the hell out of here.”
“Dammit, I knew it!” Tad huffs out. “Stupid school bus, making us miss this. I’m going to track down that driver and fight her if it’s the last thing I do,” he declares, stomping back toward his car, and I laugh.
“She was like eighty. Give the old lady a break,” his mom scolds, and I laugh even harder.
“Oh don’t you start, Ma, you were just as excited as I was,” Tad volleys.
“You called her a ninny when you finally passed her, isn’t that enough?” Aunt Hillen asks as she opens up her car door.
I shoot an amused yet judgmental look at my cousin and mouth, ninny?
“She was,” he defends. “And when your mother is the swearword-police, sometimes you need to get creative with shit.”
“Language!” Hillen snaps.
Exasperated, Tad gestures to his mother while staring at me, his movements declaring, See! I rest my case.
I crack up and, with an amused head shake, move to my car. “Don’t worry, I got some pictures. Meet at my house, and we can all laugh about them until our faces and stomachs hurt. I promise to tell you every single detail.”
Tad presses his palms together and tilts his head back to declare thank you to the heavens. “Good, and when we’re done laughing at their expense, you can tell me who the hell tall, dark, and dreamy is and why he’s out here instead of chained to your bed.”
I can’t even get a word in before he’s closing his door and quietly starting his car.
Rogan shakes his head, but there’s a hint of a smile on his face, and it’s clear he’s not opposed to a good compliment being thrown his way. With a roll of my eyes, I round my car, placing the grimoire and the other items that Theresa rescued in the back seat, then I jump into my rust bucket of a vehicle and fire her up. Rogan and Hoot slide in next to me, and Hoot’s peeing on the boxwood gives me an idea. While Rogan buckles up and gets Hoot situated on his lap, I reach out with my newfound ability and see if there’s enough ancestor essence in the hedges and trees around here to do what I’m hoping I can do. Sure enough, I find what I need, and with a snap, I add a little magical cherry on today’s sundae of events.
Sirens sound in the distance, and adrenaline spikes through me as I hit the gas a little too hard and pull away. I giggle, and Rogan looks over, his brow crinkling with puzzlement for a moment before he finally sees my handiwork. “Did you just make all her hedges look like dicks?” Rogan asks me, and I can’t tell if he’s judging me or impressed.
I shrug. “Just a little something to remember me by.”
He barks out a laugh, and Hoot lies down across his thighs. Instead of perving out over how muscular they look in the jeans he’s wearing, I focus my thoughts on what the heck I’m going to do with Hoot.
He’s not my familiar anymore, but I can’t just take him back to the shelter. He was on death row there. Aside from the ass napalm, he’s not so bad. I know I can’t keep him right now, not when we’re about to go searching for missing witches and the people or person who’s taking them. It’s not like I can strap him into a baby carrier and take him along for the ride, even if his gas can be weaponized. When things settle down, he’s got a home with me, but what am I going to do with him for now?
A horn blares, making me jump. My thoughts are yanked from Hoot’s plight to Tad’s tan Prius as he pulls alongside me. He rolls down his passenger window, and I’m forced to crank the old handle that allows my window to descend.
“Last one there is a rotten egg!” Tad yells, and then the engine on his Prius whirrs as he pulls in front of me and begins the race.
“You ninny!” I shout at him, a wide smile on my face, and then I press the pedal to the metal.
“So I see maniac runs in the family,” Rogan observes dryly, giving the oh shit handle on his side of the car more action than it’s ever seen in its life.
“Well, if you can’t handle it, Mr. Kendrick, you’re more than welcome to just undo everything you’ve done to insert yourself