Chapter 14
XIV
Celeste: Councillor Douglas is running around the pub, clutching his bloody hand and screaming about a demon cat…and he’s covered in luxurious body hair. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?
Ihave never seen so much puke come out of a person before. Rafe peers over my shoulder as I splutter into the sink. It’s such a beautiful honey colour.
“I hate you,” I mumble. I turn on the tap and gargle water. My temple pounds. I passed out after I saw what Rafe brought me, and now it’s hours later and my drunken wallowing has given way to hungover regret. “Why would you bring me a finger?”
You’re snubbing my gift. I’m wounded!
“Of course I’m snubbing it. It’s a literal human finger.”
I didn’t know you were such a delicate flower. He makes what can only be described as a pouting face, his tail swishing with indignation. And after I got it especially for you.
I flick water at him. He howls and backs away.
Is that any way to treat the cat who just solved your problems?
“I’m not sure how a severed finger solves anything. I appreciate the gesture, but in the future, I’d rather have flowers. Or a magical hangover cure. Or basically anything else.”
As I lay my head against the cool counter, Rafe transforms, sitting on the floor at my feet, legs tucked beneath him, tail curled into an exclamation point, looking up at me expectantly, his gift still laid out on the floor.
“I can’t believe you’re so ungrateful!” he bursts out.
I throw a roller at him. “Leave me to die in peace. Who does the finger belong to, anyway?”
“Councillor Douglas, of course.” His tail flicks. “No need to thank me. A bowl of your finest cream would suffice.”
“You cut off Douglas’ finger!”
“Don’t be absurd. I didn’t cut it off. I bit it off.
And it was an accident. I went to have a little talk about your license.
But he was being difficult, so I got mean, and in the altercation, I went chomp, and the thing I chomped was his finger.
” Rafe shrugs. “But the good news is that he’s had a change of heart.
He’s putting through the approval this morning, probably while you’re in your third hour of throwing up all that pity-mead you drank.
Bee-Witching Brews can open as early as next week. You’re welcome.”
I lean my back against the counter. “You…removed someone’s finger for me? It’s…both terrifying and sweet.”
“Yes, well.” He starts to lick the back of his hand, then remembers he’s a human and stops. “I don’t do these favours for you for nothing. You owe me an online shopping session. You’ve got forty thousand quid burning a hole in your bank account and I need something hot to wear to the opening.”
“I can’t do online anything right now.” I slide off my stool. The room spins.
“And you call me a menace,” Rafe huffs as he hauls me up by the armpits. “I’m checking your grandmother’s grimoire. Perhaps there’s a spell in there to sober up a silly honey witch. We have a meadery to open!”