Sarah hadn't been living on the coast for very long when the storm came. The whole town was humming with excitement the morning that she switched on the TV, hoping to catch the morning weather, when she instead discovered that there was a hurricane barreling up through the southern states at breakneck speed towards them. She'd grown up with her father and step-mother in upstate New York and had seen her fair share of tropical depressions and torrential rain remnants from the storms that made landfall, but a true hurricane sounded worrisome.

Opening up shop as usual, Sarah noted that the shops neighboring her own were busy taping and shuttering windows, posting signs with their altered hours due to the projected strength of the storm. Some were even preparing to evacuate, closing up altogether until after the storm passed and moving merchandise out of the building to save what they could in case of flooding. Of course, most of Sarah's books were all old, unwanted paperbacks and her heart felt heavy to leave them behind, but there wasn't the room for all of them in her trusty Buick. Sarah rested her elbows on the check-out counter and admired each tattered spine. Each volume was someone's prized work and sometimes someone's life work. It felt almost unfair to have to leave so many in the shop where they could be destroyed. Still, there would be more unwanted, frayed paperback novels to put on the shelves, were these destroyed. There seemed to be an endless supply of the things pouring into her shop regularly.

She turned her attention to the pile of leather-bound, beautiful classics piled in the box behind the counter. A large box was all that was truly of value in her shop, in the end, but it wasn't surprising when she didn't often receive any high quality merchandise for the shelves. Her favorite, a copy of Jane Eyre rested at the top of the pile and Sarah took it up, considering a brief moment to read in the quiet of her empty store. Unfortunately, the bell on the front door jingled and she looked up to see her next door neighbor, Annie, anxiously hoping to catch her attention.

"Hi Sarah, you got a minute?"

"Sure, no problem. What's up?"

Annie was older than Sarah and often took it upon herself to act as a mother figure, regardless of Sarah's appreciation or lack thereof. The reading interruption was all Annie needed to be a perfect repeat of Sarah's former step-mother.

"Well, you know that the storm makes landfall later tonight…"

Sarah quirked an eyebrow.

"I do."

Annie seemed displeased with her nonchalance.

"The wind's going to be really something else, dear, and you know Sam and I are taking off in a few hours for the cabin."

"Listen, I appreciate the offer, but I think I'll just weather things out here. You're allergic to cats anyway, remember?"

Annie became even more perturbed at the mention of Sarah's little black and white cat, Charlie. She was generally allergic to cats, but that didn't stop Sarah from letting Charlie run freely outside whenever he liked. Neither did she stop him from leaving little half-alive "presents" for the neighbors. In that way, Charlie lost all regard Annie might have had for him.

"Oh, the cat would be fine, they can climb! I just hate to think of you shut up in that house for days waiting for the water to let up."

Sarah didn't mind the isolation. She'd stockpiled more than enough for two weeks of such apparent high waters and if they kept people away from the door, she was happy enough.

"I promise I'll be alright. You two go on and I'll keep an eye on the place for you, how's that?"

It was enough to satisfy the older woman, who smiled sweetly at her.

"Please be careful. Remember if you change your mind, you're more than welcome to go up to the cabin."

"I'll keep it in mind. For now I've just got to get some of this mess out of here."

Annie waved, concern still evident on her face, as she left. Sarah was relieved to be alone again. The poor woman always meant well, but ever since Sarah had come to town four years earlier, Annie wouldn't let her be. Sarah had been young, alone, and without much to call her own aside from the old family house (conveniently left to her by her grandmother) and some money to get herself started. Living alone had been everything she'd hoped for, but the loneliness drove her to introduce herself to neighbors and from then on she'd never been free of their attention. With the hurricane passing through, she'd surely earn some time to herself. She hoped.

-

The fifth hour without a single customer came and went, and it was only by the seventh that Sarah felt she was beginning to lose her mind. She'd had slow days before, but it was as if almost everyone in the town had chosen to evacuate. Sarah resigned herself to closing early and took her box of books out to the car. The sky was a shade of yellow she didn't believe she'd seen before, the sun fighting to be seen over the dark clouds swirling towards town. The hurricane certainly looked imposing, and the rising winds told her that sooner rather than later, it would be time to be at home. The town was deserted save for a few stragglers like herself, the café all shut for business and the supermarket too. The movie theater marquee had no letters on it, for fear of losing them all in the winds. It was eerie to see the town in its ghostly fashion, lit yellow by the sky, missing all of the people and the life that it had only the day before.

Pulling into her driveway, Sarah felt some relief at seeing Charlie waiting patiently by the front door to be let inside. He rubbed against her leg as she unlocked the front door, purring loudly. She'd eat something small for dinner, read for a few hours and possibly enjoy some TV, and then to bed, as routine dictated. It would be quiet and with luck, she'd sleep through the hurricane as it passed overnight.

Her house creaked and moaned around her as it settled in the changing air pressure, and though she knew it was only the house's old wood, the sounds unsettled her. She prepared and ate a small supper quickly and switched on the TV for comforting racket to drown out the disquieting racket of the oncoming storm. A flash of lighting made her nearly jump out her chair. She wasn't particularly good with lightning and hadn't been for as long as she could remember, though she had no memory to blame such a fear on. Charlie came padding into the kitchen and chirruped at her, a good enough sign for her that it was time for cuddling a cat on the sofa and drowning out the storm with trash TV.

The cat settled into her lap easily enough, but not too far into an episode of Jeopardy, he turned his head towards the bookcase and starting mewing in its direction. Understandably, this made Sarah's insides turn to liquid entirely. She swallowed hard and tried to ignore him until he started to hiss. Sarah stroked his head and tried desperately to still her wildly beating heart. The rain tapped steadily on the shuttered windows and Sarah felt her palms start to sweat, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. She turned her head ever so slightly to catch whatever the offending thing was in her periphery and saw…a cat. A little, chubby calico cat.

More than a little relieved, Sarah sighed and deposited Charlie on her seat. The poor thing had to have wandered in while her back was turned bringing books indoors, in hopes of escaping the storm and Sarah couldn't blame her. The rain had begun to rush down on the house like a weak waterfall.

"I bet you came in to miss all that rain, huh?"

The cat rubbed her head against Sarah's hand in a friendly gesture, but Charlie made no move to approach the other animal and sat stiffly in place, watching Sarah greet her, warily.

"I'm sure Charlie won't mind sharing his house for a night. Will you, Charlie?"

Being a cat, he made no move to indicate an understanding. Sarah sighed heavily.

"That's right, he said it's fine."

The calico looked on at Sarah, receiving her affection with a satisfied gaze. Sarah noticed a collar around the cat's neck, but it wasn't any kind of collar she'd ever seen before. A bit of twine was wound around the little calico's neck with a tag made of what looked to her like solid gold. With the cat's peaceful demeanor allowing, Sarah tugged it gently into the light and read the name engraved on the tag, Chasma.

Sarah found it to be a pretentious name for a cat, but then again, the thing was wearing a collar tag of solid gold.

"Chasma."

She scratched behind the cat's ears.

"Sarah Williams."

Sarah blinked for five, seven seconds before registering that the calico had spoken to her.

"Uh."

"You are Sarah Williams?"

Sarah turned briefly to Charlie as if to ask 'Are you seeing this too?', but he seemed no more on edge than before.

"He won't notice a difference, he's just a cat."

"B-but, so are you. And you're talking…like a…person."

The calico laughed, baring her sharp white teeth.

"I am Chasma, daughter of Lark of Angwyn and Brigid of Haeg."

Sarah's blood ran cold and she nearly leapt backwards, yanking her hand away.

"I expect you have questions, Sarah of Piermont."

She laughed to herself. It was the hysteria of the storm, and she'd driven herself mad enough with fear to believe a cat was speaking to her.

"I don't even drink and I somehow manage to do this. Sorry, uh, Chasma. I'm not doing this today. This is just my brain doing something weird and I'm just going to go to sleep and pretend this never happened."

"You do not have a choice."

Sarah laughed again, with more mania than before.

"Oh right, because why wouldn't the talking cat now be telling me what to do? This is great. This is good stuff. My shrink is going to sink his teeth into this."

"He will know nothing. I am here on business and I do not intend to leave until it is resolved."

Sarah rose, clumsily, and traipsed over to her staircase and began the ascent. Sleep would undo whatever hallucination Chasma was. She was sure she'd wake in the morning to find a plain calico on her first floor and not the twine collar-wearing, talking abomination currently chattering at her from the base of the stairs.

"I come as an ambassador of the Sidhe; we have grave matters to discuss. I urge you to cease resisting contact and give me the information I need so that I may be on my way."

Sarah washed her face in the sink of the hall bathroom and ignored Chasma's sudden materialization on the counter beside her. Through a toothpaste filled mouth, Sarah gurgled,

"So if I tell you whatever it is you need to know, this whole thing will end?"

The hurricane's winds rattled the shutters violently against the window. Chasma gave a nod and waved a paw and a transparent list floated in the air before her face. Sarah didn't recognize the symbols on the delicate page, but she could only assume it was all scrambled nonsense from the depths of her brain, anyhow.

"We'll start from the beginning, Sarah of Piermont. You must speak truthfully."

Sarah snorted.

"The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?"

Chasma didn't seem entertained.

"How is it that you came to the Underground?"