Sean stood stock still in the corridor of the plush Manhattan apartment, waiting for that infernal cat to move around the corridor into the living room. If its brain had not been addled by the personality molding process while making it a familiar, it would have spotted him already.

Concentrating on standing as still as possible and trying desperately not to breathe, he let his mind wander back a few weeks.

He had always liked his aunt Celeste, even if she was a bit aloof and all fancy. Her garlic stewed prunes were always a favourite at thanksgiving dinners, and her faint Italian accent ignored courteously by the more blue collar elements of the family.

If only he had kept a leash on his curiosity when house sitting for her. Digging through a teak chest behind her bed in the main suite, he had found The Book, and then everything changed…

The cat moved out of sight, and Sean padded almost silently to the front door and let himself out.

Crossing the river, he made a bee line for Dean’s house.