Page 85 of The Sasquatch and the Hairdresser

It’s only a few days now until the festival starts, and I’m not sure we can handle any more trouble.

Astraea meets us on the sidewalk outside the building, a wide grin on her face.

“You’re just in time. The answer to our problems is almost here!” she announces grandly.

“You found your son?” I ask, relief washing over me.

“Thank the Goddess,” Hal adds.

Astraea’s smile falters. “Well, no. But I’ve managed to get the next best thing.”

Before she can elaborate, the throaty rumble of an engine draws our gazes to a motorcycle with a sidecar cruising up Main Street. It pulls up to a stop at the curb in front of us, and the guy riding it pops the kickstand and dismounts. He pulls the helmet off his head and rakes a hand through a messy faux-hawk that’s a pale shade of icy blue. I stare long and hard because that color looks completely natural, and I’ve never seen anything like it.

His eyes, a stunning silvery gray so bright they don’t quite look human, are a little freaky. They scrutinize each of us in turn and then settle on Astraea.

“An honor to meet you in the flesh, Goddess of the Celestial Realm. Rowan Kelly, at your service.” He gives her a cocky little salute and a grin.

“Thank fuck you’re here,” Astraea growls.

Rowan looks around and nods. “The power fluctuations I’m detecting are kind of wild.” He rubs his hands together. “This is going to be fun, I can tell.”

“Are you a mage?” Hal asks, hope ringing in his voice.

I grab his hand and squeeze, relief washing over me.

“One of the best this side of the Atlantic,” Rowan boasts.

Astraea gives me a thumbs-up. “The A.S.S.E.S. ad worked. Great idea.”

I flush, pleased but also kind of uncomfortable with the public praise. Not something I’m used to. Yet.

“Ahem, I do believe you’re forgetting to mention me, your indispensable sidekick and partner in crime,” drawls a feminine voice.

We all gape as a cat daintily jumps out of the sidecar on the motorcycle and grows to the size of a motherfucking tiger in the blink of an eye. She has bright red eyes and a thick coat of fur that’s gold and white, while her features resemble a cross between a lynx and a snow leopard.

But the thing that has me freaked the fuck out is that she’s very clearly talking to us.

It’s seriously weird and kinda creepy.

Hal pulls me closer.

“This is Angelica, Ange for short,” Rowan says by way of introduction.

The enormous beast sniffs disdainfully. “Only you can call me that, Rowan. My full name is The Majestic Lady Angelica Razorclaws.”

Waffles whimpers and hides behind Max, and Elvira parks herself right in front of Hal and me, watching the creature warily. Meanwhile, Princess Peach snores softly in Max’s arm, entirely unfazed.

I decide to ask the obvious question. “Uh, Ms. Razorclaws, what are you and how are you talking to us?”

I mean, isn’t that the fucking obvious question right now?

She fixes me with a gimlet eye before lifting her furry chin in the air. “You may call me Angelica. And I’m a hellcat, of course, and this foolish mage’s familiar,” she adds, nodding her head in Rowan’s direction.

“Wow,” Hal whispers. “I’ve only read stories about them. I never thought I’d see one in my life. They rarely leave the Demon Realm.”

“Oh, aren’t you delightfully feisty,” Max coos at her.

She preens and moves to Rowan’s side, who reaches down and scratches one of her ears, making the hellcat purr. “Familiars gain the ability to communicate in the language of their mage-guardian once they form a pact,” Rowan explains. He shifts to rubbing under Angelica’s chin, making her purr even louder.