The Accidental Familiar (Accidentally Paranormal Series Book 14) (13 page)

“I apologized. I did. I even offered to go to the realm and tell them I’m the shittiest in the history of shitty familiars so they’d reassign me.”

His eyes met hers in one of those sizzling assessments he was so gifted at. “A deal’s a deal. You have one week. I’d never renege. And surprisingly, to answer your question, no. It doesn’t hurt. Though, it’s a bit awkward if my back gets itchy.” He made a comical reach for his back, the crooked angle at which they’d taped his wrist on making it almost impossible to use his fingertips.

“I’m sure Calamity will find a remedy. I just know it. It’s got to be in the
Big Book of Witches
.”

Calamity had summoned some book on magic, an enormously thick, dust-riddled black book with pages so brittle, they crackled as she turned them, and she and the women were now poring over it in an attempt to fix Rick’s wrist. But Poppy wasn’t hopeful. Not after the grunts and groans of dismay coming from her couch.

Rick’s nod was curt and clearly skeptical. “I’m sure she will. In the meantime, how about you explain to me this Lennox thing—which you could have just told me, by the way. I mean, if you’re done turning me into garden fixtures, that is.”

Yeah. There was still that. “Listen, here’s the score. I leased this apartment from my friend, Lennox, whose real name is Ethel Leeman.”

“Another actress, I take it?”

“Yeah. Anyway, when the lease ran out, Mr. Rush didn’t ask me to sign any official papers or anything. We just sort of did a handshake kind of deal on it, and I paid my rent every month on time, no matter what. So I guess he didn’t tell you Lennox didn’t live here anymore. Though, I’m not sure why. He knows all of us. He cares about all of us. Even if he was angry with one of us, I can’t imagine he’d just not mention he was selling the place.”

“Like I said, he had the stroke just after he signed the papers to sell. So if he was going to tell you, he either didn’t have time or it slipped his mind because you were gone. But I promise you, Poppy, I made sure he was comfortable with the terms of the sale. I’d never take someone’s home from them.”

But you’re taking mine…

She made her way into her cramped kitchen and opened a cupboard, looking for some coffee mugs. Glad she’d cleaned the cracked Formica countertops with the yellowed edges before she’d left.

“And that’s very noble of you. I’m not questioning whether this was on the up and up. I’m just wondering why Mr. Rush finally agreed to sell. I know he didn’t have any children or grandchildren to leave this building to, but he loved this old place. He worked hard to maintain it—he called it his baby.”

Rick’s smile was genuine, one she felt from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. “Yeah. He did, and it shows. He’s a great old guy. Lots of stories about the war and the good old days. I enjoyed my time with him.”

As she pulled out some mugs and pointed to the coffeepot to indicate she’d make coffee, and Rick nodded a resounding yes to some caffeine, Poppy decided it was time for even more honesty.

“So there’s more. I’m three months behind on my rent. Which could explain why I was excluded from the relocation package. I’m guessing your numbers person got in there and saw as much and decided to skip my offer. Which is totally fair.”

But Rick used his good hand to point to the pile of mail on the floor by her door, scattered in every direction after the melee of getting him inside. “You definitely would have been offered a relocation package, Poppy, missed rent or not. ARMD absolutely doesn’t play dirty. Maybe it’s in that pile there, but I can check on it with my assistant, Heather.”

She shook her head, pouring water into the coffeepot. “I probably can’t afford wherever it is you offered to relocate me to anyway. But if it’s the last thing I do, if I have to dance at Mitch’s A-Go-Go in a platypus suit, I’ll pay the money I owe. I always pay the money I owe. Eventually…”

Rick barked a laugh, throwing his dark head back on his shoulders, revealing his tanned throat as he sat in one of her cracked blue vinyl kitchen chairs. “No platypus costumes for you, young lady. I’m pretty sure we can figure something out.”

As the scent of coffee filled her little apartment, and she was reminded of how much she loved this cracked and peeling space, she shook her head. “Nope. Mr. Rush deserves the money. He was really nice to me while I struggled these last couple of years. He gave me more breaks than I care to count when times were lean. Well, they were always lean, but you know what I mean. Even if it’s just left in an account for him somewhere—for medical care or physical therapy or whatever he needs, it’s not a fortune, but it’s his, and I owe him that kind of respect.”

Rick watched her as she poured the coffee and offered him some powdered coffee creamer. “Have you always been an actress?”

She grinned, taking a place opposite him at the table. “You mean a poor has-been with no solid plan other than a bright-lights-big-city dream?”

“I mean, is that what you strictly do for a living?”

“Well, it’s not a living by any stretch. Believe that. But I love it. It’s what brings me peace. Fulfills me, even if it doesn’t fill my bank account.” She paused a moment, running her finger over the rim of her mug. “However, I’ve learned that making a living isn’t the same thing as making a life.”

Ricks sat up straight, capturing her gaze with his, his eyes intense, his jaw tight and pulsing. “Maya Angelou, right?”

Poppy blinked, cringing at the intensity of his gaze. “What?”

“What you just said,” he pressed, leaning forward. “That’s a quote from Maya Angelou.”

Surprise made her frown. “Is it?” Where had that come from? Had the spirit of sage advice and sound wisdom possessed her? She didn’t know any Maya Angelou quotes.

“It is. My—” Rick shook his head. The moment they’d shared seconds ago had clearly passed, and whatever he’d been about to say, he’d decided against. “Never mind.” Rising, he looked at the women and Calamity, still flipping the pages of the enormous book. “Ladies? It’s time we took this show back on the road. I have to get back to my place for a meeting with Avis.”

“But your hand. How are you going to explain that to your partner?” Poppy asked, rising, too.

His answer was clipped and short. “He’s a warlock, too. He’ll get it.”

Well, that was one less explanation to squirm through. But why was Rick so stiff and closed up whenever they talked about magic? In fact, didn’t he say he’d made it a point to work with only humans?

Gazing at the pictures she had scattered over a shelf under her kitchen clock made Poppy’s heart tighten further. She had tons of them, from snaps of her family back in Cincinnati to all sorts of pictures of her in some of the shows she’d done.

“Do you want to gather some things to bring back to my place? Clothes? Maybe your Red’s Rides poster? I think it could work on the wall of your bedroom. You know, right over the head of the bed?” he teased, lightening up a little.

Biting the inside of her cheek, Poppy squirmed. Damn that poster.

But she had an idea—one she was sure he’d agree to in light of the fact that he resented her being in the shed. “Why don’t I just stay here? I could show up at your house like a job. You know, nine-to-five kind of thing? You didn’t love the idea of me living at your place anyway. This way I wouldn’t be in your hair.” All that amazingly glossy black hair.

But Calamity was on the table in a flash, her kitty paws thumping Poppy’s fingers. “That’s not how this works, Poppy. You have to be on call at all times. Until the bond is officially broken by the powers that be, you absolutely must stay close. You don’t think I roam around with that volatile nut because I want to, do you? I’d rather graffiti bridges and go through a gang initiation.”

“Bite me, Calamity!” Nina growled from her place on the worn couch.

Looking around, her heart hurt with loss. Her apartment wasn’t much to look at aesthetically, but it held so many dear things.

“Isn’t there some spell I can conjure to zip me to his place every morning? I mean, if I can turn him to stone, surely I can appear and disappear. How hard can it be?”

“That was a crazy accident. I don’t even know how or why it happened. In fact, I don’t know how the hell I even managed to turn him back.” Then the feline looked at Rick’s wrist, still hanging by a thread. “Well, mostly anyway. Look, Poppy, the gig’s the gig. End of. You gotta be wherever he is.”

Catching her by surprise, Rick nodded his agreement with a grin. “Plus, a deal’s a deal. One week was the deal.”

“You’re right,” she answered softly, her response tinged with regret as she swallowed back the threat of tears.

She couldn’t afford this place anymore even if it wasn’t going to end up demolished. She’d known that the moment she’d stepped off the bus to go to Mel’s party. Still, it hurt to leave her small haven. It hurt more that everyone was so excited to leave theirs, too, and she was baffled by the very notion.

Rick placed his good hand on her shoulder, the warmth of it, the compassion of his light squeeze before he let go, making her choke up. “I know this is hard, Poppy. If you want, I’ll come back and help you pack up your things personally. You can spend some time here, and we’ll figure the rest out. I promise. I made it right for everyone else, I will for you, too.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, pal. You forget you only have one working hand?” she joked, shrugging off his touch as she headed for her bathroom to gather toiletries. She didn’t want pity or a free ride or anything she didn’t earn.

But it was decent enough of him to offer. It was a side to him she rather liked. She knew it was genuine. She felt the truth of his sincerity to her core.

When she reached the bathroom, Poppy closed the door, leaning back against it and closing her eyes. The sounds from the street below, the scent of her favorite perfumes and soaps surrounding her, all played a part in reminding her everything was about to change. Reaching for a towel, she inhaled a shaky breath and willed herself not to cry.

Something was very wrong here. Very, very wrong.

* * * *

“We have matching hands,
amigo,
” Rick said on a laugh as Carl, Nina’s zombie, held up his wrist to show off the blue metallic duct tape keeping his index finger in place.

“Know how he got that?” Nina asked, though it was obvious she was using this moment to teach Carl something.

“How?” Rick asked. “Bet it was fighting off some evil foe.”

Carl snorted.

But Nina gave him a stern look and shook her head in the negative. “Climbing a damn tree. I’ve only told him eleventy-bazillion times he’s breakable, but he’s all about reading Robin Hood these days. So Errol Flynn decides to climb our oak tree in the backyard last week, and now look. All hacked up again.”

Rick’s laughter rang out. “What’s next, buddy? Robbing the rich to give to the poor?”

While Poppy was absorbing this not only new, much lighter attitude of Rick’s, but also the fact that there was a zombie, gentle as a lamb, in the middle of Rick’s kitchen, everyone milled about.

Nina had arranged for a man named Archibald to bring Carl to her while her daughter, Charlie, went on a father/daughter trip with her husband Greg.

And the awe and wonder Carl had brought with him, the complete sincerity in his crooked smile and kind eyes, floored Poppy. She loved him almost on sight.

What floored her more? How gentle Rick was with Carl. He’d made it a point to be sure he was comfortable as they’d commiserated over their war wounds. He’d listened patiently as Carl—who, according to Nina, was slowly learning to speak sentences—told him about the book he was reading.

The Three Musketeers
—which Rick wholeheartedly supported, as a fan of Alexandre Dumas himself. While they chatted, Carl stroked Calamity’s back and listened closely to Rick’s words.

And for the moment, everyone was getting along, and it was all peachy keen. But the unsettling noise in her stomach, the buzz in her head, wouldn’t let her leave this thing about her apartment and the flagrant acquiescence of the seniors to vacate alone.

She needed time to sort this out. Time to reflect on Arnie’s almost rehearsed words. She wanted to talk to all of her neighbors, see if they really felt the way Arnie did.

Sure, free cable was a great thing, but to leave the home you’ve loved for forty years because of it was a stretch for Poppy.

Rick’s front door opened and a very blond, startlingly handsome man, in a dark gray suit with a multi-colored tie, poked his head around the door and called in a very proper British accent, “Rickster?”

Rick’s head popped up, and he hitched his jaw. “C’mon in, bro,” he called, waving this new person inside.

Instinctively, she knew who he was. An immediate warmth flooded Poppy, straight to her bones. This was Rick’s friend Avis, his partner. The man he trusted enough to own a business together. His affection for this man skittered across Poppy’s heart.

But was that instinct? Did it really take a genius to figure out the man was Avis? Was the feeling she had really Rick’s? After all, Rick had said he had a meeting with him here today.

But she wasn’t sure that was how she’d identified him. It had more to do with a strong wave of emotion. An emotion tied to the word friendship. The word popped into her head as though she’d seen it written on a chalkboard. It rooted around in her heart, making her grip the counter as Avis strolled in, a smile on his handsome face, a face as light as Rick’s was dark.

“Am I interrupting something? Heather said we had a meeting today at two here at the house. And bollocks, chap! What the bloody hell happened?” Then he shot a look at the women in the room. “Pardon my foul language, but I can’t leave your arse unsupervised for even a day, can I?” he asked, his tone teasing as he pointed to Rick’s wrist.

Rick slapped him on the back with a fond grin. “We do have a meeting, and I’ll explain all this in a minute. For now, Avis, this is everyone. Everyone, say hello to Avis.”

As introductions were made, and Avis gripped each woman’s hand in greeting, spreading his charming English accent around like whipped butter on toast, Poppy watched. Watched as he flirted, watched as he winked, watched as he made jokes with even Nina—who behaved like Nina. Cautious and skeptical, but it wasn’t long before he made her smile.