I’ve already had a weird enough day. I don’t think you need a summary of what I’ve been through. So much weird shit has happened that I really shouldn’t be surprised by anything at this point. I shouldn’t, but I am. My personal space is important to me, and for all the spooky shit I’ve had to deal with, in both the supernatural and government spook sense, I’ve always thought of my home as inviolable. So someone from school popping up here like she owns the place is really…

“Uh, do you mind? At least let me get dressed. Oh, make me a pot of that chamomile while you’re up.”

I slowly nod, holster my handgun, shut the bathroom door, and walk off to the kitchen to brew a pot of tea.

I’m sitting on the couch, waiting for my uninvited houseguest to come out. She sure it taking her sweet time. I’ve been hearing the hair dryer going for a while now. Of course, I haven’t been sitting here the whole time. I cleared the house twice, checking all the doors and locks to make sure. They’re all locked, the room to my gun room is locked, but in the back of one of my closets I’ve found a pile of clothes I have no memory of buying and a backpack. Strangely, I couldn’t bring myself to search the backpack despite it really being in my best interest to do so.

I also haven’t even called the police, despite that also probably being a good idea. It’s probably in part due to a guilty conscious. I did steal a national treasure just a few hours earlier, so calling the cops over an intruder using my shower seems almost petty. There’s also the weird feeling of kinship I feel towards the girl. On top of her apparently being one of my classmates, it just feels like…she belongs here. It’s weird.

Eventually the hair drying shuts off, and a few moments later she’s walking into the room smelling of my cheap conditioner and lavender soap. She’s dressed much the same way she was when I met her. In fact, I think that might be the exact same shirt she was wearing when she confronted me after class. Maybe she doesn’t have much money, and is forced to break into classmate’s homes to shower and sleep? That seems kind of absurd though.

She seems completely at home here, plopping herself down next to me like it’s her prerogative to do so. She grabs a cup of tea in one, clearly enjoying the smell. The other hand, she raises up, almost like she’s about to lick the back of her hand, before she shakes her head and forcible places the hand in her lap. Weird. Then, she turns to me.

“We need to talk. This is a bit over due…”

“The hell it is! What are you doing in my house? And this late at night?” I’m a bit flustered, but she manages to reply in a collected manner,

“You invited me.”

“I don’t recall ever…”

“Do you remember this?” she reaches into her pocket, pulling something out. A cat collar, with a very familiar name tag on it.

“Chesty? Don’t tell me.”

“Mhm.”

“It can’t be… You’re my cat? You’re Chesty?” Named after the decorated General Lewis “Chesty” Puller of course.

“We really need to talk about your naming sense.” I look down. Not too far, just a bit below her neck and shoulders. Sheer. In math terms, an undefined slope.

“Maybe you’re right.”

“You don’t need to agree with me, bitch! It’s not my fault I was born this way.” She seems pretty angry. Fair enough. But there’s something in her tone. I really must be exhausted after a long day, to be this slow on the uptake, but I’ll probably need her to break everything down Barney-style for me to understand it.

“This way?” I inquire?

“Half-fey. Do you think the average college student can turn into a cat?”

“And that’s why you’re so modestly endowed?” It’s been a really long day.

“Get off my chest!”

“There’s certainly nothing on your chest.”

“You’re acting worse than the girl you had me curse right now.” She rebuts.

That feels like a plot point. More than a shapeshifting classmate breaking into my house, even.

“So…you’re the fairy I’ve been calling on for the spells I’ve been using? What kind of fairy goes to college?”

“Half-fairy. My mother was human, although a poor excuse for one. Massive hippy, huge with communing with nature, all that. One day she decided to “commune with nature” in the woods, in a spot where the space between worlds was thin and it’s easier for fey to pass into our world. Apparently during this, a fey took a liking to her, and she took a liking to him. Nine months later, there I was. Dumb bitch tried to put ‘Oberon’ as the father on the birth certificate too.”

It’s probably a testament to how tired I am that I don’t object more to this story. She’s just dumping her whole life story on me at this point, except it’s weird. I suppose my own isn’t any more normal, but having a home invader start rambling about trysts with fairy kings is a bit much when I just want to collapse in bed. Though, if she’s telling the truth, I invited her in, making her a regular houseguest. Actually, it makes her my pet cat Chesty. Actually, didn’t I ask Chesty to be my familiar? Thinking back on it I did.

Wait, didn’t my boss say something earlier today? “You two.” Not just that. Going back further, when she forcibly gave me a promotion. She said something about covering “tuition and pay for my familiar.” So, does she know about Chesty being a human too? Well, human-ish.

“Hold on.” I tell her, getting up from my seat. I go to the kitchen and pull out a rocks glass. Reaching into the freezer, I grab a couple ice cubes. Grabbing a bottle of rye whiskey, I pour a generous helping into the glass, and return to the living room where I sit back on the couch. I really wish I had something to pet, but the one I would have turned to in this case is currently looking at me with an annoyed expression, in a completely non-pettable form. Well, not completely non-pettable, but there’s all sorts of issues with that now. D-does she hate me for the belly rubs? I don’t even want to think about the laser pointer right now. I take a gulp of whiskey.

“S-so, your father is Oberon?” I finally get my question out.

“Of course not, she was grandstanding. She eventually put down ‘Robert Goodfellow.’”

“So Puck is your dad?” Not King of Fairies, but still a big name. Her dad is a major Shakespeare character after all. “So you’re a changeling?”

“Half-fairy. Changeling implies I was exchanged for a kidnapped human baby.”

“So…have you always been a housecat, Chesty?”

“No! And mom gave me the somewhat passable name of ‘Dahlia,’ so could you at least call me that? What were you thinking anyways, naming me Chesty?”

“He was a badass. It’s a perfectly fine name. So, this may be insensitive, but why are you here now?” Again, long day, don’t expect me to be conversing at one hundred percent.

“I’ve always been different,” I nod. I’m somewhat familiar with that feeling. “but I kept this ability secret and grew up somewhat normally, and got into college even. But my mom wasn’t the best with money, and student loans kind of cost a lot. She was helping me out a bit, when she finally got the notion in her head to try and track down my father. She went off into the woods to look for him, and hasn't been seen since. I got permission from the school to take a year off in mourning, but when I went back to school I found out the student loans really weren’t enough to cover both tuition and an apartment easily.”

“Luckily, when I shift into a cat, things become much easier to deal with. It awakens my less-human instincts. I can move unnaturally fast, pick up on things that normal humans cant, and can even see into the space between worlds and the faerie realm. And hunting mice for food costs a lot less money than the schools meal plan.” Gross, but considering my squirrel hunting I have no room to talk. “One day, I was getting ready to sleep, when I heard your voice calling to me. I followed it, and heard your request. Not only that, I felt the energy coming from you. How could I not listen to you? And, while I can’t exactly approve of what you asked me to do, getting a free frappé out of it is a pretty great deal for someone who’s been living on rodents. So I took the energy you offered me, conveyed it to your target, and gave her lactose intolerance.”

“After that, I figured it’d make sense to keep a closer eye on you. Immoral curses may be bad, but they pale in comparison to student loans. So maybe if I hung around nearby there’d be more jobs like that. And then you went and asked me to be your familiar! I’d be stupid to turn that down, so I formed the contract right on the spot. Although I really wish you had a better naming sense.”

“So…”

“Yes, that’s the name you have to use when invoking me.”

“Oh…” I pause for a moment in thought. “So how do you know my boss?”

“Her? Something’s off about her. She came here one day when you were out at work. Specifically looking for me. She knew all my information. Like, stuff even I had forgotten about. She brought up the curse you used me to help cast, then told me she could get me a pardon for it if I signed some paperwork. Plus some stuff to sweeten the deal. How could I turn her down? Not only am I getting a salary from being your familiar, but full medical and dental. She even signed your GI Bill over to me and is giving me TA for my bachelors.”

“What?! I was gonna save my GI Bill!”

“I thought you knew? If anything, I would have thought you knew at least something about me, seeing as your signature was on some of the paperwork. But when you came in here waving a gun, I guess it kind of clicked that maybe you didn’t, although in retrospect the invasive belly rubs didn’t seem like something someone who knew what I was would do…”

“That bitch… but if I do anything, she has all sorts of information on us…”

“You’re telling me. With what we stole today? Wait, does that make me Nick Cage’s love interest? Gross. But overall, I’m not complaining. Plus, you did invite me in.”

“Isn’t that a vampire thing?”

“I mean, vampires have to be invited to be allowed to enter a house, sure.” I guess vampires are real. “But it’s really more of a courtesy thing in this case. You invited me in, and asked me to be your familiar. Can you really be so cold-hearted to kick me to the curb like that? Besides, we’re already linked legally.”

“You mean the NDA’s?”

“Think. How do you think she was able to transfer your GI Bill over to me?”

Oh.

Oh….

Oh God no…

“In retrospect it was really weird how you’d sign off on those papers without seeing this form of me. If you wanted, you probably could get it annulled if it was done with a forged signature.”

“No, if I did that she’d probably put a shotgun to my back and force me to redo it all.”

“Think of it as taking responsibility for the belly rubs?”

I guess she really does belong here. For one thing, she’s my familiar. What kind of half-rate witch would abandon their familiar? Not that I really know any other witches. I’ve met a few wiccans, but that’s a bit different from someone actually working magic the way I am. I guess witch in the classical sense of hexes and curses, rather than the fantasy novel herbalist/nature magic worker. But the obligations of a magic user really pale in comparison to the document she’s currently waving in my face. The one that clearly lists her status as “Daliah Thorne.” Apparently, I’m a married woman now, by government fiat.