Seven Pets for Seven Witches

by Annabel Chase

  Grandma gripped my hand. “Dylan, calm down. It’s just a little rat.”

  “Little?” I screeched. “It’s the size of my head.”

  “If it attacks, we have to fight back. Be ready. Grab a broom.”

  With both eyes zeroed in on the rodent, I padded over and yanked a broom from where it sat in the corner, as if someone had started doing housework and then gave up.

  Story of my life, I guess. I would start a task, get bored and then stop because housework is so dull, right?

  Anyway, we crossed over to the rat. I grabbed hold of Grandma. It stared at me. I could just feel the thing accusing me of trapping it. A cold knot of guilt filled my stomach.

  As we approached, the creature blinked at us. It sat back on its haunches, fisted its little paws and placed one on each hip.

  “What the heck are you doing? Trying to kill me? I’m gonna suffocate in this thing, sugar.”

  “Ahhh,” I squealed. “It talks! Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh. I’ve lost my mind. I’m hearing rats talk.”

  “Dylan, would you please get ahold of yourself?” Grandma said. “It’s clearly educated.”

  I paused. “Educated?”

  Grandma plucked at a hair on her chin. “Or something. Of course, when you trapped it in the bubble, you may have given it some extra abilities. Like speech, for instance.”

  I unhooked my hand from Grandma. “Is that true?”

  She smiled weakly. “That might be true. I may have forgotten to tell you that as well as one other teensy thing.”

  I smacked my lips. Now I was irritated. I smelled a rat trap, and it wasn’t from the rodent. It was from Grandma. “What’s that?”

  “This mouse might now be your familiar.”

  I frowned. “What does that mean?”

  Grandma clasped her hands behind her back. “It may or may not mean that the two of you are sort of linked.”

  Okay. I did not need to be linked to an animal that some cultures barbecued, head and all, on a stick.

  I raked my fingers through my hair, essentially giving myself a scalp massage. “What do you mean, we might be linked?”

  She grimaced. “I mean the rat might feel a connection to you.”

  I pointed at the creature. “This little thing might feel a connection to me?”

  “That’s correct.”

  I folded my arms and glared at her. “Grandma, I cannot be linked to a rat. I have a dress shop to run, a life to live. I can’t have a rat as a familiar. I don’t want any animal as a familiar. It’s not what I want. I don’t need this thing.”

  “Who are you calling names?” the rat chirped.

  Grandma placed a motherly hand on my shoulder. “It’s been scratching around the house. Perhaps it wants something. See if you can help it and that might be enough.”

  I raked my fingers down my face in frustration. “Grandma, why do you do these things to me? I don’t want a pet. I’ve read about familiars. I don’t need one.”

  Her face widened in surprise. “Dylan, you’ve been learning about witches? I’m so impressed with you.”

  I nibbled the end of a nail. “Only because I’m trying to stay one step ahead of you. Remember that time you sent me to Fairyland without telling me?”

  “And what an adventure you had,” she said.

  The rat spoke up in a small, tinny voice that was more squeak than anything else. “I can hear everything y’all are saying about me. I’m not deaf, you know.” It tapped on the magic bubble. “Listen, y’all get me out of here. I need your help.”

  And the thing spoke Southern.

  I fanned myself, doing my best not to faint. I mean, a talking rat who needed my help. What the heck else could happen that would make me think I’d gone stark raving mad?

  I inhaled sharply. “You need me?”

  The rat flattened its palms on the bubble. “Yes. I need you to make me a wedding dress. I’m getting married tomorrow, and I hear you’re the best dressmaker in town.”

  I rubbed my temples. Okay, there was a first for everything, I guessed. “You—a rat—need me—a human—to make you a wedding dress?”

  “That’s right, sugar. I need a dress and I needed it yesterday.”

  I gulped down a gallon of air. “Okay.”

  Grandam wiggled her fingers at me. “See? Make the creature a dress and it’ll be out of your hair in no time.”

  I rolled my eyes. If only my life could be that simple.

  Right. Let me just add that to my bucket list. I’d always dreamed of making dresses for royalty, celebrities—and here I was about to create a wedding dress for a rodent. Not exactly high on my to-do list.

  I braced my palms on my knees and bent over to get a better look at the creature. “Why exactly do you need me to make this dress for you?”

  “Because someone keeps stealing my gown.” The rat jumped up and down. I shot straight up as fear spiked through me. It wasn’t going to hurt me, was it?

  “Get me out of here and I’ll tell you everything.”

  I glanced at Grandma. She gave me a dingbat-like smile. Her expression made her look as if she didn’t have one marble in that head of hers.

  You know, sometimes I wondered if that was true. I mean, she set me up. She wanted me to catch the rodent and become friends with it. I know you might disagree, but trust me, I’m right on this.

  I poked the bubble, and it vanished. The mouse studied me. “My name is Trixie.”

  Trixie the rat. Well, don’t that beat all?

  I wrapped my hands behind my back. I was not about to shake this rodent’s paw. I mean, there was no telling where it had been. “My name is—”

  Trixie pawed the air. “Oh, I know who you are. You’re Dylan Apel. That’s why I’m here. I need you to make me a wedding dress.”

  Grandma smacked her lips. “But why has someone been stealing your wedding gowns?”

  Right. As if that was the big burning question. In my mind a couple of other things came first. Like, exactly how the heck can you talk? And, why do you need a wedding dress?

  The rat shook her head. “I don’t know. But y’all are going to help me find out.”

  I quirked a brow. “We are?” Because if that was the case, someone had forgotten to pencil that into my weekend planner.

  Trixie cleaned her whiskers. “You’ve got to help me. There’s no one else I can trust.”

  I smacked my head. “And if we don’t help you?”

  She sniffled. Big tears dripped from her eyes. The rat started bawling. I might not be crazy about rodents, but I couldn’t deal with anyone hurting on the inside.

  Call me a sap.

  “It’s okay.”

  I glanced at Grandma, who was shooting daggers in my direction. I had the distinct feeling she wanted me to reach out to the little animal.

  “Dylan, aren’t you going to say something? Because the sooner you help her, the sooner she can get married,” my grandmother said.

  Which meant the sooner I’d be rid of her. Well, if that’s what I had to do, then that’s what I had to do.

  I snapped my fingers. “Okay, I’ll help you. Now, tell me what’s going on.”

  Trixie hiccuped. “My family doesn’t want me to get married. No one likes Roger. They say he’s a nerd.”

  A nerd and a rat. What a combination.

  “So you think they’ve been stealing your dresses?”

  “Yes, maybe. I don’t know, sugar. All I know is that they keep vanishing. I thought if you made the dress for me, then you could keep it close to me with magic. Make sure nothing happened to it.”

  Sure. ’Cause I make dresses for rats all the time.

  “Okay, I can make you a dress.”

  I plucked a tissue from a box, tore off the corner and handed it to her. “Is there anything else I need to know before we get started?”

  “Yes. I have one other teensy request.”

  “Shoot.”

  Her sniffling calmed. “To make sure no one steals it, I need
you to ensure that if anyone touches it, the dress will shock them to death.”

  Oh boy, what had I gotten myself into?

  Chapter 2

  Against my better judgment, I allowed the rat to sit on the coffee table so we could come to an agreement on some things. “Okay, I don’t make dresses that hurt people. It’s kind of against my moral code.”

  Trixie sniffled. “That’s too bad. I was really hoping to stop anyone from stealing it.”

  Grandma had given the rat some cheese. Trixie munched on a chunk. Really, at this point I had no idea what my life had turned into. I mean, I was talking to a rat as if she were human.

  Even I couldn’t believe what the heck was happening.

  I flattened my palms on the table. “No problem. I’ll create a dress for you. It’s shouldn’t take very long to do that. I’ll get your measurements, make it really quickly and you can be on your way.”

  Trixie stopped eating. She licked her little finger things. Well, they weren’t exactly fingers, and it was the individual little digit, not the whole paw. I didn’t know what to call them, so I decided to name them finger things.

  “Okay,” she said in her little squeaky voice. “But I was hoping to have the wedding here.”

  My eyes bugged out. “You were?”

  Grandma clapped her hands. “What a wonderful idea. We can do it in the backyard as the sun is setting. It’ll be beautiful.”

  I stared at my grandmother as if she’d lost her mind.

  “Grandma,” I said through clenched teeth. “Don’t you think someone might notice an army of rats and call the health department.”

  She flicked her fingers. “Nonsense, Dylan. We’ll work something out.”

  Right. By not having a rat wedding in my yard.

  I glared at Grandma. She wiggled her fingers. “It’ll be spectacular.”

  I could see I wasn’t going to win this argument.

  “So you can do it, sugar?” Trixie said.

  I mean, did I have a choice? “Sure.”

  She clapped her paws. “Wonderful. I’m going to go tell everyone. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  Um. What? Everyone?

  She scampered to the edge of the table, jumped on a chair and then to the floor. Trixie disappeared a few seconds later.

  I turned to Grandma and glared at her. “You want to have a rat wedding? Here?”

  Grandma shrugged. “Dylan, there’s nothing like weddings, birthdays and births. No one’s birthday is coming up, so might as well have a wedding.”

  “With a whole bunch of rats pooping everywhere?”

  Grandma patted my face. “I’m sure they’re potty trained, dear.”

  “Sure.”

  A few minutes later Trixie returned. She ran back up the table and plopped down. “My family is excited! They said having you do the wedding makes it more official.”

  I raked my fingers through my dark locks. “How’s that?”

  She scratched behind her ear. “Because you’ve agreed to be my best maid.”

  That was news to me. “I have?”

  Trixie nodded. “Well, I figured you wouldn’t mind. Yay! I’m so excited!”

  I pumped my fist in the most pathetic display I’d ever done. “Yay,” I whimpered. “You ready to take your measurements?”

  Trixie clapped her paws with glee. “You know it, sugar! I’m super excited about this. I’ve never been so excited for anything in my entire life. Except to marry Roger and all.” She squinted one little rat eye at me. “You sure you can’t make a dress that’ll shock someone to death if they try to steal it? I really think we might need to take the extra precaution because, you know, there’s a thief on the loose and all.”

  I sat back, pretending to think about it for a minute. “No. Because if I do that, it might accidentally shock you.”

  Trixie’s whiskers twitched. “I didn’t think about that,” she squeaked.

  The doorbell rang. I left Grandma and Trixie and opened the door. A tall, devilishly handsome man stood on the other side. My heart skipped over several beats. Normally he was smiling. Today he had a fierce scowl stitched on his face.

  Roman Bane was chief detective of Silver Springs, Alabama—my hometown. He also happened to be my serious boyfriend. With long blond hair that brushed his shoulders, piercing green eyes, a quarterback’s build and an attitude that was cooler than a cucumber, Roman was pretty much everything I wasn’t.

  Meaning he wasn’t short and spastic like I could be.

  But the scowl on his face wasn’t his usual expression. When my gaze fluttered to his shoulder, I saw why.

  “You’ve got a crow on you,” I said.

  “Does that mean you’re happy to see me?”

  I smiled. “I’m always happy to see you, but the bird is a good look.” The ebony creature cocked its head, staring at me. “I think you should keep him. Call him Gilligan.”

  Roman shook his head. “It flew up and landed when I got on your porch. I don’t know what it wants.”

  Roman tried to brush the bird off, but it hopped over his hand and fluttered down on Roman’s shoulder.

  I braced my palm on the door. “If all you’ve got is a crow, consider yourself lucky.”

  He cocked a brow. “Why?”

  “Is that Doodles?” Trixie scampered up my leg.

  Her little rat claws dug into my jeans. My body jerked in revulsion as she climbed up my leg and onto my shoulder.

  It took everything I had not to throw up on my feet.

  Trixie clapped her hands. “Doodles,” she squealed. “It’s good to see you.”

  “Doodles?” I said, puzzled.

  She pointed to the crow. “That’s my pet bird, Doodles. He came to find me.”

  I frowned. “He looks big enough to eat you.”

  She laughed. I swear, she was like a miniature person. “He wouldn’t eat me. He’s my pet.”

  Trixie launched herself from my shoulder onto Roman’s. He stiffened as she stroked the bird’s feathers.

  She rubbed her cheek on the bird’s wing. “Oh, Doodles, I’ve missed you.”

  Roman started turning green. I squinted at him. “Are you afraid of rats?”

  He shook his head. “I’m not afraid of anything.”

  That was probably true. Years ago Roman had been an assassin for the witch police. He hunted down rogue witches. My boyfriend basically did whatever he had to in order to bring the witches to justice. So he was big, bad and tough.

  And right now he looked about the color of a lime.

  I couldn’t help but be amused by the entire situation. “You sure you’re not a little freaked out with a rat and a crow on your shoulder?”

  Roman narrowed his eyes. “Right now I want to stop being a walking caravan.”

  Against all that was good and holy in the world, I held open my palm for Trixie. “Okay, come on back. Doodles can come, too.”

  Apparently I loved my boyfriend enough to save him from the clutches of the animal kingdom.

  Trixie stroked the crow. “Come on, Doodles. Come meet everyone.”

  By everyone, I’m guessing she meant my grandmother. I deposited the two on the floor. Trixie scampered away, and Doodles toddled around.

  I flashed Roman a smile as we went inside. “You feel better?”

  He scowled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I saw that look on your face. You don’t like rats.”

  He shook his head. “No idea what you meant.”

  I threaded my hand through the bend in his elbow. “It’s okay. You can be honest. If you’re afraid of something, you can tell me. I won’t judge.”

  “They’re not my favorite animal.” He turned to me, flashing a devilish smile that made my toes curl. “Now you—you’re more in line with my favorite creature.”

  I swatted at him. “Okay, okay, later, stud.”

  He lifted his eyebrows. “Later sounds good. Now sounds better.”

  I rolled my ey
es and stepped away. “Grandma, Roman and I are going out for a bite to eat. Can we bring you back anything?”

  Grandma tapped a finger to her cheek in thought. “How about a Reuben sandwich? I love a good Reuben. You know when the sauerkraut is extra sour? That would be great.”

  I nodded. “Trixie, you and Doodles need anything?”

  Trixie pawed her whiskers. “We’re coming with you.”

  My eyebrows shot to the ceiling. “You are?”

  She fisted a tiny paw on one hip. “I’m your familiar, sugar. I have to go everywhere you do. Besides, this way we can discuss my wedding dress.”

  “Her wedding dress?” Roman said.

  I flashed him an embarrassed smile. “I sort of promised to make a wedding dress.”

  “For a rat,” he stated.

  “For a rat.”

  “No comment,” he said.

  I brushed a few loose strands of sun-bleached hair from his eyes. “So, I guess since she’s my familiar and all, can they come with us?”

  His eyes hardened. “Out to eat?”

  I nodded. “Yes.”

  “So that people can run screaming from them?”

  I scoffed. “No one’s going to run screaming.” I paused. “I don’t think. I mean, I hope not. Seriously. No one’s going to do that.”

  He shrugged. “Okay. But don’t say I didn’t tell you so.”

  I rolled my eyes and turned back to Trixie. “Come on. Let’s go get some grub.”

  So Roman, Trixie, Doodles, and I hopped into Roman’s SUV. The rat perched on my shoulder, which took a lot of getting used to, especially since I had the fear of random droppings landing on me. Doodles sat on my leg. I felt like Dr. Doolittle or something.

  “Oh, Dylan,” Trixie cooed. “I’m just going to have the most fabulous wedding. I’m so excited. When we get back, you can make my wedding dress to all the pleasure of my dreams.”

  All the pleasure of her dreams?

  Roman quirked a brow at me. I shrugged. I had no idea what that meant.

  We reached Gus’s, a home of the deep-fried burger. Hey, don’t knock it until you’ve tried it. These were super awesome—patties dredged in flour and fried to a deep golden brown. Delicious.

  Gus’s was also older than dirt, and the place only accepted cash, so you had to come prepared.