Page 14 of Minnie

Minnie

Tiptoe takes off with a squeak and races across Amber’s lap.

“Julian, what’s happening?” she cries.

The mouse jumps over Chase, lands on the arm of the couch, and leaps down onto the hardwood floor.

The collar lunges in pursuit. Chase tries to grab it as it flies past, but it darts away from his grasp and dives down after the mouse.

Tiptoe lets out several short, high-pitched squeaks and skitters underneath the couch. The collar zooms after him.

A scream lodges in my throat, but refuses to come out.

Formula M sends relief coursing through me, but it’s fake. Just like everything about me. Tiptoe isn’t safe. I need to help him. I can’t just keep standing here.

Except it’s all I can do until the mouse scrambles from underneath the couch and races toward the kitchen. A split second later, the collar dives out from beneath the couch and flies after him, bell jingling ominously.

Natty scrambles after them. “I’m going to catch you,” the little boy shouts, oblivious to the danger a feral spelled collar could cause.

It could attack him, hit him, strangle him, or a number of other increasingly awful things. I need to shout a warning—to stop the boy from racing after the collar—but I can’t move. Luckily, Amber and her men can.

Chase, Julian, and Wes jump into action at the same time. Wes is fastest. He sets down Latte and lunges after Natty.

Amber is still trying to stand when he scoops up the boy, and Chase and Julian skid into the kitchen and lunge for the mouse and collar. They miss.

Tiptoe flattens himself and slips under the fridge. The collar shrinks, zigzags away from Chase and Julian, and dives under the fridge, too. The men flatten themselves on the floor and try to reach them, while Amber finally manages to get to her feet and waddle-races to the kitchen.

Latte dances around her, barking and wagging his tail. She starts to reach down, but Wes scoops the pup up with his free arm.

And while all this is happening, I stand rooted in place, no help at all.

Tiptoe’s panicked cries echo from underneath the fridge, followed by the collar’s ominously jingling bell. I need to do something. Anything. I need to save my mouse!

I feel like I’m going to explode out of my skin, but all I can do is yawn and examine my nails while my soul sobs.

Then, everything goes quiet. Tiptoe’s panicked squeaks stop, and the bell no longer jingles. Silence echoes through the apartment, broken up by Latte’s panting and Natty’s giggles.

Chase jumps to his feet first. “We need to lift the fridge.”

Wes rushes over, hands Latte to Julian and Natty to Chase, and grabs the fridge. “I got it.”

The task is no trouble for the bear shifter, and he lifts it clear off the ground. Julian hugs the puppy against his chest and kneels down. He reaches underneath and jumps to his feet. “He’s okay!”

Tiptoe stands stock-still on Julian’s palm, looking terrified and lost. The collar is around his neck, but instead of golden yellow, it’s now the same shade of pink as my dress.

The mouse gingerly lifts one paw and touches the collar that’s looped around his throat. The bell jingles, and the mouse jumps in surprise, but he seems otherwise unharmed.

And acute relief courses through me. Tiptoe is okay!

Now that I’m relatively calm, Formula M lets me go and I can finally speak. “What just happened?”

Amber and her guys all shrug in confusion.

Natty claps his hands. “We were playing tag.”

At least the kid isn’t traumatized. As for Tiptoe, I’m not so sure.

I cross the living room, heels clicking against the hardwood floor. “How are you feeling, little guy?”