Chapter 6: Queen of a Thousand Spirits

Eddie led us in through the side door. Julian and I followed, and I heard him groan. I quickly grabbed his arm. “A-are you okay?”

He staggered, clutching his side. I slipped an arm around his waist, steadying him. He smiled weakly, trying to play it off.

He clutched his chest and coughed. “Cough, it’s nothing, just a scratch.”

Eddie, up ahead, pursed his lips. “Don’t believe him, this kid’s always playing it up.”

Julian rolled his eyes, but I could see he was grateful for the distraction. I squeezed his arm, offering silent support.

I looked up at Julian. He looked down at me, eyes dark and bright, dried blood on his cheek, his white skin contrasting with the red—a beautiful, battered hero.

For a moment, the world faded. I felt a flutter in my chest, equal parts fear and something softer.

Wait, what? I mentally slapped myself—this is life or death, not the time for crushes! He saved my life!

I shook my head, trying to focus. But the memory of his arms around me lingered.

Before I could react, Julian leaned down and whispered, “I’m really out of strength. Can you help me?”

His breath tickled my ear, his voice barely above a whisper. I blushed, nodding, and let him lean on me as we made our way down the hall.

Blushing, I nodded, and he gently leaned on my shoulder. I didn’t mind.

His weight was reassuring, grounding me. I wrapped an arm around his waist, steadying us both.

It was late, so Eddie took me to a guest room to rest. We’d see his mentor in the morning.

The room was cozy, the bed piled high with quilts. I sank into the mattress, exhaustion pulling me under.

I stood at the door, watching Eddie drag Julian away, even mimicking him in a shrill voice, “Help me, senior~” I patted my face. Julian’s intentions were so obvious—how could I not notice?

I laughed, covering my mouth to hide the sound. Maybe, just maybe, there was hope for more than just survival.

But with everything going on, who knew if I’d even survive, let alone think about romance?

I hugged my pillow, whispering a prayer. If I made it through this, maybe I’d let myself hope for something good.

I slept surprisingly well that night at St. Gabriel’s.

The bed was soft, the air scented with honeysuckle. For the first time in weeks, I dreamed of nothing at all.

When I woke up, it was past ten. Sunlight spilled through the window. Gold dust everywhere.

Birdsong drifted through the open window, the world bright and new. I stretched, feeling lighter than I had in ages.

I stretched and went out. I hadn’t really looked at the church last night.

The hallways were lined with old photographs, the floors polished to a shine. It felt more like a home than a place of worship.

But it felt more like a grand old Southern mansion than a church guest room.

The ceilings were high, the windows tall and arched. Sunlight poured in, painting rainbows on the walls.

Opening the door, I saw a giant oak tree in the yard. It was summer, leaves still green, and red ribbons with coins hung from the branches, jingling in the breeze, peaceful and far away.

The tree was ancient, its branches sprawling wide. The ribbons danced in the wind, each one a wish or a prayer left behind by someone in need.

I walked under the tree and looked up.

The shade was cool, the grass soft beneath my feet. I closed my eyes, letting the peace of the place seep into my bones.

Suddenly, a fluffy white tail dangled from the branches. Its owner seemed relaxed, lazily flicking the tail.

I grinned, reaching up. The tail twitched, then disappeared into the leaves.

I couldn’t help but want to touch it. As I reached out, the tail was yanked away.

Just as I felt disappointed, a furry cat head popped out of the leaves.

The cat blinked, its eyes mismatched—one blue, one gold. It stared down at me, regal and unimpressed.

It was a white, odd-eyed Maine Coon. It shook off the leaves, jumped gracefully to another branch, and looked down at me.

The cat moved with the confidence of someone who owned the place. Its fur gleamed in the sunlight, and it yawned, flashing sharp teeth.

No one was around. I squeaked, “Kitty, come down, it’s dangerous up there~”

The cat’s ears flicked, its gaze sharpening. It stretched, then—impossibly—opened its mouth and spoke.

The cat looked down at me with disdain and said, “Girl, who you calling kitty?” in a deep Southern drawl.

I stumbled back, eyes wide. For a second, I thought I’d lost my mind. The cat smirked, tail swishing.

I froze, and heard laughter behind me. I turned to see Julian and Eddie carrying a picnic basket. And met Julian’s smiling eyes. My face turned red.

They grinned, clearly enjoying my shock. Eddie winked, setting the basket on the stone table beneath the oak.

So embarrassing!

I covered my face, wishing the earth would swallow me whole. Julian just smiled, his eyes soft.

Where’s a hole to crawl into?!

I mumbled an excuse, but Eddie just laughed, handing me a mug of sweet tea. I took it, grateful for the distraction.

I finished breakfast under Eddie’s laughter. The Maine Coon slept in the tree the whole time.

The food was simple—biscuits, eggs, fresh fruit. The cat snored above us, occasionally twitching in its sleep.

Julian explained this was the church’s resident spirit cat—even the bishop had to call it “sir.” Kids loved to pet it, so it usually avoided people, appearing and disappearing like a ghost. He didn’t know why it showed up for me today.

I glanced up at the cat, wondering if it was fate or just dumb luck. Either way, I felt special.

We sat at a stone table under the oak. Eddie fiddled with his phone, muttering, “Weird, why isn’t Father Whitaker answering? Hope nothing happened.”

His fingers flew over the screen, worry creasing his brow. Julian shrugged, sipping his coffee.

The cat snorted.

The sound was oddly human, full of attitude. I grinned, biting back a laugh.

“Sir, do you know where my mentor went?” Eddie looked up.

The cat propped its head on a paw, tail swinging. “What else? Playing poker, probably out all week.”

Eddie groaned, rubbing his temples. “Told him not to play, his blood pressure will spike.”

The cat feigned concern. “Let him have his fun. What else does he have?”

I hid a smile, charmed by their banter. The cat yawned, stretching luxuriously.

After a while, the cat jumped down, perched on Eddie’s head, and looked at me. “Isn’t it just this girl’s got a problem?” It smacked Julian with a paw. “Kid, how long you been studying? Can’t you see her fate’s been swapped? Or did puppy love fry your brain?”

A red paw print appeared on Julian’s pale face. He glared at the cat, then at me, embarrassment coloring his cheeks.

Julian stared at me for a long moment, then frowned. “Sorry, I didn’t notice before…” I shook my head. The cat licked its paw and mocked, “Heh, you just don’t dare look her in the face.”

Julian’s ears turned bright red. He mumbled something under his breath, refusing to meet my eyes.

“Sir!” Julian protested, ears red. Eddie tried to smooth things over, “It’s normal not to see it at first~”

Eddie winked at me, trying to lighten the mood. I smiled, feeling a little better.

Now they weren’t even hiding things from me? I timidly raised my hand. “Can my fate be changed back? And how do I break the curse?”

The cat twitched its whiskers, didn’t answer, and said, “You can see ghosts now, right?” I nodded nervously. “You know when people can see ghosts?” The cat circled me twice, its odd eyes making me uneasy. Without waiting for me, it said, “One is people with the Sight, another is folks with weird birth charts, and—those about to die.”

My heart clenched as the cat panted, “But your case is special. Your fate was swapped but not completely. Your fate’s a mess, so when the ghost’s fragment entered your eye, it didn’t kill you but opened your Sight.”

I remembered the foreign object that entered my eye when I stabbed the ghost and shuddered. So it was a ghost fragment.

Julian frowned, “Sir, will the fragment hurt her?”

“No, just means she can see ghosts.”

The cat leaped onto Julian’s shoulder, beckoned me, “Girl, come closer.”

I leaned in. A furry paw pressed on my head, and a sharp pain struck. My vision went black, and countless images flashed by. Different eras, places, faces—all flashed by, each with the same fear and anger. Finally, they merged into a cold, classic beauty. Sharp eyes, oval face, cherry lips, a mole at the corner of her eye. When she looked up, her black pupils narrowed, her gaze sharp. Her long hair reached her ankles, dressed in white, she raised a finger at me, lips moving. Though silent, I clearly heard her say, “The next one is you.”

I gasped, opened my eyes panting. Julian looked at me worriedly, the cat sat on the table, tail swaying. “Well, girl, did you see who swapped your fate?” I nodded and described what I saw. The cat grew solemn, jumped down, and walked ahead. “I was wrong. I thought someone with some talent wanted your fate, but the one who swapped your fate doesn’t just want your luck—they want your life.”

Julian followed, “Sir, is something wrong?”

“It’s a curse. You didn’t know, not your fault. I haven’t seen this bloodline curse in a long time… The caster is gone, but the curse passes to the next generation. As long as the family has descendants, the curse won’t stop.” The cat looked at me. “Girl, the priority is to find the one who swapped your fate before the ritual finishes. The woman you saw is the caster. The person who swapped your fate temporarily transferred the curse to you. The caster will come to kill you, until the next inheritor appears.”

We entered a chapel. Julian followed. Eddie stood at the door, deep in thought. The chapel had only a painting of three people from behind. The left one’s wrist had a black snake, the right one’s arm had a falcon, and the middle one’s hat had a white kitten.

Hmm, that kitten’s big tail looked familiar.

The cat stood up and bowed to the painting. Julian handed me a candle. After we prayed, as instructed, I sat in the center.

I watched Julian take out a giant paintbrush from behind the altar. He hugged the brush and drew a circle around me.

Just like those old movies where the priest draws a circle of salt.

Then he began painting complex patterns around me. With each stroke, his face grew paler, and by the end, his shirt was soaked in sweat.

I felt bad, gritting my teeth as I watched.

With the last stroke, golden light shot up, outlining a dragon-headed, turtle-bodied guardian in the air. The golden beast roared and crashed into my forehead. I shuddered, and all the cold evil inside me was expelled. I felt warm and full of energy.

Without thinking, I rushed to help the tottering Julian.

This time he was truly spent.

His head rested on my shoulder, face as pale as death.

The cat stroked its whiskers, eyes appreciative. “Good kid, better than your mentor. When he tried that blessing, he fainted for a whole day.”

Julian wiped his sweat and smiled bitterly. “Sir, not much better, I’m totally drained.”

The cat laughed. “Let your girl carry you, she’s got plenty of strength now.”

Without thinking, I scooped Julian up, proudly saying, “I’m strong.” Realizing, my face turned bright red, but I tried to act cool.

Ahhh! Help! So embarrassing!

Julian looked awkward for a moment, then naturally wrapped his arms around my neck, smiling, “Then I’ll trouble you, senior.” Who understands, I’ve been charmed.

At the door, the cat grumbled, “What are you dawdling for?” I stammered, quickly catching up.

When we boarded the plane back to New York, I finally realized Eddie was loaded.

He had a private jet.

I sat with Julian on the left, Eddie on the right, and the cat in front.

Originally, only Julian, Eddie, and I were going back to New York to find the culprit.

The cat insisted on coming but refused to be put in a carrier.

Eddie made a call, arranged the flight, and the cat, wearing sunglasses, happily watched the clouds.

I was thinking about who wanted to swap my fate.

The cat said, to swap fate, the other party must know my birthday and fate, but that’s too broad.

When I was a kid, a traveling preacher told my mom I was a lucky star.

A bunch of neighbors heard, and I got called “Little Lucky Star” for years.

But they didn’t know, the preacher also told my mom,

“Your daughter’s luck will be envied, may bring disaster. I have a protective cross for just a hundred bucks…” Before he finished, my mom ran him off with a broom.

Back then, a hundred bucks was a lot.

My mom thought he was a fraud, not knowing he might’ve been right. I really did get hurt.