witch’s eyes were runny black pools of malice. “You’ve given old Ora quite a chase.” She crooked a yellow claw at Sassy. “Be a good girl and climb down now and I’ll break your neck before I eat you.”
Sassy shook her head, too terrified to speak.
“Playing hard to get, eh?” The witch growled. “You’ll be sorry. I’ll catch you and take your tongue first so you can’t scream. Then I’ll gnaw your feet off so you can’t run. Next I’ll hang you by the neck to get tender. And when you’re fat and oozing with rot, I’ll—”
Taryn materialized at the foot of the tree, her bow drawn. “I think not. I think ’tis you who will be sorry.”
The witch sprang away with a snarl, her long arms propelling her down the road with the speed of a rabbit. Sassy heard a sharp twang as Taryn loosed an arrow, followed by a howl of pain.
Sassy scurried out of the tree and threw her arms around Taryn. “You came back.” Sobbing with relief, she clung to the tall huntress. “You came back.”
“There, there.” Taryn gave Sassy an awkward pat and pushed her away. “No need for excitement. I did not leave. I was cloaked.”
Sassy wiped her wet cheeks. “You saved my life.”
Taryn shook her head. “Any warrior would do the same, and with greater skill. I missed the shot and let the creature escape.”
“You got her. I heard her holler.”
“’Twas but a flesh wound, I fear.”
Sassy stamped her foot. “Stop it. If I say you’re amazeballs, you’re amazeballs.”
“Very well. I am amazeballs, whate’er that means.”
Mose materialized with a roasted chicken in one gnarly, long-fingered hand. “What’s the emergency?” He wiped his greasy fingers on his tunic. “I’m busy.”
“The witch was here,” Sassy said. “She tried to eat me.”
“Is that all? Suck it up, buttercup, and don’t call me again about that stupid witch. Got it?”
“I got it. I’m on my own with the witch. It’s not fair. What kind of mentor are you?”
“The kind that doesn’t wipe your tush.” Mose cocked a brow at Taryn. “Nice brogans.”
He disappeared in a shower of lichen powder.
Taryn sneezed and looked down at her feet. “By the vessel, what happened to my boots?”
Taryn’s formerly utilitarian boots were red and sparkly, with chunky square heels.
“Ooh, they’re glittery,” Sassy said, clapping her hands in delight. “Like Dorothy’s ruby slippers from The Wizard of Oz, but kick-butt, like you. What made you decide to change them?”
“I?” Taryn gave Sassy an indignant glare. “You did this.”
“Me? I didn’t—” Sassy paused, thinking. “W-e-l-l, now that you mention it, I do recall wanting to do something nice for you—for saving my life, you know. And I remember thinking how much I hate those Doc Martens.” She gave the boots a judicious once-over. “They’re pretty, but a little too glitzy for daywear, in my opinion. I’d save them to go clubbing at night or maybe wear them to a concert, if I were you.”
“Save them for—” Taryn’s face was a thundercloud. “Remove the spell at once.”
“I can’t. I don’t know how.”
Taryn said something in a language Sassy did not recognize and stomped to the car.
Sassy hurried after her. “Gracious, there’s no need to get in a snit. If you don’t like them, change them back.”
Taryn gave Sassy the Kirvahni equivalent of a duh look. “I cannot undo your magic.”
“Oh. So take them off and magic up another pair.” Sassy wiggled her fingers to demonstrate. “Grim does it.”
Taryn pressed her lips together and looked straight ahead. “I will wear them for now. In future, however, should I intervene on your behalf, a simple thank-you will suffice.”
She opened the car door and got in. Folding her arms across her breasts, the huntress stared straight ahead. Brr, someone was frosty.
Sassy slid behind the wheel, cranked the car, and pulled onto the road. The Dalmatian materialized in the backseat looking solid enough to touch. He poked his head between the front seats and barked.
Taryn stiffened.
“Ask your sister.” Taryn’s voice dripped with ice. “The boots are her doing.”
Sassy glanced in the rearview mirror. She could swear the dog was laughing at her.
Man’s best friend, indeed.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
As they drove down the woodsy road, Sassy had a lot on her mind. Her close encounter of the nearly fatal kind with the witch—and Grim. Wesley and Grim. Running the mill and Grim. Her unexpected fairy cobbler abilities—so many ugly shoes in the world, so little time—and Grim.
Grim, Grim, Grim. She had a bad case of the grims. Maybe terminal.
There was no