Neither woman said anything, but they didn’t have to. Their flashing eyes and tense body language said it all. Something was happening between them all. And it wasn’t just a spat. It was more like a shift in dynamic, a change in the terrain of their friendship. Poppy was sure of it.
Now Marty squatted down beside Calamity and cupped her jaw, her blue eyes intense. “Pussycat? You’re enjoying playing both ends against the middle. Under normal circumstances, because it makes me giggle my ass off to see Nina so riled, I’d enjoy this almost as much as I enjoy an eyeshadow that doesn’t crease. But this becomes a real thorn in my side when we have a client who needs our help. So cut it out, since, as I recall, big bad werewolves love to chase little kitties cuz little kitties are mmm-mmm-good—especially ones full up like fat sausages with magic. Capisce?”
Calamity blinked, shifting from paw to paw, her tone subdued now. “Got it.”
Marty stood and brushed her thighs off then smiled. “Now that we’re clear, tell us where we go from here, Calamity. Poppy is waiting.”
And she was waiting. Watching and waiting as these women argued, trying to understand the dynamic between them all, yet instinctively knowing they each had a deep, abiding loyalty to one another.
And that was freaking her out. How could she possibly know how deep their roots went?
Yet, she did. She’d gamble her life on it.
“Okay, so let me just give you a couple of helpful tips before we get inside,” Calamity said, forcing her to focus on the task at hand.
Reaching into her jacket, Poppy pulled out an elastic band, scrunching her hair into one hand and wrapping the band around it with the other. This felt like a hair up problem.
Tightening her ponytail, she plopped her wig back on her skull and squared her shoulders. “Okay. Tips. Hit me. I’m ready.”
Calamity began to walk the long hallway to a door at the end of the white walls, her tail swishing back and forth. “Never leave the line. For the love of Jesus and all that’s good, never leave the line. I don’t care if you’re on fire and your head’s about to pop off your tiny shoulders. Do not leave the line.”
Poppy trudged behind the cat, wishing she’d changed back into her street clothes before doing something as important as being inducted into the Familiar Hall of Fame. Surely that called for something more appropriate than a Paul Stanley costume.
“Why can’t I leave the line?”
“Because one wrong move and you could end up like me. With someone like her.”
“Shut up, Calamity,” Nina warned with tight words, the clomp of her feet heavy against the tile.
But Poppy scoffed. “You don’t really feel that way about Nina, and you know it.”
Aw, hell. Had that just popped out of her mouth? Why would she say something like that at such a tentative time in their newly minted relationship? Furthermore, how could she even know a personal detail like that?
She didn’t know these people from a hole in the wall, and suddenly she was the authority on their deepest feelings? The guru of deep-seated emotions?
Calamity stopped in her tracks and swiveled her head. “What do you know from shit about how I feel?”
Poppy stopped, too, nervously twisting a curl in her wig between her fingers, worried she’d offended Calamity. “I…I don’t know. I just know…I mean guessed. I’m a good guesser.” But that wasn’t entirely true. This wasn’t some guess. She knew. Like bone-deep knew Calamity loved yanking Nina’s chain.
They clashed because she and the vampire were so alike. Yet, she also respected her, and coming to terms with that was part of Calamity’s trouble. Calamity didn’t want to care—or maybe invest was a better word—in a relationship with another witch after losing the last one. It hurt.
But Calamity was having none of it. “Oh, fuck that noise. Forget I asked.”
“Fine. Forgotten. Now, what else do I need to know?” Poppy asked as they came to a halt outside a heavy rectangular door.
But Calamity didn’t have time to answer before the door swung open and chaos ensued.
Poppy yawned as she waited in the line titled First Time Familiars with Calamity and the women of OOPS. The moment the door in that hallway had popped open, and the masses of people and all varieties of the animal kingdom milling about had filled her vision, she’d somehow taken it all in stride.
She’d eyed the long lines with black signs above them and white lettering that read Familiar Renewal and Change of Familiar Address as though they were perfectly normal. It didn’t seem like such a big deal that the armadillo two spots back and one line over was shooting the breeze with the zebra in the next row.
She’d viewed the never-ending chain of glass windows with peepholes and the most colorful people animatedly working behind them like they were a row of those protected windows in a bodega, and she was just here to grab a bag of chips on the way to her next shitty job.