Free Familiar by Michelle Rowen Page A

Timmons grabbed my arm. “One last
thing.”
    “What?”
    “The bond. It’s important it be done right away. As
long as you’re positive this kitten is your chosen familiar...”
    “Couldn’t be more positive if I tried.” I glanced at
the clock on the wall that read seven o’clock. How long was this
going to take?
    Mrs. Timmons grabbed my wrist tightly and reached
into the box to touch the kitten. “I bond you together as Brenda
Collins, apprentice witch, and her loyal and obedient
familiar.”
    “And what does—ahh!” I gasped as an electric bolt of
pain jolted through me so fast I barely had time to register
it.
    “Ow! Damn it!”
    I frowned at the sound of the pained male voice and
glanced around at the shop, empty except for me and Mrs. Timmons.
Who said that?
    “Now you can go.” The witch wiped her forehead with
the back of her hand and gave me a weary look. “Give my regards to
your mother.”
    “Yeah, I’ll do that.”
    I was out of there before she changed her mind and
turned me into a toad, or something. Mission accomplished. I hoped
this would be enough to get Mom off my back for a while longer. I
mean, the cat had to grow up before it could be any real use to me.
How long did I have? A few months, maybe?
    I’d take what I could get.
    “Now I have a kitten,” I mumbled, holding the shoebox
close to my chest as I walked home in the dusky light of early
evening. It was only a half-mile to my house from the store. “At
least you’re cute enough. Kind of antisocial, but cute. Sort of
like me without the cute part.”
    “I think you’re cute.”
    I stopped walking for a second and looked over my
shoulder to see who’d spoke, but no one was there. Just my
imagination, I guess. Maybe my positive affirmations were bubbling
to the surface. Mom always told me not to put myself down, so maybe
I was starting to get it.
    “I have no idea what to call you,” I said, as I
continued on walking. “Mrs. Timmons said just to concentrate and it
would come to me.”
    “The name’s Owen.”
    “I don’t like that name at all,” I told my
imagination. “I want something way cooler than Owen.”
    My imagination swore under its breath. “Wait a
minute, you can read my thoughts? How the hell can you do
that?”
    I was about to answer my imagination when I noticed
that someone was standing in my way. Two men, actually, both well
over six feet tall with broad chests and shoulders like football
players, blocking what little light there was on the horizon. I
stopped walking and looked at them nervously.
    “We need that,” one of them said.
    “I don’t have any money,” I stammered. “Like, maybe
five bucks total.”
    “Keep your money, we just want what’s in the
box.”
    I looked down at the box holding the kitten. The
kitten itself eyed me curiously for a moment before the box was
pulled completely out of my hands. The kitten jumped out and one of
the men grabbed for it.
    “Hands off,” my imagination—which I was now
thinking wasn’t my imagination at all—snarled.
    The kitten arched its back and hissed, swiping a tiny
paw in the man’s direction.
    “Aw, isn’t that adorable?” one of the men said
sarcastically to the other. “Little Owen’s showing his big, scary
claws. Kids. Pain in the ass, if you ask me.”
    Before I could say anything, do anything, something
crazy happened. And, growing up in a house with a magic-using witch
as a mother, that was saying something.
    The kitten grew before my very eyes.
    Instead of a tiny striped kitten standing between me
and the men, there was now a huge tiger who had to be five hundred
pounds or more.
    It growled, baring long sharp teeth, and then flicked
a glance at me.
    “Stay back. Werewolves are dangerous even in human
form.”
    Werewolves? I staggered back a step, almost falling
over.
    “Come on,” one of the men said, although he was
backing up a step at a time. “We don’t want a fight, Owen. Not
here, not now. Just give us what we’re