Jane Davey’s Locket by Eve Langlais Page 0,13
I cared about such things. Which I didn’t. What I cared about was getting my damned locket back—without a husband attached to it.
If the pirate no longer had it, then who did? All I knew for sure was that it remained somewhere on the ship. I could feel the faint link between it and me, but I was too tired to deal with it tonight. Especially since wandering the ship meant dealing with drunken ogres, centaurs, and other creatures. Best wait until morning when the night owls and sun-challenged were all passed out.
I cast a spell so I could sleep. The following day, I readied myself to face the world. It took a few stabs in the bag before I located some clothes and made it to breakfast. I’d concocted a dull plan, which consisted of wandering around the ship until the locket tugged at me. With no clear place to start my search, I began in the dining room, which was set up with tables in rounds and a massive buffet.
The room was emptier than expected. People, demons, things sleeping off their hangovers. The lack of a crowd made it easy for Grandma to spot me.
“There’s my sweet granddaughter,” she exclaimed, her voice almost as bright as her ensemble, an orange blouse tucked into a green skirt. But most astonishing of all…
“Grandma, where are your wrinkles?” I demanded. Because the woman in front of me, while definitely the one who’d spent a good portion of my life raising me, looked nothing like the matron who’d arrived on the boat. Now sporting an age of around forty, her face had smoothed, her boobs had lifted, and she’d even shaved her legs! Longer appendages than she’d had when we landed on the ship.
“Please, you didn’t actually think a witch of my powers looks that old, did you?” Grandma snickered. “I only wear an age glamour to keep the mundanes in the neighborhood from noticing.”
“But…but…” I had no words to explain the annoyance with myself that I’d never caught on. In my defense, the house was steeped in magic, and thus, I always assumed the miasma of power around Grandma was natural.
“Close your mouth, dear. We don’t want people to think you’re easy, now do we?” She used a fingertip to shut my jaw.
Speaking of easy… “Where were you last night?” I said, crossing my arms. “You didn’t sleep in your bed.”
“None of your business. But if it makes you feel better, I don’t think I got pregnant.”
I almost choked. Then I did cough as a deep voice behind me said, “Morning, Glinda.”
“You!” I whirled and glared at Oz, who had the temerity to wear a grin—and clothing. Jerk.
“You again? Why, a lady might start thinking you’re stalking her and welcome it?” Grandma tossed her head.
The comment had me eyeing my grandma. “You know this man?”
“Not well enough yet,” she purred.
Gag.
“Any time you want to have a chat…” Oz flirted right back.
“Hands off the pussy,” I snapped to Grandma. “And you keep your dirty paws off my grandmother.”
“Does this mean I should keep my pawing to you?” he riposted.
“Don’t make me find a leash,” I growled.
Whereas Grandma beamed. “Well, good for you, finally claiming yourself a pet.”
Oz choked with laughter, whereas I gritted my teeth. “He’s not my anything.”
“Then that makes him fair game.” Grandma eyed Oz up and down and might have said more if a voice didn’t interrupt. “Good morning, Dottie.” The demi-demon from the day before appeared with a big smile.
“Who’s Dottie?” I asked.
Grandma pursed her lips. “Me.”
I frowned. “Since when?” Grandma was just…Grandma. Unless she was hanging with her friends, who called her Dorothy.
“She’s been Dottie for a long time. She used to hate her real name, seeing as how she got it before that Baum fellow made it famous,” Shax advised with a wink. Then, to my grandma, he said, “So delighted you are joining me for breakfast.”
“You wish,” she scoffed. “I am eating with Jane.”
“Ah, yes, your lovely granddaughter.” Shax sketched me a bow. “So nice to see you again.”
“Not really,” grumbled my grandma, and I finally knew how to get back at her.
“You know what? You really should have breakfast with Shax. Catch up on old times.”
“I have nothing to say to him.” Grandma tilted her chin.
“Just as stubborn as ever.”
“Must be a family trait,” muttered Oz, which earned him a jab and a glare from me.
“It is too early for this. I need a mimosa,” muttered Grandma before she stomped off. With a demi-demon