Bella turned wide eyes on him. “The cat just… talked.” She said it with the same tone someone might use to announce they’d just seen Elvis riding a unicorn through the Walmart parking lot.

Jasper’s hand froze halfway to his mug. “What now?” For once, the empath looked genuinely surprised.

“About time your aura opened up,” the cat said. “Took me three visits and a moon cycle just to get through that human static. You’re broadcasting on all frequencies but receiving on none. Typical.”

“Okay,” Bella whispered. “I’m officially losing it.”

“Not necessarily,” Jasper muttered, golden eyes narrowing. “I felt something. Not words. Not thoughts. But… something pushed.”

The cat stretched and leapt onto the bench between them like it was a throne. “Technically, I’m a familiar. The name’s Mabs. Short for Mabigail. Don’t laugh. My witch had a sense of humor that died with the Black Plague.”

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