Alley Cat Magic
The tuxedo cat with bright blue eyes woke to the sound of cameras. Not just any cameras—these were the rapid-fire clicks of a press line, the frantic staccato of people trying to immortalize a moment before it slipped past in a cloud of perfume and exhaust. Hollywood Boulevard always smelled the same to him: hot asphalt, car exhaust, and a faint hint of magic that still clung to him like a forgotten coat. He stretched across the warm hood of a parked sedan, flexing his claws one by one. When he yawned, three tourists pointed—not at him, of course, but up the hill. “Look! The sign!” No one ever pointed at the wizard trapped as a tuxedo-black cat whose blue eyes still saw too much. Once upon a time, he’d signed his name as Elias Pike, master of wards and illusions. Now the world saw only another stray slipping between studio alleyways. He didn’t correct them. Cursed wizards did well to avoid attention. Still… the magic hadn’t entirely left. He felt it when the spotli...