Chapter 3: The Hunt Begins
The hum of the pool filter faded behind the sliding glass door as Cat led Matt inside, the cool silence of the air-conditioned house a sudden shock against their sun-warmed skin. She didn’t look back at the spot where Paul wept silently on the deck. That tableau was done.
Her bedroom was a cave of velvet and low light, the last of the sunset bleeding through half-drawn curtains the color of dried blood. The air here smelled different—sandalwood, her perfume, and underneath it all, the clean, faintly animal scent of the large, ornate cage in the corner.
Connor watched them enter from behind its gilded bars. He was curled on a pile of cushions, nude, a simple leather collar around his neck. His eyes, a warm brown, followed Cat with utter, focused adoration. He didn’t look at Matt. His world had condensed to her presence. When she passed the cage, his tail—a metaphysical one, born of the spell—gave a soft thump against the cushions. The spell was a deep, thorough thing. It didn’t just make him act like a dog; it made him feel it, simple needs and a bottomless devotion. He was her most stable artifact.
Cat dismissed him with a glance and fell backwards onto the massive bed, a tangle of silk and satin. She patted the space beside her. “Phone,” she said, her voice tired but intent.
Matt, moving with the careful precision of someone walking through a minefield, lay down next to her. He pulled his phone from his sweatpants pocket, unlocked it, and handed it over without a word.
She took it, her fingers brushing his. He flinched, just a tiny, involuntary spasm. The memory of Anthony’s furious hum was still in the air between them. She smiled to herself and began to scroll.
She went through his photos first. Vacation shots, blurry bars, a hesitant selfie in front of some generic office building. His life before her looked so painfully ordinary. So unobserved. She swiped, her interest waning, until she landed on a picture from what looked like a hiking trip.
Two young men, grinning, arms slung over each other’s shoulders against a backdrop of pine trees. Matt, looking younger, freckled, genuinely happy. And the other one. Riley.
Cat zoomed in.
Riley had a face built for smiling, all easy warmth and crinkled eyes. Tousled, sun-bleached brown hair fell across his forehead. He was looking at the camera, but his body was angled toward Matt, a natural, unguarded intimacy in the tilt of his shoulder. It was the kind of photo that spoke of years, of inside jokes and shared silences.
Something sharp and hungry twisted in Cat’s gut. This wasn’t the bland attraction she felt for the Matts and Pauls of the world. This was different. This was a clean, bright connection. A connection she hadn’t made. It offended her.
“Who’s this?” she asked, her voice deliberately light. She turned the screen toward Matt.
He looked at the photo and his face did a complicated thing. The love spell pushed a fond smile to his lips, but underneath it, a layer of pure, unmagical nostalgia surfaced, tinged with a sudden, protective fear. “That’s Riley. My best friend. From back home.”
“He’s cute,” Cat said, studying the image. “Wholesome. Like a puppy in a rom-com.” She dropped the phone onto her chest and turned her head on the pillow to look at Matt. His body was rigid beside hers. “You never talk about him.”
“I… I guess I don’t,” Matt stammered. “We used to be close. Grew up together. He’s just… he’s a good guy. Normal.”
“Normal,” Cat echoed, letting the word hang. She rolled onto her side, propping her head up on one hand. Her free hand came to rest on Matt’s thigh, her fingers digging in just enough to feel the muscle tense. “Do you miss normal, Matt?”
“No,” he said, too quickly. The answer was for her, from the spell. But his eyes flicked back to the phone screen, now dark on her chest.
“Liar.” She said it softly, almost sweetly. Her hand slid higher. “I can feel you wanting it. That simplicity. Just you and your ‘good guy’ best friend.” She leaned closer, her breath warm against his ear. “But you belong to me now. Everything you have is mine. Even your memories. Even your friends.”
He shuddered, a full-body tremor she felt through her palm.
Cat picked up the phone again, waking the screen to Riley’s smiling face. She ran a thumb over his pixelated cheek. “Call him.”
Matt blinked. “What? Now?”
“Find a reason,” she purred, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. Her hand moved higher, the pressure turning intimate, proprietary. “Tell him you’re in town. That you’re at this amazing house. That you met this girl.” She bit her lip, her amber eyes gleaming in the dusk. “Invite him over. Tomorrow.”
The conflict on Matt’s face was the most beautiful thing she’d seen all night. The spell demanded obedience, a desire to please her that was a physical ache in his bones. But the part of him that was still Matt—the part that remembered that hike, that easy laughter—recoiled. Bringing Riley here was like leading a lamb into a slaughterhouse he’d only just learned to navigate himself.
“Cat, I don’t think…” he began.
Her fingers pressed in, a sharp, warning punctuation. “You don’t think? That’s not your job, pet. Your job is to make the call.” She rolled away from him, sitting up on the edge of the bed, granting him the space to obey. “Do it. Now. Put it on speaker.”
With trembling hands, Matt took the phone back. He scrolled through his contacts, his thumb hovering over Riley’s name. He looked at Cat, a last, silent plea in his eyes.
She just stared back, a statuesque queen on her satin throne, the dim light carving shadows under her cheekbones. From the corner, Connor whined softly, picking up on the tension in the room.
Matt pressed the button.
The ringing echoed loudly in the quiet room. Once, twice. On the third ring, a voice answered, warm and familiar, laced with easy laughter even in a single word. “Matty? Holy shit, is that you? I was starting to think you got abducted by aliens.”
The sound of his friend’s voice, so normal, so untouched, seemed to physically wound Matt. He closed his eyes for a second. “Hey, Riles.”
“Hey, man! What’s up? You’re like a ghost these days. Everything okay?”
“Yeah, yeah. Everything’s… amazing, actually.” The words sounded brittle coming from Matt’s mouth. He was following a script Cat was writing in real time with her eyes. “I’m in town. Well, near town. Out in the canyon. I’m staying at this… incredible place.”
“No kidding? Whose place?”
Matt’s eyes flicked to Cat. She mouthed the words silently. A girl.
“A girl’s,” Matt said, the forced cheer in his voice ringing hollow. “I met this girl. Cat. She’s… unbelievable. You’d love her.”
There was a pause on the other end. “A girl, huh? That explains the radio silence. She must be something.”
“She is,” Matt whispered, and this time the reverence was real, though its source was poisoned.
Cat preened, stretching her arms over her head like a satisfied cat.
“So, what,” Riley laughed, “you’re just living it up in some love palace? I’m jealous, dude.”
“You should come see it,” Matt blurted, the sentence tumbling out as if pushed. “Tomorrow. Come hang out. Swim. It’s got a crazy pool. You should meet her.”
Another pause, longer this time. Cat could almost hear the gentle skepticism, the friend’s concern peeking through. “Tomorrow? I’ve got that thing with my dad in the afternoon, but I could swing by after. Late afternoon?”
“Perfect,” Matt said, his voice tight.
“Cool. Send me the address. It’ll be good to see you, man. For real. I’ve missed your weird face.”
“Yeah,” Matt said, the word thick with emotion. “Missed you too, Riley.”
They hung up. The silence that followed was heavier than before, charged with what had just been set in motion. Matt dropped the phone on the bed as if it had burned him. He looked empty.
Cat slid off the bed and padded over to the cage. Connor scrambled to his feet, pressing himself against the bars. She unlocked the door, reached in, and scratched behind his ear. He leaned into her touch, a low, contented rumble in his throat.
“Good boy,” she murmured. Then she looked back at Matt, who was still staring at the spot where the call had ended.
“See?” she said, her voice bright and cruel. “That wasn’t so hard.” She walked back to the bed, her movements sinuous and deliberate. She climbed over him, caging him with her arms, her hair falling around his face like a curtain. “Tomorrow,” she whispered, her lips inches from his, “you get to give me a present. Your best friend.” She kissed him, deep and claiming. When she pulled back, his eyes were wide, his love for her and his horror at what he’d done perfectly, exquisitely balanced. “And I’m going to unwrap him.”
The silence after her promise felt different than the others that night. It wasn’t peaceful. It was the quiet of a trap being set, the final piece clicking into place. Matt lay beneath her, perfectly still, caught between the spell’s adoration and a dawning, visceral dread. She could smell it on him, sour and human.
“Sleep,” she commanded, rolling off him.
He didn’t move for a long minute. Then he slowly curled onto his side, facing away from her, his body a tight question mark. From the cage, Connor let out a soft sigh and settled into his cushions.
Cat spent the night wide awake, running a fingertip over the screen of Matt’s phone, tracing Riley’s smiling face in the hiking photo. She imagined that smile dissolving into confusion, then into something else entirely. The thought was a slow, sweet burn in her chest.
Dawn arrived, painting the room in pale, judgmental light. She spent the day in a state of electric idleness, her magic buzzing just under her skin. She had the others—the visible ones—polish every surface until the house gleamed. It needed to be perfect. A jewel box for her new prize.
The afternoon sun was slanting long and honeyed through the palms when a car engine cut off in the driveway. Gravel crunched under hesitant footsteps.
Cat, draped over the chaise lounge by the koi pond inside her room, didn’t move. She listened. The doorbell chimed, a clean, expensive sound. Matt, who had been hovering near the bedroom door all day like a guilty ghost, flinched.
“Well?” Cat said, not looking at him. “Answer it.”
She heard his footsteps, too quick, down the hall. The murmur of voices floated back, nervous and familiar. The cadence of an old friendship, stumbling over an unseen threshold.
They appeared in the doorway. Matt first, looking pallid and strained. Then Riley.
The photo hadn’t done him justice. He was taller than Matt, broader in the shoulders, wearing faded jeans and a simple grey t-shirt that smelled faintly of detergent and outdoors. His tousled hair was sun-streaked, his face open and cautiously smiling as he took in the opulent room, the indoor koi pond, the woman lounging like a queen on her chaise.
His eyes found hers. Amber met hazel.
For a split second, it was just a look. Curious, appreciative, a little startled. No spell, no manipulation. Just a man seeing a beautiful woman in a strange, rich room. It was the most genuine interaction she’d had in months.
The novelty of it was like a splash of cold water.
“You must be Cat,” Riley said, his voice warm and steady. He had a good voice. It didn’t waver. “This place is… wow. Matty undersold it.”
“Matty often does,” Cat replied, her lips curving into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. She didn’t get up. Let him come to her. “Welcome. I’ve heard so much about you.”
Riley stepped further into the room, his gaze sweeping over the gilded cage in the corner. Connor was asleep, or pretending to be. Riley’s eyes lingered there for only a second, a flicker of polite confusion, before returning to Cat. He was well-mannered. He didn’t ask.
“All good things, I hope,” Riley said, returning her smile. He nudged Matt with his elbow. “Though from this guy, who knows. He’s been MIA for weeks.”
Matt forced a laugh that sounded like glass breaking. “Yeah. Sorry, man. It’s been… intense.”
“I can see that,” Riley said, his tone light, but his eyes did another quick scan of the room, of Cat’s possessive posture, of Matt’s tense shoulders. The friend was sensing the disconnect, the wrongness in the air. He was smarter than he looked.
Cat watched the assessment happening behind his eyes. He was unraveling the scene, piece by piece. Good. She wanted him sharp. A dull tool was no fun to break.
“Can I get you a drink?” she offered, her voice suddenly sweet, hospitable. “The sun’s still out. We could move to the pool.”
“Sure, that’d be great,” Riley said, but he was looking at Matt, trying to catch his friend’s eye, to get a read on the situation that words weren’t providing.
Matt stared resolutely at the floor.
Cat uncoiled herself from the chaise in one fluid motion. She saw Riley’s eyes track the movement, the unconscious appreciation there. It was clean. Untouched by magic. She savored it, the last pure taste before the feast.
“Come on then,” she said, sliding her hand into the crook of Matt’s rigid arm. She felt him jump. “Let’s show your friend the view.”
She led them out, feeling Riley’s presence behind her like a new sun, warm and undiscovered. The trap was sprung. The game was on.
The game was on.
They moved back out to the pool deck, where the late afternoon sun had softened into a tangerine blaze. The water, now glowing like liquid copper, should have felt inviting. To Matt, it looked like a basin of fire. He moved stiffly, a puppet with tangled strings.
“You weren’t kidding about the pool,” Riley said, letting out a low whistle. He walked to the edge, peering in. “This is insane. Do you just, like, live in a resort?” His tone was light, but his eyes kept darting back to Matt, who stood frozen a few feet behind Cat.
“Something like that,” Cat purred, settling onto the same chaise from the night before. She could still feel the ghost of the previous evening’s power in the cushions. “It’s all about atmosphere. Helps people… relax.” She patted the space beside her. “Matt, sit.”
He obeyed, perching on the very edge of the chaise, his body angled away from both of them. Riley watched this, his easy smile finally fading into a frown.
“You okay, man?” Riley asked, turning fully away from the water. “You’re acting super weird. Are you sick or something?”
Matt opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He looked at Cat, a silent plea for permission, for instruction. She gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod. A cruel part of her wanted to hear him say it.
“I’m… more than okay,” Matt began, the words dragged from a deep, conflicted place inside him. His voice was thin. “It’s just… it’s hard to explain. Everything’s different now.”
“Different how?” Riley took a step closer, his concern overriding his manners. “Did something happen? You can tell me.”
The golden light caught the fine tremble in Matt’s hands. He stared at his own knees as if they belonged to someone else. “Something happened. Yeah. Cat… she did something. To me.” He finally looked up, meeting his best friend’s confused gaze. His own eyes were shining with a terrifying mix of adoration and despair. “She put me under a spell, Riley. And it’s… it’s amazing.”
Riley stared. He blinked. A nervous laugh escaped him. “A spell? Dude, what are you talking about? Is this some kind of roleplay thing? Because it’s not funny.”
“It’s not a joke,” Matt said, with more force. The love spell poured conviction into his words. “It’s real. She’s a witch. She made me love her. She made me want to belong to her completely. And I do. It’s all I want.” A single tear escaped, tracing a clean line through the tension on his cheek. “You have no idea how good it feels to just… stop thinking. To just be hers.”
The casual, terrifying confession hung in the humid air. Riley took a full step back, his face cycling through disbelief, concern, and finally, a cold drip of fear. He looked from Matt’s tear-streaked face to Cat, who was watching with the serene interest of a scientist observing a successful experiment.
“Matt,” Riley said carefully, his voice low and urgent. “You need to get up. We need to leave. Right now.” He didn’t understand magic, but he understood coercion. He saw the cage now, not of bars, but of tone.
“I don’t want to leave,” Matt whispered.
Riley’s jaw tightened. He moved, not toward Matt, but to put himself between his friend and Cat. It was a protective, instinctive gesture. It was his last free act.
Cat smiled. It was a wide, genuine smile of pure delight. “He really is a good friend, Matt. You weren’t lying.” She stood up in one smooth, unhurried motion.
Riley turned to face her fully, his body tensed. “What did you do to him?” he demanded, his voice shaking with a brave, futile anger.
“I improved him,” Cat said simply. Her amber eyes locked onto his. The last of the sun crowned her in a wicked halo. “And now, I’m going to improve you.”
She didn’t chant. She didn’t wave her hands. She simply pushed. The air between them thickened, charged with a sudden, ozone-sharp scent. Riley’s eyes widened, not in fear anymore, but in blank, overwhelming shock. He stumbled back a step, as if hit by a physical force.
A soft, fractured sound escaped his lips. It was the beginning of a question that would never be finished.
He blinked slowly. The tension bled from his shoulders, replaced by a loose, placid stillness. The protective fury in his hazel eyes melted away, leaving behind a calm, empty pool. He looked at Cat, and his new expression was one of serene, waiting acknowledgment.
“Kneel,” Cat said, her voice quiet but absolute.
Riley knelt on the warm concrete without hesitation. His movements were fluid, unburdened by thought or resistance. He knelt as if it were the most natural position in the world.
The silence that followed was absolute, broken only by the gentle lap of water in the pool. Matt watched, his breath held, the last of his old self screaming silently behind his spell-glazed eyes.
Cat walked over to Riley. She placed a hand under his chin, tilting his face up to hers. He gazed back, docile and obedient. A perfect, empty vessel. She ran her thumb over his lower lip, the same lip that had been smiling in the hiking photo just hours before.
“Good,” she whispered, to both of them, to the evening, to herself. She let her hand drop. “Now, Riley. Go sit by the edge of the pool. Wait for me.”
He rose, turned, and walked to the pool’s edge. He sat down, legs crossed, and stared out at the gleaming water. He did not fidget. He did not look back. He simply waited.
Cat turned her attention to Matt. The awe and horror on his face were a delicious cocktail. She cupped his cheek, feeling him lean desperately into her touch even as he trembled.
“You gave me a wonderful gift today,” she said softly. She looked past him to Riley’s waiting back. “And you didn’t even have to wrap it.”
“And you didn’t even have to wrap it.”
She let her hand drop from Matt’s face, the comparison hanging in the air. His gift. She turned her back on him and walked toward Riley, who sat perfectly still by the shimmering water. The sun had dipped below the canyon ridge, leaving the world in a deep, purple twilight. The pool lights flickered on, casting that familiar electric blue across everything.
Cat stood over Riley, studying the empty calm in his upturned face. It was a blank canvas, so different from Matt’s tortured devotion.
“It’s a different kind of magic,” she said, not looking back at Matt. Her voice was conversational, almost clinical. “His is simple. Direct.”
She crouched down, bringing herself eye-level with Riley. She snapped her fingers once, sharply, right in front of his nose. He didn’t flinch. His pupils didn’t even contract.
“See?” she said. “No love. No deep, complicated yearning. I just… pressed pause on him. On everything he is, or was.” She traced the line of his jaw with a single, possessive fingernail. “It’s a lever I can flip. Off. It’s cleaner.”
Matt finally found his voice, raw and thin. “Why?”
“Because I only want him for a day,” Cat said, shrugging as if the answer were obvious. She stood up, brushing invisible dust from her knees. “A love spell, like yours, is a commitment. It grows roots. It gets messy. This?” She gestured at Riley’s placid form. “This is just borrowing a toy. You don’t redecorate a house you’re only renting.”
She offered Riley her hand. He took it, his grip firm but utterly without intention, and rose to his feet. He stood waiting, a beautiful, breathing statue.
“Come on,” Cat said, her tone shifting to something lighter, more inviting. She kept hold of Riley’s hand and glanced back at Matt. “Both of you. Inside. The fun part’s starting.”
She led the procession back into the house, the click of her heels on the tile a sharp counterpoint to the soft shuffle of their footsteps. The bedroom awaited, a velvet-draped stage already set. Connor, in his cage, lifted his head as they entered. He watched Riley pass with a canine curiosity, sniffed the air, then laid his head back down with a soft whine, understanding he was not part of this particular game.
Cat didn’t bother with the lights. The last embers of sunset through the drapes painted the room in streaks of burnt orange and long shadow. She released Riley’s hand and he stopped, perfectly aligned, awaiting his next command.
“Matt,” she said, not turning around as she walked toward the vast bed. “Close the door.”
The solid thud of the door shutting sealed them in. The air grew instantly more intimate, thick with the scent of her perfume and the anticipation of what was to come.
“Now,” Cat said, finally turning to face them. She was a silhouette against the dying light. “Take off his clothes.”
Matt froze. He looked from Cat’s commanding form to his best friend’s vacant, patient face. “I… what?”
“You heard me.” Her voice held no room for debate. “I want you to do it.”
The command sliced through Matt’s spell-bound compliance, finding a strange and vulnerable seam. This wasn’t about serving Cat directly; it was about dismantling Riley, piece by piece, with his own hands. The love spell pushed him to obey her, but every fiber of his old self recoiled.
He approached Riley as one might approach a dangerous, sleeping animal. His hands, trembling, went to the hem of Riley’s simple grey t-shirt. He tugged it up. Riley, without prompting, raised his arms to assist, his body moving with a smooth, automated cooperation that was more disturbing than any resistance.
The shirt came off over his head. Matt let it fall to the floor.
Riley’s chest was lean and defined, dusted with the same sun-bleached hair that crowned his head. He stood, unconcerned, his breathing steady. Matt’s own breath hitched. He had seen Riley shirtless a hundred times—after swimming, at the gym, changing in a tent on that hiking trip. This was different. This was a violation performed in a soundless, charged chapel.
“Jeans,” Cat prompted from the shadows. Her voice was a low thrum.
Matt’s fingers fumbled with the button of Riley’s jeans. The denim was stiff. The zipper sounded appallingly loud. He pushed the jeans and boxers down in one awkward motion, and Riley stepped out of them, kicking the pile aside with a simple, efficient movement.
Now Riley stood naked in the half-light, a classical statue brought to life and then emptied of its spirit. The last of the sun gilded the curve of his shoulder, the dip of his waist. He was utterly unselfconscious, a perfect vessel of flesh awaiting its purpose.
Matt took a stumbling step back, his face a mask of anguish and arousal. The conflicting currents inside him—the spell’s adoration for Cat, his own residual horror, and a shocking, undeniable pull toward the familiar body before him—threatened to tear him apart.
Cat smiled, seeing all of it. “Good,” she murmured. She came forward then, a predator entering the frame. She didn’t touch Riley. She walked a slow circle around him, her eyes appraising every line. “Now you, Matt. Everything off.”
This, at least, was a familiar ritual. Matt shed his clothes quickly, his movements jerky. He felt exposed, not just physically, but emotionally laid bare beside his friend’s serene, mindless nakedness.
Cat finished her circle and came to a stop between them. She placed one hand on Matt’s chest, feeling his heart hammer against her palm. The other hand she laid flat on Riley’s sternum, feeling the calm, steady beat there. The contrast was exquisite.
“He’s here because of you,” she whispered to Matt, her amber eyes capturing his. “This is your gift to me. So you’re going to help me unwrap it.” She guided Matt’s hand, forcing his splayed fingers to rest against Riley’s cheek. The skin was warm, alive. Riley turned his head slightly, nuzzling into the touch like a cat, a programmed response to stimulus.
Matt gasped. The touch was electric, wrong and profoundly right.
“See?” Cat breathed, her lips now at Matt’s ear. “He doesn’t mind. He doesn’t think anything. He just… feels.” She moved Matt’s hand slowly down Riley’s neck, over his collarbone. “He’s a tool. For our pleasure. Your old friend. My new toy.”
She then turned her attention to Riley, speaking directly to his blank, beautiful face. “Kiss him,” she commanded.
Riley leaned in without hesitation. His lips met Matt’s, dry and purposeful. It was not a kiss of passion, but of execution. Matt made a choked sound, half-protest, half-surrender, and then his eyes slid shut. The love spell did its work, transmuting his shock into a desperate need to please Cat, and if this pleased her, then it was good. It was everything.
Cat watched, a conductor savoring the first dissonant chord of her symphony. She stepped back, letting them find a rhythm. Matt’s hands came up, hesitant at first, then clutching at Riley’s shoulders as if drowning. Riley responded with a bland, thorough attentiveness, his hands moving over Matt’s back because he had been told to kiss, and this seemed part of that command.
It was a pantomime of intimacy, hollow and profoundly hot.
After a long minute, Cat reached out and gently pulled Riley away by his hair. He came easily, his lips parting from Matt’s with a soft, wet sound. A string of saliva briefly connected them before breaking.
“On the bed,” Cat instructed, her voice husky now. “Both of you.”
They moved. Matt scrambled onto the vast expanse of silk, his body alight with confused desire. Riley followed, his movements assured and empty. Cat joined them, a queen mounting her dais.
What followed was neither tender nor violent. It was a display of absolute control, a choreography of possession. Cat directed them with words and subtle pressures of her hands. She told Matt where to touch, told Riley how to move. She used their bodies like instruments, playing one against the other, sometimes focusing their attention solely on her, sometimes watching them intertwine for her amusement.
Matt lost himself in it. The spell, the shame, the overwhelming sensory input fused into a single, white-hot strand of experience. He was serving Cat. That was the core, the anchor. Everything else—the feel of Riley’s skin, the sounds he made, the ghost of their friendship hanging in the air—was just decoration on that central, immutable truth.
Riley performed. He was stunningly, mechanically effective. He responded to every directive with flawless, soulless precision. His eyes, when they met Matt’s, held no recognition, only a reflective sheen of the room’s dim light.
Cat rode the wave of their joined submission, a sharp, victorious smile etched on her face. This was it. The ultimate consumption. Not just of a person, but of a history, a bond, a whole swath of a life she hadn’t been part of. She owned Matt’s past in this moment, wore it like a trophy.
It ended not with a crescendo, but with a gradual slowing, like a clock winding down. Cat directed them until she was satisfied, until every possible configuration of power and submission had been explored and etched into the slick, tangled sheets. Finally, she lay between their spent forms, one hand on each of their chests, feeling the pounding of two very different hearts—one racing with fraught ecstasy, the other slowing to a steady, untroubled beat.
The room was silent except for their breathing. The afterglow wasn’t one of connection, but of profound depletion.
Cat sat up first. She swung her legs off the bed, the cool air raising goosebumps on her skin. She looked at the two men. Matt was already asleep or unconscious, his face slack, tear-tracks cutting through the sweat on his temples. Riley simply stared at the ceiling, waiting for his next command.
“Get up,” Cat said to Riley.
He obeyed instantly, standing by the bed. He didn’t try to cover himself or seek his clothes. He just waited.
Cat walked to her dresser and pulled out a simple pair of grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt. She tossed them to him. “Put these on.”
He dressed with efficient, robotic movements. The clothes hung on him, anonymous. He looked like a patient in a very nice institution.
“Follow me,” she said.
She led him out of the bedroom, through the quiet house, and to the front door. The night air was cool and smelled of jasmine and dry earth. His car, a sensible sedan, sat in the circular driveway where he’d left it.
She turned to face him one last time. In the porch light, he looked almost normal. Almost like the man who had smiled in the hiking photo.
“Listen,” she said, her voice gentle now, almost kind. “You had a nice visit with Matt. You caught up. You left. You drove home. You’re tired. You’ll go to bed and tomorrow, you’ll think you had a perfectly normal, slightly boring evening.” She placed her fingertips on his temples. Her eyes glowed faintly, a transient amber light in the dark. “You will remember nothing else. Nothing of this house. Nothing of me. Nothing of what we did.”
A subtle ripple passed over his features, a momentary blankness even deeper than before. Then it settled.
“Okay,” Riley said, his voice casual, light. The same voice that had answered the phone. “It was good to see him. Tell him I said bye, I guess.”
“I will,” Cat said softly.
She watched him walk to his car, get in, and start the engine. His movements were natural, unforced. He gave her a small, polite wave through the windshield—a gesture for a hostess he’d just met—and backed down the driveway.
The red taillights disappeared into the canyon darkness. The sound of the engine faded, swallowed by the night.
Cat stood on the porch for a long time, listening to the crickets. The hollow feeling from the night before was gone. In its place was a perfect, crystalline silence. She had taken something whole and bright and used it up in a single evening. She had folded a life into a single, disposable experience. And then she had put it back on the shelf, neatly wiped clean.
It was the most satisfying thing she’d done in weeks.
She turned and went back inside, locking the door behind her with a soft, final click. The house was quiet. Connor was asleep in his cage. Paul was invisible, somewhere, a ghost in the machine. Matt was dreaming fitful dreams in her bed.
And she was alone with her power again, vast and cool and utterly, profoundly bored.