Page 33 of De-Witched

“Not from me.”

She smiled as though he’d said something funny and pulled out a candy bar. “Want to split this?”

He looked at it dubiously. “What is it?”

Her mouth dropped. “You’ve never had a Butterfinger?” She tore open the wrapper and painstakingly bent it in half. She offered him the half still in the wrapper. “Try it.”

“I’m good.”

“Chicken.”

He drew himself up. “I am not a child. I do not respond to those kinds of—” He stopped short as she made bok bok noises. Worse than his sister. To shut her up, he shoved the candy in his mouth.

Peanuts exploded on his tongue, the sweet chocolate melting in a soft slide.

He made a noise halfway between a groan and a humming sound.

She grinned and bit into hers, before gesturing at the sack. “So, what you want to do is...”

9

Gabriel watched Chuck watch him as he placed the dog bowl in the kennel. The dog’s butt was glued to the floor but his tail swept side to side. Brown eyes melted as Gabriel stepped back.

“Now, wait,” Gabriel cautioned, having done this routine before. “Wait. We’re not having a repeat of yesterday.”

The dog’s tail picked up until it was a blur.

“Chuck...” Gabriel hardened his tone. “Don’t—”

As if shot from a cannon, Chuck launched forward, his joy too much to bear.

It was, Gabriel thought, trying to be philosophical as he lay under the wriggling Labrador, a work in progress. Like his entire life.

Dealing with things was so much harder without magic. He had to respect humans for that alone. Just because he thought magic should be kept secret didn’t mean he couldn’t acknowledge they had to be tough to get through daily life. Or deal with the ever-elusive toaster. He’d bought twelve now, all still refusing to work.

“Goodnight!”

Gabriel shut the door on Chuck happily burying his face in his kibble and swiveled to see Mitch and Frankie heading toward him. The two humans had made a point of searching him out to have a conversation whenever they shared the same shift. It was strange.

Mitch was shrugging into a fleece jacket that drowned his skinny frame. “We’re heading to T and T, if you want to come.”

Mingle with the humans? The idea had something akin to anxiety stabbing into him. “I have plans.”

“Hot date?”

Gabriel glanced over at ginger Frankie, uncomfortable with the wiggling eyebrows he saw there. “No.”

“Their loss, eh, Goodnight.” Frankie clapped him on the shoulder. “C’mon, one drink.”

“I really can’t.”

“You tell me what’s so important that one drink would hurt.”

He made himself say it. “I don’t want to.” As their expressions swung to surprise, he shifted, trying to release the unpleasant sensation. It wouldn’t do any good to intensify his involvement, he reminded himself, bracing for their inevitable withdrawal. That, at least, he was used to.

Then Frankie smacked Mitch on the chest with the back of his hand, understanding dawning. “I get it. Look, Goodnight, we get you’re, you know, shy.”

He stared at them.

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