“Who was that man?” he asked, planting himself on his haunches in the entrance to the bathroom as I applied mascara.
“What man?” I responded.
Archie let out a soft hiss. “The man you were arguing with last night.”
“You were eavesdropping?”
“Hardly,” Archie said, now sounding bored. “I was sleeping on the landing, and your voices carried quite clearly up the staircase. You didn’t sound very happy with him.”
“That’s because I wasn’t,” I said. Because I figured it couldn’t hurt to give my resident cursed cat some background, I added, “He’s — he’s a sorcerer from L.A. He’s also a world-class ass, and I’m less than thrilled that he tracked me down here. But done is done, so now I have to deal with it.”
“And how are you going to ‘deal with it’?”
“I’m meeting him for breakfast.”
“That’s s
