Chapter 2

2

I froze a few steps inside the foyer because I couldn't believe what I was seeing. The only way it could have been worse was if the rooms had been filled with junk. The peeling walls and musty smells had me staring at my tormentor. "Leaving me here is inhumane, Carol."

" You are such a whiner ," Carol sang out while moving through the house without pausing. "Come see the kitchen when you get over yourself."

Ignoring the condition of the rooms on either side of the foyer, I carefully stomped after Carol in my inappropriate shoes, which were now ruined from the hike. I froze again in the kitchen doorway, but this time, my mouth fell open in shock.

Someone had restored the kitchen, and it was beautiful. Instead of new cabinets, they had reworked the vintage ones. It was freshly painted in a unique shade of green with blue undertones that stopped short of being teal. Top-of-the-line appliances in a light buttercream with black trim were inserted in reasonable and strategic places. It had a dishwasher, but the sink was one of those large white ceramic ones with a built-in sideboard that made washing up fun.

Walnut butcher board counters contrasted nicely with the rest of the space. A trained decorator couldn't have done better.

When I stopped gawking, I realized Carol was putting a kettle on the beautiful buttercream stove to boil. It had six burners.

She hummed as she took two dainty flowered teacups out of a nearby shelf and put them on the charming English worktable that had several short bar stools on one side of it.

There was a lightness in Carol's steps as she moved around, gathering honey, milk, lemon slices, and even two tins of cookies. Were we having a tea party? Or was I reporting for incarceration? Because now I was completely confused.

Anyone who knew her like I knew her knew the great and powerful Baba Yaga could have waved a hand and conjured a similar feast from some English teashop in actual England. When a witch didn't use her powers to make tea, it was to either conserve her energy for a fight or because she enjoyed the non-magical ritual of being hospitable.

"Do you like it?" Carol asked, looking around as if seeing it for the first time.

My gaze followed hers. This wasn't a normal eat-in kitchen. It was a functional one for serving guests that might allow intimate dining for a select few now and again.

A newly widened doorway on the longest wall allowed for direct passage into one of the dilapidated rooms I'd ignored on my trek to the kitchen. That room was no doubt meant to be the formal dining room when completed.

I looked around the kitchen again. It was nice... and yes, I liked it. However... if my assigned bedroom looked as bad as the untouched dining room, I'd probably use my powers to conjure a sleeping bag for the worktable. I'd happily stay in the kitchen all month.

"The remodeling is nice in a vintage sort of way. The restoration work was done beautifully. Did your handyman do this by himself?"

"Yes. Well, mostly by himself. We worked together on the ideas and redoing this room so he'd know what I wanted the rest to look like. The inn is older than this style, but I like the 1940's era look."

"It suits the inn," I said.

With a smile on her face, Carol poured water into our teacups and said, "I'm glad we're on the same page. Come sit and drink your tea."

I wanted answers, not tea, but it would have been rude to turn it down after she went to so much trouble. One stool was calling my name anyway. Or it could have been my poor feet screaming at me to sit. Inanimate voices sounded the same in my head.

"Are the bedrooms all upstairs?" I asked.

Carol shook her head. "No, there are bedrooms all over the house. Your bedroom is beside the kitchen. Three of the bedrooms, including yours, are master suites with small sitting areas. Two smaller ones with small bathrooms are in the basement. Originally, someone set up the master suites down there for paranormals who love the dark, but vampires spend little time away from home. Depending on how many visitors the inn gets, it may make more sense to find another use for those basement rooms. I haven't decided what to do with this place yet."

My eyes slid to a door I hadn't seen until now. It was closed and looked like it might lead outside. I was afraid to find out if my intended room was dilapidated or updated. So, I stalled.

"Where will your fairy-in-hiding be sleeping once she arrives?"

Carol sipped her tea. "I thought you could put her in one of the suites upstairs. Both are in the same condition, so just update one. They have no style. Painting and furnishing will be your job. All I ask is that you keep the kitchen in mind and the colors in the same range of tones. I don't want primary colors in one space and pastels in another."

"How do you feel about neon colors?"

Chuckling, Carol smiled. "I feel they are best used on party decorations, not bedclothes."

I smiled back. "This is not a proper tea party," I said to keep her from thinking I had forgotten why I was there.

"This might not be a proper party, but there is tea," Carol said with a grin.

She sipped from her cup as I rolled my eyes. The tea was delicious, but I had no intention of telling her so.

After we emptied the teapot, Carol conjured me a vintage bed and a new mattress for my assigned bedroom. The bed was brass, but sturdy brass, not the delicate kind that wouldn't hold up to activities other than sleeping. The bed came with polished wooden side tables and heavy brass lamps.

She informed me there were boxes of bedclothes stacked in one of the upstairs rooms that she said I could shop later. She said she would deliver furniture for the upstairs bedrooms within a week. That likely meant the furniture would simply appear without warning and need to be dealt with.

The Baba Yaga left after one more reminder that I could use reasonable magic while being on site here. I wasn't sure my idea of reasonable would match hers, but I would watch what I did because I didn't look forward to finding out.

After a night spent tossing and turning, I barely got my new bed made when I spotted a skittering movement out of the corner of my eye. My head jerked as a mouse scampered around the baseboards until it escaped into the hallway.

I shivered at the thought of anything scampering through where I had to sleep for the next twenty-nine days. Mice didn't pose a problem for me so long as they stayed out of my living space. It was nearly impossible to reason with one, though. When it came to human-occupied spaces, rodents of all sorts felt entitled to encroach, just like Ethan had. He was the biggest rodent of all.

Intending to make an example of the intruder, I pulled my wand from a pocket of the jeans I'd transported here from my house. Shaking it once to extend it completely, I held the now sparking wand in front of me like a magical sword as I inched slowly around the doorway into the hall. That's where I heard equal amounts of squealing and hissing.

What I saw had my wand lowering in shock.

Two of the biggest cats I ever saw sat with one paw raised as they faced me from the floor. They occasionally blinked, but other than that, they didn't move. The largest one of all three of them held up an angry gray mouse by the tail and was hissing at it.

I tilted my head to better study what I was seeing. The mouse squealed, and the cat that held him hissed. The other two cats stared at me like they had seen it all before. I shook my head to make sure I wasn't hallucinating. The kitchen was pleasant, but the rest of this place was downright creepy. I felt like a condemned ghost walking around the still-to-be-renovated rooms.

The cat holding the mouse captive finally turned to me. His whiskers twitched, and then he spoke. At first, all I heard was yowling, but once I narrowed my gaze, I realized I completely understood what he was saying. Well, mostly. He had a strange accent that reminded me of old New York mafia movies.

"Youse have nothing to worry about, dollface. I'm Fat Bastard, and these two are my comrades in arms. Weese are here to handle youse rodent problems for youse. The great Yo Baba Yaga Mo Maga sent us to help youse in youse time of need."

"I didn't know I had a rodent problem until I saw the mouse. How many of them make a problem? Are we talking about a full infestation? Or a single family of mice like that little one?"

"It's hard to tell. Mice be sneaky critters," Fat Bastard said.

"You don't say." The look of kitty surprise on his face made me smile a little.

"No, I do say. We are in full agreement with their disgustedness. It will take some time for us to determine the extent of extermination needed. During rodent removal, we will attempt to relocate as many as possible, but sometimes," he held up the mouse and glared at it, "they have to be persuaded. Fortunately, the boys and I excel at convincing small, arrogant creatures to rethink their death-seeking strategies."

I compacted my wand and slid it back into my pocket. If Carol sent the cats, and it had to be her since I normally didn't hear any familiar speaking, I wouldn't complain about their help. This place needed all the help it could get.

"My name is Selene. How can I understand you when you speak?"

"Only special witches can speak to the familiars of other witches. We belong to the shifter whisperer. She is currently knocked up and unable to fulfill her whispering duties. Third-born babies are known to cause problems, we hear. Our mama never forgave my brother for the trouble he caused her."

One of the paw cats turned and yowled at Fat Bastard.

Fat Bastard closed his eyes and sighed, which was strange for a cat because it echoed like a purr. "Zelda told us to be honest with the new witch. Youse know momma didn't hold a grudge. I was just explainin' our situation to new witch. Geez, youse is so sensitive."

The cat yowled at Fat Bastard again without lowering his paw.

"Okay. Okay. I'm sorry I embarrassed youse. There. Are youse satisfied now?"

Fat Bastard snorted before looking back at me. "As I was sayin'..."

" Selene —you can call me Selene." If he called me dollface or honey again, I was going to zap him.

"As I was sayin' Selene , we're going to quietly do this for youse. Weese are very honored to help out the new innkeeper."

I held up a hand and chuckled. "I'm not the innkeeper. I'm a prisoner here serving a thirty-day sentence. Once that ends, I'll be leaving."

"What did youse do to merit incarceration in this dump?"

I bit my lip to keep from laughing at Fat Bastard calling the inn what it was. Hadn't the Baba Yaga already told them my story? It wasn't like I was ashamed or cared if the entire world knew how I had defended my honor. Nor did I regret my actions.

I looked at Fat Bastard and lifted my chin. "My fiancé cheated on me, so I shrunk his man stick until it was the size of a two-inch baby carrot."

The cat meowed, rose on his hind legs, and covered his now exposed cat parts with one of his paws. "That was harsh, even if he did deserve it."

"I'm not angry about the sex. He was okay in bed but too self-centered. I did that because it was a matter of loyalty and boundaries. My bastard ex bonked his tramp in my grandmother's vintage bed . He should have bonked her elsewhere."

Fat Bastard removed his paw from his privates and held them up to me. "No judgment here, sweet cheeks. Weese love criminals. Our current witch is a reformed criminal. Weese find Zelda to be a refreshing change from our previous witch who—Goddess rest Hildy's soul—was unrelentingly moral, if youse know what I mean. Criminal witches are a more natural fit for our unique skills."

"And what would those unique skills be?" I asked.

Fat Bastard tossed the mouse he still held to one of the other cats, who caught its tail in its mouth. He nodded to them, and his two companions went around him to the front door.

"Would youse be so kind as to open the door for us? Weese like to conserve our magic when weese can."

I nodded and headed to do as he asked. The giant cat was the size of a small dog. He was even bigger than a Maine Coon cat. "Are you sure you're not a shifter of some sort?"

"No, doll. Weese hasn't been human in many, many centuries. Goddess Morgana, with her giant golden tatas, bound us to serve her witches for a thousand years. Weese have several hundred more to go before our parole hearing. That said, weese have used several of our nine lives up, so weese are more careful these days."

I couldn't imagine being a cat for a single day, much less for centuries. "I'm sorry for bringing up the past. My nosiness was rude."

"Forget about it, dollface. Being a cat is not so bad. Weese can still play cards and place bets on the ponies. Weese can lick our own balls. What more does anyone need to be happy?"

"Right," I said, not wanting that last image to linger.

The cats were strange enough to be characters in the Alice in Wonderland novel. If they offered me a magical pill to take, I would have to decline, though.

"Thanks for coming by to chase the mice. I appreciate the visit and what you're doing."

"Youse will appreciate us more when all the rodents are gone. Weese will earn the treats youse will give us when weese come to visit."

Treats. Right. Where was I supposed to get cat treats?

"I'll have to look into getting some treats for youse—I mean, for you ."

Fat Bastard purred, stood on his hind legs again, and shook a paw at me. "I can tell weese are going to be the best of friends, Selene. Youse is one sassy witch."

"Well, I'm here for thirty days, no matter what. Complaining about things won't do me any good."

Trilling—or purring—or whatever that sound was that sounded like he was laughing, the giant cat dropped back to all fours and trotted off in the direction the other two had gone.

It looked like they'd taken the path back to the main road that Carol had forced me to walk on my way here.

But what did I know? I hadn't been here long enough to explore.