Page 2 of Grimoire Omens

“I’m just thinking we night need booze as currency you know so we don’t have to bargain with our bodies.”

“While your forethought is admirable, this is not the apocalypse,” I retorted with more conviction than I felt. Yes, a part of me understood power failures happened, more often than I liked and usually during my favorite show, The Secret Lives of Mormon Wives, but something about this particular one felt off.

“Says you. I’m thinking I might feel better with a weapon.”

“Take your pick. Baseball bat by the bed or kitchen knife?”

“A bat has more reach,” she mused just as we heard a noise from the kitchen. Flo’s wide eyes almost fell out of her head. “What was that?”

“Cat door.” Guess Cedric, the roaming tom cat, had returned.

“Kitty!” Flo exclaimed, her expression brightening. Despite his less-than-cuddly nature, she’d not given up on getting Cedric to like her. Me, I couldn’t care less. I’d always been more of a dog lover.

Flo grabbed a lit candle and headed for the kitchen, determined to pet the borderline rabid cat. “Here, kitty, kitty,” she crooned while I rolled my eyes.

“What are you doing hiding up—Eek!” The strident scream sent me bolting for the kitchen to see Flo standing frozen, candle held aloft, staring at something overhead.

My gaze tracked upward, and my jaw dropped at the sight of the scaly winged creature clinging to the hanging pot rack. The moment it noticed me, it uttered a hiss and launched itself.

I don’t know where my sudden Matrix abilities came from, maybe those years I spent in gymnastics, but I twisted to the side, and it flew past me, smacking into the wall.

“Oh, my gawd, there’s a bat in the house!” Flo screeched, which totally helped my own panic.

I grabbed a stool and held it in front of me as the thing—which definitely resembled a bat if it had been dropped in a mutant vat of radioactive waste—got to its feet and bared its teeth in my direction.

It appeared to have a hate on for me. Guess it sensed I wasn’t an animal person, as once more, ignoring Flo, it lunged for me. I swung the stool. Thwap. I connected and sent the critter flying and hitting the side of the kitchen island. It didn’t seem to care I’d now batted it aside twice because it stood up on scratchy clawed toes and came for me again. Only this time, Flo, who’d recovered her wits, smashed it in the head with a frying pan. Not one. Not twice. She kept smacking the mutant bat until it stopped moving.

“I think it’s dead,” I muttered, seeing as how Flo stood poised to hit it again.

“Every time they say that in the movies, it always comes back to life,” her logical reply.

We both stared at it, waiting for it to twitch, but instead of recovering, its body caved in—literally. It lost all shape, like a balloon deflating, and turned into a smoking pile of goo.

Unexpected and freaky and Flo understandably screeched, “What the fuck was that?”

“A demon, you moron,” stated a dry, very masculine voice.

I should mention there were no men in the house, hence why I screeched, “Who said that?” as I whirled with my stool, seeking the source of the snarky speaker.

“Me, and now I guess I should prepare for more screaming,” riposted the same male voice.

“What the fuck?” I still saw no one.

“Uh, Charlie. I think it was kitty.” Flo pointed, and my gaze tracked downwards and settled on Cedric sitting in front of the pet door.

“Fuck off, Flo. Not funny. There’s someone in the house.”

“Every day I understand more and more why your grandmother thought you weren’t worthy to teach.” I heard the words, saw the cat’s mouth open and shutting, but reconciling the two…

I closed my eyes and shook my head. “Like hell. Must be a gas leak or something making us high and hallucinating.”

“Wish I was high right now instead of dealing with you two. Alas, we are all annoyingly sober.”

My eyes shot open. “Cats don’t talk.”

“Regular felines don’t, but I’m special and not in the hockey-helmet, window-licking type of way like you.”

I blinked as I absorbed his comment. “Did you just call me stupid?”