Page 7 of Spookily Yours

This female—she couldfixme. She could end this damned curse and turn me back into my proper form.

Maybe luck was on my side when they brought me to the animal shelter here. I’d certainly never have expected to end up in a town with a coven of witches.

Fates.

I needed this undone.

But how…?

* * *

She was back, with a bag of cat toys and treats at her side.

“Here, kitty,” the brunette girl cooed, shaking a bag of treats. I sat on the floor in front of her as she held the bag.

Internally, I rolled my eyes, flicking my tail to show my irritation.

“Come on,” she said, sighing. “They’re good. At least, I think.” Willow looked in the bag, as if questioning it now.

Sniffing it, I scrunched up my nose. It was bad enough that I’d had to eat whatever the shelter gave me for the last few weeks. I’d barely survived on the scraps except for when I dared to sneak out.

But this?No.I couldn’t bring myself so low.

I wasn’t a cat, dammit.

Willow frowned. “Do you not like treats?” The expression gave her worry lines on her brows, and I instantly wanted to smooth them out.

Why, Damien?Why was that the thought that had popped into my mind?

I jumped to my feet, padding over in search ofrealfood. Something palatable that I’d actually be able to stomach. Not dry kibble or whatever they put in those cat treats everyone tried to feed me.

“Where are you going, little beastie?” The witch murmured, following me as I sauntered through the living room into the kitchen.

Planting myself in front of the fridge, I meowed.

Opening the doors, she looked at the contents. “What do you want, hm? Tuna?” She pulled out a can.

I flicked my ears back in disgust.No, thank you.I’d never been a huge fan.

“Hmm.” She diverted her attention back to the drawer, bringing out a fresh cut of salmon. “What about this?”

Meow.I brushed up against her legs in approval.

She chuckled to herself. “Picky cat, huh?”

My little witch had no idea.

Willow sighed. “Guess I’m making you dinner, then. I don’t think raw salmon is good for cats.”

I gave her a chirp of confirmation before curling up in the corner, letting my head rest on my front paws as I watched her cook. She was a natural in the kitchen, which made me wonder about the potions room I’d seen. Despite how easy it would be for disarray, the entire room was meticulous, organized—like everything had its place.

I had a feeling she was equally skilled with whatever concoction she was brewing.

And now I had to brew my plan—one to get her to help me.

How not to startle her when I revealed my true identity.

There was something nagging in my gut—what was it?The feeling settled within me, though I couldn’t identify it.

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