Here she was in a strange realm, as Calamity had called it, with even stranger people, waiting to find out who she’d end up spending forever with as their magical guide without an inkling about what a familiar was or what their place in this weird society was, and she was feeling completely unaffected.
Not numb, per se, just unaffected. And since she’d gotten past the talking cat thing, the vampire/werewolf with these women thing made sense.
Though in a moment of complete honesty, she had to admit, she’d run the words room and board in a continual loop inside her head in order to assure herself this wasn’t as crazy as she was supposed to think it was.
“This is worse than any DMV I’ve ever been to.” Running a hand over her temple, she massaged it with her fingertips. “What’s the dang hold up?”
“It’s a Friday night.”
She looked down at Calamity, who sat on her haunches, her wide eyes only occasionally blinking. “A popular night for turning unsuspecting victims into familiars, I gather?”
“I apologized, didn’t I?”
Poppy cocked an eyebrow. “No. I don’t think you did.”
“Fine. Sorry. Hashtag regrets.”
“Accepted. So talk to me about room and board. Is it the kind of room and board you get when you live in the basement of your employer’s house? Or the carriage-house kind? Do I get time off? Sick days? Health insurance? Are snacks included?”
Nina nudged her shoulder, looking down at her with those intense coal-black eyes. “Okay. What’s the rub? Why aren’t you crying and carrying on? Why the hell aren’t you freaked the eff out after everything we told you about us? After what we showed you? I’m a vampire, for Christ’s sake. You know—bloodsucking, night-loving, fang-flashing vampire?”
Poppy shrugged, fanning herself. God, it was hot in Familiar Central. As they waited in this line as long as a checkout at Walmart with only one register open, Nina, Marty and, intermittently, Wanda, had explained how they’d come to be OOPS, what their paranormal standings were, and even some of the cases they’d been involved with.
She knew she should be frightened. She knew she should refute the very idea one iota of this was real. She knew these events should leave her questioning her sanity for even considering what they’d told her was true. She knew her calm acceptance of was likely frightening to an outsider looking in.
But she couldn’t. Like, literally couldn’t deny the validity of their tales. Not even when Nina went the extra mile and flashed her fangs or earlier when Marty shifted in the Ladies’ Room for Familiars.
She’d watched it all with as much unflinching disinterest as she was watching what was unfolding in front of her right now. As if it were every day you saw someone’s flesh and bones virtually morph in a public bathroom.
In fact, the only thing she’d added to that scene straight out of American Horror Story was her distress that some poor soul was going to have to sweep up all the hair Marty had shed.
“Poppy? What gives?” Nina prodded, tapping the toe of her work boot as though she almost hoped she’d collapse and tremble at her feet in fear.
But she just shrugged and sighed. “Yeah. I get what it means. I heard every word. I heard about Carl and Darnell. I get the comparisons to Sean of The Dead, Teen Wolf, and so on. I’ve watched them. I already told you I get it. How many ways can I say that before you believe me?”
In fact, the longer they stood in line, the more rooted this certainty became. Yeah, so you’re a vampire. Whoopee.
Nina shook her head, her gloriously silky dark hair shifting over her shoulders. “So you get that your life’s now changed forever, right? You get that you can’t go back to doing whateverthehell you did for a living, that you can’t tell your family and friends about this? That you’re a walking, talking episode of Supernatural?”
Why was Nina so determined to drill this point home? They’d each taken a turn at reminding her how different her life was now, moving forward.
Finally, Poppy asked, “Is crying what you want to see? Because you know you don’t like tears, Nina.”
Nina popped her lips, cracking her knuckles. “How the eff do you know what I do or don’t like?”
Poppy blinked, astonished she’d said those words out loud. Yeah. How the eff did she know?
Licking her lips, she winced when she answered, “I don’t know. I just do. Tears make you uncomfortable. Compliments more so.” Eek, had she said that, too?
Nina frowned, glaring down at her.
She’d definitely said that. Bad, Poppy.
Nina poked her, jabbing a finger between the muscles connecting her collarbone and shoulder. “What are you, fucking psychic, Madam McGuillicuddy?”
“Next!” an authoritative voice behind the glass windows yelled.