Chapter Thirteen-Evie
Did I mention I never liked the idea of having a familiar?
Yeah. Never.
Not once in my entire life had I yearned for a magical sidekick, companion, or spirit animal.
I didn’t want something fluffy and mysterious following me around, purring judgment or critiquing my dating life.
Or worse—offering unsolicited advice in rhyme.
Ugh. No, thank you.
“Is it a bad time to mention a cat allergy?” I asked, trying for casual. Not for a friend.
“No worries, these guys are not felines,” Magdelena replied breezily. “Anywho, they’ll arrive within the next twenty-four hours, and I expect the three of you to properly welcome them, capisce?”
Of course, her pronunciation was deplorable. Came out more like “ca-pissy,” but I did not dare correct her.
I valued my limbs and my standing in the coven hierarchy too much.
“Uh, yep. Got it.” I winced.
“Next on my list for Candida Caverns is—oh yeah, crap, I see you guys have some bad juju going on. You okay to nip that in the bud?”
“Candida? Did you just call our town yeast infection caverns?” I blurted before my brain could catch up to my mouth.
“What was that?” she asked, clearly distracted.
“Nothing.” I coughed. “Um, bad juju? Oh! You mean the cemetery sightings. Yes, I’m on it.”
“Great,” she said, humming something vaguely disco-inspired and completely off-key.
“Uh, anything else?” I asked, trying to keep my voice neutral.
The humming was grating, but you didn’t rush a Witch like Magdelena.
That was how you ended up cursed into an office chair or turned into a potted plant.
“Yes, one more thing for Caboodle Circle.”
“Castor’s Corner,” I mumbled through gritted teeth for the umpteenth time.
“That’s what I said. Oh, yeah—my significant other, the Wizard Wonder, also known as Orpheus Ladonia, the hot dad-body-rockin’ sex machine I’m mated to—informed me you’ve got three new supes in town.”
“Yes. They arrived yesterday,” I confirmed, cheeks heating at the thought of Jaxson and his unfairly perfect everything.
“Cool. Well, from what I’ve gathered they were supposed to be on their way to Maccon City but got sidetracked. I understand their car is being fixed, and they’d like to stay a few days in Cameron’s Clover. Is that going to be a problem?”
“No, of course not,” I lied. “Castor’s Corner is happy to have them.”
And yes, I cringed at the blatant falsehood.
Of course it was going to be a problem.
For several reasons!
One, this was Cameron’s Clover—fuck, I meant Castor’s Corner.
Outsiders always caused chaos here, like that time a fae wedding accidentally triggered a dimension rift in the middle of a dog grooming competition.
Two, I had zero idea how I was going to get through dinner tonight without climbing Jaxson like a tree and marking him like a territorial tomcat.
Three, and this was a big one, once I jumped him—I was fairly certain I wouldn’t want to let him go.
I got possessive with lovers. And Jaxson? He smelled like home and lemon bars.
There was no coming back from that.
And four, I still hadn’t figured out what kind of malicious magical crap was oozing green rot all over my family mausoleum.
So yeah.
Big problem.
“Alrighty then, toodles!” Magdelena screeched into the phone, followed by a click.
I sat there blinking, still holding the receiver to my ear like a moron, as if the sound waves might offer a clue about what just happened.
Spoiler alert: they didn’t.
I doubted a trained psychiatrist could make sense of the hot mess that was that phone call.
How the hell was I supposed to?
“Well?” Stanley asked, hands on his hips and looking way too smug for a man who’d just been spit on with designer water.
I opened my mouth to answer—but before I could, someone knocked on the office door.
“I got it,” Stanley muttered, striding over like he was about to personally cast out a demon.
He flung the door open, and the moment he gasped, I knew I was in for it.
“You Evie?” a voice rumbled.
Low. Gravelly. Thick with an accent that gave me chills in a I’ve seen too many dark European thrillers kind of way.
The sound of it reminded me of those Peter Bebjak films they played at the Castor’s Corner Indie Theater every Friday night.
Yes, we had culture.
And yes, I adored a good Slovak horror film with subtitles and blood magic.
I heard something skitter.
A clicking sound—sharp and close.
I leaned over my desk, trying to see past my overflowing inbox and oversized monitor, but my legs had suddenly lost all motivation to stand.
“I stutter?” the voice snapped again.
And that’s when I realized the familiars had arrived.
And they were not cute little cats in bows or elegant owls with scrolls.
Oh, no.
My familiar had an accent, an attitude, and a terrifying ability to make Stanley, the most unflappable man I knew, pale five shades lighter.
Goddess, help me.
This was going to get weird. Real fast.
Stanley shook his head slowly, chin practically touching his chest as he pointed a trembling finger in my direction. Odd.
The man was rarely rendered speechless.
Appalled? Yes.
Sarcastic? Always.
But speechless? Almost never.
“Evelyn Castor?” the creature said, in a voice that could make bricks shiver.
He was holding a manila envelope in a clawed hand that looked like it had snatched a few souls in its day.
I swallowed hard and stood up, feeling that weird little zing in my gut that warned me magical nonsense was afoot.
The being who had spoken was about two and a half feet tall and standing upright like a tiny professor about to give me a lecture on proper summoning etiquette.
Two more stood flanking him, looking just as strange—and just as unimpressed.
They had shaggy fur in black, gray, and white, like some goth Muppet makeover gone awry.
Their enormous eyes glowed faintly, almost otherworldly, and each had a pair of horns jutting out from their heads at odd, slightly sinister angles.
Oh, and tails.
Long, ropy tails that curled behind them like mischievous punctuation marks.
“Yep. That’s me. Call me Evie,” I said cautiously. “You guys the familiars?”
Three nods.
Simultaneous. Precise.
A little unnerving, honestly.
“Cool. Hold that thought.” I grabbed my phone and sent a text with the urgency of a woman about to be left alone with magical raccoons who could probably curse my entire bloodline.
Me
Get your asses here now. And I mean NOW.
I looked back up and found one of them—gray-furred and slightly taller than the others—eyeing me with what could only be described as disapproval.
“Where are the other Trifecta Witches?” he asked, same thick Eastern European accent.
Slovakia? Romania? Transylvania?
Honestly, he sounded like he belonged in a gritty Netflix fantasy series narrated by Liam Neeson.
“They’re on their way,” I replied. “Do you guys have names?”
“Of course,” scoffed the shortest one, who had white fur and the most judgmental tail flick I’d ever seen.
“I am Ivan,” said the envelope-holder in the middle. “This is Gryn, and this is Petyr. We are the Domovyk.”
“The who now?”
“Domovyk,” Ivan repeated. “We were once minor household gods.”
“Minor but mighty,” Gryn grumbled.
“Yet tragically displaced by microwaves and peanut butter,” Petyr muttered, licking something off his claws. “I like this peanut butter.”
“We now serve the Witch Trifecta,” Ivan said, straightening his tiny spine like he was announcing something on the nightly news.
“Our pact with La Befana and the Morrigan is sealed. We protect the Witches. We serve the home. We keep the balance.”
“Uh. Great. Tea?”
I wasn’t trying to interrupt their tiny divine TED Talk, but the air was crackling around them, and my magic was reacting.
Literal flames were flickering at my fingertips, and I didn’t want to accidentally light anyone’s fur on fire. I’d never live that down.
Ivan noticed, growled something sharp in their native tongue, and the others fell silent instantly.
Then—without a word—they dropped to the floor in perfect unison.
Crisscross applesauce.
Like creepy, magical kindergartners waiting for snack time.
No. Nope.
I was not reading them If You Give a Witch a Cupcake.
Stanley, bless his silk-swathed soul, muttered, “I’ll get the tea,” and practically sprinted from the room like the floor was made of snakes.
The Domovyk didn’t try to talk to me while he was gone.
Which, honestly, was fine.
But the weird, throaty clicks and low growls they whispered to each other while waiting?
Not fine. Not cute. Not one bit.
A minute later, the office door banged open, and Maribella barreled in, covered in flour and full of fury.
Donatella followed, dragging Jinx McAndrews—a Mink Shifter, who actually had this cool throwback prehistoric gene that meant she turned into a two-ton rodent at will—in by the arm.
She looked mid-makeover with foil strips in her hair and what appeared to be a mixing bowl of magical hair dye sloshing around in her hands.
“Where’s the fire? And what the hell are those things?” Donny screeched.
“Is this a prank? Is it April already?” Maribella panted, eyeing the trio like they might explode into confetti.
“Hello Jinx,” I said coolly to the Shifter, ignoring the chaos around me.
“Mayor,” she nodded, valiantly trying not to scream.
“What the? I mean, you couldn’t call an exterminator?” Donny asked. “I was in the middle of highlighting Mrs. McAndrews’ hair, Evie.”
“And you couldn’t tell her to wait?” I snapped back.
“No! Foil,” she snapped, and Jinx practically threw the entire box of the stuff at her.
Snort.
I ignored the impulse to hex them both and cleared my throat.
“Ladies, meet our familiars.”
All three Domovyk rose to their feet, each one stepping in front of one of us. Ivan took me.
Petyr stepped toward Maribella.
And Gryn, who had a distinct air of menace, stared Donny down like he already regretted this assignment.
“This is them? Good. Now we make our vow,” Ivan said.
They bowed in unison and began to chant in a language that made my ears pop.
Green sparks lit the air.
The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees.
I didn’t know how I knew what to do next—how any of us knew—but all three of us raised our right hands at the same moment, our pointer fingers extended.
The Domovyk reached out with clawed fingers, sparks flaring.
When our skin touched, magic zipped through me like a jolt of liquid fire.
Ivan’s power felt warm and familiar. Like a memory I didn’t know I had.
He was inspecting me, sensing me, syncing with me—and in that second, I knew they weren’t malevolent.
They were ours.
“Any questions?” Ivan asked, letting go.
“Uh. No,” I croaked.
Maribella and Donny echoed the same.
“Good. Then we leave.”
“Wait—what? I thought you were our familiars now?”
“We are,” he said flatly. “But you do not need us now. We will return when we are needed. Do not forget to leave us plates from your meals. Supper, breakfast, leftovers. Especially sweet things. Very important.”
“Um, you want doggy bags?”
Ivan tilted his head.
“We are not dogs. But yes.”
“Got it,” I mumbled.
“Good,” he nodded, satisfied.
Then—with a loud pop! and a blinding flash of green—they vanished.
We stood there in stunned silence for a moment.
Jinx, er, Mrs. McAndrews looked traumatized.
Maribella looked impressed.
Donny just looked irritated.
“Well,” she muttered. “That happened.”
Then, with a shrug, she collected Marylou and left. Bella followed closely behind with a promise to regroup later.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of paperwork, spell filings, and two passive-aggressive complaints from Dick about Jaxson’s jeans being too tight.
As if that were a bad thing.
By the time five o’clock rolled around, I was ready to collapse.
My familiar had vanished after zapping my magic into overdrive.
I still didn’t have a damn car.
I had a hot date with a Werewolf I wanted to climb like a fire pole.
And there was still something rotting beneath the town cemetery.
But hey. At least it was Friday.