Free A Feather of Stone #3 by Tiernan Cate Page A

seven cats, still as stones, on the ground in my backyard.
    A sudden fear overtook me, an animal fear, unthinking, strong, violent. Were they dead? Had I killed them? If I’d killed them, I’d killed part of me—and worse, I’d become something that filled me with horror. Quickly I jumped down and touched Q-Tip’s fur, gleaming whitely in the very slight moonlight. He was alive. Alive, but not himself. And I understood with shame and crushing disappointment what I had done.
    I sat down again in my circle, trying to still my frantically beating heart. I didn’t want to lose this feeling, this incredible, exhilarating extra-ness. It would be so easy to just take it, take it and keep it, and not care about the consequences.
    But seventeen years of Nan’s teachings and examples were worn into me too deeply, and I was grateful. Her lessons gave me the strength to do what I might not have been able to do on my own. Closing my eyes, I chanted the fourth, last part of the spell, the one that would undo what I had put together. Even before I had finished saying the strange, ancient words, I felt the feline spirits leave me, felt myself becoming less. Less dimensional, less powerful. Flatter, completely human. Our energies flew apart from each other, and each cat came back to life, blinking, looking confused and startled and afraid.
    In an instant all the cats scattered. They associated this place with something ill, something they must escape from, and so they ran, slinking under fences, jumping over them, racing down our alley to the street. They were running away from me and what I had done.
    Except Q-Tip. He sat in front of me, his eyes on mine. He hadn’t heard any of the spell, but it had affected him. He was only a cat, but there was an unblinking knowledge in his eyes. He knew what I had done to him. He knew I was the kind of person who would take his power and use it against his will. Slowly he turned away from me and walked to the house, the offended line of his small back seeming a bitter accusation.
    “I’m sorry,” I whispered. But of course he didn’t hear me—none of them did. Guilt and shame crashed down on me. I had taken a lesser being’s power and made it my own. And I had loved it so, so much. And I wanted to do it again.
    My face crumpled. I tried to hold it in but couldn’t—sobs broke out of my chest. I kicked over the candles, the cups of water and sand. Falling to my side, I curled up on the ground and sobbed and sobbed, my arms covering my face, making myself as small as possible. As if I could make myself so small and insignificant that the goddess wouldn’t see what I had done, the terrible line I had crossed.

Thais
    Melysa was in our house when I got home on Friday.
    “Thank God this week has ended.” I groaned, dropping my backpack. “Lately it seems like every week takes months and months to get through.” I went to the fridge and got some iced tea and a yogurt and sat down at the kitchen table.
    “Where’s Clio?” Petra said. She glanced out the window, and I realized she was checking the time. I’d become very aware of this lately—whenever Petra or any of the other witches wanted to know the time, they glanced up at the sky first, then sometimes double-checked it against a clock or watch. I couldn’t believe figuring out where the sun or moon was could really narrow down the time that much—they were probably constantly late for appointments or TV shows.
    “She said she had to run a quick errand. I took the streetcar home.” Clio had seemed a little off all day—she’d looked tired and kind of drawn, sad. I’d asked her if she was okay, and she’d said nothing was wrong. I wondered if she was still pining over Luc. I sighed. We’d both loved him so much. And Clio didn’t have Kevin to help take her mind off him.
    “Did anything happen at school today?”
    I felt Petra’s blue-gray eyes on me and knew she meant anything weird. I shook my head. “Nope. No snakes,