I peeked out the door of my bedroom, trying to spot if anything was different. Indigo slept inside a cozy box in the cat tree I’d put together the night before. Well, one of two. The other one was sitting inside my door, waiting for a good moment to give it to the cat. Hopefully I didn’t insult him, but cats liked cat trees, and catnip. I might have sprinkled a little inside the cozy box his had as well. It was the delivery I’d gotten before things went south with the not-John.

Sunlight streamed in the skylights overhead as I moved out into the hallway. As soon as I peered over the railing, I saw that the entire downstairs had been rearranged. Yesterday, bookshelves had lined the walls and formed rows like a normal bookstore. Today, the center of the store had wooden tables. All the tables held various objects. Oak bookshelves still lined the back wall, and the wall to the right. To my surprise, a glass case I hadn’t seen before was directly in front of the wall to my right with the shelves behind it. Looking down, I could see that the wooden counter, the cash register, and Betty, still sat directly below me.

I let out a sigh of relief. When Betty was missing, things went sideways rather quickly. I glanced at my phone, which was clenched in my right hand. It still had service.

“MEOW!” The sound from the cat echoed up in the space. I rarely heard him meow. My heart beat quickly as I darted down the stairs in my sneakers. I rushed into the very short hallway that led to the area behind the register. He sat in front of the enormous book, the one he didn’t want me to look at, and that vanished when he wasn’t reading it. It was bigger than him. I paused in my panicked rush. Light glimmered from the pages, and I took a step forward. He was a shadow of darkness against the light, just the suggestion of the shape of a cat before he solidified. The cat glanced over his furry shoulder at me, his green eyes glowing, and then I heard a loud bang from the kitchen.

My heart leapt again, and I spun to face the kitchen. “What the—” A can had fallen from a shelf and rolled across the floor toward me. I bent over to pick it up. “Cat? What’s going on? Are you okay?” I turned back, holding up the can of corned beef hash. The glowing book was gone. The dots connected in my mind, and I glared at him. “Real smart…” It took a moment for me to calm down. He only needed to say something and I’d back off; I thought I had proven that already.

“You should make breakfast,” said the cat. He was being more direct than normal as he glanced at the can in my outstretched hand.

“Don’t you usually prefer bacon?” I asked. His black tail flickered in the air, but he didn’t respond. “Whatever! I am going to make coffee first, then breakfast. You know, the normal order of operations.” The cat moved toward the espresso machine as I did. He stayed out of my way but watched me intently.

“In the teacup, please…”

His request was familiar, closer to a normal morning in the magical bookshop, so I went with it. I reached under the counter to the row of teacups and pulled out one that was chipped; it fit his current mood, along with mine. Then I got to work. I stuck with a vanilla latte—a very large vanilla latte. The scent of freshly ground coffee beans filled the air, and it caused me to smile. I steamed extra milk to top off the espresso in his dainty teacup.

“So, what does today look like? More buying and selling books? Or something more magical?” My eyes landed on the display case on the right-hand side of the store. The glass sparkled, blocking most of my view, but I could see a couple of books. Other objects sat on top of a strip of purple cloth, but it was hard to make out what they were. I kept my voice light and careful after what had already happened this week. “Or something more mundane?” He immediately headed to the teacup without answering. His head hovered over the top as he lapped at the frothy milk. I hated the silence, it was strange this morning. He had to respond at some point, right? “How is the latte?”

“Good, thank you.”

I rolled my eyes and headed to the kitchen. Now I had to figure out how to make corned beef hash. I was pretty sure I just heated it up in a pan and put fried eggs over the top. In the kitchen, I grabbed a frying pan and cranked up the heat. The can opener had appeared on the counter. Thankfully, I knew how to work a can opener. I sprayed the pan with olive oil, waited five minutes, and then dumped the contents of the can into the hot pan.

“That looks like cat food,” said the cat.

“You’re the one who magically knocked the can from the cupboards. So, you get to eat it… Well, we, ‘cause I am not cooking two breakfasts this morning.” I smoothed the corned beef down in the pan until it was flat and quickly grabbed my phone. My eyes widened when I realized it was still connected to the cell network. Most mornings, it was a useless piece of tech in my back pocket. When I cooked something new, I usually had a recipe book open on the counter, but I was sure I wouldn’t find a recipe book with instructions for canned corned beef. I wanted help from the internet with this one.

“Alright, the internet gods say I brown it on both sides and top it with fried eggs. That doesn’t sound too hard…”

If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

“Don’t tempt the fates like that,” whispered the cat. His tail twitched as he paced around on the counter. His eyes darted toward the front of the shop and then back. When nothing seemed to happen, he sat down.

“You seem a little tense. Like, way more than normal, even before breakfast. Is everything okay?” I held out my hand to pet him on the head or give him scratches. This week he’d been closer to me than usual. It made it hard to hide working on the cat trees from him. Yet, he didn’t respond to the question. Whatever was bothering him wasn’t my problem, but I couldn’t get that loud cry from earlier out of my head. He had sounded like he’d been in pain.

“You might want to flip that,” said the cat.

I spun back to the stove and grabbed a spatula. Time to make an awesome breakfast.

Ten minutes later, I set two plates down on the island. Small charred bits spotted the pile of corned beef on each plate. On top of each pile sat two sunny-side-up eggs for each of us. Somehow, I’d managed to not break the yolks. The scent of the crispy beef hung in the air, along with pepper. I might have accidentally used too much. I still didn’t understand how much food to cook for the cat. I made him slightly less than I served myself, and he almost always cleaned his plate. Wherever he put it had to be magical, since he wasn’t a particularly large cat.

“That looks strange,” said the cat, staring at the food. He stuck his nose over it and sniffed. His whiskers trembled.

“It should be tasty. I followed what the internet said.”

“The internet is wrong occasionally.”

I ignored him and sat on the closest stool. Time to try it. I broke my egg yolk and scooped up a bit of both corned beef and egg. The texture was slightly crunchy but also not. It wasn’t bad, but it did have a little too much salt. “It’s edible.” The more I ate, the better it tasted. Who knew that could happen? I hadn’t used too much pepper, which was comforting. This was not something I’d tried eating at home—my brother hated things that came from cans. It reminded me of roast beef, but the texture was different.

“Bacon is better.”

“This is all on you.” I glanced over at the cat. He had egg smeared on his nose and whiskers, which was strange. Normally he was a very clean eater, almost magical in nature. His plate was clean. My lips parted, and I blinked rapidly at the plate. “So, you liked it?”

“It wasn’t bad.”

“Do you want a napkin?” Instead of answering, he turned his butt toward me and jumped off the counter. I wouldn’t rush my breakfast just because he did. Plus, this was way more filling because of the little potatoes in the corned beef. My phone was still on the counter, but now the cell service was gone. “Really? You couldn’t keep the service on until I finished breakfast?” No more videos or social media while I ate. My opinion of what we were doing today changed. If there was no cell service, we weren’t on Earth anymore.

I needed more caffeine to deal with this. I finished breakfast with the goal of getting another cup of something with espresso before we opened the shop for the day. The cat was nowhere to be found when I entered the front of the shop. His teacup was gone, more than likely already in the dishwasher.

He pounced up on the counter and stared at me. “I would like steamed milk.” His face was egg free—less adorable, but still cute.

“No problem,” I said as I pulled what I needed from the mini-fridge. “Do you want vanilla in it or cinnamon?” The cat studied me. I felt his green eyes on my back.

“Let’s go with cinnamon,” he said after a moment.

“Coming right up, boss.” Maybe his weird mood was done?

He snorted. How does a cat even snort? I pulled a few shots of espresso into my empty coffee mug as I steamed milk for him. Usually, he didn’t ask for a second drink. The steamer whined louder than normal. I patted the top of the machine. “Hey, Betty, it’s okay. The cat isn’t mad at you…” Yes, I talked to Betty like a person. I didn’t have many people to talk to, besides the cat. Who wasn’t a person, but might be a person.

“Names have power,” said the cat.

“I know, I know… Leave me and Betty alone.” I waved my hand in the air before pulling out a different teacup. The smell of cinnamon filled the area. I poured in the cinnamon-steamed milk and moved it in front of him. “Here you go.” The rest of it I poured over my espresso. It should be tasty. I took a sip, swallowed, and then inhaled deeply, my fingers tightening over the warm mug. I could do this. I’d dealt with trolls, aliens, dragons, regular humans, and a whole menagerie of others. Plus whatever the book had been. “You can change the sign. I’m ready to open.”

After my first panic attack from random creatures coming into the shop, I now told the cat when I was ready. He didn’t understand my panic, but then again, he somehow knew what was coming each day. I held my breath, but nothing happened. He had promised that nothing in the shop would ever harm me, and I still didn’t know what’d happened to the guy that had impersonated John. I believed the cat would keep me safe. He was lapping at the foam, his back to the door. I gave his head a few scratches, and he momentarily stopped drinking to rub against my hand. Sunlight streamed in through each window, showing the dust floating through the air and the streaks on the surface, and highlighting the writing on the front glass: MEOW: Magical Emporium of Wares. Despite the light, I couldn’t see any of the outside world from where I was standing.

My eyes were drawn back to the sparkling glass case to my right. It definitely meant something. The purple cloth glowed in the sunlight. Whatever today was about, it had to involve that case. Large dusty tomes sat on the bookshelves across from me. None had writing on their spines. I kept looking over the room trying to figure out what was coming since the cat wasn’t being helpful. From here, I could see the table in the center of the room. I leaned forward to get a better look at the crystals, bowls, and candles that were every color of the rainbow, all lined up.

“Oh, I didn’t know we had candles in stock. Those pillars must be hand-dipped…”

“They are. Each can be used in magic.”

“Can you teach me how to use them?”

The cat spun around to stare at me, but the bells on the front door interrupted his reply, jingling as someone entered.