Avis scoffed. “Then I’ll take her off your hands. She’s got a bottom like a round—”
“Knock it off, Mackland,” Rick warned, his tone serious. He was never fond of how Avis objectified women, and he’d said as much on many occasions. But Poppy was different. He’d like to chalk that up to the fact that she was his familiar, but the protective side of him railed against the notion. “She’s not a piece of meat. There’s some respect due here. And you already have a familiar. You don’t need another one.”
“Hah!” Avis barked. “You mean I have someone who’s always lagered up and makes an appearance maybe twice a year? I don’t even know where the living hell Judith is right now—haven’t seen her since last spring.”
“Lucky you,” he muttered, staring at his jacked-up wrist.
“So how are you going to handle this, old chum? You know damn well the PTB will sprout moths out of their dusty arses for days if you complain.”
He did know that. He’d been ready to risk that until he’d spent some time with Poppy today. He liked her spunk. He liked how much she cared about the people over at Littleton. He liked that she wanted to pay Mr. Rush back no matter what it took.
He liked her…her aura, and he hated to admit as much. He’d been so defensive when she’d been thrust upon him with no warning; he really had been an asshole.
And she’d told him so. He liked that, too.
“Still not sure how I’m going to handle it. She’s no Yash, that’s for sure.” Though today, she’d reminded him of his familiar, made that tug in his gut burn with awareness.
Avis slid into the chair opposite his desk with a chuckle. “Damn right, she’s no Yash. She has a helluva lot more hair and her legs are perfection. No comparison t’all.”
Looking his partner directly in the eye, Rick narrowed his glare, leveling it at Avis. “I said lay off the comments about her body.”
Avis threw up his hands as white flags. “Chill, brother. I was simply joking. But how about you tell me what she did to your body? I smell magic of some kind or another, though it’s quite strange.”
Strange was an understatement. But Calamity was correct. He absolutely did feel the connection to Poppy. He wasn’t sure the connection wasn’t muddied with other feelings, but they had connected when she’d blown the lights out in his kitchen and when she’d turned him to stone.
Which was actually kind of funny.
So Rick shrugged. He wasn’t ready to be completely open about what was going on inside him just yet. “We had a bit of a collision over at Littleton. Can’t exactly explain it other than it was pretty bizarre.”
“Littleton? She was at Littleton with you?”
“Well, yeah. She’s my familiar, remember? We’re in the getting-to-know-you phase.”
Avis leaned back in the chair, crossing his ankle over his knee. “And how do you feel about her replacing Yash?”
“I don’t feel anything about Yash. Yash was a dirty son of a bitch.” He ground the words out, even if he really did feel something about his disappearing familiar. Utter and complete betrayal—a desolation so deep, it still stung.
“You have to let go, friend. Especially the talk of despising your magic.”
“I don’t despise my magic, Avis. I just don’t want it used in my everyday life. We can’t meld with humans, do business with them on a day-to-day basis, if we’re casting spells on them, forcing them to do our bidding. It’s not right.”
Avis rolled his eyes. “A little magic never hurt anyone,” he drawled, snapping his fingers and making a waterfall appear in the corner of the office, the sparkling gush of fluid spilling out over his floor.
“You know it’s not my bag, buddy. Our magic is weak compared to our female counterparts. It’s rare to find a warlock who can do more than some stupid card tricks or make waterfalls appear anyway, and you know it. We’re the lesser of the two genders. But let’s not forget, magic can wreak all sorts of havoc in your life.”
Avis shot him a sympathetic look. “And it killed your mother. I know the story, friend. I understand your reasoning.”
The reminder of his mother, Delfina, stung. Yes. Magic had killed his mother, and Yash had picked up the pieces of that broken little boy, sewn him back together again, raised him with all sorts of wise words and mother-of-the-earth intentions—and then duped him.
Never again.
“Give the old bloke a break, would you? I still say something happened, chap. I daresay no magic on earth, no matter how powerful, could have torn that man from your side. He was bloody attached to your hip like some sort of Siamese twin.”