“Of course we will,” Marty reassured, rubbing Poppy’s arm with her hand. “We never abandon ship no matter how steady the captain seems. Not until we’re sure you’re safe and sound.”
Wanda nodded her consent, too, planting her hands on her hips. “Ditto. So where are we, Calamity, and how do we help make this transition for Poppy smoother?”
With the swish of her tail and a wisp of confetti-like sparkle, a stack of papers the size of War and Peace appeared before crashing onto the pile of garbage with a puff of the stench of rotten sardines and stale cigarette butts.
Calamity hopped on top of it and began to pace. “Finally. Now we can really get down to business.”
“What is that?” Poppy asked, sure she’d regret it the moment the words left her big mouth.
“It’s your warlock’s life story—all neatly logged by time and date with every single life event, important or otherwise, grades, achievements, involvements, relationships, etcetera, all documented for your reading pleasure.”
Scratching her forehead, she grated a sigh. “I can’t even focus long enough to read a pamphlet on birth control, how am I supposed to read all of that?”
“In order to learn all of your warlock’s quirks, to really know what makes him tick, you need to do your research. So we’ve made things easy for you and consolidated everything into this handy tome. It’s less intimidating than it looks.”
Poppy eyed her skeptically, narrowing her gaze. “So you’re telling me you read a stack of papers like this on Nina before you became her familiar?”
“Don’t be a moron, newb. This is the half-breed we’re talking about. It was like a paragraph long. You want the CliffsNotes? Never mind. I’ll give them to you anyway. It read like this: Subject, Nina Statleon. Has big mouth. Thrives on threats and confrontation. Has really big mouth. The end.”
“Fuck you, Calamity,” Nina crowed, making Poppy snort a giggle.
“What the hell are you all doing out here?” a low, raspy voice with just the slightest hint of a Spanish accent asked.
All of the women whipped around in sync, their eyes peering into the darkness. Startled by the voice, Poppy fell into Wanda, who patted her on the back and righted her, easing the trembling of her knees.
“More to the point, who the fuck are you and why are you sticking your nose in our business?” Nina asked, approaching the stranger as though she were approaching enemy lines.
The man’s features were hidden in the shadows of the dull streetlamp, but his size was clear. Tall and well-muscled, every stitch of clothing he wore clung to his bulk like a second skin, enhancing his thick thighs and ripped arms.
The moment Nina’s stance became menacing was the moment he held up his hand and, without a word, froze her right in place. The wind that had whistled like white noise in the background suddenly stopped, as did the leaves rushing against the sidewalk in a crinkle of rustling fall goodness.
No one appeared all that surprised that Nina was instantly immobilized. So she tried to roll with her peers and behave as though a simple hand gesture freezing someone in their tracks was no big deal, but on the inside, Poppy McGuillicuddy was terrified speechless.
She’d considered lots of things while they’d waited in line at Familiar Central. Like, spells and voodoo and all manner of Bewitched. She’d tried to recall all the shows and books she’d ever seen or read dealing with witches and magic, but nothing quite compared to actually seeing it happen.
“I said, who are you?” the stranger demanded, moving around Nina’s unmoving form and closer to the group, his body language rigid and tense.
“Oh, knock it the hell off with the fancy freezing spells, ya big galoot! Stop showing off and unfreeze the pain in my ass before I turn you into the prize cow at the 4-H fair,” Calamity ordered, rising on her hind legs.
The man eyed them all, his icy stare enough to make Poppy visibly cringe, but Wanda kept her hands firmly planted on her shoulders in support and squeezed. “We’re here. We won’t let him hurt you,” she whispered, and somehow, that made everything okay—even with a freezing spell.
“Do I know you?” he asked as he moved forward, eating up the sidewalk with long, purposeful strides.
As his features become more defined, her eyes went wider. The man responsible for freezing poor Nina in place was an absolute hottie. Like, brick shithouse hot, hot, hot.
The dark turtleneck and thick down vest he wore accented his even darker features. Eyes the color of a moonless night, evenly spaced and fringed heavily with thick dark lashes, assessed them all. Prominent cheekbones with a razor’s edge and a hard, square jaw enhanced his full-ish lips and bracketed his long straight nose.
His skin was smooth and medium-toned with nary a blemish, putting his age at roughly thirty-five, if Poppy were to guess.