as a cat, not so much though.

  “I want you to be a cat,” I admitted, “but I know that is selfish of me.”

  “I never thought I would be human again,” Edmund said, peering up at me with wide eyes. Once upon a time, his gaze had probably been human, but now his pupils where oblong slits, just as telling as his ears and tail. He was human now, but he was still part cat too. “It doesn’t matter if I live out the rest of my days as a cat. I made my peace with it. Besides, if I stay this way, I’ll probably get old and die, and who wants that?”

  “We will figure it out,” I promised him, kneading his ear between my fingers.

  “Yeah,” he said.

  “It’s going to be okay, Edmund. I won’t let anything happen to you,” I replied as I pulled him into my arms. He curled his arms around my neck and buried his head against my collarbone, his tail wrapping around his body.

  There was no need to make another appointment. The Med-Witch was useless. We would look somewhere else for answers, and in the meantime, we would continue as we always had. I’d watch over him as I had done for the last century, make sure that he was well taken care of, and he would look after me too.

  Edmund

  As I walked beside Anselm, since I decided not to be carried, people were staring at us. Were they staring because of my ears and tail? Or maybe they were looking due to my lack of clothes? There were other nonhumans walking among us, freely going about their lives, but I doubted that there were many human-cat hybrids alive—if any.

  Being human again was still strange. Walking on two legs instead of four felt odd. Plus, the ground was hard and cool under my bare feet. Even now, despite the fact it was summer, it was a bit colder than I was used to. I no longer had fur to keep me warm. For the moment, I only had Anselm’s long jacket to protect me.

  New Synergy City was alive and bursting with people, both human and supernatural alike despite the fact that it was the middle of the night. I looked around as I tried to take in the mixture of people. There was so much to see. Everything looked fresh and exciting from my now human perspective. Even the outdoor market seemed changed. The heavy scent of fish, fried food, and the other assorted smells of baked goods that usually hung in the air had dulled.

  No one was stepping over me or asking Anselm if they could pet me.

  The noise of hundreds of people talking at once was as overwhelming but not in the same way it was when I was a cat.

  “There’s so much,” I muttered, more to myself. It seemed impossible to see it all, but I wanted to see everything. At the same time, I didn’t know if I should. I bit my lip and looked to Anselm. He wasn’t happy about any of this. He wanted me to become a cat again. I wanted . . . I wanted to stay with him, no matter what.

  “It’s always so busy this time of night,” Anselm said, pushing his fingers through his hair.

  I fell into step with Anselm. He seemed content to walk with me.

  “We can leave,” I told him. We probably should get home sooner rather than later.

  The sun would be up eventually, and I didn’t know how much longer I would be human anyway.

  Anselm shook his head. “No. It’s a nice night. We haven’t been for a walk in a while, so we might as well.”

  I glanced towards him. “Are you sure?”

  “Perhaps you need pants first,” Anselm teased.

  I looked down at myself. Since everyone was still staring as we walked by, I probably seemed like a massive weirdo walking around in the middle of the market with no shoes and no clothes other than an oversized suit jacket. “I guess if I’m going to be human for a bit, we’ll have to get me something to wear,” I said.

  “There is a store around the corner. We can get you something to wear there, but do you want to look around the market first?” Anselm asked, and I nodded. I didn’t want to let on how excited I was. It was the first time in a hundred years I was walking on two legs, the first time I could be around other people as an actual man.

  Every now and then Anselm’s gaze would fall on me, and I wondered what he was thinking—if he was silently wishing I would go back to being a cat already.

  Or maybe . . . maybe he was getting used to the idea of me being a man.

  I chewed my bottom lip. Being here was dangerous. I didn’t want to get used to this. I didn’t want to come to like it. I—I needed to remember my place was at Anselm’s side, as the friend he’d saved.

  Swallowing, I set my shoulders and walked closer to Anselm. My heart squeezed. This was for him. I couldn’t stay human. I couldn’t grow old and die and leave him. I had to . . . I had to get the curse back in place. I had to get us back to us.

  “Look.” Anselm paused beside one of the many stalls set up in the open market, pointing to a necklace on one of the tables. It was a black choker with a simple small silver bell at the end of it. “I forgot your bell broke. Do you want another one?”

  “I like it. It’s cute,” I said, moving closer to the stand.

  Anselm moved to the display as well. He picked up the bell and paid the woman behind the stall counter before he grabbed my hand. His fingers were colder than a normal huma
n’s hand. I’d never noticed before, but that was probably because of my fur.

  The chill of his touch was comforting.

  “I have an idea.” Anselm pulled me along behind him. “Let me see if I can find—there she is!”

  Anselm found a woman sitting behind a small round table only a couple of stalls down from where we had purchased the choker. She had cards laid out in front of her, and I could feel the way the air around her seemed to spark.

  She was a witch. I stepped behind Anselm. I really didn’t like witches; even the Med-Witch we had seen was a bit scary.

  “Ma’am,” Anselm said, holding out my new choker, “could you enchant this? Something to make it the right size needed to fit around the owner’s neck. I’m willing to pay.”

  “I suppose. It is a simple enchantment.” The witch took the bell from Anselm. Her hands glowed a pale yellow for a few seconds before she held out her other hand. She had finished with her enchantment but was clearly not releasing the choker until Anselm placed a crisp new bill in her palm. “It was a pleasure doing business,” she said.

  Anselm spun me around and pulled the choker across my neck.

  “We’re not even going to ask if she actually cursed it?” I said as Anselm snapped it in place.

  “She wasn’t a dark witch,” he explained.

  I reached up to touch the small bell. “Will it really still fit when I . . . go back?” I wondered. My last bell was something Anselm had given me years ago. I had cherished it until it broke, and even afterward, it was still in our home with a collection of my things. Now I had a new gift from him, one that would fit me as a cat or a man.

  “I hope so,” Anselm said, flicking the bell and making it ting. “It suits you. Do you really like it?”

  I smiled, looking up at him. “I love it.”

  “Let’s get you some clothes,” Anselm said.

  I nodded and reached out to grab his hand, lacing his fingers with mine. My heart raced as we walked. My tail swung behind us. I wished this could be our life, that maybe I could find a way to exist with Anselm as I was now, that maybe he would accept me as a man and not just a cat.