“Not exactly my top skill set.” Ellie laughed at the absurdity of the idea, but she didn’t change her course. She darted one more look at Prospero, but she stayed at her new bestie’s side as they headed toward a place calling itself the Tavern of No Repute.
It was decidedly grungy, looking like it was straight out of a low budget pirate movie. Nothing here seemed likely to pass a health inspection.There was a viable possibility that the floor hadn’t been swept in a month at least, and there were some sort of furry rodents sitting on barstools.
“Are those… bar weasels or something?” Ellie asked as she looked around.
“Badgers.” A man in a tunic, tights, and combat boots lifted a full glass of something vaguely cloudy and gestured. “That one’s m’wife.”
“Your… wife?” Ellie asked. “Yourwifeis a badger?”
“The little one with the star-shaped patch on her head.” He gestured again with his drink. “Her sentence ends in twenty-seven days. I miss her more ’an I expected. Even cleaned the whole room where we live.”
“Your bedroom?” Maggie asked. “You only cleaned the bedroom?”
“Sure. We have jus’ the one room that’s our own. Not enough magic in us for a bigger place, but”—his voice became very loud—“that’s fine because my honey bear is coming home.”
“Thebadger?” Ellie asked.
“Only for another twenty-seven days now.” He sat up straighter, but his words were very much a slur. “Then she’s gon’ be all soft and woman shaped.”
“But currently, you are trying to tell me that your wife is a badger?” Ellie asked, trying to verify what he was saying. Was he drunk enough to be thinking lusty thoughts at a mustelid? Was there some perversion that made a person aroused by otters, ferrets, and badgers?
Ellie stared at him, trying to understand both why he thought he was married to a badger—which hopefully was a drunken delusion—and more importantly, why there were badgers in the bar at all.
“We don’t have the space for a jail here,” said a familiar voice from behind her. “So when extreme infractions must be addressed, a person is transformed.”
“Wait. You turn people intobadgers?” Ellie took a moment to erase the flicker of longing the mere sound of Prospero’s voice elicited, and then she turned to look at her.
“Yes, the term is ‘badgering.’ We badger them,” Prospero said with a wry grin. “The responsibility is part of the chief witch’s duties.”
“It’s so weird here,” Maggie muttered. “I can’t wait to go home, even if I did find a very cool library in the castle tonight.”
“Library?” Ellie echoed. She looked from Maggie to Prospero. “There’s alibraryin the castle?”
“Sometimes,” Prospero said. “No rules on teacups either.”
Maggie frowned. “You two have in-jokes already?”
Ellie squirmed.What do I say?
Luckily, Prospero saved her from trying by saying, “Oh, my eyes and ears tell me that Miss Brandeau isn’t the only one who has found herself captivated by parts of Crenshaw.” She paused, looking at Maggie for a long moment, before adding, “Libraries and escapes to pubs and who knows what else. Remedial witches always break some rules figuring out whether or not to stay. Witches are rarely the best at abiding by rules, historically.”
Maggie looked like she was trying to decide whether to defend accusations that hadn’t been made or simply walk out of the tavern.
“Prospero…” Ellie started.
“Have you found nothing—other than a library—in Crenshaw to tempt you to linger in our magical village?” Prospero asked, holding Ellie’s gaze as she spoke.
Ellie swallowed, but she didn’t look away even as Prospero smiled in that damnably sexy way that said Ellie was not misunderstanding the question.
Ellie smiled. “It’s hard to say.”
“Oh?” Prospero was already standing closer than a stranger would be, and she looked like she was dressed to erase any doubts Ellie still had. The vest she wore was nipped at the waist, fitted in the chest, highlighting Prospero’s slight curves perfectly.
Maggie cleared her throat, and when Ellie looked at her, she gave her a decidedly disapproving look.
“Have you ordered drinks?” Prospero asked, pulling Ellie’s attention back to her. “Miss Brandeau and…?” Prospero glanced at Maggie expectantly.
“Maggie Lynch.” Maggie extended a hand as if to shake. “Just passing through your town.”
