The Accidental Familiar (Accidentally Paranormal Series Book 14) (7 page)

“I’m not letting you go, Poppy!” Calamity yelled back. “Not until you agree you’re going to suck it up, march your tiny ass to Mr. Sexy-Smexy’s door, demand entry, and force him to bend to your will. He needs you, and it’s your job!”

Then something occurred to her, something in this whirlwind of crazy she hadn’t even stopped to take into consideration, and it hit her like a ton of bricks.

Everyone kept telling her what
she
had to do, but where was Calamity’s accountability in all this?

Dropping her hands to her hips, she narrowed her eyes at the cat. “Says who? I didn’t ask for this job. I wasn’t born a familiar. I didn’t inherit this title like you and the rest of your kind. You did this to me, Calamity.
You!
I was minding my own business, doing what I do, until you showed up at a party you weren’t even supposed to be at, if you listen to your keeper Nina. Then you have the balls to tell me I have to sign my life away to a guy who’s clearly a douchecanoe when I was given no choice in the matter to begin with! I wonder what would happen if Familiar Central knew about that? What do you suppose they’d say?”

“You’re panicking,” Calamity said with quiet calm, her wide eyes blinking.

Maybe she was. Maybe all that stoic bravery she’d been feeling earlier had evaporated like one's adrenaline after realizing, sure, you’d climbed the side of the mountain, but now you were dangling mid-air while you clung to a flimsy limb.

Wanda and Marty came to stand behind Calamity, but Poppy held up her hand to stop them from interfering. She was sure they meant well but now was not the time.

“Who
wouldn’t
panic when they’re being asked to give up their entire life to cater to a man who obviously doesn’t want to be catered to?” she asked on a screech.

“Because you had a life before this, Poppy McGuillicuddy? Please,” Calamity spat. “I used my magic to dig around a little into your past. Is working temp jobs as Bo-Bo the clown at kids’ parties and getting paid per pound to shovel dog poop while you mourn the fact that you’re still not Broadway’s next Kristin Chenoweth really a life? You’re just livin’ the dream, aren’t you?”

Okay, so she hadn’t found what she was meant to do just yet.

At thirty-four.

She’d been sure she was destined for Broadway when she’d moved to New York at nineteen. Fifteen years later, her destiny was murky and ill-defined. But scraping by the way she did had taught her to be scrappy and, above all, creative.

Though, nowhere in all the pounds of poop she’d shoveled, or the stupid cheeseburgers she’d slung had she been expected to give up everything.

But poop, though. You shovel poop for cash, Poppy…
What do you go back to if you don’t do this? An upset landlord who’s been nothing but kind and patient with you, overdue rent on an apartment you can no longer afford, and a worn-out pooper scooper. That’s what.

Calamity hopped up on a nearby garbage can, her sleek body glistening under the star-studded night. “You have the chance to have purpose here, Poppy. A reason to get up in the morning—to make a difference. A community who’ll welcome you with open arms and make you one of them.”

Still, she resisted. “But I have a community now. They live in my apartment building as we speak.” She loved the blend of seniors and empty-nesters in her building.

“But you can’t afford to live there anymore, Poppy,” Calamity reminded her.

She couldn’t afford to live under a bridge, and she’d only be taking advantage of her landlord’s kind nature if she tried talking him into letting her stay.

Calamity was right.

“How can helping a millionaire, who doesn’t want to be helped, make a difference?”

“Oh, you’d be surprised. Mo’ money, mo’ problems and all.”

That made the hair on her arms rise and internal alarm bells ring. A brief flash of suspicion made her ask, “Do you know something I don’t know?”

But Calamity clucked her tongue. “I know nothing, Jon Snow. I only know you’ve wandered aimlessly through your twenties and thirties long enough. It’s time to get you some roots.”

“And what happens if I go back to Familiar Central and tell them you did this to me and I want out. Do you get in trouble?”

“Yep. But I’m not talking you out of that because I’m worried about punishment. Just ask me about the year 2006 after I crashed Tom and Katie’s wedding. I can take a hit. I’m talking you out of this because I think you’re in for something great if you’ll just give it a chance, Poppy McGuillicuddy.”

Her gut instincts had discovered a lot of things tonight, and one of them was that Calamity had no ill intentions, not a malicious bone in her tiny body. She was inherently a good soul at her core, if not mouthy just like her vampire-witch Nina.

“How do you know?”

“Call it instinct.”

“You just want the frequent flyer miles so you can go to Baja and scoop Cecily,” Poppy teased, her shoulders relaxing a little.

“There’s that, too. Also, something of note. I can’t turn you back into a human, Poppy. I made a mistake. I’ll own the shit out of that if you want to go back and speak to the powers that be, but it won’t change the fact that you now have magical properties. They won’t let you loose with them in your possession, which is why I told you they’d send you to the Bad Place. Because anyone with magic not employed and not being used toward the greater good has to be harnessed. There are plenty of jobs available that don’t entail saddling your ass to someone, too. The problem is, you’re not qualified for any of them.”

Somehow, that made total sense, rather like keeping a pin in a grenade. And she said as much. “That makes sense, I guess,” she murmured.

“So, are we a go?” Calamity asked, her wide eyes scanning Poppy. “Because if not, I have a butt I need to warm up for the reaming I’m gonna take straight up my backend. No pressure, though.”

Poppy sighed and looked to Wanda and Marty for advice, but Marty shook her head. “This is your choice to make, Poppy. If you decide to go back to Familiar Central, we’ll support that decision one hundred. No one’s going to make you do something you don’t want to do.”

Wanda nodded her head, making a basket of her hands in front of her, her sympathetic eyes capturing Poppy’s. “What Marty said. No one wants you to do anything you don’t want to do, Poppy. And we’re definitely here for you either way.”

There was that damn gut feeling again, pushing its way past her fears and insecurities. It said do this.

Roomandboardroomandboard.

Soothing herself with the notion she could always go visit her old neighbors, Poppy let her head fall back on her shoulders, following with a raspy sigh before nodding. “Okay, fine. Let’s go get a warlock. But I’m warning you, if he’s an asshole, I can be an asshole right back. Like a
big
asshole. Wait…” She paused and bit her lip. “That sounded wrong.”

Marty and Wanda chuckled as they gathered ’round her and gave her a quick hug. “Calamity—undo this whatever so we can get our girl to her man and she can begin this new journey.”

Calamity circled Marty’s feet with a sigh, hitching her jaw at Frozen Nina. “Do I have to undo Nina, too? Look at all the peace and frickin’ quiet since Mr. Hot Pants walloped her with his mojo. You gotta admit, it’s kinda nice…”

“Do I have to make you my lunch?” Marty attempted a stern gaze, but it was clear she was fighting a smile.

“Fine, but you know I’m right,” Calamity chirped, dancing around Nina and swishing her tail. A burst of color shot forth from the slender length, whooshing around Nina, making a cloud of purple dust.

Seconds later, Nina was back, stronger than ever. Instantly, she was in action, moving forward, her head swiveling from side to side. “Where the fuck did the bastard go?”

Calamity sighed in irritation before skipping toward the alleyway next to Ricardo Delassantos’s house. “Never you mind, Half-Breed. Forget that and come with me. We have shit to do!”

* * * *

“
Room and board. Room and board
,” Poppy muttered as they knocked on Ricardo’s door, decorated in orange and purple lights for Halloween, while he continued to ignore their knocking.

“What the hell are you babbling about?” Nina asked, leaning against the side of the building.

Poppy rolled her eyes. “I’m just keeping myself motivated. Forget it and answer me this. Why is Douchecanoe ignoring us? The lights are on, and it’s not like we can’t hear him,” she yelled into the night for Ricardo’s benefit.

Nina popped her lips and shrugged. “Dunno, but if he keeps fucking playing like we’re not here, I’m going to knock down this door and beat his ass to within an inch of his life with the damn arm I rip from his ripply body.”

Poppy looked up at Nina, biting the inside of her cheek as she attempted to hide her sheer terror. “Is it my job as his familiar to protect him from you?”

“Your first priority is always your warlock, no matter how dangerous,” Calamity provided in a helpful tone.

Poppy gulped with a wince of fear and then she banged that much harder on the door. “Hey in there, Jerkface! Stop being such a shithead and open the damn door. It’s freezing out here! Do you want to wake up to a frozen familiar in Popsicle-still-life on your doorstep tomorrow?”

Calamity tsked her with a noise from the back of her throat. “Nice way to inspire a bond between the two of you.”

“You can’t bond with someone who doesn’t want to bond, Calamity.” She paused a moment and took a deep breath. Surely he couldn’t be this childish. So she banged again. “If you don’t open this door, I’m going to scream!”

But the door didn’t budge.

And she’d had just about enough. This day had gone on for at least an eternity. She was tired, her makeup was beginning to crack, her feet were numb from her stupid platform shoes and her ridiculous Afro wig was tangled into a big knot from her fingers worrying the plastic threads to death.

Her eyes were grainy, her nose was runny and cold, and she was suffering from realm lag, a condition Calamity told her would leave her feeling edgy and raw. The edgy part was an understatement, and while patience wasn’t exactly her biggest virtue, even Jesus himself couldn’t withstand this kind of blatant disregard.

So she kept her promise and screamed for all she was worth. Banging on the door one more time, she flung herself against it and began a dramatic plight. “Stop! Help! Someone help me! He’s hurting me! You’re hurting me! Stranger danger! Someone help! Call 9-1-1!
Helllppppp!
”

Just as she wound up, the red steel door on the side of the warehouse swung open, knocking her back into Nina.

Ricardo stuck his gorgeous head out and tilted it to the right as though they were all crazy. “Why are you yelling?” he asked, pulling a pair of earplugs from his ears.

She also noted Mr. Warlock was naked from the waist up. Her eyes warred with her brain as she fought not to gaze, wide-eyed and starry, at his smooth olive skin and the line of dark hair, running from his belly button into his tight jeans.

Her eyes narrowed as she scoffed at him, fighting the chatter of her teeth. “We’ve been banging on the door for at least ten minutes! What the hell were you doing in there?”

“Break-dancing. Duh.” Then he grinned, all heart pounding and delicious.

Poppy was in no mood for anything, least of all his sarcasm. She held up a hand and narrowed her eyes. “If you make one sound of protest about letting us in and I end up in the Bad Place because you’re a big fat dick, I’ll punch you in the face. Got that? Now move out of my way!”

With that, she stomped inside his big, fancy, refurbished warehouse, her legs wobbling as she went, so much so, she had to loop her arm through Wanda’s to keep from collapsing.

But as she entered the space, Poppy caught her breath. Wow. Was this what it was like to be rich?

Her eyes didn’t know where to look first—to the black industrial pipes lining the walls used as sort of statement art, or the smooth gray-and-red kitchen cabinets and shiny steel countertops. The place had hints of Spanish accents in the way of a colorful vase or two and was ultra-manly with clean lines, sharp edges.

Just like him.

Her mouth formed an O as she scanned the landscape, the sheer size of the warehouse. In the center of the wide room, a big couch in black leather with plump teal and red pillows called to her, invited her to sit and allow the smooth fabric to envelop her.

Every table, from the coffee table to the nightstand way at the far end of the room, was made out of some sort of recycled plumbing pipe, reclaimed wood and steel. Abstract pictures in black and silver frames hung on the walls in groups of three; their splashes of orange, red and variations of that same teal on his pillows all but bellowed his love of strong decor statements.

His bed, the one where he rested his perfect head, was as masculine as he was. The black wrought iron and thick tree limbs that made up the headboard, an odd combination in theory, somehow worked in reality. Pillows in solid shades of gray, blue and a burnt umber, stacked one in front of the other, sat on a fluffy comforter in geometric patterns of the same colors.

Poppy blinked, but Nina was the one who made the first comment. She held up her fist to Ricardo, who’d sauntered over to and back from a tall armoire to grab a T-shirt. “Dude. Rad fucking place.”

He grinned again and amicably bumped her fist with his. “Thanks. You are?”

“A vampire. A vampire who will eat your face off if you ever damn well freeze me again, and if you don’t start cooperating so I can go home to my kids and my husband before the end of GD eternity. Nice to meet ya.”

Ricardo made an adorable pouty face. “That’s sort of rash, don’t you think? But in case my name hasn’t already been thrown around, I’m Ricardo Delassantos, and I’m a warlock who’ll zap you to the outer galaxy if you four and your cat don’t go away.” To back up that statement, he smiled that infuriatingly handsome smile again.

Calamity hopped up on the counter and sat back on her haunches. “Now, now, Pretty Boy. Don’t be like that. Every warlock needs a familiar. It’s the law. It’s how we keep each other in check. You know it and I know it. Stop fighting the tide, brother.”