Alchemy

Tim slowed his walk down the sunset-drenched suburban alley when he noticed a black cat sitting on a tall green fence, watching him. He stopped altogether when the cat said, “Psst!”

Tim startled, shook his head, and took another step.

“Hey kid!” said the cat. “I said, ‘psst!’”

Tim planted his hands on his hips and frowned up at the cat. He let out a long breath, as though he had just worked a double shift at Hotdog Cabana. “I heard you.” His last double shift, they had a birthday party of nearly thirty. The kicker was, the screaming kids were actually tolerable – it was their adults that trashed the bathrooms. “Just not sure I care, honestly.”

The cat huffed. “You don’t seem too surprised to meet a talking cat.”

“I’m trying to figure out if I’m high.”

The cat glared down at him and flicked its tail. “That’s neither here nor there. Say, what’s your name, kid?”

“Uh… why?”

“Geez,” spat the cat, “what a question. I’m just trying to be sociable and this guy lawyers up. Well ya got me. I was going to ask for your birthdate, mother’s maiden name, and PIN next, and then clean out all of your no-doubt offshore accounts, and then start squatting in your yacht with my fifty cousins.” He licked his paw. “Yeesh.”

Tim’s face soured. “Sorry, it’s been a day.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“My name’s Tim.”

The cat’s eyes widened. “No kidding!? Tim’s my name too! Only mine’s got a silent e at the end.”

“Time?”

Time’s eyes narrowed. “No, ‘Tim’, just like you. Don’t be a dick.”

“Yeah, right, sorry.” Tim cleared his throat and checked his phone. “Well, it’s been real, but I gotta jet.”

“What!? But we’ve just started building rapport!”

“Sorry dude. Gotta study for finals.” Tim continued down the alley, and Time stalked behind him.

“Study?” Time blew a raspberry. “Don’t be lame.” When Tim didn’t rise to the bait, he added, “What are you studying?”

“Accounting.”

“Oh, super lame.”

“You know, I used to think so, but I’ve actually grown to really like it.”

“Nerd.”

Tim scowled, but ignored the jab. “Besides, there’s a good future in it, and I might actually be able to pay off my student loans.”

Tim stopped when Time started laughing uproariously. “Ridiculous, Tim! By the time you graduate, your whole chosen career path will belong to AI.”

Time continued laughing.

“I–” Tim tried to protest, but it was the only word he was able to get out, and his jaw moved up and down soundlessly. Sure, there had been rumours at college, and sure, they had all joked about interning for computers just last autumn – but that all felt like distant harmless fun. Could the cat be right? Did cats know about these things?

“Ah, sorry I laughed,” Time said, regaining his composure. “Must be a nasty shock, learning your boring job’s just been downgraded to a boring hobby.”

“Um,” said Tim, “yeah…”

“Look, really, I’m sorry. Fact is, I like you, and I think I can help you out. With those loans, I mean.”

Tim grunted a chuckle. “You? But you’re a cat – nature’s apex asshole.” Time snarled. “How could a cat help anything?”

“You daft? You hard of imagination or something? You really can’t conceive of any way a magical cat could be of use?”

“Oh, so now you’re a magical cat?”

“I’m talking, aren’t I?” Time said. “And yes, technically I happen to be a familiar.”

“Like one of those D&D things?”

Time grimaced. “No, not like some stupid game! I’m the real thing, damn it!” Then his fur rose and he hissed. “And I was going to say that you have a real special aura for a mere mortal – given that you can both see and hear me – and that I sense tremendous potential in you, and that I could teach you magic and that would make all your problems go away and you’d have an awesome life forever – but it sounds like you’re not interested.”

Time huffed, spun around, and sauntered down the fence back the way he came.

“W-wait!” Tim said, tripping over himself trying to keep pace with the cat. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it! Is this all really true? Please, if you can help me – I’ll do anything!”

Time stopped, and turned around.

“Is that so?”

“Yes, please! I’m drowning in debt and… existential dread, I guess.”

“Hmm,” said Time, pondering. He leaned down and sniffed at Tim, his tail twitching. “Fine. Provisionally, I’ll help you, since I’m such a nice guy.”

“Oh thank you!”

“But you must do everything I say, yes?”

“Sure thing, boss! So, what are you going to teach me? Fireballs? Invisibility? Ooh! Wingardium levi–”

“–Stop. Just stop with the pop references, you ridiculous man-child.”

Tim’s face fell.

“I’m going to teach you some real magic. Specifically, some alchemy, which will fix your money woes.”

“Alchemy? Like turning lead into gold?”

“Yeah, like that, except real and not more of your pop drivel. You’re going to turn steel into diamonds. But first, I need to get some supplies, and you’re going to help me. Any questions?”

“Yeah, one. If you’re a familiar, doesn’t that mean you belong to a witch?”

Time sneered. “Close, but not quite. It’s the witch that belongs to the familiar, actually, and mine died recently so I’m currently a free agent. If you play your cards right, maybe I’ll let you take her place.”

“Oh. Uh, condolences?”

“Don’t be. Now let’s go.”

Time led Tim through the suburbs until they came to an ancient house at the end of a cul-de-sac, surrounded by a rusting iron fence that was almost completely overgrown with the wildest vines Tim had ever seen. The pale light cast over the place by the rising moon made every shadow seem sinister.

“Looks haunted,” Tim said.

“Not since 1915. Now come on, get through that gate. Use your shoulder.”

The yard inside was a jungle of weeds and the strangest flowers, all of them choking crumbling statues and the rusted bones of a ’64 Mustang. There was only the barest path that Tim could see, and he only saw it because Time revealed it to him. The cat led him to a rickety shed leaning against the main house.

“What is this place?” Tim asked.

“This is where my former witch lived. I need to get my supplies.”

“Oh! Dude, I don’t like trespassing.”

“Well you’re not, because a) she’s dead, and b) I technically own the place. Trouble is, she was a human and did silly human things like installing locks and locking doors, and alas, that’s beyond my paws. So if you please, pick up that sledgehammer leaning against the shed.”

“Um… okay?” Tim grabbed the very-new-looking hammer, with its fine black 20 lbs drop-forged steel head, hoisted it into the air, and grunted. He looked at the depressed grass where the hammer’s head had been resting. “So is the key under the hammer?”

“The hammer is the key. Smash the door.”

“What!?”

“Just do it! I already said I’m the owner, and you said you’d do what I told you to.”

“Yeah, but–”

“–smashy!”

Tim rolled his eyes, lumbered to the shed door, heaved the hammer up with a herniating grunt, and brought it into and through the door and part of the wall, tearing the front half of the shed nearly off.

Then all hell broke loose.

Suddenly a klaxon started blaring and strobing red lights appeared all around the overgrown garden. Time bolted into the shed – and presumably deeper into the house – shouting one last thing over his shoulder – “The diamonds are on the mantel!” – and then there was a white flash and hiss, and acrid smoke filled the air.

A coughing fit overtook Tim and through his watering eyes he could dimly see a figure approaching – a silhouette on the pulsing red smoke. And then he felt a knee drive into his groin and his senses disconnected for a moment.

When he recovered, he first noticed that the klaxon had stopped. Then he noticed he was kneeling on a lovely Persian carpet, indoors, beside a grand fireplace – oh! indeed there was a diamond necklace on the mantel – and that his hands were bound behind him. And there was something around his neck. A… leash? He followed it to a nearby Baroque couch upon which a woman in a blue tracksuit was lounging – and she held the other end of the leash in her hand.

Beside her stood an ancient brass birdcage, and within was a very pissed-off looking Time.

“Ah,” she said, “the burglar’s back with us.”

“I thought you said your witch was dead, Time?”

“Well she’s dead to me!” hissed the cat.

“Oh, that’s real nice,” said the witch.

“I want tuna and mayo!” Time shouted. “Tuna-mayo-tuna-mayo-tuna-mayo!”

“Well you can’t have it! Not only are you pre-diabetic, but it makes your farts reek.”

“I don’t care! I want tuna-mayo!” Time threw himself against the birdcage with futility and then flumped.

“Well I care, dummy. You’re not killing yourself on my watch.” Then she tugged the leash. “So, burglar. Now what are we going to do about you?”

Tim gulped.

“Let me guess. Time spun you a tale. Made you an offer? Wait, wait, do let me guess. You break in here and, what, make him a tuna-mayo sandwich, and he’ll… grant you a wish?”

“He said he’d teach me magic, ma’am,” Tim said, his lip quivering. “Said he’d teach me alchemy, to turn steel into diamonds.”

The witch snorted. “Naughty kitty.”

“Please, ma’am, I didn’t mean to cause you any harm. Please don’t eat me.”

“Oh boy.” She rolled her eyes. “It seems like you’ve got some deep misconceptions about witches.”

“Sorry.”

“Pretty racist, really.”

“Sorry,” Tim whispered.

“Some misconceptions in general. Thing is, I’m obviously not dead, despite what my furry little property might have asserted. And he was locked outside for a good reason!” She turned to Time. “When the nice handsome vet tells you to get off your rolly butt and get some exercise, you damn well better do it!”

Time blew a raspberry.

“Next, witches don’t eat people–”

Tim relaxed.

“–outside of Hallowe’en. Ha! I joke, I joke, poor form, sorry, I know. No, we kill irritating people the same way anyone else does.” She dug a handgun out of her purse.

Tim shrieked.

“But,” she said, and then clicked her tongue. She dropped the gun back in her purse. “But, Time is a familiar, and if he offered you a deal, that’s formed a bond. Even if it was in bad faith. That means, you weren’t entirely acting of your own free will.”

“So you’re not going to kill me?”

“No, I suppose not. It would be a demerit on my licence, and it would leave a ghastly mess in my living room.” She pulled a cigarette out of her purse and lit it. “Indeed, because of my mouthy little friend here–” she kicked the birdcage “–I’m obliged to fulfil the contract, and teach you some magic.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” she said, taking a long puff. She snapped her fingers and the leash vanished, along with the bindings on Tim’s hands. “So how about this. I’ll free you now, we’ll have a nice meal, and you can rest yourself in my luxurious guest bedroom. And then tomorrow…”

“Yes?”

“Tomorrow, after a hearty breakfast, I’ll…” she leaned forward, exhaling smoke.

“Yes?”

“I’ll teach you the ancient art…” She ran her tongue along her lips.

Tim swallowed.

“Of fixing my goddamn shed.”