Sal, Butter and Pepper || ONC2024

Chapter 3: Missing in Action

Butter bid his time behind a humongous monstrosity of a vase placed square in the middle of the well-manicured lawn.

Despite having lived forever among humans and magical beings alike, Butter still found it hard to understand the intricacies of what was considered a thing of beauty.

In the feline's mind, none was more beautiful than his mistress Pepper. Her dark eyes and matching long wavy locks- so much- like the first Woodgrip he had met, held kindness and warmth. It was both a shame and a surprise that she was still single. Then again, none of Woodgrips, since he had begun serving them, seemed to have enjoyed a happy married life. Most fell for the worst kind of men and always got their hearts broken. The rest were betrayed by fate, left widowed with a bun in their oven at a young age.

When Butter had saved Patty Woodgrip, Ms. Poppy's fifteen-year-old daughter, and ended up at her doorstep a day later (as a feline capable of human speech), vowing to serve her and her family as Butter, he had never expected such a poor fate to befall his mistresses. It was as if the Woodgrips were trapped in a vicious circle. One that the kitten hoped Pepper would break.

A wayward tear rolled down Butter's furry face as he returned to the present. "Mistress Pepper is a catch. It's a pity she believes otherwise. By Lord Satan, I am going to change that," he said, checking the coast: his way out of the resort. It was still buzzing with paparazzi.

The kitten sighed, letting his mind wander again. It wasn't his fault that all his waking hours were dominated by thoughts of how best he could help his mistress.

"Darn those Willowdrips!" he hissed. The relatively obscure wizarding family was related to Pepper from her father's side. Felicity Willowdrip, their only daughter, a witch five years younger than his mistress, was why Pepper and he had ended up in Whistling Greens. The private luxury resort was owned by the Bolts, the stinking-rich human household the young witch was marrying into.

"How can she get married before you? It's against the law, my lady," Butter had said, going as far as threatening to approach UCWW: United Court for Witches and Wizards, to lodge a complaint against Felicity's parents, Fren and Fiona Willowdrip.

Alas, Pepper had stopped him for good with cold hard facts. "She is not breaking the law, B," rubbing his belly, she had said, "the law regarding serial marriage is only applicable to witches and wizards who marry into our community, it doesn't include humans."

Felicity looked nothing like Pepper. She was tall, blond, and a people pleaser. Terrible at witchcraft, the younger witch had unsuccessfully been job-searching for the past year. Good thing she had found Brandon Bolt.

"Yuck!" Butter said as the memory of the last time he had laid eyes on Brandon assaulted his memory. The human had relentlessly flirted with Pepper. Alas, even with evidence of his true nature there for everyone to see, Felicity had turned a blind eye to it.

"I tried talking her out of it, but she refuses to use her senses. Money and the prospect of a comfortable future has blinded her, B." Pepper had said when he had asked why her cousin was being so stupid.

All the anger he had, though, had flown out of the proverbial window when a letter and an ivory-embossed card had arrived in the mail almost a month ago, cordially inviting Pepper and Butter to an all-expenses paid trip to Polpom, where the happy couple were tying the knot.

As soon as Pepper had read out the invite, Butter's memories, ones that the passage of time had stolen, hit him like a lightning bolt. Yes, long ago, he had indeed been struck by one. It was not a pleasant experience, just like recalling the prophecy hadn't been.

It occurred to him then that in becoming a part of the non-human community, getting acquainted with the world of magic, and donning the role of a familiar belonging to the Woodgrip family, he had forgotten that it was his responsibility to decode the cryptic poem...no, prophecy.

Anywho, long story short, since that day, he had done extensive digging- which was pretty simple now that everyone could know anything about almost everything over the web. The feline found that Whistling Greens- the wedding venue- was very close to Mount Balsh, where Poppy Woodgrip had instructed him to go.

What were the odds of that happening!?

From a few rare articles of eyewitness accounts, he had learned that there was a fountain at the summit of Mount Balsh. Surprisingly, none of the reports had anything else to add. Nonetheless, Butter thanked Lord Satan, for the mountain retaining its original name.

Butter was no more a barely-of-age prince who knew nothing about the world. The more he had tried to get to the bottom of the mysterious fountain, the lesser the web offered. It was like someone or something was deliberately trying to stop him from knowing more.

But that didn't matter now. Butter was in Polpom after almost three and a half centuries. And Whistling Greens was where his father's palace once stood tall and proud. Years of wars at the turn of the century had reduced it to rubble. About five decades ago, The Bolts had acquired it and turned it into the resort that now stood before his eyes: Bahama blue, bright and beautiful.

Butter inspected the palatial resort from his hiding spot. The number of paparazzi had dwindled to six now, and he had not spotted any fans loitering around the place in the past ten minutes.

There was definitely something not quite right about this picture; closing his eyes, Butter concentrated on the commotion unfolding on the first floor: the dining area.

"I am telling you he is not on the premises!" said a shrill voice.

Female, possibly human, in her mid-twenties.

"Did you check the bathtub? He likes to entertain there," asked a deep, commanding voice.

Definitely human, in his early forties.

"Kento, is there a problem here?"

A woman, not sure about her age, but definitely rich.

"No, madam. Please rest assured. Everything is under control," said the man from earlier.

"But sir-"

"Ms. Dian,"—Kento caughed, not letting the young girl finish—"you may leave."

"Sorry, sir. I will check again."

"Mrs. Bolt, I am sorry you had to witness that. Is there anything I can do for you?"

Oh, it must be that pervert's mother.

"Yes, you can. I haven't seen Bran since he arrived. If you see him, please send him to my room. I trust you know which one it is."

"Of course, madam. How can I not?"

The man's patronizing tone was getting to Butter, but he endured.

A solitary Mn was all the reply the man, Kento, got before Butter heard footsteps leaving the first floor.

"Damn it! Why do I have to deal with impossible guests...hosts... whatever!? First, the smart-ass goes missing, and then this dumb-ass follows suit. What would it take to get some peace of mind in this godforsaken place!"

Kento's obvious irritation made Butter's ears perk up. Amused, he purred. It looks like there are two asses causing trouble, he mused holding back a chuckle.

"Who might you be?"

Before Butter could put a face to the voice or do anything else- like make himself scarce- he was scooped off the lawn.

Oh dear, Butter was in trouble now.

Chapter word count: 1275