Nina was the first to squirm her way out of their clench, giving Ricardo a shove before she rose and shrugged off their fall.
“Holy house afire!” Calamity howled when the dust had settled, hopping from the floor where she’d saved her hide from injury and back up to the countertop where the fallen lights crackled and spat. “You did that, Poppy!”
She blinked, looking up at the lights and then back to the counter. “Did what?”
Though, she wasn’t sure her question rang true. She knew she’d done something. She felt the tingle, the slither of electricity shooting from her hand. She’d shuddered as it had coursed through her body in a split-second of heat and sizzle.
“You connected your magic to Mr. Smexy’s and created an explosion! Holy corn fritters!”
As Ricardo rose, too, grappling with untangling himself from Poppy’s platforms Marty brushed some Sheetrock from Nina’s hair and Wanda instantly began brushing the chunks of debris and metal into a neat pile.
“Explain, Calamity,” Marty demanded, ignoring Nina’s dismissive hands shooing her away. “How does one connect magic and what does that mean in the long run?”
“Don’t you feel it, Rickster? Don’t lie and say you don’t, either. You smell it, too, don’t you?” Calamity gave the air a purposeful sniff. “You’re a warlock, and while you have magic, it’s weaker than a witch’s, but still capable enough to do party tricks like freezing Nina in her tracks, whisking someone away, etcetera. Except when you mix it with someone else’s. That’s when shit gets real! When Poppy held up her hand to stop you from shipping us off to parts unknown—”
“Siberia,” Rick interrupted, his eyes intense, his posture rigid. “I was thinking the wilds of Siberia.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Calamity dismissed, stalking to where he stood with his lean hip pressed against the counter and his bulky arms crossed over his chest. “But you know what I say is true. You felt it. I saw the look on your face just before the lights blew up. When your magic connected with Poppy’s, it was total bazinga!”
Scrunching her eyes shut, she did it partially to block out Ricardo’s near perfect Photoshopped body, but also because she’d developed quite a headache. “So let me get this straight. I have magic, too?”
How had magic of her own come into this deal? She didn’t want magic. She couldn’t even be trusted to renew her driver’s license, how could she be trusted with something as dangerous as magic?
“You do!” Calamity all but screeched. “I had no idea it would be this powerful just yet, but your magic plus Crabby Patty’s magic equals uber magic. Which means you two are better together than apart. If it were ever needed—like, say we had an uprising in the realm—you guys would be like Murtaugh and Riggs together. Like Tommy Lee Jones and Will Smith in Men In Black! Hell, you might even rival Thelma and Louise!”
Uprising? Was that a common occurrence in the realm? She didn’t want any part of uprisings. She was just here for the room and board.
“What if I told you I don’t want uber magic?” Rick asked, strolling to a pantry, where he pulled a dustpan and broom out.
Calamity paced the length of the counter, hopping gracefully over the crushed lights. “Don’t be a stupidhead. Everyone wants uber magic, Ricky baby.”
If Ricky baby’s jaw could clench any tighter, his perfect, shiny white teeth would crack. “I’m not everyone. I don’t know if Familiar Central told you, but I like blending with humans in the human world. My clients are human. With an exception or two, most of my employees are human. I live in a primarily human world. I don’t use my magic often, which could be why it was so strong just then, and that’s all there is to it.”
“The. Hell!” Calamity barked, the hair on her spine rising. “I felt the vibe, buddy. It was much more than storing up your magic points and you know it.”
Rick shook his head. “That doesn’t change the fact that I don’t want a familiar. I don’t need a familiar any more than I need a hemorrhoid,” he spat, pushing the broom into the pile on the floor with an agitated sweep of its bristles.
You know, she’d had enough damn rejection for one night. She was like a total of four hours into this familiar thing and already she’d been dumped. Which meant, unless good old Gladys had another available witch or warlock on hand, she had to go to the Bad Place.
Sure, she’d been all mouth and threats earlier when she’d said she’d rather go to the Bad Place than be stuck for an eternity with Ricky baby. But she’d been hasty. The Bad Place was called the Bad Place for a reason.
With that realization, she squared her shoulders, yanking her itchy wig off and throwing it down on the ground like some bizarre gauntlet. “You know what, Ricardo—”