Page 41 of Goblins Don't Count
There’s no cereal. Why would you leave me alone to starve?He whimpered and made his eyes go big and almost innocent.
I scoffed as I walked across the street, heading towards my new parking spot in Sashimi’s parking garage. “Sure, you’re starving. I thought you were with him. He feeds you the best treats.”
But how could I leave your apartment alone without someone to guard it? And beetle boy was so boring, counting numbers for hours and hours. You’re also out of toothpaste. And toilet paper.
“Toilet paper?!”
Winston the Warlock wasn’t the only one staring at me and my random proclamation.
I brought the raccoon closer to my face so I could really convey my feelings clearly. “Look, Mr. Raccoon, you can’t break into my apartment anytime you need to raid someone’s toilet paper. And breakfast cereal. That’s mine.”
“To be fair,” Winston the Warlock said as he held the door to the building open for me. “Breakfast cereal is pure sugar mixed with food coloring. He’s probably protecting you from your own dangerous choices.”
I narrowed my eyes at him as I led the way down the stairs. “Of course he is. And the toilet paper? Is he protecting me from that, too?”
His lips twitched. “Of course. He’s your familiar? How charming.”
I gave him a dark look before I returned my gaze to the raccoon. “What am I supposed to do with you?”
I could use a snack. He gave me another innocent look, curling up with his tail curled over his head so he looked practically adorable.
I shook my head and sighed as I put him on the ground. He waddled along beside me, pleased with himself.
“You can hear the raccoon’s thoughts? You must have a very strong bond, and very strong magic. You really should be registered. Some creatures can steal the magic out of you if you don’t have proper protection,” Winston said, voice persuasive and concerned.
I snorted. “Or use me as a live source. I am aware. I’m a police officer. I’m not defenseless.”
“That’s so reassuring. Tell me more about the snacks. Your raccoon would probably love sausage rolls.”
“He eats garbage. He’s not particular.”
Mr. Raccoon looked up at me, hurt.Just because I eat garbage doesn’t mean I’m not particular. I’m very picky about the garbage I eat.
I laughed and then ducked through the door and into the garage. “Of course you are. A connoisseur of trash.”
I walked through the very safe, well-lit garage to my car, parked not very far from the door. It was incredibly magical to not have to walk so far, past the club and the demons.
Once we’d gotten into the car, Mr. Raccoon balanced on the manifold between us, studying Winston with suspicion.
The warlock said, “Do you really think that the two deaths were linked and not suicides?”
“I can’t talk about cases to civilians.”
He raised a brow as I drove out of the parking lot, waving to the parking attendant, a man with a thin smile who waved back.
“I’m a civilian?”
“You’re an actor, also a warlock who wants to organize the world of witches into a tidy little group so that you can have more central power, more efficiency, and more capacity for putting your interests ahead of other guilds. Neither of those are a cop.”
“You’re so virtuous and honest.”
I shook my head. “I know. I walked through a truth spell at some point and can’t seem to shake it off. It’s very irritating.”
“You seem to be caught up in many strange and magical spells. How did you get all those paranoid, powerful guests to open up to you?”
“Did they? You seem to have your own informants.” I frowned at him. “Why is that?”
He gave me a mild smile and settled back. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
