We entered the drawing room and stopped deadin our tracks.
Melvina sat cross-legged on the rug in front of the fireplace. Her battleaxe leaned against the mantelpiece, within arm’s reach. The dwarf’s braided beard quivered with delight as she cooed to something on her lap.
Pearl snickered. Samuel’s shoulders trembled beside me.
The most feared dark witch in Amberford, architect of the Black Chalice Rite, kidnapper of the Lincoln sisters, and all-around terrible person, was currently wearing a pink knitted sweater with the word “PRINCESS” embroidered across the back in rhinestones. Tiny bows adorned each ear. A bedazzled collar glittered around her neck. Someone had glued googly eyes to the tag.
The cat’s golden gaze burned with a hatred so pure it was almost admirable.
Melvina beamed when she spotted us. “You’re just in time. I finished her new outfit this morning.”
Bo’s tail wagged so hard his entire back end swung.
“She looks amazing!” the Husky proclaimed.
“She looks homicidal,” I said flatly.
The cat fixed us with a glare that promised retribution.
My dog’s tail stopped wagging.
“I changed my mind,” he said, slinking behind me.
“She’s tried to escape fourteen times,” Barney informed us tiredly as he dropped into his favorite armchair. “Harold has reinforced the windows. Twice.”
“The bathroom window was my oversight,” Harold admitted from the doorway. He was holding a tray ofdog and cat friendly cookies and biscuits. “She’s remarkably flexible.”
Bo’s eyes focused on the baked goods like a heat-seeking missile. He licked his chops noisily.
Victoria studied the cat from a safe distance. “She seems to be adjusting to her new home.”
On cue, the cat twisted in Melvina’s grip and attempted to sink her teeth into the dwarf’s forearm. Melvina didn’t flinch. Mostly because a dwarf’s skin was as tough as nails. She adjusted her hold and scratched behind the feline’s ears.
“Aw, someone’s grumpy.” The dwarf held the cat up to face level and spoke to it in a voice reserved for infants and small animals. “Is Princess Fluffernutter having a bad day? Is she? Is she having a grumpy-wumpy day?”
Samuel choked on air.
“Princess Fluffernutter?” I asked Barney.
The vampire looked like he wanted to crawl into a coffin and stay there for a century.
“Why Princess Fluffernutter?” Victoria asked in a voice laced with morbid fascination.
“Because she’s fluffy and she likes peanut butter,” Melvina replied promptly.
Samuel wheezed. I stepped on his foot.
“She doesn’t like peanut butter,” Barney said flatly. “She threw it at my head.”
“That’s how cats show affection,” Melvina insisted.
The black cat made a sound that should not have been physically possible from a feline throat. It was half yowl, half scream, and entirelyEsmeralda.
Pearl hopped onto the coffee table to get a better look. “That outfit really suits her.” The white cat smirked. “She looks like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.”
The carrier of dark magic, corrosive properties, and minor vampiric abilities hissed from inside her pink sweater.
“Please, sit,” Harold said. “I’ll bring the tea.”
