“Some think that cats, black cats in particular, can see the presence of spirits, or perhaps the essence of spirits. We don’t always know when such an essence has drifted into this realm and is near, but such a cat would be aware of it. For this reason, black cats have long been linked to death. Ignorant people wrongly fear them for this association. But just because they can see into the spirit realm, that does not mean that black cats are agents of death, or that they are evil.

“Sometimes, we need to heed subtle signs, for such signs may be more than they seem. Especially down here. I never let any sign down here go unnoticed, or unheeded.”

“But what use could having such a creature be?”

“While it is rare for spirits to drift through our world, it could possibly be useful to know when they are near.”

Magda didn’t know what good that could be to her, but she didn’t want to dismiss Isidore’s words out of hand. “So you think that this cat coming to me is a sign that I should keep her around to know when spirits are near?”

“She is shadowing you. Perhaps you should heed such a sign.” Isidore shrugged. “It could even be that a spirit guided the cat your way to be a comfort to you in your loneliness.”

“So you really think that she may be a sign from the spirit world?”

Isidore smiled. “I couldn’t say. She might have simply been hungry and smelled the food you had with you.” Isidore’s enigmatic smile ghosted away. “But I wouldn’t dismiss such a creature coming into the circle of your life energy.”

Magda had come to a spiritist seeking answers. It occurred to her that it might not be a bad idea to listen to her advice.

“Shadow it is then.” She stroked a hand along the sleek fur of the cat’s back. “Do you like that, name? Shadow?”

The cat meowed as if to answer. Before long, Shadow was in Magda’s lap, hoping for more chicken. Magda pulled off pieces, giving her a much-needed meal. When the cat had had her fill, she curled up and started cleaning herself.

“How long have you been a spiritist?” Magda asked as she stroked the warm little cat. Shadow purred in appreciation.

Isidore feigned shock. “Me? A spiritist? No, I am only—”

“You are the spiritist, Isidore.”

Isidore had wanted to be protected herself, but had not asked for protection for the spiritist. In her alarm at hearing about the threat, and then with the distraction of the cat showing up, she had forgotten to keep up the pretense. That told Magda what she had suspected all along, that there was no one else. Isidore was the spiritist.