The Accidental Familiar (Accidentally Paranormal Series Book 14) (8 page)

“So why don’t you tell me exactly why I need this particular familiar.” He stared right through her, burning holes in her face with his glare.

With this new position of familiar, Poppy felt like some earthy, sage answer was in order, something that would make her sound like she knew what the hell she was doing.

“The universe tends to unfold as it should.”

Pulling the shirt over his head, Ricardo rolled his eyes. “From the infamous
Harold and Kumar Go To White Castle
. Hardly original, Sage One.”

“Look, I’m new at this, okay? I don’t know a single thing about being a familiar other than I’m supposed to dole out advice and protect you. So there. Have some advice. I interpret those words to mean, the universe put me here with cranky you for a reason. I’m doubting the universe’s sanity right now because you’re kind of a butthead. But there it is. Take it or leave it.”

His dark eyebrow rose in crystal clear condescension. “And I’m supposed to just say ‘let’s do this’ to someone who quotes
Harold and Kumar
and dresses like Paul Stanley? Nice boots, by the way.” He pointed a lean finger at her beloved platforms.

Now Poppy rolled her eyes, tapping her fingers on the steel countertop. “Good guess! And don’t hide behind pretension. You knew who Harold and Kumar were, buddy. And I don’t always dress like this. I was at a Halloween party when this all went down. So lay off the judgey Paul Stanley shaming and let’s get this sorted out.”

Rolling his tongue inside his lean cheek, Ricardo’s jaw tensed and clenched, the strong muscles ticking out a rhythm. “I said I didn’t want a familiar. I don’t know how much clearer I can be.”

Roomandboardroomandboard, Poppy.

Lifting her shoulders in a sigh, Poppy clucked her tongue and decided it was sink-or-swim time. If she was supposed to be his guide, she had to show him how stupid he was for turning her away. That she was an asset to him. Or at least make him believe she was—even if she didn’t believe it herself.

So she put her acting hat on, the one she wore to all her Broadway auditions, and stared him right in his gorgeous eyes. “I guess that’s your tough shit then. Because I’m not going anywhere. So suck it.”

Taking a step back, he glared at them—but mostly he glared at Poppy. “I said, I don’t want nor do I need a familiar. Now get out of my house!” he shouted, lifting his wide hand.

And that was when Poppy lifted her hand, too. She wasn’t sure why she did it. In that flash of a moment, she knew it wasn’t because she was afraid Ricardo would strike her. Not at all. Yet, she felt as though she needed to prevent something, and throwing up her hand was her best defense.

Turned out, she blew something up instead.

Whoops.

A
s the black and silver industrial hanging lights over the island countertop sparked and sputtered before exploding and crashing to the ground, Nina was the first to yell, “Incoming!” diving for Poppy in an effort to protect her from the spray of electricity.

Instead of connecting with Poppy, the vampire crashed into Ricardo, who’d surprisingly taken a lunge to knock her out of the way, too, spewing a string of expletives in Spanish. As the two smashed into each other, they fell to the floor with grunts, tangled limbs and some pretty foul language.

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—”

“I can’t wait till you tell me what—er, what’s your name again? Peppy?” he interrupted, his eyes narrowing, his words swimming in sarcasm.

She stomped toward him, her calves aching more in her platform boots than even when she’d been in the chorus of
Guys and Dolls,
and she’d had to wear three-inch heels.

Her breathing became ragged as desperation and fear began to set in. If she was going to the Bad Place, she wasn’t going without an all-out brawl.

“It’s Poppy. Poppy McGuillicuddy. M to the C to the Guill-i-cudd-E, and you’d damn well better get used to saying my name because I’m not going anywhere, buddy. If I don’t hook up with you and your shitty attitude, I end up in the Bad Place. I’m sure that’s just fine for somebody like you, who has millions of dollars to grease the palms of whoever’s in charge of your kooky world in order to prevent you from doing things you don’t want to do.
But I do not
. In fact, I’m damn well broke, and there will be absolutely no icing my hard luck cake by shipping me off to the Bad Place. Now, shut up and suck it up until you, with all your big, big brains and piles of money, can find me something better. Got that,
Ricky baby
?”

All motion ceased, including Rick’s sweeping. Each of the women’s mouths fell open. Except, of course, Nina’s. She slapped Poppy on the back in approval, jolting her forward with the force of the gesture. “Way to get your own, kiddo. I remain fucking impressed.”

Heaving a breath, Poppy moved in closer to Ricardo. Likely a mistake because he smelled like sheer heaven, but whatever.

Zeroing in on his face, her nostrils flared. “Now, where’s my room and where do you keep the coffee in this shiny steel cage—because I need it in the morning. And I swear to God, if I hear one more protest from you, Ricardo Delassantos, I’m going to wrap my fingers around your neck and choke you out!”

“Ooo, violence as a vehicle to make a point. Jesus Christ, I like you, Poppy M to the C to the Guill-i-cudd-E,” Nina crowed, wrapping an arm around her neck and ruffling the top of her head with her knuckles.

Rick set the broom against the fridge and put his hands on his hips and shook his head in disgust. “
Madre mia
. The Bad Place, huh? They still threaten with that? Clearly, it’s effective.”

But Poppy was in no mood to dick with him. “My room, please.
Now
,” she snarled, wiping the bead of spit lodged at the corner of her mouth.

Grabbing a set of keys from a hook hanging inside the pantry door, he lobbed them to her. “Out back—there’s an adjoining shed. It’s all yours.”

“A shed?” Marty gasped. “No, no, no. This isn’t how you treat one of yours. Poppy’s not living in a shed.”

Wanda backed up that statement by pulling Poppy close to her side, her lips turning thin. “
A shed
? Oh, no sir,” she said with deadly calm. “There’ll be no treating our girl here like she’s the hired help. In fact, is this how you treat the hired help? It’s appalling, dehumanizing—and I won’t stand for it!”

Nina bobbed her head, gripping Poppy’s shoulder. “Yeah. I’m with Blondie. No fucking way I’m leaving the feisty kid here in some GD shitass shed. It’s cold, she’s been through enough, and you’re an asshole. In case you wondered.”

Wagging his index finger, Rick ignored their protests and made his way to the far window at the other end of the warehouse, pointing to the inky-black backyard. “It’s not what you think.” As they followed him, he flipped on a floodlight, casting a bright glare over the “shed.”

Everyone, even Poppy, gasped at once as they all huddled together and looked out the window.

Calamity scurried to a plaid armchair and jumped up on the back of the cushiony surface. “Whaaat? What’s happening?”

But then she quieted, too, but only after she sighed an, “Ahhh.”

Rick was right. It wasn’t what they’d thought when he’d said shed. This was no shed as in garden shed-shed. This was a damn Victorian palace in miniature form. From the adorable white gingerbread trim above the doors and along the tiny white porch with spindled railings, to the barn-red siding and square, crosshatched windows, it was precious.

The mini house sat amidst mums in every color, in pots of all shades, sizes and shapes, and also sprouting from the ground, presenting a veritable sea of orange, burgundy, yellow and dark pink. There were bushes in all the deep hues of fall, popping up between the blossoming flowers, their leaves beginning to turn with the onset of fall.

A white stone path to the front door was lined with white lantern lights, swinging in the cold breeze, completing a picturesque setting she’d only ever dared dream.

“That’s mine?” Poppy finally managed to squeak.

“Until I can
grease a palm
or two, yeah,” he said, his tone almost teasing. “Everything you need is there. Towels, fresh linens, food, coffee, a big cushy bed. So, if you ladies don’t mind, and if we’re done with asshole orientation for the day, it’s late. Maybe you could go settle in, and we’ll touch base tomorrow morning.”

Which meant get the hell out.

Fine. She could do that. She needed a shower and a stiff drink. But she’d settle for a shower and a hot cup of cocoa. Jingling the keys under his nose, Poppy nodded. “Ladies, let’s go check out my new, probably not-forever home.”

Turning on her heel, she began to make her way across the wide room, planning to make a big exit like she’d just dropped the mic. But as was her MO, and maybe one of the reasons she wasn’t Broadway’s biggest hit, she stumbled in her platforms and tripped over Rick’s big, clunky shoes that sat by the door.

His laughter as she yanked the door open rankled right down to the tips of her cold, numb toes.

* * * *

Son of a bitch.

Pacing the length of his kitchen floor, Rick, kicked at the dust left by the gaping hole in his ceiling with an angry foot.

He did not want a new damn familiar.

He’d had a familiar. That lifelong friend, that trusted confidant, that almost-like-a-father-to-him familiar.

The familiar who had up and left him. Literally abandoned him a year ago, leaving everything he owned behind.