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Nine Lives (witch's familiar!Ezra x witch!f!reader) - Part 9 and EPILOGUE

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SERIES MASTERLIST

pairing: witch's familiar!Ezra x witch!f!reader

summary: As you came into your powers and your curves filled in, Ezra realized he feelings for you were more than just affection. The only problem? He's a 300 year old crused witch. Oh, and he's a cat.

contents: age gap (like 300 years), so much angst, violence, moth never uses y/n.

wc: 5.9k

a/n: Hello my friends. Maybe you've noticed that I haven't been around for a while. Life has been very busy and, frankly, this website just hasn't made me feel the way it used to. That said, I've had the ending to this fic in my back pocket since December and I really want to share it because there are so many wonderful friends on here who care about what happens and I care deeply about this story.

Which is why I'm currently revising it into an original work with a goal to publish it as a novel. Writing that "out loud" feels very scary and like I'm inviting the evil eye but maybe sharing that is a way to manifest that my dreams of being a published author come true. I've had false starts before. 🧿🧿🧿

So, yeah, this fic will be going bye bye soon but before it does, I hope that you enjoy this last chapter. Thank you so much for the support. The comments and reblogs have been everything to me. I've been very bad at responding to them so please forgive me but I read and savor them all. Thank you for being along for the ride.

Big thanks to my betas slash ride or dies Birdee, @whocaresstillthelouvre @schnarfer @toomanytookas

🐈‍⬛

You sit straight up in bed, a wave of hot panic descending over you. The sky is beginning to slip into the thinnest shades of violet. Dawn will soon be here and the other side of the mattress is empty. This must be a nightmare. Even if it’s not, you still fell asleep when you promised to stay awake. “Ez?” you call.

Around you is all stillness.

You leap up, heart smashing against your ribs. You promised Ezra you would be with him when he changed.

His sweater lays on the rug where he left it the night before but the rest of his clothing is gone. You pick it up, clutch its soft fabric to your chest. A few quick strides put you in the living room. Empty. Somewhere far in the trees you can hear the first birds of morning warbling.

“Ezra,” you say with more urgency.

Did he change? Did something go wrong? Did they already take him? A moment ago you were deep asleep, now you’ve never been so wide awake. Adrenaline courses through you, stabs at your chest. You think you’ll be sick. How could you have fallen asleep? Somehow there are still tears left to well in your eyes.

You didn’t get to say goodbye.

You throw open the bathroom door, push back the shower curtain. In your room you pull boxes out from under the bed to check his old hiding place. He’s nowhere to be found.

You’re still calling Ezra’s name when you burst into the store.

It’s still dark down here where the windows face away from the rising sun. Fairy lights twinkle near the entrance, a dim glow that would be welcoming if you weren’t in a panic.

There’s movement in the office and you have a brief moment of relief until you recognize Margot’s shape through the shadows. She’s in the old armchair, a groggy gasp escaping her. She must have spent the night down here.

“Where is he?” you ask before she can even open her mouth to speak.

You take a lap of the first floor, searching high and low. The lights blink on as you enter each room. The basement door stands open and you shout Ezra’s name down the steps.

“What’s going on?” Margot asks, wrapping her cardigan tight around her. Her voice is ragged and if you weren’t in such a state you would notice that her eyes are just as red and puffy as yours.

“Percy, where’s Ezra?” you ask.

Percy is perched on Margot’s shoulder. He stands on his hind legs, balancing himself with one paw on her dangling earring. His dark eyes are alert, nose twitching, but all he gives you is a solemn shake of his head.

“Did it happen?” Margot asks.

“I was supposed to stay with him,” you say. You can barely manage a whisper.

You’re dizzy as you realize this is what the rest of your life will feel like. Ezra’s absence is so loud it makes your ears ring.

You shake the thought away, unwilling to accept it.

Margot reaches out a comforting hand but you’re already turning on your heel. Without another word, you begin to run.

It’s not long before you’re thick in the forest, dashing through the trees. Tears blur your vision, rendering your surroundings a wash of dreary brown and orange. You can barely see the path ahead of you let alone the last of the leaves clinging to the trees. The soft soles of your house shoes are saturated with last night’s rain and you can feel every twig and stone underfoot.

In your race downstairs, you’d thrown on whatever clothes were at hand and put Ezra’s sweater over your head. Each inhale you take smells like him.

Ezra.

You think his name, visualize his face in all of its detail down to each dark hair of stubble on his chin. You remember the feel of the planes of his chest, the smooth roll of his shoulders beneath your touch. Soon your powers will be gone but right now, you’re calling upon them to keep him safe, to take you to him.

You might as well be racing the sun itself as it begins to rise. The sky is a hazy sherbert orange now and light catches on the raindrops that hang from the branches. Your lungs sting and the muscles in your legs burn but you can’t slow now.

Somewhere in the distance, you can hear your name echoing off of the trees. Margot is calling after you but you don’t slow your pace.

By the time you reach the rusted, wrought iron gate of the old cemetery, the sky is kissed with pink. You've broken out in a sweat despite the prickling cold air that’s making your breath come out in steaming clouds.

You have no idea what you’ll find here, if he’s even here at all. You try your hardest to keep the worst possibilities at bay. This was where he hunted squirrels and tussled with the stray cats, where he went when he wanted to be alone. If Ezra is anywhere, it’s here.

You stop short. The sound of your heart pounding in your ears drowns out the noises of the morning. A sob catches in your throat.

“Ezra,” you breathe.

He sits huddled before one of the graves. You don’t even have to look at its marker to know that it’s engraved with a single name. Cee.

You gasp for air as you look at him, frozen and light headed. What you see confounds you. Dawn has well and truly come and yet Ezra remains unchanged. His body, which you so meticulously examined the night before, is still human, still broad and beautiful. He’s shivering, teeth chattering. Wet leaves are stuck to his bare feet which have become dirty and scratched. He looks up at you, his mussed hair stuck to his forehead, brown eyes dazed.

You throw open the gate and race to his side, falling to your knees beside him.

“You’re still here,” you say.

You hold his face in your hands, trying to make sense of him. This is no figment of your imagination. The stubble on his jaw bites into your palms, his skin chills your fingertips. It’s impossible yet you thank all the stars to have even one more moment spent with him.

“Forgive me,” he says, his voice weak. “I didn’t want you to see.”

You should be angry but you’re flooded with relief that he’s still here and concern for how utterly shattered he looks. You blow into your hands, heating them with your powers and rub his arms, then his ice cold cheeks. His lips have lost their color and you put kisses on them. They’re frigid and chapped but you’ve never had a better kiss than this one when just a few minutes ago you thought he was lost forever.

“Moon and stars,” you hear Margot gasp behind you.

She struggles to catch her breath, clasping a stitch in her side.

“How?” she asks.

The sun has risen, a new day blossoming through the trees. There’s no denying it now. The Elder’s spell didn’t work.

Ezra merely shakes his head. His eyes are glassy from tears and exhaustion. Neither of you are sharp enough now to understand it.

“What spell?” Margot asks.

It takes a moment to realize she’s not talking to either of you. Percy climbs from her shoulder into Margot’s cupped hand, all the while sniffing the air. The mouse begins turning in a circle impatiently until she sets him down on the leafy ground. Percy scurries to Ezra’s side, his nose poking around him as if he’s trying to seek out some cheese. Ezra puts out his hand and Percy lets him lift him up to his face.

“He says Ezra’s protected by your magic,” Margot says. “Did you do something last night?”

Your cheeks heat and you hope Margot can’t see the memories of those lingering touches, the all consuming pleasure that’s still so fresh in your mind. That’s not at all what she means.

“No,” you say, watching Percy’s little paws lean against Ezra’s bottom lip with an insistent squeak. His mouth falls open as he stares at the mouse in wonder.

“Not last night,” Ezra says. He looks at you, that familiar reverence in his eye. “On the full moon.”

You blink as you recall the words you spoke that night. The protection spell you'd hastily come up with. You’d forgotten it. It had been overshadowed by everything that came after, the exhilaration of learning about Ezra’s feelings, the first kiss.

“That was barely a spell,” you say.

Percy climbs out towards you on the tips of Ezra’s fingers.

“It’s strong,” Margot translates.

You shake your head. It doesn’t make sense. A spell like that, almost an afterthought, would be nothing compared to the magic of the Elders.

“Little mage, you can’t begin to fathom how powerful you are,” Ezra says.

Now your mind races with a litany of questions. Will they find another way to turn him? When your powers are gone, will your spell fade? What, exactly, are you capable of?

There’s no time to delve into any of them because a branch above you rustles as a large owl lands on it, sending leaves and fat rain drops to the ground below. Percy squeaks with alarm and scuttles back to Margot. Suddenly the elders are within the gates. Boggin scampers a few steps ahead of the witches, chittering away. The three Elders look quite at home in this ancient cemetery, regal and enigmatic.

A chill runs over your skin that has nothing to do with the frigid morning air. Esme’s eyes dart around the scene but Hester merely regards you with a raised eyebrow.

You can only imagine how you look. Your clothes are wrinkled, shoes muddy. There are bags under your eyes which are still red from all of the crying you’ve done.

Your pulse quickens but Ezra rises to his feet, standing tall. He pulls you up beside him, his hand holding firmly to yours.

“You ought to be a cat by now,” Hester says flatly.

“It would appear your potion was a dud,” Ezra says.

“And how could that be?” she replies. She’s smiling with cold amusement but her eyes are all suspicion.

“When I told you that her abilities were uncanny, I meant it. The magic of three prestigious elders foiled by that of a young witch,” Ezra replies.

His lip nearly curls into a smile. You wish you could share his confidence. Ezra might be safe now but if your powers are gone, will your spell go with it?

“Speak plainly,” Oswin complains. His gloved hand raps his cane against the ground.

“I cast a protection spell under a full moon,” you say.

“And the very same spell shields her from harm,” Ezra tells them.

It’s a bluff but your breath catches. If he’s right, if your gifts are that strong, maybe you can save yourself too.

It’s worth a shot. You quickly whisper words over yourself as Oswin glances to the others with concern. Magic prickles across your skin like goosebumps and Ezra squeezes your hand.

“You’re welcome to attempt to wrest her powers if you’re prepared to suffer more embarrassment,” he says.

“How dare you speak to your elders like that,” Esme says.

“I’m older than any witch here,” Ezra says with a smirk.

“Insolent beast,” she snarls and advances on him, eyes blazing.

Ezra suddenly doubles as if he’s been punched in the gut by an invisible fist.

“Stop!” you yell.

Esme twists her hand in the air, her bony fingers claw like. Hester’s familiar bounces, squealing and baring its teeth. You ready yourself for a fight but Margot pulls you back.

“Wait,” she says, breathless.

Ezra groans, the muscles in his neck straining. His jaw tightens but his defiant gaze returns to Esme. His shoulders heave with a great inhale and he straightens again. The discomfort on his face slips away and soon he’s wearing a wicked grin.

You let out a shaky breath. Watching your spell hold fast is so exhilarating you almost laugh.

Esme’s nostrils flare and Oswin staggers back, his dog familiar whining at his side.

It’s Hester who lets out a good old fashioned cackle.

“This is all quite impressive. Such a clever witch. No matter. We’ll deal with him once we’ve divested you of your gifts. I’m afraid that there is no spell strong enough to keep us from your magic,” she says.

You can barely draw breath. She’s right. A few muttered words are as brittle as an eggshell under the hammer that is Hester’s magic.

“Now. Step forward and we will do what we came for,” Hester commands.

You look to Margot who swallows hard. Her eyes glisten with tears but her jaw is clenched, doing her very best to be brave. Ezra’s brow is furrowed in determination and you remind yourself that dawn has come and gone. You foiled the elder’s magic unintentionally and you can do it again. At least, you have no choice but to believe that you can.

He gives you a nod and one last pulse around your hand before he releases you.

“Any last charms or incantations you would like to perform?” Hester asks.

You shake your head, already focused on what will come next.

Hester holds out her hand for the others. Esme grasps on eagerly but Owsin gives her outstretched hand a wary glance.

“I’m sorry, Hester,” he says. “I won’t do it. I didn’t get this far by crossing witches with such mighty gifts.”

“Very well,” Hester says with venom. “We can handle this ourselves.”

This is the moment. Your chest is constricted and your legs shake as you hope against hope that your spell was enough to protect you as it did Ezra. You close your eyes as you hear the witches begin to chant. You call on your own magic for what could be the very last time.

Wind swirls around you, lifting the sodden leaves from the ground. They pelt you in soggy patches as they fly about. Your clothes billow and your hair is caught in the storm. The early morning light is replaced by darkness, a swirling of black clouds. It’s hard to hear anything but the whistling of the air around you and it nearly chokes you, forcing itself up your nose and down your throat.

Through the chaos, you can see Hester’s eyes rolled back as she chants, her porcelain face made gaunt and ghoulish as if you can see her true form without the glamors of her magic. All the while, you try to say your own words, cast your own spell to counter hers, though no sound can fight its way out of your throat.

You fall to your knees, the hard earth biting them and you dig into the ground, mud catching under your fingernails. All of your muscles ache, spittle drips from between your clenched teeth, and you think you might break in two. You continue to recite your spell even as the air leaves your lungs.

Your vision blurs, and your body trembles, and all is quiet save for the drumming of your heartbeat in your ears. Without warning, a pulse leaves your palms. It’s strong enough to make the earth shake, radiating out from you in a great wave. Esme is knocked off of her feet and Oswin grabs hold to one of the old gravestones. That, you’re sure, is the sensation of your magic being pulled from your body.

Vertigo overtakes you and you give in, finally releasing your body and collapsing to the sodden ground.

🐈‍⬛

It was years ago that you found the young buck in the forest, the poor thing tangled in a clutch of thorny underbrush. The day was warm and green, perfect for a short hike in the woods. The sound of the deer caught your attention, bleating and upsetting the branches around it as it struggled. The poor thing became even more agitated when it saw you approach.

“It’s okay. I’m going to help you,” you said softly. You held your hands aloft.

“Careful, little mage,” Ezra warned.

He had been your familiar for only a year then but the two of you had become fast friends.

You moved towards the deer slowly as it huffed and pulled against the snare, tightening it further.

“Be still,” Ezra chided the buck though neither of you had ever possessed the ability to communicate with animals.

As you crept close the deer calmed, somehow either understanding that you meant no harm or giving in to whatever fate you had planned. With gentle hands, you unwrapped the vines from his leg. The buck gave a grunt as you pulled thorns from where they had lodged into its smooth fur. Though there was some blood, the cuts weren’t deep.

“Does that hurt?” you asked, though you knew it would give no reply.

When you released him, the buck stood gingerly on his hoof and took a cautious step. His honey colored eyes locked on you and you swore you felt its gratitude with perfect clarity.

“That’s better, huh?” you said.

To your surprise, the deer bowed his crowned head. You let out a laugh. At this point in life, you were no stranger to magic, but this moment held some special enchantment, something that couldn’t be captured in spellbooks and amulets.

You put out your hand again and the buck sniffed, the whiskers on his black nose tickling your palm. With a swallow, you slowly rested your fingertips on his snout. He didn’t even flinch.

Until a terrible crash came from the trees. Both you and the buck startled and he fled, leaping easily over the bushes and disappearing into the woods. The noise grew closer and your heart hammered in your ribs. More deer smashed through the trees– two doe and a spotted fawn– who raced past so quickly, you were knocked backwards.

“You alright?” Ezra asked as you stood and dusted yourself off.

“Yeah. That scared the shit out of me,” you chuckled.

Then another creature burst forth but this was no fawn. You’d always thought coyotes were cute with their bushy tails and pointy ears but you’d never been confronted with one in the middle of its hunt. It bared its pointed teeth, hunched in a mean looking crouch. Your eyes went wide and all of your muscles locked, useless to do anything but stare and shake.

The coyote crouched as if to pounce at you but it wasn’t given the chance. Ezra lunged for the animal, ears back and claws out, his own sharp teeth sinking into the coyote’s tawny fur. The coyote yelped and you screamed as Ezra slashed and hissed. He was fierce but Ezra was no match for the beast who easily shook him off.

“Ezra!” you yelled as his slender body hit the ground hard.

The coyote sprung over him, catching Ezra in his fearsome jaws.

“Run!” Ezra managed.

His claws continued to bite at the coyote’s face, the fur of his tail stood out straight, and he swore and grunted as he was thrown around like a ragdoll.

“Stop! Stop!” you begged, your cheeks wet with hot tears.

You were about to watch your best friend be torn apart by a wild animal and all you could do was scream.

“Stop!” you yelled again. This time it was different. The word came out of you with more power and depth, a voice you didn’t recognize as your own, and with it an echo that sent the coyote back a yard, toppling over its own feet. Ezra flew from its teeth, landing on the forest floor in a heap of fur and blood.

You barely registered the coyote whimpering, tucking its tail and running back the way it came. You were already at Ezra’s side, scooping his pathetic remains into your quivering arms. He twitched, eyes half open. You couldn’t bear to look at the wounds but you could feel them, hot and sticky with blood. There were spells that could help him, potions and salves that could ease the pain, but they were far beyond the powers of a teenage witch.

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” you chanted. These words were thin and strangled, so different from the ones that had shaken the animal off of him.

Margot. She could fix this. You began to run, holding Ezra against your chest.

Margot, I need you, you thought as loud as you could but you knew that it was impossible for your aunt to hear your thoughts from such a distance.

“We’ll get you home. You’ll be okay,” you said again.

You stumbled over rocks and roots, blinded by the tears in your eyes. Each step, Ezra grew closer to death. He’d lived for centuries and now he was dying because he wanted to protect you. Because you let that fucking coyote’s dinner get away.

Maybe death would be a gift for him. He’d lamented to you countless times how lonely his life had been, that the spell that made him a familiar kept him from taking his own life. But the thought of losing him was unbearable.

There was still a good stretch of woods between you and home when you heard Ezra wheeze. He was limp, motionless. You stopped and put your ear to him, tried to see if his chest was moving but saw only so much blood.

“No,” you sobbed.

You sat in the dirt and leaves and curled yourself into a ball around Ezra. His head rested in the crook of your elbow and you kissed his face and cried over him.

You didn’t know the right words and your powers were still young but you were desperate. With your eyes squeezed tight, snot gushing from your nose, limbs heavy and exhausted, you called on every ounce of magic in you and begged for it to obey. You willed it out of you through every muscle, every pore. The moon and stars and the trees themselves, whoever would listen, you plead for help.

All you could manage to say was a watery, “I love you,” and for a long while, you sat there rocking Ezra, sure that you’d lost him.

There was no gust of wind, no lightning or flickering of a candle. The birds sang and the branches rustled with squirrels. The sun shined through the leaves.

Until finally, you felt the faint beating of Ezra’s heart.

🐈‍⬛

Margot is beside you though the music of her earrings and bracelets sounds far away. Your eyes blink open and you find yourself gazing up into Ezra’s handsome face. This time you’re the one cradled in his arms. Your powers may be gone but at least you have him, just for a little bit longer.

“I’ve got you,” he says.

Oswin helps Esme to her feet, sticks and debris caught in her silver hair. Hester’s shoulders rise and fall with deep breaths but she remains untouched. The only sign of her exertion is a loose tendril of hair that’s stuck to her forehead.

Your eyelids are heavy and if it weren’t for Ezra holding you, you’re sure you’d melt away. You let them drift closed again, too weak to fight. It’s time to surrender.

And then you gasp. There’s something— it’s small and far away like an echo, a vibration from deep within your chest. It takes some effort but you sit up.

“Careful,” Ezra says, keeping a steady hand on your back.

“Are you alright?” Margot asks.

You can’t respond, utterly focused on the sensation, trying to call it forward like you’re remembering the details of the dream. You look at your hands, clammy and caked with dirt, and then your eyes fall on the elders.

You snap your fingers. No. It’s not a snap. You do it just the way Ezra taught you, like flint hitting steel.

And there’s a spark.

Margot inhales sharply behind you. Esme actually lets out a yelp.

They wanted to take your powers. They wanted to take Ezra. The thought makes your heart beat so furiously, you’re sure you could set the world ablaze.

With another flick of your fingers, a flame leaps from your palm. The leaves catch as though they aren’t soaked in last night’s rain but kerosene. Fire burns on the expanse of ground between you and Hester’s feet.

Ezra is exhausted, every line in his face cutting deeper than ever before, but he beams at you with pride.

“I told you,” he says.

It’s hard to accept that he was right, that you have magic you can’t fathom but you’re grateful for it. With his help, you stand again, resolute about one thing– they won’t dare to take him away.

Oswin watches aghast, his familiar barking. Esme’s owl circles in the sky above, startled from its perch. Boggin runs up Hester’s robes and stands on her shoulder, squealing nervously.

“Well. That was quite a show,” she says, waving her hand to extinguish the flames before her.

She examines you, this time with a much more careful consideration.

“Maybe we were too hasty. There’s no reason these talents should go to waste,” she says to the others as if her judgement means anything.

She’s wise enough to know when she’s been bested and cunning enough to try and stay in your good graces.

“You wouldn’t seriously consider–” Esme begins, all puffed up with indignation.

“You’ll have to handle your personal squabbles some other way,” Hester snaps at her. She returns her gaze to you with a cordial smile. “Besides, think of all we could accomplish together.”

After all you’ve been put through in the last 24 hours, Hester’s sudden geniality makes you feel sick.

“I’m not interested,” you say.

Hester’s cordial demeanor drops, her mouth forming a tight line.

“All I want is to be left alone. And if you ever threaten another person I love, I’ll show you the full extent of my powers,” you say.

Hester’s jaw shifts and you wonder the last time anyone spoke to her in such a way.

“Alright, then. She has spoken,” she tells the Elders.

“Come,” Oswin says, eager to leave this behind.

You nearly collapse into Ezra’s arms as the three witches retreat towards the gates. You breathe a sigh of relief. This might not be the last you hear of the Elders. Esme might yet convince Hester to change her mind. But right now, you want to celebrate. You look up into Ezra’s soft brown eyes and your heart flips. Not only will he stay by your side but he’ll truly have the chance to live the life he deserves.

“Wait,” you say.

Hester stops, casting her eyes over her shoulder. You step out of Ezra’s grasp.

“There are others like him, aren’t there?” you ask. “Like Ezra.”

“Of course,” Hester says.

“Turn them back,” you demand.

There’s another Ezra out there somewhere. He’s done things he regrets but he’s paid the price ten fold. He deserves to find his own little mage or at least to stand on his own two feet.

“We coudln’t possibly–”

“Give them an appeal or retry them. Commute their sentences. I don’t care how you do it.”

Hester’s eyes alight again.

“Turn them back or I will,” you warn.

Hester’s frown is so sour you can almost taste it in your own mouth but she knows, maybe for the first time, that she’s powerless.

“Fine,” is her answer, a short, bitter syllable.

Before you can say another word or even crack a smile, she and the others are gone.

All you can do is laugh and it unwinds the knot that’s been tied around your heart.

“Did you see the look on Esme’s face?” Margot asks.

She puts a gleeful kiss on Percy’s cheek.

“Oh! I’m so proud of you!” she swoons.

She holds your arms and looks at you with fresh eyes, then pulls you into a tight embrace. You inhale, drawing in the familiar warm smell on her hair.

“You never cease to amaze me,” she whispers in your ear.

You bask in her joy, letting her sway back and forth.

Over her shoulder you lock eyes with Ezra. His face has regained its color and his cheek is dimpled with a wistful smile. Even unkempt and exhausted, he’s still the most beautiful man you’ve laid eyes on.

“Thank you,” Ezra says softly when Margot finally lets go of you.

“I haven’t done anything,” you reply. You’re so tired and just now realizing the size of the task you’ve undertaken. Holding the Elders accountable will be a feat in and of itself and, in this moment, it makes you want to crumble.

“There’s no need for modesty, little mage. You’ve just proven yourself a force to be reckoned with,” he chuckles.

You trace the pad of your thumb across the creases that form at the corner of his eye. He sighs contentedly before pulling you into a kiss that feels like magic.

🐈‍⬛

EPILOGUE

The sun kisses your bare shoulders. Soon, Ezra thinks, he’ll be doing the same.

Summer has well and truly come. The garden in front of the Arcane Page is lush with greenery and colorful perennial flowers. As the temperature’s risen, you’ve cast spells that keep the apartment breezy and cool. Much to Ezra’s delight, you’ve broken out your summer wardrobe. Shorts that ride up your thigh, gauzy tops that show off your decolatage, and today a sweet little sundress dotted with flowers.

Margot’s given you both a much deserved day off.

In the months since you faced the Elders, you’ve both been hard at work. Word got out quickly and familiars and witches alike sought you out. It’s been difficult. Not just the demands on your magic but your emotions too. Collecting centuries of trauma is a hard task for such an empathetic witch.

This morning, though, the two of you have only had to worry about what to order at the diner. Of course, Ezra has other plans for you once he gets you home and divests you of that dress.

You stroll down the main street hand in hand enjoying the warmth of the season, the color in the heart of town. The shops are full of patrons, locals and weekend tourists alike, and the smell of vanilla wafts out of the apothecary. The two of you have just passed the yarn shop and the florist when you gasp. Ezra’s arm is nearly yanked out of its socket as you pull him across the road.

He stumbles behind you, grateful that this isn’t a busier thoroughfare.

“Look!” you say.

A long folding table has been set out on the sidewalk in front of the pet store, atop it several metal crates hold cats of various ages and colors. For a moment, the sight makes Ezra’s jaw tighten. It was some time in the late 19th century that he served a witch who put Ezra in a cage whenever he was deemed disobedient. Centuries had passed but he can still remember the bite of the bars against his shoulders.

These cats seem quite content, though. Their enclosures are roomier than the prison Ezra had endured and they’re are filled with all sorts of enrichment. Water, food, even limp little mice and balls with jingle bells. The cats lounge happily in the sunshine, a few of them sleeping soundly.

“Hey there, handsome boy,” you say.

You poke your hand through the wire crate. The cat with a nipped ear inside runs his side against you, angling for a scratch. Affixed to the cage is a laminated sign: Adopt me: Chairman Meow 4Y 11LBs.

“Finally got you, eh? Well, life as a house cat isn’t so bad,” Ezra says.

The cat gives an unpleasant meow and you look at Ezra with a brow raised.

“We’re acquainted. He and I had a few altercations,” Ezra tells you.

“I hope you’ve both reformed your ways,” you say with the shake of your head.

You go on from cage to cage, cooing over each cat and coaxing them over with a pspsps.

“Oh, Ez!” you squeal at the last one.

Inside is a skinny little kitten striped with orange fur.

“Hi, baby,” you say, your voice a high pitched sing song that makes Ezra roll his eyes. It’s a good thing you never spoke to him that way. It’s utterly undignified.

“Would you like to see him?” the volunteer manning the table asks.

“Please!” you answer and watch with unbridled giddiness as the volunteer unlatches the door.

“Let’s see if he’ll come,” she tells you.

You hold out your hand and the kitten pads forward to sniff at your fingertips. He dips his small head so you can pet between his ears.

“What a sweetie,” you say.

Then he flops down and shows you his belly.

Show off.

You let out a delighted squeal, eyes glittering as you stroke the light fur on its belly. It wraps a paw around your wrist and gives bunny kicks as you giggle.

“Looks like he likes you,” the volunteer says. “You can pick him up.”

You need no encouraging. “Come here, you,” you say, scooping the kitten into your arms.

He begins to rub his cheeks against your jawline, purring so loudly Ezra can hear it.

He can’t help but feel a little jealous. For a moment, it’s like he’s forgotten that he’s human, that he can do much more than snuggle under your chin. Some instincts never fade.

“Oh, Ez!” you gush. Your eyes are as big as saucers when you look at him, absolutely smitten.

“Surely you jest,” he says before you can even say the words aloud.

“Why not? I’ve never had a cat. Not a real one at least,” you say, scratching at the kitten’s neck as it gazes at you reverently.

Ezra sighs. For years it’s been just you and him. Even when so many things came between you, he was always at your side. But seeing the unadulterated joy on your face, he knows he can’t deny you. You’ll always be his little mage and he’ll always serve you, once by bond, now of his own free will.

The kitten reaches out a paw as if beckoning for Ezra to come closer. He leans towards the little furball. It has a sweet face, round, green eyes and a pink button nose. His ears are too big for hisfeatures but Ezra can’t deny that they’re adorable.

“Hello, little one,” Ezra says.

The kitten smacks him, landing a direct hit on his nose. You laugh as Ezra recoils. A smile grows on his lips. He covers his face with his hand feigning injury.

“That was entirely unprovoked,” he says.

“That’s right. Show him who’s boss,” you say, scratching under the kitten’s chin.

Ezra can almost feel it on his own skin.

“Alright. I’m willing to acquiesce but let’s get one thing straight, you mangey feline,” Ezra says. He slings an arm around your waist and pulls you in tight. “She belongs to me.”

You give a sparkling laugh and then gift Ezra with a kiss so sweet, he’s glad he waited three hundred years for you.

THE END

🐈‍⬛

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