Un-Familiar Territory

Of course, I had just gotten comfortable.

Mug of hot cocoa, comfy fire-warmed robe, herbal tea chaser, and my old tattered copy of Book of Night with Ham Sandwich. Look, you read your witchy grimoires, I’ll read mine. This one’s a lot spicier than your typical occult book, but what do you expect, with a title like that? Mustard will certainly appear at some point, so you’d better be ready for interruptions.

I’m never ready, though it always happens.

I certainly didn’t expect a knock on the door at the witching hour.

“I’ll get it! I’ll get it!” My familiar’s familiar spun itself into a frenzy, nails scrabbling to get traction on well-scrubbed ancient floorboards. Before its pent-up energy – and hair - had a chance to explode, I crossed my fingers and snapped, “Freeze!”

The effect was instantaneous. The noises went from scrabble-scrabble-scrabble to *trip* THUD screeeeee. I didn’t look. Don’t worry, it doesn’t hurt, but it does prevent problems. I put my cursed book down with a sigh and addressed the air: “Nothing that comes calling at midnight has good intentions. And you are forbidden from answering the door. You know that; you remember last time. And we are not going through that again. I have a familiar, and it is her job to answer the door. So she will. And you will stay there, quietly breathing, and not inviting any strangers inside. Ever. Again. Is that clear?”

My familiar was already stretching, the tip of her tail twitching lazily. “In Hudson’s defense, we are now filthy rich.”

“At what cost? Four infernal months of scratching, while I frantically searched through every single magic volume I could get my hands on, on three planes of existence, you howling your misery to the skies, your familiar howling its apologies while flaying its own skin off with the itch, you making such potent curses that I still have to do periodic sweeps to set them off safely, the flea demon chuckling as it flitted about the house, dropping its spawn, until we could finally grow a magically potent lavender plant, combine it with the magical lemon balm and citronella, plus a few more magic herbs and spices? Magi-Flee Cantrips And Amulets™ may have made us a fortune, but I still get phantom itches, and I know Hudson still has nightmares. Because I usually have a cup of coffee with said nightmare come morning, before he gallops off.”

She snorted. “Humans and their memories. Fine, fine, I’m going.” There was another scratchy knock, and I knew for certain this spelled no good for us.

No matter what strange notions Lilah had about familiars needing their own familiars, she could out-wit anything sneaky trying to crawl its way across our threshold. “Whatever your business, you are not welcome unless you mean us no harm, in past, present, or future, nor harm upon our air, nor harm upon the pieces of the house that bind us together, nor harm upon the solid rock upon which we build, nor harm to the fire that keeps us warm, nor harm to the land and its creatures, nor harm-”

The voice that answered was spidery, dry, and whispery. “Ah, dearie, so much worrying! If you are that afraid of a poor old granny, then perhaps we should talk outside. Or maybe I should take my gold elsewhere.” I heard a jingling that I’m sure was meant to sound sweetly alluring, but instead, sounded hollow and rotten.

I sat up, and grabbed the ScryRing ™ monitor from the end table. If humans can have their front door cameras, then so can we occultists. What I saw in the mirror was definitely more monster than human. Too many legs swathed in shawls, and I’d bet my own fortune that it carried faerie gold. Moldy leaves, I’d bet, carrying some potent fungus or two that would do nasty things to our lungs later.

There was a high-pitched whine from Hudson’s still form, and I muted the ScryRing ™ so no sound could leak. “Not a chance,” I muttered. “You would still invite that thing in, and we’d have to clean up your mess. Again. And since somebody didn’t re-scribe the protection pentacle under the doormat, we now have midnight visitors. I am not happy, dog, I became a witch for a reason! I don’t really care for dogs!”

Poor Hudson’s eyes widened, but he whined again. The eyes looked desperate.

Hmm. I glanced at the door. Lilah was still verbally sparring with the thing, but she’d get bored soon, and likely activate a Medium Strength Creature Spell-A-Way™ to permanently dismiss it.

So I twiddled my thumb and finger in mid-air, turning up the volume on Hudson. Just a tiny bit.

And what it whispered had me galloping towards Lilah in moments.

Sure enough, Lilah was reaching a paw to a thing that looked like a doorbell, that hid a rather potent permanent dismissal spell. Of course it involved mustard gas, what do you expect from a cursed grimoire? But I got there in time to pull her away, though I thumped rather loudly into the door in doing so. She’s my familiar, I don’t want to hurt her. But she had to be stopped.

The creature heard the thump, and I could see it jump back through the cat-level window in the door. Funny, it looked like a harmless faerie to the un-spelled eye. I hear a plaintive, “Dearie, goodness, what a noise! Are you all right?”

Lilah hissed at me a little, but subsided when I put finger to my lips. I pitched my voice to match Lilah. “Oh, goodness, dearie, where are my manners? You didn’t identify yourself. And, if I’m not mistaken, you’re using one of our own products against us. Extra Strength Glamour Shots™, correct?”

The creature turned as white as a ghost. Convenient, that our resident specter, Mister Gloom, appeared behind it for comparison.

“Let me help you with that, dearie. Undo, unwind, remove, unbind!”

There was a sickly pop, and suddenly a figure stood there that we knew all too well.

I was angry, but there’s a format, so I addressed the door. “Ah, Grabby Handz, a demon of greed. Known for swindling and cheating, patron devil of shysters everywhere, and secretary to the CEO of Crunchy, Which We Can’t Call Chewy For Legal Reasons. The greatest rival to my company, also known for dirty deals, corporate espionage, and outright theft of goods and services. But despite all that, you are one of our biggest customers, because your pest control products can’t hold a spelled candle to ours. And we force you to sell it at the exact cost you incur from us, because we don’t like you. Now, unless I’m mistaken again, if I had summarily dismissed you, that would have voided our contract, and I’d be in serious trouble. But, now that you’ve been caught, I think a recorded version of this conversation can be sent to your Inhuman Resources division, and you’re in a whole heap of trouble. Double, if you’re doing this without the CEO’s un-blessing. And if your demon CEO does happen to be in on it, um, I don’t have the capacity to calculate the fines you’ll be paying. But I am sending a copy to my lawyer, who will most certainly still be up at this un-godly hour, and we will be owning you and your company by morning. At least a controlling share. Have a lovely night, now, y’hear?”

The spidery thing on the doorstep gave a wailing shriek, and vanished. Mister Gloom was laughing, and speed-floated away to spread the news.

I was still hexting with my lawyer when Lilah spoke up. “Human, how did you know? How?”

I snapped my fingers, and Hudson came galloping over to wash us both with slobbery kisses. My free hand patted him absently. “Your familiar. It does have a fantastic sense of smell, don’t you, boy?”

It stopped and glared. “It. Enby. I got snipped before my feline saved me from the vet, remember?”

“Sorry, pooch. I forget too, sometimes. I may not like dogs, but okay, you do have some merit. You’re still never answer the door again, but thanks for the warning. Greatly appreciated. You saved our company from financial ruin, and we will acquire their assets in no time. Not bad, for a morning’s work.”

Lilah was shaking her tortie head, human style. “My clowder-coven will never believe it. Saved by my familiar.”

“Enjoy it, dear. At least you have a coven to commiserate with. I’m too queer for a coven. What would I call myself? A witlock? A wartch? Too much confusion.”

“Wait, we own them now? Or soon? Right. Feed me some I Can’t Believe It’s Not Churu, I’m starving.”

My stomach was growling, too. Queer’s gotta eat. “Yeah, we’re late for a midnight snack, but it’s worth it to be rid of their nonsense. Time to raid the kitchen.”

Hudson galloped off, showering us with golden hair. I just sighed, dusted myself off, and got up slowly. Lilah trotted ahead. Maybe I should make myself a ham sandwich…

...and not follow any of the recipes found in my cursed book.