I yawned as I followed Keith into the house, shaking my head to get the water out of my short hair. It was raining pretty hard outside as a hurricane was steadily approaching the coast of Florida, but that was pretty normal for this time of year. 

Jackson scowled from behind me, giving my shoulder a shove. "Are you a damn dog?" 

I ran my hand over my face to get rid of the water that was dripping from my hair before flinging it at him. 

We were standing in a grand entryway of an old suburban house in a nice neighborhood. It belonged to Keith's great aunt Gretel who's away at some convention out of state. That left Keith to house sit and he brought us along with him to keep him company.  Honestly, I doubt there is a convention. She's probably just trying to run away from the storm.

"Make yourselves at home," Keith told us before disappearing down the hallway and into the kitchen.

Jackson started toward the living room but paused in the archway, sending me a confused look. "What'd you say?"

I sent him a confused look in return. "What? I didn't say anything."

"But... I just heard whispering."

"Because you're nuts. I'd suggest seeking therapy but they'd definitely lock you up."

He clicked his tongue in annoyance, turning to continue into the living room again only to stop dead. His head snapped back and forth, eyes wide. "No... listen! You really don't hear that?"

I stepped closer to him, straining my ears. To my surprise, I could hear the faint sound of whispering off in the distance. I followed it until it grew louder, seeming to come from every direction. It was almost as if the walls themselves were talking to us, though I couldn't make out a single word of it.

"What the hell is it saying?" Jackson whispered, gripping onto my arm tightly.

"No idea. I think it's coming from here, though." My fingers wrapped around the ornate doorknob, turning it and pushing the door open. It was an office, I think, tall bookshelves lining the walls. At the back sat a large wooden desk in front of tall, uncovered windows.

The whispering stopped dead, replaced by the voice of an old man. "Anything can happen in the old Cromwell house!" 

A high-pitched laughter rung out before the door slammed shut behind us. Jackson whimpered in fear, burying his face against my shoulder. I scowled, trying to pull the door open but it was stuck and wouldn't budge. What the hell?

Chills went down my spine when I felt ice cold breath on the back of my neck. "Ello, poppet~"

Jackson screamed loudly and I whipped back around, narrowed eyes scanning the room. I didn't see anyone, but there was now a black cat sitting on the corner of the desk, its golden eyes staring us down.

"What the fuck? Where'd the cat come from?" I wondered.

Jackson refused to lift his head, his voice barely a whisper. "There's a cat?"

The cat's eyes narrowed at me. "That kind of language is not allowed in this house, young lady!"

My brow furrowed. It was the same voice that whispered in my ear a minute ago. And then it hit me like a ton of bricks. "Holy fuck, the cat just talked!"

"Why you -!" The cat hissed angrily before launching himself into the air at me. 

I waited until the last second before sliding to the side, yanking myself away from Jackson's grip. The cat headbutted Jackson in the face at the exact moment that the door was pushed open. Keith jumped to the side in surprise and the two tumbled back through the open door. He landed hard on his back with the cat sitting on his face.

"Uncle Xanxer!" scolded Keith, picking the feline up by the scruff of his neck.

"Uncle?!" I cried in disbelief, looking between the two with wide eyes.

Keith sent me a sheepish smile as he approached the desk, plopping the feline back down with a sigh. "I should have told you, but I didn't think there would be any issues..."

Jackson sat up quickly, a scowl on his face. There was an obvious red imprint from where he had been hit. "Tell us what? That you have a psychotic speaking cat?!"

The cat just huffed haughtily at this, turning his nose up at us.

"My great great aunt Gretel and her twin brother are both Magicks." He must have seen our confused expression because he added, "They're magic folk."

"What, like witches and wizards?" I questioned.

The cat spat in anger. "What an offensive term! You normal folk have twisted our history into nothing more than a child's bedtime story. I'll tell you what, back in my day, we -"

"Uncle," Keith stressed the word, making the cat huff and turn his back to us. I like to imagine that he just saved us from a very long and very boring story that may or may not be embellished with falsities. 

Jackson finally pulled himself to his feet, using me a shield between himself and the feline should he choose to attack once again. "How is that furball your uncle? Is he an Animagus?"

I sent him a look. "This isn't Harry Potter, fool."

"That's a good question," Keith quirked a brow at his uncle. "What did you do this time? Aunt Gretel only turns you into a cat when you've seriously annoyed her."

"Hmph, that old hag is just power hungry!" He sat back on his haunches, crossing his front legs over his chest. How? I have no idea. "So what if I wanted to give my magic a boost by performing a blood ritual? I'm getting old, my magic is waning! Besides, it's only outlawed in 98% of the world, you know! Let me tell you, boy, back in my day, people were -"

I blinked dumbly, just staring at him as he continued to rant and rave about shit I knew nothing about, pacing back and forth across the desk. Jackson stepped closer to me, tugging on the back of my T-shirt to get my attention. I grunted in reply.

He lowered his voice. "Cults, vampires, and now magical talking cats? What the fuck is next? Giant snakes?"

I closed my eyes, rubbing at my temples. "Please don't ask that question. Shit always gets worse when you ask questions like that."

"Is a normal life really so much to ask for?" He sighed, resting his chin on my shoulder. "I think we're cursed..."

"Probably, but hey... at least it's not boring, right?"

For a moment, we just stared at each other blankly before we sighed in unison, hanging out heads.

"I say we get out of here and go get tacos," I suggested, making Jackson scoff.

"It's storming outside. Did you forget about the hurricane?"

"Would you rather stay here, listening to that?" I motioned toward the back of the room. The cat was still ranting and raving, ignoring Keith as he attempted, and failed, to calm him down.

Jackson's lips parted as he went to reply but then he paused, gave it some thought and shrugged. "Yeah, okay. I'll take my chances with the storm." Turning on his heel, he left the room.

I caught Keith's eye as I turned to leave and he sent me a pleading look, his brown eyes nearly making my resolve waver. To counteract this, I mouthed, 'sorry' before I rushed from the room.