Page 2 of Casting Butterflies

“What do you suggest I do?”

“Ne dvigaysya.” The unexpected male voice came from a guy, clad head to toe in white snow gear, who emerged from behind the Yeti with a gun pointed, not at the monster I might add. Me.

“Hi.” I waved. “I think you’re aiming at the wrong threat.”

The armed dude barked and waved his gun. I didn’t understand a word he said but assumed it was like something about not making any funny moves. It also occurred to me he didn’t seem perturbed at all by the giant snowy monster. Was the Yeti his guard-abominable?

“Don’t shoot. We come in peace.” I layered my mittened hands atop my woolen cap.

“If I understood correctly, he doesn’t care,” stated Cedric, who then flipped to what I assumed was Russian, which led to a short conversation between him and the dude who kept getting closer.

“What’s he saying?” I asked.

“That he won’t tell the smelly rug to let me go. Apparently, Zana’s always wanted a cat,” an indignant Cedric huffed.

“What about me? Did you tell him I’m not dangerous?”

“He says that’s not for him to decide.”

“Then who?”

“In good news, we’ve found the elders we’ve been seeking. In the bad…” Cedric paused before adding. “In order to meet them, he has to knock you out.”

“What?” I might have had more to say, but the dude, mere feet away, pulled something from his pocket and blew a glittery dust right at my face.

As I clamped my lips shut and held my breath, not for the first time I regretted agreeing to come here.

And to think it all began with an auction and a cheap ugly necklace I bought. I should have fled the moment I saw all the butterflies.

1

Some might think my dream pleasant. I stood in a sunny field of wildflowers, vibrant with color and fragrance. In the air above, brilliantly colored butterflies flitted about. Sweet, right?

Not!

For me, it signaled the start to my nightmare, repeatedly experienced since childhood. Over the years I’d taught myself how to rouse before the darkness shadowed the field and the winged bugs turned menacing. Don’t laugh. Butterflies might seem cute and harmless to you, but to me, they symbolized a throat-choking terror.

I sat bolt upright in bed, sweating, heart pounding, but free of the butterflies and the menace they brought with them. I hit the bathroom, where I grimaced at my reflection. Bags under the eyes. Hair an absolute mess. Dried drool on my cheek. Pretty girl!

A quick wash of the face and a brush through my messy locks left me somewhat presentable, but I didn’t truly revive until my morning cup of coffee.

Ahhh. I leaned against the counter savoring that first sip. Alone. Used to be on the weekends, I’d make a pot for me and my bestie, Charlie. We’d chat over a mug, planning the weekend’s adventure. Now, it was just me. More or less.

“Are you moping again?” asked Cedric, the cat who lived with me. Yes, he could speak. Before you think that strange, you should know Cedric used to be a dryad who’d been cursed by an evil wizard and forced into a feline shape to act as a familiar to any witches or wizards who used to own a particularly old and nasty Grimoire. On second thought, that explanation sounded way more far-fetched than a talking cat.

“I am not moping,” I huffed with a lower jutting lip. Okay, so maybe I was just a little. Who could blame me? My best friend had flitted off to another dimension to rule as a queen alongside a hot elf king. I had some serious envy. To think, she’d found her one true love because of a summoning spell that accidentally opened a doorway between Earth and a demonic dimension. Lucky bitch.

“You females are all the same,” Cedric huffed. “Whining about the things you can’t change. Letting your emotions dictate your life choices. Although I will say your depression at least has resulted in you cooking some delectable dinners.” Which he’d mooched a few times, the meat parts at least.

“You know, considering how many witches you’ve served over the past few centuries, the fact you’re still so misogynistic surprises,” I replied.

“First off, my experience has shown most women tend to react in a similar fashion. And second, it’s not chauvinism to point out the obvious. You’re sulking for no reason.”

“I’d say my best friend being somewhere I can’t visit anytime I want is valid.” Apparently, humans didn’t thrive in Infernal, the dimension my bestie now lived in. She proved to be the exception, given she had mixed blood—and wore a crown that gave her the power to do pretty much anything she wanted. If someone dissed her, she could literally demand their head.

“Probably for the best you’re stuck here, given you lack any kind of survival sense. You wouldn’t last two minutes in Infernal.” A place teeming with demons and danger.

Cedric made a good point, but I still chose to be insulted. “Excuse me? I’m obviously not that bad at taking care of myself seeing as how I’ve reached the ripe age of thirty-seven.” I left out the less-than-flattering aspects. Dead-end job, unmarried, heck, not even dating, and living spinster-style with a cat. It didn’t bode well for my future.