Minnie: Double, Double, Toil and Trouble

1. Chapter 1 - Minnie

“Quiet as a bunny, okay, Natty?” I remind the little boy as I sprinkle invisibility dust over our heads.

Bunnies are actually far from quiet. Every single one I’ve ever met talked my head off… but I’m keeping that little fact to myself.

Just like I don’t plan to mention that bunnies like to eat their own poop. You never know what a three-year-old might be willing to try…

I scoop the boy up and carry him out of the boarded-up bakery.

Agent Tiptoe, Mouse with the Jingling Collar, sits astride his shoulder—a stark reminder of why ‘quiet as a mouse’ has been struck from my vocabulary.

When I said it last night, Natty started yelling ‘ding ding ding,’ and nearly gave me a heart attack.

But I can’t expect him to understand that getting caught could mean I lose custody and end up in jail like his dad.

As if my life isn’t bad enough already. I’m broke, homeless, cursed, and saddled with three men I’m fated to hate.

I try not to think about the sorry state of my life as we head down Main Street. We make it to the alley where we always wait out the invisibility spell without incident, but as soon as we get there, Natty pushes against my shoulders.

“Stop wiggling,” I protest, but the invisible boy manages to slide out of my arms.

“Bunny, hop, hop, hop.” The sound of his sneakered feet connecting with concrete echoes down the alley as he jumps away from me.

“Come back here, Natty,” I whisper.

I sound bored. I’m anything but.

I have no idea where he’s hopping off to, which makes me panic.

It also triggers Formula M—the magical “medicine” that’s supposed to help manage my anxiety and make me a functional human being.

Instead, it roots me in place, like a statue, flooding me with artificial calm while forcing me to watch disaster unfold. Some guardian I am…

Come on, invisibility dust. I silently plead. Wear off. Please wear off!

The spell never lasts long, but every second feels like an eternity.

At least Zachariah isn’t here to see what a terrible job I’m doing raising his son…

But it’s so much worse than that. What if something happens to Natty? The alley isn’t a playground. He could trip, fall, and hit his head. Or he could find some random pill and think it’s candy. I won’t even know if he ate anything unless he gets really sick. And by then, it might be too late.

And there are so many other things that could go wrong. What if he runs off and gets lost? Or an invisible kidnapper runs up and snatches him without me knowing? Or… or…

Formula M pumps so much calm through my veins I finally feel myself start to relax. Everything is going to be fine. Everything is…

So not fine!

Natty’s hops echo through the alley as he turns around and jumps right past me, heading for the street.

“Minnie?” he calls.

I don’t reply. Since I’m invisible, he can’t see me. And since Formula M’s got my tongue, he can’t hear me, either.

“Minnie?” He tries again, jumping toward the street. “Come hop!”

Natty, stop! I silently shout. I urge my legs to go after him, but they refuse to budge. What if he hops around the corner and gets lost? Or what if… the road!

Natty, don’t go near the road!

I hear a vehicle coming before I see it. And that’s when Natty reappears, standing on the curb, knees bent and ready to jump. Agent Tiptoe is perched on his shoulder, clinging to the boy’s t-shirt, wide eyes locked on the oncoming pickup truck.

“No!” the mouse shouts.

But Natty can’t hear him. And he doesn’t recognize the danger.

Natty, stop. Please, stop!

He doesn’t stop. He jumps. Right in front of the oncoming car.

For a moment, time stands as still as I do. Wave after endless wave of panic, followed by Formula M calm, courses through me—all useless when I should be helping Natty.

And then, just like that, time flows again, and the unthinkable happens. Natty hops further onto the road, sealing his fate.

His tiny light-up sneakers hit the concrete. Cheerful multicolor lights scatter across the asphalt as the beat-up green pickup truck barrels toward him. I think I’m going to be sick.

Then, finally—finally!—the driver spots Natty and slams on the brakes. Tires scream against concrete, and the horn blasts through the air, shattering the morning quiet.

Natty spins toward the sound, his terrified face lit by the pickup’s headlights. But it’s already too late.

No, please, goddess, no! My heart doesn’t just stop—it shatters, each piece shouting at the pickup to stop.

I can’t breathe. I can’t move. I can’t even scream.

I did this. I took Formula M. I let this happen.

Natty, Tiptoe, No!

The truck swerves, a last-ditch effort to save them, and ice-cold terror courses through my veins. Air lodges in my throat, then escapes in a whoosh.

By some miracle, the pickup manages to avoid the little boy by a hair’s breadth. But the scene is seared into my memory forever…

When Formula M finally sets me free, I pull the sobbing Natty and trembling Tiptoe into my arms. Relief courses through me, but I know, deep down, that this is my fault. They’ll never be safe as long as they’re with me.

The pickup truck door slams, and a middle-aged, red-faced man storms toward us. He lets out a series of swears, but I’m too shaken up to respond. Or cover Natty’s ears.

“You could have landed me in prison,” he shouts. He doesn’t even seem to care if Natty or Tiptoe are okay. “Keep your kid on a leash, will you?”

He storms away and drives off. I stay where I am, holding Natty and Tiptoe until the little boy gets wiggly again and asks if we can go.

I’m still shaken up by the time we get to Jewels Cafe. Thankfully, only Chase is around, and he’s on his laptop, keys clacking. I grab the wagon, we exchange quick hellos and goodbyes, and Natty and Tiptoe act like their usual, cheerful selves.

I should be relieved, but I can’t get the honking and squealing tires out of my head as we make the trek across town. I almost lost Natty and Tiptoe. Forever.

When we get to Yes Now, Bob’s, the diner where I work on weekends, I leave the wagon out back on autopilot. One perk of living in a small town is that theft is pretty much nonexistent. Well, now that Natty’s dad is in prison…

The thought makes me cringe. Zachariah only resorted to stealing to keep his little boy fed, while I nearly got that same little boy killed. Plus, Natty’s dad has more than paid for his crimes during his two years behind bars.

On Monday, he’ll probably get parole, and then he’ll take Natty away from me, and I’ll never see my little boy again. Which is the least I deserve… At least then he’ll be safe.

Formula M sends a wave of calm surging through my bloodstream, and I tug the three-year-old into the diner. I go through the motions, settling Natty and Tiptoe at the table in the back and putting away all my stuff.

The routine lessens some of the terror from the near-collision, and I start to feel a bit more normal.

I grab my uniform and tug it over my head. “This thing is a fashion atrocity.”

Which is Formula M talking. Me? I like how the soft sapphire-blue shirt hangs loosely over my dress.

My people-pleaser boss, Bob, peeks his head out from the kitchen. “We could get new uniforms.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re too nice.”

Bob beams. “Thanks, Minnie.”

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

“Are you sure? It sounded like one.”

I sigh. “How are you still alive?”

Though I’m one to talk, considering I almost got Natty and Tiptoe killed. I suddenly feel too hot, but Formula M cools me down.

“I like to keep him that way,” Sapphire, Bob’s vampire mate, calls out from her seat at the counter.

A blue rope of fiery magic connects the two of them, reminding me of the fiery pink magic that connects me to my Fated Hates. And yes, it’s hates with a capital H—the three men I’m fated to be lifelong enemies with. Because they’re all about to destroy my life.

I examine my magically manicured nails. At least I don’t have to fight back tears Formula M would never let me shed.

Sapphire taps on a coffee mug overflowing with whipped cream. “So yesterday was interesting. Do fuzzies really feel pain? And do your animal communication skills extend to zombie cows?”

Bob peeks out from the kitchen. “Some of the cows keep trying to eat me.”

“Yes, fuzzies feel pain, and no, I can’t help with zombie cows.” Mainly because Bob keeps them on a ranch outside Silver Springs, and the curse won’t let me go that far out of town. “I hope you don’t get eaten.”

“Only one who’s eating him is me,” Sapphire adds.

“Child,” Bob calls out.

“Don’t eat Bob,” Natty adds. “Bob isn’t food.”

Sapphire smirks. “Says you. So Minnie, are the rumors true and you want to ride Reddy like he’s—”

“Saph, not in front of N-a-t-t-y,” Bob says.

“Notty?” Sapphire asks. “Who’s naughty? Is it you, Bob?”

I ignore them, mind racing. It’s bad enough that every witch who attended Dr. Reddy’s talk on the virtues of biting fuzzies could see the magic connecting us. Are there rumors I want to sleep with him as well?

Just how much worse could my life possibly get?