The Accidental Familiar (Accidentals #14)
Dakota Cassidy
Blurb
Desperate to pay the rent, Broadway-star wannabe Poppy McGuillicuddy is the middle of DJ-ing a Halloween party when a mishap with a cat named Calamity changes her life forever. Suddenly, she’s a familiar—as in, a witch’s familiar. Or in her case, a warlock’s. Even more specifically, a gorgeous warlock…who wants nothing to do with her. Thank God for the ladies from OOPs, who’ve promised their help as Poppy navigates her accidental paranormal powers.
Despite his last familiar leaving him bitter and disillusioned, warlock Rick Delassantos still isn’t heartless. He’s agreed to give Poppy a few days before contacting Familiar Central and demanding she be reassigned elsewhere. But barely a day is all it takes for Poppy to become the target of some seriously bad magic, forcing Rick to keep her close to ensure her safety. Not exactly a hardship, when his new familiar is as sexy as she is sassy.
With help from Marty, Nina and Wanda—and assorted other OOPs friends—Rick and Poppy learn some important lessons: fate works in mysterious ways; things aren’t always as they seem; and sometimes the worst evil can be found close to home!
Author Note
Darling readers, As I’m wont to do, in this particular addition to The Accidentals, I’ve taken some liberties with witches and their folklore. I’ve tweaked and toyed with some hard and fast rules, and created others to suit my own devilish desires in order to put my stamp on this world. So if you note things that appear a bit outlandish and absolutely implausible, you’ll know you’re in the middle of an Accidental!
And it goes without saying my BFF, Renee George, isn’t just the most supportive, awesome friend a girl can have, she’s also super-plotter and a great writer to boot. I’d still be lost somewhere back on book three of The Accidentals without her brainstorming. Love you much, friend!
Last, but never least, thank you for your continued, amazingly awesome support of The Accidentals! You’ve consistently shown the girls your love by emailing me, posting reviews, sharing your concerns (mostly about Nina and the loss of her vampirism. LOL! I’m sorry. I made it right—swear!), asking whether Carl, Darnell, and Arch will ever get their own stories, and I’m so grateful to find you all so invested in this monster I’ve created.
Much love always, Dakota XXOO
Acknowledgement
Illustration: Katie Wood
Cover: Valerie Tibbs
Editor: Kelli Collins
Chapter 1
“You’re talking. Like talking-talking, as in your mouth is moving and words are coming out. Words, I might add, that make total sense.”
“Totally fucked-up, right?”
Poppy McGuillicuddy snorted. So totally. “How is it even possible that you’re talking to me?”
“You have three choices.”
She gulped in the chilled autumn air, inhaling the scent of damp fur and the lingering stench of cheap booze before she sat up straighter and looked the talking cat in the eye (the talking cat).
“Okay, give me my choices. I’m listening.”
The tiny, round black cat began to pace the length of the brick garden wall they’d sat upon when Poppy had demanded she needed air after their “accident”.
The cat stretched, arching its rippling spine, the blue-black of its fur shimmering under the street lamp at the end of the driveway. “First, I just have to make mention. Cooler than coolio costume. Big KISS fan here.”
Poppy preened, fluffing her Afro wig and puffing out her chest to accent the shirt she wore, nude in color with glued-on patches of cotton balls she’d dyed black to mimic copious amounts of chest hair.
“Thanks. I worked extra hard on the star over my eye. Rock and roll hootchie-koo.”
“It totally shows. I’d know you were Paul Stanley if I was blind. Kudos for not going with the obvious choice, too.”
She flapped a hand at the cat and smiled at how clever she’d felt when she’d put this crazy costume together. “Gene’s so overdone. Plus, there’s the tongue thing, you know? I’m just not qualified. Anyway, where were we?”
“Choices,” the cat repeated.
“Right.”
“So let me lay this out for you in list form. You sure you’re ready?”
“Probably not, but I feel like choices are probably moot.”
The feline dipped its shiny, dark head. “No truer words. So here it is in a nutshell. Option one: you can hear me talking to you because you’re fuckin’ nuts. Two: you’re on drugs or have been drugged, which wouldn’t surprise me with that crowd of bananapants stoners in there at that lame excuse for a Halloween party. Three: I’m really talking to you.”
Poppy looked off toward her best friend’s house, sitting just behind the garden wall, and shivered. “I don’t like any of those categories, Alex. Can I have another?”