The Accidental Familiar (Accidentally Paranormal Series Book 14) (9 page)

Everything that was, in fact, all still in what they’d both once jokingly called the very shed he’d sent Poppy and the group of women to settle into. But who needed everything when you could buy
more
everything? If what Rick suspected was true, Yash didn’t need his things from the shed.

The shed was a sore spot for him now. Yash had turned that shed into his solace. His sanctuary, a place he could seek respite when the weight of a being familiar and the world became too much. And then he’d jumped ship after twenty-five years.

No explanation. No note. No phone call. No whispers from the other side about his whereabouts. Yash had just been gone, and he’d left Rick frantic and worried sick.

But that wasn’t all he’d left Rick with. He’d also left his business in ashes. Well, almost. Somehow, Yash had siphoned millions from his development company. Rick had found the proof on a thumb drive in the shed. All just out there for anyone to find.

Likely, he’d used his magic to find the passwords he’d needed, conjured a spell dripping with greed, and then he’d stolen away like some thief in the night. But what bothered Rick the most was the fact that Yash hadn’t taken any pains to hide his deception. Not a one.

Yash was one of the smartest men Rick knew, and he’d desperately wanted to believe the theory his partner and longtime friend, Avis Mackland, spouted as a way to explain Yash’s one-eighty, which was that something had happened and his familiar had experienced an event so horrible, he couldn’t share. Avid had said time and again he didn’t believe Yash was a crook. Yet, it was a theory Rick still couldn’t swallow.

Stealing those millions of dollars had nothing to do with some crisis Yash had encountered in his life—something he couldn’t tell anyone else—no matter how strong a case Avis pleaded in his favor.

Thankfully, all their assets weren’t wrapped up in the development company he shared with Avis, and they’d managed to save their asses with their own personal capital, but it’d been one rough year.

One they were finally digging themselves out from. The black hole they’d been in had a light at the end of the tunnel, and due to Avis’s business savvy and numerous connections, they were once more seeing a profit. But it was small and still in the process.

But goddammit, Yash had really ripped them a new asshole. It hadn’t only been the two of them who’d suffered, but their employees, their employees’ families.

And he still didn’t understand it. There’d never been a single sign Yash was even a little shady, let alone capable of stealing millions from him. In fact, he’d spent a lot of Rick’s childhood poo-pooing money as the root of all evil, and, instead, taught him the ways of kindness and about the simple joys drawn from the earth and sky.

When he’d surprised Yash with the shed, he’d at first been too humble to accept it because it had cost more than the earth, as his familiar had put it.

And that total betrayal of life lessons damn well still smarted. So no way was he exposing himself and all his regained assets to a new familiar just so he could end up screwed over again.

Not even if she
was
cute. And Poppy M to the C to the Guill-i-cudd-E was definitely cute.

It was harder to tell
how
cute she was with all that KISS makeup on, but when she’d yanked her wig off and thrown it down on the floor, and her chocolate-colored hair had spilled down over her shoulders to the middle of her back like some wave of silk, he’d decided she was as cute as he’d first feared when they’d met outside his place.

She had a great ass, too, and he hated himself for noticing that. While she was pretty petite to his six-three, her limbs were long and slender, and her torso, tucked into that hysterical shirt with all the chest hair, was swan-like.

Even in those ridiculous platform boots, she’d literally floated across his house with measured, soft steps, her thigh muscles flexing as she walked. Her eyes were almond shaped, a deep misty blue, fringed with thick lashes, and they’d flashed all sorts of levels of emotions while she’d given him hell.

He wouldn’t deny he liked her mouth, either, cute as a bow-shaped button when she’d spewed profanities and ordered him around. He wondered if her lips were as soft as her skin.

When Poppy pushed past him, storming her way into his house, her hand had brushed his chest, leaving behind a warm tingle of awareness he was not about to let get any further into his head.

He didn’t know if familiars getting involved with their assignments was off-limits, but he wasn’t about to find out.

What he
was
about to do was call up Familiar Central and bitch some poor soul out. How Poppy didn’t know there was no such thing as “greasing a palm” in the white witch world confused him. She should know the rules of the realm at her age.

Which made him wonder how old she was.

And then he shook his head, staring off into the backyard where the lights from the shed shone bright. It didn’t matter.

Either way, a couple of bucks as a bribe would never change anyone’s mind in the realm. It didn’t work like that. When you were assigned a familiar, the powers that be considered it your destiny. No exchange of money could change that.

But if money wasn’t the answer, he’d find another one, because no way was he getting saddled with a smart-mouthed, platform-boot-wearing familiar.

No matter how damn cute.

He’d given his complete trust once before—he’d have given his own life in exchange for Yash’s.

He was never going to invest in someone that deeply again.

Not ever.

* * * *

“Damn, girl. Look at you!” Calamity squealed. “Jesus, you hit the mothereffin’ warlock jackpot, Poppy! Do you have any idea how fortunate you are to get this kind of gig first time around? It’s like someone in the universe didn’t expect you to pay your dues like the rest of us.”

“Pay my dues?” Poppy asked, her mouth still agape.

“Yeah. Usually a first timer gets some old witch or warlock from back in the day. You know, warts, gnarled fingers, a smoker’s cough, Merlin-wannabes galore, at least two centuries old. It’s a test of your tenacity, your gumption. Most of us have at least one in our past. But not only did you get a sweet piece of ass, you got a
rich
sweet piece of ass with a place that’s all yours. Shit, dude, you don’t know the half of how you lucked out.”

Okay, so even she had to admit the “shed” was pretty great—every inch of it was magnificent. The overstuffed white couch, the pearl and oyster-white colored pillows lining it, the white brick fireplace, the barn wood and wrought iron coffee table, the old sky-blue milk jugs in variegated heights, housing stems of willow trees placed strategically in a brick-faced arched cutout in the wall.

The compact kitchen, with its gleaming antique white cabinets and polished onyx-and-white-veined granite counters. The bleached white wood floors throughout the entire space. The strange, shimmering rocks in various muted colors placed all around the tiny abode.

The bedroom and its white, puffy comforter with a lavender and gray floral coverlet, a connecting bathroom with an oval tub, and more gauzy shower curtain material flowing to the floor than a production of Cinderella.

Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. The tiny house was great. But the master of the tiny house was a dick. How was she supposed to live with a dick for the rest of her eternity?

Dragging a finger over one of the pale green rocks sitting on a round end table, Poppy shivered. “Calamity? I have a question. What happens if you’re not compatible with your warlock? Like, maybe I won’t go to the Bad Place if we just cite incompatibility, right? It has to have happened.”

The feline strode across the hearth of the fireplace, finally settling in a corner. “Oh, it’s happened, but it’s never ended up good. We make it work no matter what. If you can’t make it work, what kind of peacemaker and advisor are you?”

So much for that idea. “God, that’s so extreme. Why is everything so damn black and white? It’s either suck it or go to the Bad Place. Shut up or go to the Bad Place.”

Wanda grabbed her hand, redirecting her attention, pulling Poppy to her side, the warmth of her skin heating up her cold fingers. “Let’s not think about the Bad Place. Let’s instead focus on this amazing little house. It’s beautiful, don’t you think?”

Poppy nodded with a long sigh. “It’s the nicest place I’ve ever lived since I left home.” Even though it didn’t hold any of her most treasured things, it was still beautiful.

Wanda peered into her eyes. “But?”

“But I think it’s obvious, don’t you?”

“You mean Ricardo’s reluctance about your arrival?”

She snorted. “I’m sorry, did you say his all-out hatred of my arrival?” He wanted a familiar as much as Poppy wanted a root canal.

Wanda giggled, rubbing Poppy’s hand with reassuring strokes. “Oh, honey, he’s just in shock. He’ll get past it.”

“You think?” If he tried to trade her in, she was toast.

“I dunno,” Nina said from her place on the couch, where she’d sunk into a corner, tucking a pillow behind her head and latching her fingers behind her dark nest of hair. “I’m with the kid on this. He’s kind of a dick. I was this close to ripping his head off his damn shoulders for being such a dick.”

Wanda’s lips thinned, her eyes narrowing in Nina’s direction. “You’re always this close to ripping someone’s head off their shoulders. Maybe he just needs to sleep on it, Nina. We
did
just show up and blindside him. Don’t be such a Negative Nellie, for the love of Pete. We’re here to support, not tear down.”

Nina flicked her fingers in the air. “Just because you put a positive spin on it doesn’t make it the fucking reality, Pollyanna.”

Nina’s realism rankled her. Under normal circumstances, she’d look this problem straight in the eye and agree. She was, after all, pretty used to rejection after at least a thousand auditions in her pursuit to become a star on Broadway. But with Nina’s skepticism, she realized she needed this more than she was comfortable admitting.

Marty came out of the kitchen holding a cup of cocoa, steam from the rich chocolate rising from the thick white mug. She waved it under Poppy’s nose and smiled warmly. “I say we ignore Nina like we always do and we
all
sleep on it. Now drink this and grab a shower, and then it’s lights out. Everything’s clearer after a good night’s sleep. Okay?”

Taking the cocoa, she let Marty lead her into the tiny, glossy kitchen, through the bedroom and to the connecting bathroom. Flipping the taps of the shower to warm the water, she sat Poppy on the toilet seat and grabbed some fluffy white towels.

A thought occurred to Poppy then, one that terrified her.

She couldn’t do this alone.

Not yet, anyway. She didn’t know how to do any of this. The very thought made her literally tremble.

Grabbing Marty’s arm, she looked up into her beautiful eyes, so warm and kind. “Will you guys come back tomorrow?”

Marty grabbed her chin and squeezed with a grin. “We’ll do better than that. We’ll stay here with you. When you wake up, we’ll be right out there. Don’t worry, honey. You’re not alone. Not until you’re ready. Promise. Okay?”

Shuddering a breath, she nodded as the steam in the bathroom rose, soothing her frazzled nerves. “Thank you,” she whispered in relief.

Whoever these people were, wherever they’d come from, Poppy was grateful. She’d been alone in New York a long time, and she’d never needed anyone. She’d never asked for help from her parents when she was flat-ass broke. She’d never resorted to bank loans or credit cards. She’d managed her fears alone because no one was going to see Poppy McGuillicuddy scared witless.

She’d left home with something to prove to her parents, who’d wanted her to go to college and get a degree, and even if she hadn’t fulfilled her dreams, she’d gotten by. She knew she’d disappointed them; each year wrought a visit during which they ended up leaving after giving her a long lecture about how dismal her future was destined to turn out if she didn’t get a “real” job.

And she let them leave with a smile on her face and words filled with dogged determination, each year that passed becoming more defensively determined than ever to convince them she was going to break out.

But they’d been right. She was thirty-four. She wasn’t a Broadway star. She had no insurance. No 401K. And still, she’d refused to face the truth.

But this one time, this one time when her fears wouldn’t be pacified by her fierce independence, she was grateful to not have to put on a brave front.

Tomorrow would be much better.

She was counting on it.

Hear that, universe? I’m talkin’ to you!

O
h, fine. Tomorrow wasn’t any better than the day before.

The only difference being, she no longer had a greasy face full of Paul Stanley makeup and her hair was washed.

The rest of it just sucked.

As morning had dawned, the crisp scent of fall in the air, the sun playing peek-a-boo through gray clouds outlined with purple and deep blue against the backdrop of autumn trees, they’d trudged the small distance to Rick’s house.

As promised, the women and Calamity had stayed the night; two of them sprawled on the small couch, with Nina in an armchair. While they’d had a little sleep, they all looked fresh as daisies.

Even Nina—who, according to Calamity, didn’t need as much sleep during the day now that she was half witch as she once had when she was full vampire—was as beautiful as she’d been the night before in dim lighting.

She was also just as grumpy because she needed blood—a notion Poppy couldn’t linger too long on for fear of freaking out and making herself appear weak.

When Poppy had gasped at the thought, Calamity assured her it was synthetic and easily conjured by a spell. Which made all of this very, very real. She really was in the company of werewolves and vampires and last night was not just a bad dream.

She herself had risen to find her new familiar-in-arms tucked against her side, snuggled up to her hip and purring softly, a soothing sound. As her eyes had opened and she’d adjusted to the streaky gray of a new day, she’d fought the intense need to run back to her apartment and hide under the crocheted blanket her grandmother had sent with her when she’d left for New York all those years ago.