No Treats for Charlie

  No Treats for Charlie

  Tiegan Clyne

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  About the Author

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living, dead, or undead, events, places or names is purely coincidental. No part of this book may be reproduced or transferred in any form or by any means, without the written permission of the authors. Uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without a permission of the authors is illegal and punishable by law.

  Text copyright © 2019 Tiegan Clyne

  All Rights Reserved

  Cover Design by Melony Paradise by Paradise Cover Design

  Chapter One

  The October full moon shone down on the Button Hollow Witchcraft Academy, blessing graduation night. The newest class of witches marched across the stage to collect their hats and brooms, applauded by their families and friends. The administrators and teachers of the academy beamed with pride at the graduates, each of whom was more beautiful than the one before.

  The last witch to receive her hat and broom wasn’t applauded as loudly. In fact, hardly anyone applauded at all. Matilda Greenbottom was not beautiful, and she wasn’t young. Unlike the others, she wasn’t even a hereditary witch. She was a convert, a middle-aged woman who had studied in order to earn her place among the graduates that night. Where the young born witches seemed to coast from day one to graduation, Matilda had fought for every spell, and even though she was being hatted and broomed, she still wasn’t always accurate with her magic. The administrator gave her a smile anyway, but the teacher who fitted her with her hat looked unimpressed.

  “Good luck,” the teacher told her. “You’re going to need it.”

  Graduation was followed by the Midnight Feast, which would in turn be followed by the last stage in the graduation ritual, the assignment of familiars. The Familiar Emporium would be opened when the feast was over, and each beautiful young witch would be assigned the magical companion who would accompany her on her journey into witchhood. There was much excited conversation over dinner about the familiars who waited there, and about what the future held.

  Matilda sat alone and ate her dinner. Nobody talked to her about familiars, and nobody daydreamed about what the future would hold for her. She had no family and no friends at the ceremony, and to make matters worse, the soup had a cream base she didn’t know about until she ate it, and Matilda was lactose intolerant. She excused herself and went home to her bed, unable to continue to the emporium at all.

  It was hardly an auspicious beginning to her witchery career.

  After the feast was over, the witches came into the emporium. The familiars stood on their presentation stands, straining to see the faces of the women who would be their bondmates. Charlie’s stand was the very last one in the line, and he knew why. The other familiars - mostly cats - were all far more beautiful than him. He was a purebred Sphynx cat, which meant that he was more or less hairless except for a soft layer of suede-like fur that covered his gray skin. Because he had no ruff like the extraordinary Maine coons and Persians, his ears looked too big for his skull, and he knew he looked like a cross between a bat and a cat. None of that should have mattered in magic, but Charlie had been around this block before.

  Looks always mattered.

  This was the second that he had seen come and go. Charlie had been rejected before, and as the witches came in to examine the available familiars, he could tell that he was about to be rejected again. The young hereditary witches, even the kind ones, looked at him with pity when they saw him and slowly turned away.

  Oksana, the Russian witch who ran the emporium, tried repeatedly to interest the witches in him. He knew that he had the makings of a good familiar. He was able to cast simple spells with his own power, and he was good-hearted and loyal. He tried to make his eyes soft and kitten-like when each witch cast her gaze over him, but they all turned away.

  “This is good kitten,” Oksana told the witches in her heavy accent. “Why you not like him?”

  “It’s not him,” they would respond. “I just really want a cat with more fur.”

  Susannah, the valedictorian of the class and the daughter of the administrator, summed it up most succinctly. “He’s too ugly.”

  Oksana narrowed her eyes. “Okay… but he good kitten. You not always going to be pretty.”

  Susannah laughed. “Of course I am! Magic will see to that, silly! And I can’t be this beautiful and have a familiar that ugly.” She folded her hands. “So tell me which familiar you will assign.”

  “I will give you Mehitabel,” Oksana answered, clearly wishing she had a different selection. “You bond best with her. But I wish I could give you toad.”

  So, Susannah and the beautiful long-haired Mehitabel went away happy, and the other witches and their familiars left as well. When they were all gone, only Charlie and Oksana were left in the emporium.

  /Maybe, / he said, sighing, /maybe I’m just not meant to be a familiar./

  “Nonsense. You good kitten. You see. Tomorrow, your witch will come.”

  Charlie left his presentation stand and crawled into his basket. He covered his head with his blanket and closed his eyes.

  When morning came, Matilda was feeling well again, and she went immediately to the emporium. When she saw all the empty presentation stands, she stopped short, her heart sinking in disappointment.

  “Are they all gone?” she asked.

  Oksana was sitting at the window reading a book. “No. One left.”

  Matilda looked around. “Um… Where is she?”

  “He is in his bed in back room. Want me get him for you?”

  The witch tried not to look too excited, but she failed. She wrung her hands, a nervous gesture she had learned from her mother. “Yes, please.”

  “All right. You wait here.”

  Matilda bounced on the balls of her feet, the heels of her black boots bouncing against the floor as she waited in impatient anticipation. Oksana came back into the room with a basket in her arms. There was a blanket covering a moving lump in the middle of the basket, and she could hardly wait to see the creature who would be her companion.

  Oksana put the basket down on the last presentation stand, and Matilda walked over to stand in front of it. She held her breath as Oksana gathered the blanket up and revealed the familiar beneath.

  “Ta-da! This is Charlie!”

  Matilda looked at the grey-skinned, naked cat with the wide eyes and huge ears, and her only response was, “Oh.”

  The familiar looked up at Matilda, and she was acutely aware of her extra pounds, large nose and small, dark eyes.

  /Oh. /

  “There,” Oksana nodded, satisfied. “Good match.”

  Matilda mustered a smile, and Charlie pricked up his ears, his expression friendly and hopeful. “Well,” the witch said, opening her arms. “Would you like to come home with me?”

  /Yes, please. /

  “I know I’m not one of those beautiful, hereditary witches…” she began.

  /I know I’m ugly. /

  His voice was so sad in her head that Matilda winced. “Charlie, you are not ugly. You’re special.”

  /You’re just saying that because I’m your only choice. /

  “I’m your only choice, too,” she said. “But let’s make the most of it. Sometimes things happen for a reason.”

  Oksana nodded
. “Good. He good kitten. You see.”

  Matilda put the blanket back over the top of him, tucking him in to keep him warm. He sighed and settled down into his bed. /You can hide me so nobody sees me. /

  “I’m tucking you in because it’s cold out there and I don’t want you to get a chill,” she told him. She stroked his back through the blanket, and he picked up his head to look at her. Matilda smiled gently. “I’m not ashamed of you if you’re not ashamed of me.”

  /I’m not ashamed. /

  Oksana walked them to the door. “Nobody ashamed of anybody. She good witch, Charlie. He good kitten. Good match.”

  Matilda smiled and nodded. Charlie looked up at her, clearly unconvinced. “Good match,” she echoed. “Very good match.”

  They went back to Matilda’s house, which was a crooked little cottage on the edge of town. She hadn’t selected the place out of any sort of conscious desire to be witchy; it was just the only property that she could afford. The Academy had given all graduates a cash award based upon their academic performance, and Matilda, who had been strictly middle-of-the-road in terms of ability, hadn’t exactly caught a windfall. She’d been fortunate to find a house at all and wasn’t in any position to turn up her nose at a chimney that had a few too many bends in the metal, or a house whose roof was uneven and sagging in the middle.

  “It’s not much,” she told Charlie, “but it’s home. I hope you’ll be happy here with me.”

  /I’ll be a good familiar for you, / he promised. /I’ll try hard for you./

  Spontaneously, Matilda hugged his basket close, and she kissed his little fuzzy head. “I’ll try hard for you, too.”

  She pulled back and Charlie sat bolt upright, staring at her with his eyes as wide as saucers. Matilda hesitated.

  “I hope that wasn’t too forward.”

  He stared at her in silence, then answered, /Nobody has ever kissed me before. It was.../

  Charlie trailed off, but he rubbed his cheek against her nose, his throat rumbling with a happy purr. Matilda stroked his head, her fingers gentle over his oversized ears.

  “That was nice,” she said, smiling at him.

  /That’s what I was thinking./

  Matilda opened the door and murmured the magical word that lit all the candles and set the hearth alight. Charlie shook himself.

  /I like the feeling of your magic,/ he told her.

  “I’m glad.” She put his basket down near the fire, where he could be warm. She straightened and smiled down at him. “It’s not much, but… welcome home.”

  Charlie looked up at her, and he slowly blinked at her. /I’ve never had a home before. Thank you, Matilda./

  She smiled. “You’re welcome, Charlie. You’re very, very welcome.”

  Chapter Two

  That night, the second night of the October full moon, the graduates assembled in their new Coven. Matilda stood nervously in front of the full-length mirror in her living room, which had an antique wooden frame standing on carved lion’s feet. She braided her frizzy red hair and pinned it into a bun at the back of her neck. With her hair handled, she started fussing with her dress. It was a little snug over the bust, and though she wore a belt with a big brass buckle, she really had no waist to accentuate. The skirt ended well above her ankles, which wasn’t as elegant as a full-length gown would be, but she had to admit it was more practical.

  “What do you think?” she asked Charlie, who was sitting on the arm of the battered sofa beside her. She turned to look at him, and the mirror shuffled to follow her.

  /You look lovely,/ he told her.

  “Witchy enough?”

  /More than witchy enough./ Her familiar nodded, his tail curling around his slender feet. /You look amazing./

  She looked at her reflection and sighed. “I look podgy.”

  /You’re fluffy./

  Matilda laughed. “That’s cute. The actual word is ‘fat.’”

  Charlie shook his head, his bat-like ears flapping. /No. You’re soft and warm and you have an automatic kitten shelf on your chest. I like you./

  She bent down toward him, and he rubbed his cheek against her nose. It was something they’d done several times already, and she suspected it would become a habit for the two of them. If so, she welcomed it.

  “I like you, too.”

  /Now the hat,/ Charlie coached.

  Matilda took a deep breath and situated the black pointy headgear on her red hair.

  /And the broom./

  The mirror followed her into the kitchen, and she turned to face it with the broom in her hand. Charlie jumped down and raced after her, jumping up onto the kitchen table to put a paw on her arm and look at her reflection, too.

  /Magnificent./

  Matilda shook her head. “You’re so sweet. I don’t think I’m magnificent, but I think I can hold my own.”

  /Of course you can,/ Charlie answered, his eyes bright. /You’re my witch. You’re wonderful./

  She stroked his suede-soft skin and shook her head. “How could anybody turn away from you? I think you’re the best familiar in the world.”

  Charlie slow-blinked and purred.

  Matilda put her familiar into his basket and covered him up with the blanket again. The full moon wasn’t visible tonight, since the skies were overcast and a steady drizzle was wetting the world. Matilda didn’t want her little friend to get chilled, and she made a mental note to knit him a sweater or three before winter came in earnest. For his part, Charlie settled down with a contented purr and snuggled under the blanket, ready for the trip to the Coven grounds.

  The Coven was meeting in Hex Park, a community space just off the village green. There were two swing sets, a merry-go-round, two slides and a jungle gym made from railroad ties that had been constructed to look like a castle. The tetherball court would be the location of the Coven meeting, since it was already roughly round in shape, and they could affix their altar flag to the tetherball pole. Matilda expected the gathering to be low-key, because it was hard to take yourself too seriously as a witch when your rituals were being conducted on a playground. She didn’t have a car, so she walked to the park with Charlie’s basket cradled in her arms.

  Matilda and Charlie arrived a few minutes late. The rest of the recent graduates had already assembled, the witches standing in a circle around the tetherball court, facing inward. Their familiars sat in front of them, duplicating their circle. Matilda couldn’t feel any power yet, so they hadn’t actually started the ritual.

  “Whew! Made it,” she told her little familiar. He purred in response.

  She stepped up toward the dirt circle, and Susannah turned around, glaring. “You’re late,” she snapped.

  “Sorry,” Matilda said. “I walked, and these boots are new, and…”

  Susannah turned away again. “We have thirteen members already. We can’t have fourteen. You’ll have to go.”

  Matilda stared at her. “Excuse me?”

  “Thirteen people in a Coven. Not fourteen.”

  Charlie grumbled in his throat. /That’s not nice./

  Mehitabel, Susannah’s new familiar, looked archly at the basket. /Who asked you, you little goblin?/

  Matilda wanted Charlie to fight back, or to hiss, or to do something. Instead, he just ducked his little head under his blanket and hid.

  “You…” She felt her face flush with embarrassment and anger. “You’re not very good people.”

  “And you’re not a very good witch,” Susannah said. “Buh-bye, now.”

  Matilda felt stung. She blinked away the tears in her eyes and said, “Fine. We don’t need you, anyway. Come on, Charlie.”

  As she walked away, she thought she heard Mehitabel laughing.

  They returned to the house in silence. Matilda returned Charlie’s basket to its spot beside the fire and made sure he was comfortable before she went and locked the door. She leaned against it, her hand still on the latch, and kicked the door with the toe of her boot.

  /We don’t need
them,/ Charlie told her. He pushed the blanket aside and looked out at her, propping his little chin on the edge of the basket. /We can be solitaries./

  “We’re going to have to be solitaries,” she sighed. She put her broom against the wall and took off her hat. She hung it on a peg beside the door.

  /It’s better,/ he said, trying to see the bright side. /If we’re solitary, we don’t have to worry about anybody’s rules or opinions. We can do the kind of magic we want, when we want to do it./

  “I don’t know… We’ll be diminished without a coven behind us.”

  He flicked his ears back. /Nonsense. The kind of magic they want to do - it’s probably all cosmetic and romantic. Not valid for a witch with a serious mind, like you./

  She sat down on the floor beside his basket and started stroking his soft skin. “You’re trying to cheer me up.”

  /Maybe,/ he allowed. He looked up at her. /Is it working?/

  Matilda chuckled. “It’s working.”

  /Good. Now let’s steam some milk. You can have it in hot chocolate, and I’ll have it in a bowl, and we’ll relax and plan how we’re going to be major magic users without them./

  She laughed. “You’re feisty.”

  /When the occasion calls for it./ He climbed out of the basket and into her lap. /We’ll be fine. They’re the ones who’ll be sorry./

  “I don’t want anybody to be sorry,” she told him. “Not even a bunch of mean girls in pointy hats.”

  Chapter Three

  The next morning, Matilda and Charlie went out to explore the town. It was a warm autumn day, but to be safe, Matilda had pinned Charlie’s blanket around his shoulders like a cloak. An old diaper pin with a plastic duckie held the fabric closed, and he trotted along beside her, trailing his blanket behind him through the leaves. Its weight prevented him from carrying his tail high with happiness, as he would have done, but the way the blanket collected leaves and sticks and rustled when they walked more than made up for that detraction.