A puff of lilac magic heralded a new arrival. Only instead of a smoking not-hot (dead) witch, the cloud lifted to reveal a fat, very confused pig wearing a charm around its bristly neck.
“Demelza?Oh my goddess, sir! Something’s wrong with Demelza!”
The witches crowded round the pig, wringing their hands in horror while Alaric struggled to contain his mirth.
The pig oinked and squealed when Ivy tried to touch its head. It took all of two seconds before the traumatized creature bit her.
“Demelza! What the fuck? I thought we were friends!” Ivy wailed.
“Stand back, witches!” Lightfoot came storming over, flexing his pecs and thrusting his crotch forward as he posed for the shifter girls. They all swooned. Not one of those bitches had a hair out of place. Unlike me, who looked like someone had smashed a branch over my head.Oh wait. That had happened.
Lightfoot stared down at the upset and confused pig.
“This pig isn’t Miss Thorn. I have no idea why it’s wearing a mage charm unless she deliberately removed it and placed it on the animal.”
“But why would she do that, sir?” Ivy’s hysterical ranting triggered a new headache. I moved closer to Alaric, subconsciously seeking his healing hands on my body. Okay, so the healing bit was optional.
Did that make me a slutty witch?
Probably.
Did I care?
No.
Lightfoot stared down at the pig. His eyes glowed pure gold, a sign his wolf was trying to force a shift, and he licked his lips.
Pigs were prey animals to wolves, and I had a nasty suspicion this poor little piggy was about to end up as a side of raw bacon.
Oh my goddess, was our professorsalivating?
The pig, sensing how much danger it was in, bolted between Ivy’s legs and made a bid for freedom. Two students nearby shifted into wolves and howled in excitement, unable to contain their predatory instincts.
The pig squealed in fright as its stubby little legs propelled it across the field.
I couldn’t let the pig die.
It didn’t deserve to be eaten by asshole wolf shifters.
Alaric, correctly reading my intention, tried to stop me, but I focused my magic on the wolves. It burst free from my chest, blasting the surprised shifters a hundred feet across the field.
Before anyone else could capture the pig, I ran and scooped it up in my arms. My new pet calmed down immediately, nuzzling my neck with its hairy little snout and snorting adorably.
For one horrible moment, I wondered if perhaps I’d inadvertently claimed a second familiar, but no, this one didn’t hurl abuse at me.
It was just a pig.
A cute little oinking piggy.
“Miss Blackstone! Put that feral hog down!”
How dare that sadistic wolf shifter with boundary issues insult my pig!
“It’s not feral! It’s my emotional-support pig!”
A total lie. I’d never seen this pig before in my life, but finders keepers, right?
Fur rippled over Professor Lightfoot’s chest as his wolf tried to break free.
