Blame the abominable snowman chasing me. Yes, you heard me right. An abominable snowman, also known as a Yeti, pursued my clumsy and bulky butt. Luckily, its chase proved as lumbering as my escape. Its stumpy legs didn’t allow for a long stride. However, with inexorable single-mindedness, it plodded through the drifts, unrelenting, and determined to capture the trespasser, AKA me.

A glance over my shoulder to see if I’d put any distance between us—I hadn’t—led to me tripping and falling. My mittened hands broke my fall, but my arms sank to my elbows. I paused for a moment on my hands and knees, huffing steam into the frigid air.

“Get up and move,” hissed Cedric, who’d joined me on this trip to Russia. A place that had long been on my bucket list of places I wanted to visit. My mistake? Not sticking to the scenic areas.

“I’m trying to move,” I grumbled. “But in case you hadn’t noticed, it’s not exactly easy.” I shoved upright and yanked a foot from the thick snow and took a step. Then another, trying to ignore the daunting number of limb-sucking drifts still ahead. If only the snowmobile hadn’t gotten stuck… If only I’d stayed home…

We had no weapons to defend ourselves, merely our wits and muscle, both of which were currently in sad supply. In my defense, no one warned me about the monster with an appetite for cute Canadian girls guarding the place I had to visit.

“Stop, dallying, Florence! The beast is almost upon us!” Cedric hollered.

“Yelling the obvious is really not helpful,” I muttered, wondering how far the Abominable would chase.

Should I turn and face the ferocious Yeti in the hopes I could placate it somehow? I doubted it understood English, and while song might work for some beasts, my singing voice would likely enrage it even worse. Maybe it had a sore tooth like the one in that Christmas special? Not that I was equipped to fix it. If only I had a treat to offer yummier than me, a human bonbon with a squishy, juicy center. Would it kill me quick? Or savor my suffering?

“Faster,” Cedric hissed.

I tried. I really did, and it resulted in me falling face first in the snow. Cold. Annoying. Not helpful at all. Would this forsaken place in Russia be where I died? Likely, since I lacked the energy to extricate myself. And even if I could, I had no way to fight. My magic wasn’t currently obeying.

“Get up!” Cedric yelled.

“What’s the point?” I groaned.

“So you can live, you idiot. Move your ass. I’ll distract it while you escape,” Cedric stated, and I turned my head in time to see him bounding away from me, his lighter, feline frame better suited to navigating drifts. Oh, did I not mention Cedric was a talking cat?

I flopped to my back and then a seated position. As I pushed myself to my feet, I watched as the fleet-pawed Cedric ran between the monster’s legs, causing it to pause its slow plod and bend over to look. While it was hunched, Cedric leapt and landed atop the Yeti’s back, but before he could do anything, the beast straightened, the movement abrupt enough it sent Cedric flying.

Poor Cedric hit a snow drift and sank out of sight, leaving the Abominable staring at me and, even more terrifying, grinning with jagged, yellowed teeth.

Oh fuck.

Swearing wouldn’t help, but that didn’t stop the filthy litany that slipped past my lips. Better to curse than fully submit to my mental pity party where I wished I’d never agreed to come to this remote forsaken place. Wished I’d not lost the one guy who could have protected me. But most of all, I wished I’d never gone to the auction at the butterfly lady’s house, which started this entire mess.

“Argh! It has me!”  Cedric yelled, startling me so much I again fell face first again in the snow. “Let me go!” he howled.

Oh no. Poor Cedric.

It took me a moment to flip over—think of a turtle’s struggle when on its back and you’ll understand—before I could see what happened.

I blinked. Tilted my head slightly. Blinked again. But the scene remained the same.

The Yeti cradled and rocked Cedric in its furry arms while crooning nonsensical vowels.

Incongruous and also kind of funny, hence why I laughed.

A less-than-impressed Cedric growled, “Do something.”

“You want me to take the Abominable’s lovable new friend away? I don’t think so, George.”

“I didn’t come here to reenact a Bugs Bunny scene,” Cedric hollered, showing he’d watched the same, classic episode.

“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.

Chapter 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.

“I’d rack that up to pure dumb luck,” Cedric muttered.

“You’re one to talk, Mr. Tree that got turned into a pussy.”

“It’s like you want me to pee on your pillow.”

“Do that and your pet door will be permanently locked.” To think, I’d once upon a time been so excited to have a kitty. I’d done everything to get Cedric to like me back when I thought him just a regular cat. I’d since decided I preferred dogs.

“Guess since you’re in one of your moods again, we won’t be checking out that auction.”

“What auction?”

“The estate sale I told you about in Manotick.”

“Ooh, I do like a good yard sale.”

“Excellent. Let’s go.” Cedric hopped to the floor from the back of the couch. “Shotgun.”

“You know, one day, I’m gonna call it and then enjoy myself as you admit you can’t drive and beg me to swap spots.” Only Cedric could bring out the petty in me.

“Who says I can’t drive.” A claim made as he sauntered for the front door, tail swishing.

I would have pointed out the impossibility given his short legs and lack of hands. However, as the opening of the front door sans anyone touching it reminded me, kitty had magic. Ever since the Grimoire making him a slave to its owner had been destroyed, Cedric had access to his dryad magic. He could do things like move objects, open doors, project his voice, steal a turkey leg when I pulled it from the oven for basting. What he couldn’t do? Turn into a tree.

We headed out to the Corolla, the car that never died, inherited from Charlie when she left to be the Queen of Hell. Okay, not Hell, but it sounded cool, and according to her, outside of the city, the landscape did appear like a barren, scorched wasteland.

I opened the driver side door, and Cedric hopped in and made himself comfortable on the passenger seat as I slid into my spot behind the wheel.

“Why are you so keen on a junk sale anyhow?” I asked.

“Other people’s trash can be someone’s treasure.”

“Is something I would say. I thought you were proud to not own anything but attitude.”

“I still have no interest in material possessions. However, given what Charlie told me —”

“You spoke to Charlie without me?” It might have emerged a tad indignant. How dare he steal my friend?

“You were out running errands when she called last night via the mirror.” Ah yes, the magical version of video-calling courtesy of Charlie’s hottie husband, who magicked a pair so my bestie and I could chat interdimensionally.

“And what did you chat about?” I tried to not sound too sour and failed.

“Mostly about the message she relayed from the seers.”

“Why would she bother listening to those charlatans? Because of them, Charlie’s dad”—the former King of Infernal—“almost killed her.”

“Almost but didn’t,” Cedric pointed out. “And now Charlie is the queen of the Eastern Territories.”

Way to remind me how well she was doing in comparison to me. “What did the charlatans have to say this time?”

“Apparently, they told Charlie, in their usual riddled method, that a human and her cursed feline needed to acquire a magical artifact before it fell into the wrong hands.”

“AKA me and you.” Despite myself, the prediction had me intrigued. “What else did they say?”

“Not much only that it would be found amidst the Lepidoptera.”

“The lepi what?”

“It’s the technical term for butterflies.”

I couldn’t help but shudder. Damn them for giving me a task that involved my worst nightmare. “I don’t suppose they described this artifact.”

“No.”

“What about the wrong hands? Is that a specific group? Person? Or just a generalization of anyone that isn’t us?”

“Also not clear.”

“How does this vague prediction tie into the garage sale in Manotick?”

“It might not. However, I happened to come across a social media post”—Don’t ask how Cedric browsed the internet because I hadn’t the slightest clue—“that mentioned an estate sale for one Dorothea Papillon, a woman recently deceased, known to collect all things butterfly.”

There was that dreaded word again. Had I known about the winged bastards ahead of time, I would have never agreed to go to this auction. Technically, we could still turn around and go home. It wasn’t as if Cedric could stop me.

“I’m surprised you’re keen on following the instructions of the seers.”

“Usually, I wouldn’t be. However, they did say one other thing.” He paused before saying in a low tone, “That the acquisition of the artifact would lead to fur becoming leaf once again.”

I could have mocked Cedric for believing; however, it would be mean to take away his hope, no matter how far-fetched. Did he really think an old lady who collected winged bugs really had anything that would break the curse keeping him in his cat shape? Then again, it wasn’t any crazier than the other stuff we’d tried. I’d read through every single book on magic I could find, both those left behind by Charlie’s Grams—the last owner of the Grimoire that we drunkenly used to summon demons—and even more lore I found online. I’d ordered antiques with promising attributes off of eBay using savings I could ill afford to deplete. All of them turned out to be duds—and each time we failed, Cedric’s whiskers drooped.

“Hope I have enough cash in my wallet,” I muttered.

“If not, I shall find some for you.”

“We’ve talked about stealing,” I chided.

“Borrowing,” he corrected. “And when I’m returned to myself, I shall replace it.”

“How? I mean, facts are trees don’t have money unless they’re cut down and made into lumber, which would likely kill you. Or are you a maple? Because the sap from those is liquid syrup gold, and as a bonus, you don’t have to die.”

“For the last time, I’m a dryad who used to inhabit an oak before the wizard destroyed it.”

“Still don’t see how that distinction translates into dollars.”

“I said I’d pay it back. The how doesn’t matter,” he snapped.

“If you say so,” I sang merging onto Highway 416 and heading south on it. As I drove, a question occurred to me based on something he’d revealed. “If the wizard who cursed you murdered your oak, is it even possible for you to return to your dryad form? Don’t you like need it as an anchor?”

“I’ll need a part of it, yes,” he admitted. “If lucky, a sliver might be enough for me to return to my proper shape.”

“But it’s been ages. Would there be anything left?”

“I don’t know,” his subdued reply, which led to him dropping flat and putting his head on his paws.

The obvious dejection had me feeling like an ass. “I’m sure we’ll find something. I mean, the roots are probably still in the ground somewhere.”

“Probably.” Still morose. “An acorn that could be planted would be better, but I doubt there’s any left.”

Leaving a single hand on the steering wheel, I reached over and stroked the top of his head, uttering a soothing, “It will be fine.”

“What are you doing?”

“Petting you.”

“Stop it.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Why not admit you like it?”

“I will not because I am not a cat.”

“You are for the moment.” I paused and added, “What’s the first thing you’ll do once you’re back to being a dryad?” I didn’t use if.

“That depends. If I just end up back in my proper shape, then eat a proper meal, perhaps seek out some companionship. But I’m really hoping there’s a way for me to re-bond with a tree.”

“Is being a tree relaxing?”

Cedric didn’t immediately answer, and when he did, it emerged slowly. “It’s more than calming. It reenergizes the spirit. Reconnects me to the world. Grounds me. Of course, that is assuming I can locate an acorn that can be coaxed into taking root. If there’s nothing left but slivers, I’ll never experience that feeling again.”

“Then let us pray for a seed,” I stated, spotting our exit on the highway.

“A seed will take so long to grow,” Cedric sighed.

“What’s a few more years when you’ve waited centuries?”

“Annoying,” he snapped in response to my attempt at kindness.

“So grouchy. See if I feed you any of the fish I bought to make tacos tonight.”

“You will feed me because you’re too kind to let me starve.”

“We both know you’re perfectly capable of hunting yourself up a meal.”

“But it is vastly more entertaining when you serve me.”

We might have kept arguing about the role of cats versus humans, only, according to the GPS, we’d arrived at our destination, and upon seeing the house, I blurted out, “No fucking way am I going inside.”

Because only a fool would enter a house that looked like the clone of the one in the Amityville horror movies—and, even worse, featured the nemesis of my nightmares.