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"She did it because she loved you. Don't waste it again. I refuse to let you die in this place, so get the fuck up, sorcerer, and take me the hell out of here," Athanasius growled, swiping at him with his paw.
Augustus had done many hard things in his long life, but dragging his heavy body upright was the hardest. Augustus put three black feathers into his breast pocket before he picked up the damp cat with shaking hands and carried it out into the dawn.
Augustus walked along the road and out of the national park in a numb daze. Cars were starting to fill the streets, one stopping to help a silent and stunned Augustus in.
He thanked the man when he was dropped off at Lavers Hill Station, and he got into a taxi back to the city.
It was gray and raining heavily when they got to Albert Street like Melbourne was crying for the saint that it had lost.
Augustus was no longer tied to magic, and it was like a great hollow had been carved out of him. He placed Athanasius down and lit the fire. His magic was as shaky as he was, the flames sputtering before catching.
Augustus didn't feel like he was in his body. He was so numb and cold that he didn't know what to do. He grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the kitchen and grabbed a small saucer from a cupboard.
He placed the saucer down beside the cat and filled it with whiskey without a word. They both stared at the fire and drank in silence. Tears rolled down Augustus's cheeks until he lay down on the rug and passed out.
* * *
Augustus woke to a cat poking him for the second time that day.
"Fuck off," he moaned, pushing the cat away.
"Wake up! Someone is here!" Athanasius hissed.
Augustus rolled over. "I don't care. They can fuck off too." A loud bang echoed through the house. And then another. "What in all the hells! If it's the fucking Druids, I am going to build a wicker man and light the fuckers on fire."
"It's coming from upstairs, sorcerer," Athanasius said.
"Upstairs?" Augustus went from drowsy to alert. No one could break into his house. No one could get through his wards, even if they did have magic.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
"Stay here, puss." Augustus climbed to his feet and stumbled to the staircase. Gripping the banister, he went up into the darkness.
Thump. Thump. Thump.Someone was knocking, but that was impossible.
Augustus froze when he realized the heavy banging was coming from the door covered in golden sigils.
"What in the actual fuck," Augustus muttered. His current housekeeper, Judith, knew to always call him if there was a problem. She would never knock on the door leading to Melbourne.
Augustus activated the symbols, and the wood lit up with magic. He grabbed the doorknob and summoned his power to blast whoever it was into oblivion.
He pulled the door open and almost got hit in the head with a bust of Plato, wielded by a woman with hair as black as crow's wings.
"What the fuck—" Augustus began. The bust dropped away, and Mara smiled up at him.
"It's about time! Do you have any idea how long I've been banging on this damn door?" she demanded. Augustus plowed into her, pulling her up into his arms.
"How? How?" he cried, kissing her face all over. "What happened to your hair?"
"I don't know!" Mara kissed him back. Augustus carried her to one of the leather couches and sat down, keeping her in his lap. He brushed the dark hair from her face and checked her all over.
"Are you hurt anywhere? Any blood?"
Mara shook her head. "No, I'm okay. I'm fine."
"I saw you turn into a cloud of feathers, Mara. You arenotfine. I amnotfine," Augustus babbled.
"Breathe, my love. You are starting to panic. Are you drunk?"
