Valera and Penchant

Valera and Penchant’s relationship is that of a witch and her familiar, but it is not presented as simple obedience. Penchant can answer her summons, use magic at her request, and read danger she cannot perceive; he can also bargain, complain, and set limits. Their exchanges combine practical dependence with the familiar intimacy of a cat who knows his human well. In a crisis, that bond gives Valera both the means to help someone and the confidence to reconsider her own judgment.

Familiarity in Action

After Valera has killed two men and is overwhelmed by nausea and grief, a sound from the burlap-wrapped body draws her out of her collapse. She calls for Penchant, who comes from the back of the house. His collar jingles, its silver pentacle charm striking the attached bell, as the tiger-striped cat leaps onto her back and winds over her shoulders and beneath her hair. The small, familiar gesture places him beside her at the moment she turns from remorse toward the possibility that the bound man can still be helped.

Valera taps a nail against the steel chain and tells Penchant they must help. He pauses to consider whether he cares to do so, and the narration makes clear that being a good familiar has not erased his catlike self-interest. She coaxes him with the promise of a snack. He asks mentally for tuna; when she offers crunchy treats instead, he objects that the chain is cold enough to freeze his tongue to it. Valera counters that she can fetch a hacksaw from the shed. His eventual, put-upon agreement makes the exchange affectionate without making it sentimental: their cooperation is real, but it proceeds through bargaining and familiar exasperation.

Penchant leaps onto the bundle and licks the chain. Soft pink energy travels along the steel, which vanishes with a twang; he repeats the feat on the rope. Valera praises him and scratches his ears, and he purrs before she sets him down to unwrap the man. This is more than an endearing interlude: Penchant’s particular magic materially changes what Valera can do. His intervention removes the restraints quickly and lets her reach the person inside, while their established rapport turns a dangerous task into coordinated action.

Judgment and Magical Trust

The man is freezing, dressed in a strange violet uniform, and carries an empty sword sheath. Penchant identifies a further danger: he can smell poison, though an antidote has already been given and damage remains. He tells Valera that she will need to heal the man. She recoils, recalling that she has just killed two people while trying to detain them and fearing that her magic might transform this stranger into a gerbil. Her response shows that her trust in Penchant is not automatic submission; she challenges his assessment because she doubts her own ability and fears causing further harm.

Penchant answers that her magic is not what was wrong: the men themselves smelled, looked, and felt wrong. Rather than explain further, he trots off to the bedroom. Valera knows that he can see things she usually cannot, and his withdrawal leaves her to weigh his warning rather than simply accept a full explanation. She considers that healing the poisoned man might help her understand what had been wrong with the two men she killed. Penchant therefore influences her decision not only through the information he gives, but through the perceptual authority she has learned to recognize in him.

Valera lays her hands on the man’s chest and feels the tension and power in his musculature as she prepares to heal him. Her astonishment at his powerful build and the questions she murmurs about his apparent pacifism and priestly dress register how little she knows about him. In this scene, Penchant does not answer those questions; his role is more immediate. He detects the poison and urges Valera toward an act of healing at the point when guilt has made her wary of her own power.

Care, Humor, and Boundaries

Penchant’s concern for Valera is explicit in a later moment of reflection: his feline heart goes out to the human Witch who has taken such good care of him for a long time. When Valera says she needs time, he echoes the thought to himself. His sympathy is quiet rather than controlling. He recognizes her need to pause and feels for her, extending the relationship beyond the exchange of magical help in the crisis with the bound man.

That care coexists with a sharp comic voice. When Sagan finds Valera under the covers and asks her to wake, Penchant leaps onto the bed and tells him mentally that Valera took pills. He adds that the cats’ ability to speak with Sagan does not mean they want to talk to him. Fat Baby then explains that Valera did not take an overdose or try to kill herself: she has become unable to sleep without Sagan holding her and has piled pillows around herself to hug through the night. Penchant’s blunt announcement helps bring the situation to light, while his aside preserves the cats’ distinct perspective and resistance to being treated as available simply because they can communicate.

The Relationship’s Significance

Across these moments, Penchant is at once a magical partner, a source of perception, and a familiar presence who responds to Valera’s distress. His abilities matter in concrete ways: he removes the chain and rope and recognizes lingering poison. His judgment also steadies Valera when she fears her magic has failed, though he does not remove her need to decide whether to trust that judgment. The relationship’s force lies in that combination of reliance and agency.

The recurring contrast between care and complaint defines their bond. Penchant hesitates, asks for tuna, objects to the cold, and resists conversation with Sagan; he also answers Valera’s call, performs the magic she needs, and feels compassion for her. Valera, in turn, knows how to coax him, threaten him with the prospect of a hacksaw, praise him, and give him the ear scratches he enjoys. Their closeness is therefore shown less through declarations than through practiced knowledge of one another: a summons answered, a negotiation understood, a warning taken seriously, and a moment of distress met with sympathy.