Magic Dreams (Kate Daniels #4.5)(16)
Author: Ilona Andrews

“A waste of time,” Mother said.

“I have a plan.”

My mother clamped her hand to her chest, pretending to be scared. “Dali, do not make Komatsu Grocery explode. Where will I shop?”

“Mother!”

My mother rolled her eyes to the heavens with a look of uttermost suffering. I growled and went off to find my alpha.

By the time I fought my way through my relatives to the garden, Jim was human again and very naked. He was seated by the tree and the four older women were pouring spelled water over him, trying to purify the body.

His gaze found me, dark eyes pleading for help. I walked over to him, trying not to ogle.

“Help,” he said.

I took his hand and held it. “They’re trying to keep the evil out, until my mother can get the snail to hatch.”

“Snails don’t hatch,” he said.

“This one does. Stay awake until I come back.”

“Where are you going?”

“I have to do something. Nothing dangerous. I’ll be back soon, okay? Don’t worry, my family will take good care of you.”

The hard alpha mask snapped onto Jim’s face. “I look worried to you?”

“No. Don’t kill any of my relatives while I’m gone either.”

“Where are you going?”

I walked away.

If you deny a cat information, it will nag at him. If the cat happens to be a spymaster, it will drive him completely crazy. It would keep him awake. Besides, after his lecture on how I was smart but stupid and had a chip on my shoulder, I was allowed a little payback.

*

IT WAS ALMOST noon by the time I made it to South Asia. It was a grand name for a small spot in southern Atlanta, where the Asian-themed shops aggregated in a large plaza formed by an old mall. I stopped there a couple of times a month—it was the closest place to buy manga. Also, Komatsu Grocery was hands down the best Asian market in the area. They had a large selection and their seaweed salad was delicious. Whenever I went, I’d buy a two-pound tub of it and then pig out as soon as I got home.

I parked Pooki on a remote street, stepped out of my car, and stripped off my clothes.

There was a thing that August’s family would dislike even more than having to speak to outsiders. They would go to great lengths to avoid attracting attention. And I was about to Cause a Scene.

My panties were off. I crouched and scratched a name in the pavement with the car key: Jim. Next I put my glasses on the passenger’s seat, locked the car, dropped the keys behind the left wheel, and took a deep breath.

The world dissolved, swirling into a thousand bokeh, blurry little lights in every color of the rainbow.

Pretty colors.

Ooooh, so pretty.

Mmm, pretty, pretty.

So many scents. I liked that one, and this one, and this other one was kind of disgusting, and this one made me hungry.

I licked my lips. Mmm. Yummy smell, so good.

The bokeh slowly came into focus: I was lying in a street. Hmmm. I knew this street. This was South Asia.

Why was I here?

I looked down. On the pavement in front of me, right between my two paws, was a single word: Jim.

Jim. My handsome, awesome, scary Jim. Rawr. I smiled and sniffed the name. It didn’t smell like Jim.

A memory popped in my head like a soap bubble bursting: Jim, dying, soul siphoned, Keong Emas, poachers, August. I came here to find out why August had disappeared for twenty-four hours.

I rose and padded around the corner. The magic was still up and when the light caught my fur, every hair gleamed. People stopped and stared. They knew who I was; I had come to South Asia before many times. They knew my magic, too, because it rolled off me with every step.

I walked over to the door of Komatsu Grocery and lay down in the middle of the street, staring at the door.

People looked at me, shocked.

I gave them a nice big smile. That’s right, look what big teeth I have. I knew I was a vegetarian, but aside from Jim and a few friends, nobody else did. Besides, just because I didn’t eat meat, didn’t mean I wouldn’t bite.

The few people aiming for the store decided they had better places to be.

After fifteen minutes August’s second cousin, who liked to call herself Jackie, stuck her head out the door. I released my claws and stretched, making long scratches on the pavement. She gulped and ducked back in.

I could just imagine the conversation inside: “She’s lying in front of our store!” “In front of our store? In the street where everyone can see?” “Yes!” “Oh no.”

Minutes passed by. A little blue butterfly landed on my nose. I blinked at it and it fluttered to my ear. A big yellow butterfly gently floated over and landed on my paw. Soon a whole swarm of them floated up and down around me, like a swirl of multicolored petals. It happened in my backyard, too, if the magic was strong enough. Butterflies were small and light, and very magic sensitive. For some reason I made them feel safe and they gravitated to me like iron shavings to a magnet. They ruined my ferocious badass image, but you’d have to be a complete beast to swat butterflies.

If a baby deer frolicked out from between the buildings trying to cuddle up, I would roar. I wouldn’t bite it, but I would roar. I had my limits.

I flicked my tail. Hmm, a half hour had passed and we were getting close to the forty-five-minute mark. The family was trying to save face or having an argument, but if nobody came to say hello in the next few minutes, their behavior would be edging on rude. One can’t ignore a mystic white tiger on their doorstep. It just wasn’t done.

The door opened and August’s auntie bowed and held it open. “Please, come in.”

I trotted inside, leaving my Lepidoptera entourage outside. August’s auntie led me past the counter to the back room, where August’s grandmother, his uncle, and his mother sat. The entire Komatsu family with the exception of the children and August’s white father. Their faces looked ashen.

I sat, curling my tail around me.

We looked at one another.

“We know why you are here,” August’s uncle said. Mr. Komatsu was a solemn-looking man in the best of times; now his expression was so grave, he could’ve been carved out of stone.

I waited.

“August is dead,” he said.

I sighed. August was the first male son in his generation. The one who would be forgiven every wrong and permitted every privilege, because years later, when his father and uncle were old, he would assume the burden of taking care of Komatsu family. It was a terrible loss for the family.

“We have buried his body. It is our affair,” Mr. Komatsu said.