Page 41 of Casting Butterflies

What of that Grigori fellow? He’d found me. Threatened. Made it obvious he wanted the spirit inside me—and would stop at nothing to get it. On the ship, he’d done some kind of magical projection. Could it harm me? Or would our next encounter be in person now that he’d gotten Misha out of the way? Or would he send the pernicae to do his dirty work? The latter seemed very likely now that I didn’t have my protector.

An eternity passed, at least according to my hungry belly. In reality, midday turned to late afternoon before Cedric returned—mouth empty. I don’t know why, but I’d expected him to have a wad of cash clamped between his teeth.

“I take it you didn’t have any luck.” I couldn’t help but sound dejected.

“You didn’t think I’d risk toting cash around in public, did you? I stashed it of course. Come on. We’ll go get it.” Cedric trotted off, tail high, and I must have looked the sight following him.

He led me through a maze of alleys before stopping by an old stone building.

“If you would open the door so we can go inside.”

“You hid the money in a church?” I stated, noticing the crosses on the door.

“Yes.”

I could have spouted something about it being sacrilegious, but instead, I blurted out, “How did you get inside?”

“Rear door. The janitor leaves it propped open while he smokes. You, however, should use the main entrance to get inside.”

I heaved on the handle, the door heavier than it looked. We entered a space that immediately had me clamping my lips tight. For one, speaking in here would echo. Two, while not very religious, something about this old space demanded respect.

Are you there, God, it’s me, Flo. Please don’t smite me down. I swear I’ll try and do better.

No reply. Not that I expected one. I did, however, cringe until I made it past a few pews without being struck by lightning. Only when God didn’t retaliate against my many sins did I relax. An uncaring Cedric trotted to almost the midway point before turning to look over his shoulder. He didn’t speak, but his pause indicated we’d reached the right row.

Cedric disappeared between the bench seating, and I hastened my step to join him. While the church appeared empty, I couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. The statues dotting the place—with their judging expressions—didn’t help. The many flickering candles only served to remind me of all the horror movies I’d watched that took place in similar settings. Maybe this church was still considered holy enough to keep evil from entering.

“Would you stop standing there slack jawed and get over here?” hissed Cedric.

With that rebuke, I quickly sat down and slid sideways on the wooden pew to where Cedric impatiently waited. Most of the racks on the back of the benches held Bibles but the one the cat pointed to had loose bills. Lots of them. How the heck? Better I didn’t question how he’d gotten them.

I stuffed the money in my pockets, bra, and wallet. Only an idiot tourist would keep it all in one spot to be stolen by pickpockets.

“Any idea how far the train station is from here?” I asked.

“Far enough we should take a taxi,” Cedric replied.

“Do we have to head straight there? I could really use a bite to eat and a shower. Think we have enough money to do that and still buy a ticket?”

“Yes, and if we don’t, I can easily acquire more.”

I sighed. “Don’t think this means I condone a life of crime.”

“For a woman who thinks nothing of partaking in illegal drugs⁠—”

“Ahem. Not illegal anymore in Canada,” I reminded.

“Doesn’t make it right,” Cedric grumbled.

“Says the kitty who goes coo-coo over catnip. I seem to recall someone rolling and rubbing all over the place after sniffing some,” I reminded with a snicker.

“Only because you laced the area by the kitchen door flap so I couldn’t avoid it.”

“Just trying to remind you that despite all your protests, you truly are a cat. You were so high you even let me pet you.”

He glared.

I smiled.