Last week we had his memorial service—all of Catspaw and some folks from Waterwind were there. I can’t believe he’s gone. Sometimes I’msure he’s not gone—that he’s about to start up the stairs, he’s about to call, he’ll walk through the door, holding some new book, some new find. My friend Nancy asked if it had bothered me that he was nearly forty years older than me. It never did. He was a beautiful man, no matter what his age. And even more important, he loved me, he shared his knowledge, he let me learn anything I could. My powers are ten times stronger now than they were when we first met. Now Patrick’s gone. The house is mine, all his things are mine. I’m looking through his books and finding so many I never knew he had. There are books hundreds of years old that I can’t even decipher. Books written in code. Spelled books that I can’t even open. I’m going to ask Stella for help with these. Since she became Catspaw’s leader, I’ve trusted her more and more.
