“Over here, darling.”
I looked behind me.
And there, sitting on the back counter with his tiny paws folded like some kind of rodent librarian, was a prairie dog. Tawny fur, beady little eyes, wearing a navy blue jacket, plaid vest, and an expression that could only be described asjudgmental.
He blinked slowly.“Took you long enough.”
I stumbled back, almost knocking over the canister. “What the actual hell—?”
“Language,”he said primly.“Honestly. Is this how your mother raised you?”
“You’re a talking prairie dog,” I snapped.
He gave a short sigh and appeared on the counter next to me in an instant.“Technically, I’m your familiar. Though I’ll admit I’ve had better introductions.”
“Familiar?” I repeated, because clearly the universe had decided I hadn’t had enough weird for one morning. “I don’t recall my mother having a familiar.”
“Yes, I’m your familiar. And your mother didn’t need one—absolute powerhouse, that one—but you, my dear, clearly require some… assistance.”
I stared. “You’re in myhead.”
“Yes, well. I prefer it to shouting. I find vocal cords so… primitive.”
He sniffed, then sat down like he owned the place.
“You may call me Oscar B. Wilde, or just Oscar, if you like.”
I blinked.
“What, were you expecting Whiskers or Buttons or some such nonsense? Absolutely not. I have standards.”
I leaned against the counter, not sure if I was losing my mind or if this was just Tuesday now.
“So let me get this straight. You just… showed up?”
“Well,”he said, grooming a paw,“the book called me. Or rather, your mark did. You activated it, and here I am.”
“And what exactly are you here for?”
“Guidance. Insight. Occasional insults if you insist on poor magical form.” He paused.“Also snacks. I do like a good scone.”
I stared for a long second, then reached for a lemon scone from the tray.
He took it delicately, sniffed, and gave a satisfied nod.“Excellent. You and I are going to get along famously.”
I just shook my head and got back to baking. What else was I supposed to do? I was a witch, and some witches had familiars. Although it was generally witches with significant power, but I wouldn’t look a gift gopher in the mouth.
“Prairie dog, if you please.”
“Shit, sorry. Wait! I didn’t realize you could hear everything I wasthinking.”
“Well, I can. And we’ll work on making it so I can’t unless you want me to. It might come in handy someday.”
Chapter 5
Wyrdmother, Verdant Hollow Coven
The stench of wilted rosemary and burnt tallow clung to the walls like mold. I stepped over the corpse of a shattered mixing bowl and waded through the carnage of the Waters cottage, my patience unspooling with every crunch of glass under my shoe. I’d sent Olive, Maggie, and Teela ahead, but of course it took a proper witch to see that their search amounted to little more than a tea party for sociopaths.
