Cleo's life changed forever the night she met the strange, talking cat.

  Of course, there was also a dead body, and a mummy that stank like a wet towel left for days on the bathroom floor, but we’ll get to them soon…

  Cleo didn’t know about the cat, or the dead body, or the mummy, one minute earlier when a sharp pain in her back dragged her screaming from sleep. She sat up in bed, cotton sheet sliding to her waist, breath coming in huge gasps, and sweat dripping from her skin. Groaning, she reached over her right shoulder to gently touch her aching skin, feeling nothing other than a hotness, as if she’d been burned. She winced, but the pain quickly faded, leaving her wondering if she’d imagined it—after all, she had been dreaming. Except the pain had felt all too real, just like when her school enemy Isabella had pushed her to the ground and twisted her arm behind her back last year in a fit of anger and spite. But she was no stranger to pain and its crippling effects.

  She took a few deep breaths to calm herself, as stress sometimes caused her condition to flare up. So did certain foods like red meat, garlic, sugar, and alfalfa sprouts, but she was used to avoiding them when she could. Stress, on the other hand, was sometimes unavoidable.

  Cleo wiped her sweaty palms on the cotton sheet, smoothing it out. Which was odd, since it was winter and bitterly cold and she usually slept under thick woolen blankets, which seemed to be missing. Maybe she’d thrown them off in her sleep. Then she realized it was hot and muggy, which was impossible in winter, wasn’t it?

  That’s when she noticed the smell—a stinky dampness, like mold, like wet clothing left in a pile for too long, or her younger brother’s dirty socks after football practice.

  “Ahem,” a small voice said somewhere to her left. “Finally, you’re awake.”

  Cleo peered through the darkness of her bedroom, trying to see who’d spoken. Moonlight spilled through two high arched windows, splashing in lines across the stone floor, and she was suddenly struck with a sense of strangeness. This wasn’t her room.

  She couldn’t see anyone, and slowly reached a hand under her bed and groped for the baseball bat she always kept there for self-defense ever since her older sister had made her watch some horror movies.

  “There’s no need for that,” said the voice.

  An intruder would say that, she thought.

  “You stink,” Cleo said, as her hand continued to search beneath her bed. Where was the baseball bat, damn it! She had no idea who’d spoken, but anyone who’d entered her locked room and kidnapped her while she was asleep wasn’t someone to be trusted. Her school had lectured all the students about the danger of strangers, and although they hadn’t mentioned hitting them with a baseball bat, Cleo was willing to give it a try.

  A shadow moved over by the closest window’s curtains, low down near the floor. Cleo’s breath caught in her chest as her heart jumped and breathing stopped, when a spotted cat took a few steps out of the shadows and into the moonlight. It had a striking black-tipped, pale silver fur coat, and curiously there was a bald patch near its right shoulder. Cleopatra exhaled in relief, then peered around her room looking for whoever had spoken.

  “It was me,” said the cat, seeming to read her thoughts. “And I don’t smell. It’s my… assistant.”

  Cleo’s gaze jerked back to the cat. “Huh?!” she exclaimed in surprise.

  The cat tilted its head to the side, as if she was a mouse it had decided to play with, or an interesting curiosity. “If you’re this stupid, then I’m going to have my work cut out for me,” it said, lips barely moving.

  “I’m not stupid! Wait, why am I talking to a cat? Did you just speak?” Cleo grasped the carved jade dragon pendant hanging around her neck—a present from her Chinese grandmother, and supposedly able to bring good luck and protection—as if it could help her. She twisted the silver necklace around her fingers, but somehow the touch of cool jade and metal didn’t calm her nerves like it usually did. Was she dreaming? She had to be. But this seemed far more real than any dream she’d ever had. And the smell was far worse.

  The cat sat on its hind legs, the tip of its pink tongue sticking out, looking somehow annoyed. “Obviously. But we’ve no time for explanations. Come on, get up and get dressed. We have to get out of here.”

  Cleo decided that she must, indeed, be dreaming about a talking cat. There was no other explanation. “I can’t,” Cleo said, looking around the room for her mysteriously missing bedside table with her numerous medications. “I need my medicines. Can’t go anywhere without them. Sorry.”

  The cat gave a short cough, and she couldn’t be sure but Cleo thought its mouth curled into a momentary smile.

  “No time for explanations,” it said quickly. “Hurry up, Cleo, or we’ll be late. Or dead. Or late and dead. At least you’ll be dead.”

  “Wait, how do you know my name?”

  “I know a great many things. And one of them is you don’t listen. Hurry up!” The cat’s command seemed to latch hold of Cleo, and she found herself sliding her legs out and her bare feet hitting the cold stone floor.

  “Good,” said the cat. “Now, stand up straight. Let’s get a good look at you.”

  Cleo didn’t like the cat’s demanding tone, but she stood a little straighter and pulled her shoulders back. If this was a dream, like she supposed because surely it had to be, then it couldn’t hurt to humor the cat. At least for a little while.

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  The cat stepped closer, then sniffed as if unimpressed. “Shoulder length golden brown hair, likely mostly from your mother’s side. Big nose, likely from your father.”

  “Strong,” protested Cleo, heat suffusing her face in embarrassment. “It’s a strong nose. It gives me character.”

  “Yes, very impressive. And a bad attitude. I think this is the right girl. There can’t be many others like this named Cleopatra, and my magic never steers me wrong. Well, hardly ever. Though I did think you’d be taller.”

  “My name’s Cleo, not—”

  “Never Mind. What do you think, Seti?”

  Something moved in the darkness over by the far wall. There was the sound of cloth scraping, and the damp, moldy smell became stronger. A moment later, a tall figure shuffled from the shadows. It was man-shaped and wrapped in stained and moldy strips of linen cloth. Even its face was completely covered, and from it wafted a sharp, chemical stench.

  A mummy. Just like she’d seen in one of the B-grade horror movies she’d been forced to watch.

  Cleo gasped and stepped backwards, legs hitting the bed. Where was her baseball bat?!

  The mummy nodded, the cat nodded back, and then Cleo noticed the mummy’s hand held someone’s leg by the ankle. It shuffled closer. The leg was attached to a body which dragged behind it. All of a sudden Cleo’s legs went weak, and she wished she would just wake up, then she could forget all these horrible, weird things and have breakfast—freshly baked bread, fried eggs and maybe fresh berries, a hot choco—

  “Cleo!” snapped the cat. “Pay attention!”

  “Is that a… mummy?”

  The cat rolled its eyes. “It is indeed a sapient embalmed human. Very observant. It seems I really have my work cut out for me this time.”

  “Gross.” Cleo wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Who… who is it holding?”

  “What? Oh. Someone was sent to kill you. They may have tracked us, which is unfortunate.” The cat’s eyes shifted to one side, then back to Cleo. “We saved you, though.”

  “We? Wait, did you lead them to me?”

  “We is Seti, the fragrant one here, and myself. You’re lucky we arrived when we did. No, there’s no need for thanks. I take payment in salmon and cream. Raw, of course.”

  “Raw salmon or raw cream?”

  “Yes.”

  She noticed that the cat hadn’t answered her second question, which was suspicious and probably meant they had brought trouble to her. “Anyway, why would someone want to harm me?” asked Cleo, and she cringed inwardly a little at the tremor of fear in her voice. She clenched her fists and pushed her anxiety aside. “I’m just a girl. I’m not even seventeen yet.” Wait, maybe she was, since it was supposed to be her birthday when she woke up in the morning. This wasn’t a very good dream. “Can’t I just go back to sleep? And then wake up? Or just wake up without the going to sleep part?”

  The cat gave a long sigh. Cleo knew it was a sigh because it was probably loud enough to be heard through her bedroom door. Her eyes narrowed in anger. Wake me up in the middle of the night? Tell me my nose was too big? It’s just a strong nose, that’s all. She took a step forward and smiled at the cat, a smile her brother and sister knew meant trouble. No one bullied her. Dream or no dream, this snarky cat was about to regret being so rude.

  “Now listen here, cat—”

  “Mau. My name’s Mau. And yours is Cleopatra.”

  “No, it’s just Cleo. No one’s named Cleopatra these days, it’s too famous and cultural appropriation or something. That’s what my history teacher said. Unless they’re actually Egyptian.”

  “So, you prefer a shortened name. That’s too bad, Cleo, because you are relatively short. And two shorts don’t make a long!” Mau sniggered as if it had said something funny.

  What? “Hey! Look who’s talking!”

  “Thank you for reminding me. Both of us are doing far too much of it. Time is of the essence. Let’s go!”

  The cat said something then, words that seemed to come from deep in its furry chest and vibrated the air when they left its throat. Musical and liquid, the room brightened as the words were released into the air, in a language Cleo hadn’t heard before. French? No, something far stranger.

  A bright azure slash appeared in the air, and Cleo felt a vibration in her bones and teeth as the slash widened until it formed a doorway. She automatically took a few steps towards it until she was only a step away, the swirling shades of blue mesmerizing. The portal to who knew where. A glowing, blue, magical doorway, like something from the Demon Hunters gacha RPG she’d played for a few years.

  “So,” said the cat, stepping towards the doorway, “if you could just follow me into this—”

  “No,” said Cleo. This was crazy. This couldn’t be real, could it? “I can’t. I don’t have my medicine. And I just want to wake up now, please.”

  The cat paused for a moment, then continued to walk towards the doorway. “That’s no way for a princess to act. You should be bold! Brave!”

  “I’m not a princess, and you can forget about—”

  Cleo stopped mid-sentence. Really, would it be so bad to get away from her life, from the pain? At least for a little while? Even if it was only in her dreams? She had nothing to lose.

  “Are there Doctors there?” she said.

  “Healers. Yes. Many miracles can be performed with powerful magic.”

  Wait, there’s magic?!

  Mau went on. “I’m sure whatever you need can be provided. As long as you make it through the trial period. It depends on what skill or spell cards you get.”

  “Cards? Oh, so this is one of those worlds. Like an RPG but with cards?” She could handle that, as long as there was a shred of hope for her to cling to, she felt she could withstand almost anything.

  Mau’s expression changed from smug to pleading. “We need you, Princess Cleopatra. Please. The fate of the entire universe may hinge on it.”

  A firm hand gripped Cleo’s shoulder as her nostrils were assaulted with the strong smell of bitter chemicals and mildew. The mummy had grabbed her, but it didn’t feel threatening, more like it was trying to reassure her.

  “I think you may have the wrong person. I’m not a princess!” But magic, though! Cards!

  “If you say so. I can’t force you to come.” Mau’s tone became flat, almost sad. “But we desperately need help. It’s not going to be sunshine and roses there, if I’m honest with you. It’s going to be tough. Challenging and sometimes horrible.”

  Way to sell it, Mau. But at least it’s honest.

  “Bleak and cruel,” continued Mau. “But there’s a chance you can make all the difference. It’s now or never Cleo, what’s it to be?”

  She hadn’t survived through her pain and sickness for years just to be too scared to take a chance when one like this was presented to her. Maybe it was a dumb idea, maybe she was letting a sliver of hope get the better of her, but if there was any way to cure her Lupus it wasn’t in this world. Maybe, just maybe, there would be a chance wherever Mau was leading her.

  Once, after a particularly bad flare up of Lupus had left her in pain for weeks, her father had told her that courage wasn’t the absence of fear, but rather the ability to act in the face of fear. Real bravery came from a place of wisdom and strength. Well, she wasn’t wise yet, but she’d endured far more than most girls her age had. And when she set her mind to something she rarely failed.

  Maybe she was going crazy.

  Not thinking about her lack of medicine and only being dressed in her flannel pajamas, Cleo took a deep breath, shrugged off the mummy’s hand, closed her eyes, and stepped through the portal.

  Magic, here we come!