made no sense at all because he’d never felt a connection to anyone. He never even had a comradery with his own brothers, as they weren’t allowed to treat him as family growing up.
When Alice spoke, her voice commanded his attention, calling to something deep inside his soul. He’d stepped away to gather his thoughts, as her mere presence had seemed to short-circuit his brain.
Then he’d stiffened, his body seizing as if an electrical current had run through it, and he’d dropped the floor, sprouting feathers and a beak.
Her aura—and that of her coworker—glittered with nothing more than shifter magic, and he didn’t sense the presence of a witch or warlock inside the store. So, who cast the spell that transformed him into a bird?
It was time he opened his eyes and found out.
It took a moment for his blurred vision to focus—the throbbing in his head didn’t help—but as his sight cleared, he found the lovely Alice kneeling over him, concern tightening her eyes as she chewed her bottom lip.
“There you are.” She smiled softly.
“Thank goodness,” her friend said. “We thought we would have to drag your limp body all the way to the creek and roll you in.”
Donovan blinked and pushed into a sitting position. The room spun, and his stomach lurched, so he squeezed his eyes shut until the nauseating sensation dissipated. “You were planning to dispose of my body in the creek?”
“What?” Alice’s eyes widened. “No, of course not. The creek would have healed you.”
“And dead bodies float. If we were trying to get rid of you, there are plenty of other places where no one would ever think to look.”
“Megan!” Alice glared at her friend.
“What?” Megan shrugged. “He asked.”
Alice sighed before turning to him. “How’s your head?”
“Sore, but crashing full-speed into a closed door will do that.”
“Sorry.” She picked up the cushion that had been beneath his head and set it on a chair. “I couldn’t let you leave with my crow.”
“Your crow?” He rose to his feet and rested a hand on the wall to steady himself. The throbbing in his temples intensified, making his vision blur again. He needed to sit down and rest, but first, he needed answers. He could only think of one way a magicless warlock could absorb the power of another.
The missing amulet. “What happened exactly?” he asked.
“Umm…” She pressed her lips together, cutting her gaze to Megan before continuing, “I was hoping you could tell me. You’re the warlock. How did you steal my crow?”
“I didn’t…” He squeezed his eyes shut as his stomach lurched again, and Alice took his arm, guiding him into the chair. Her touch was gentle, and it made his pulse race. If his head didn’t feel like it was about to explode, that might have been a good thing.
“Can I get you some water?”
“No, I’ll be fine.” He glimpsed his bag lying empty on the floor. Oh, crap. Marty. “Where’s my familiar?”
“You mean that smelly little mongoose who tried to motorboat my bestie?” Megan grabbed a ceramic jar from the floor, and Marty’s angry squeal echoed from inside.
Donovan held in a groan. “That would be the one.”
Megan thrust the jar toward him. “He wanted to eat you, so we put him in here.”
“I let him out,” Alice said, “but he scratched up my arm and crawled down my shirt.”
“After he stunk up the whole store.” Megan crossed her arms.
“My apologies. Marty has always had a flatulence issue.” He unlatched the lid and cracked it open to find his familiar’s beady eyes glaring back at him. “Go directly into the satchel.”
He poked his head out of the jar. “But she—”
“We’ll discuss your version of the story later.” Donovan lifted Marty from the jar and slipped him into the bag, latching it shut. Marty growled and then let one rip. The flap fluttered as a puff of foul stench escaped, filling the room this time with the scents of sour milk and mold. Every fart from the gassy little mongoose presented a unique bouquet to assault his senses.
Donovan sighed. “I should know not to take him out in public.”
“Or at least carry some air freshener.” Megan sprayed something into the room that morphed the scent into a light and floral fragrance before she propped open the door.
Now, about Alice’s crow… Never, in all his dealings with the supernatural, had a spell been forced upon him like that. Well, there was that one time in seventh grade when Matthias turned him into a slug because his