Page 3 of Minnie: Double, Double, Toil and Trouble

I shush them, though I’m smiling on the inside. On the outside… Formula M Neutral. Even my shush lacks gusto.

“Good try,” I tell Natty. I scoop him up, dust off his jeans, and settle him on my hip, careful not to jostle Tiptoe.

Natty wraps his arms around my neck and snuggles against my shoulder. His soft, curly hair brushes my neck, and I feel a burst of love for the little boy.

My heart squeezes in my chest at the thought of losing him. Formula M helps numb the pain, but I’m still hyper-aware that I’m not Natty’s mom. I’m just his guardian. For now. Until his dad takes him back.

“Minnie?” Natty whispers in my ear. “Are we going now?”

I peek outside to make sure it’s safe, and nod. “Remember not to make a sound.” My nose twitches. “You too, Tiptoe.”

Chapter 2

Minnie

The boarded-up bakery sits smack dab in the middle of Main Street, almost directly across the street from Jewels Cafe.

Once the sun rises, it’s one of the busiest streets in Silver Springs. Day-dwelling supes—shifters, trolls, yetis, and witches like me—stop by the cafe for a morning pick-me-up, pass through on their way to work, or take their kids to Spell Library just down the street… basically do all the same things humans do. And when the sun sets, the shops on Main Street close, and anyone who’s still awake heads to other places in town—Club Vee, a nightclub that primarily caters to vampires, or the After Dark casino in the basement of the old folks home. Don’t ask.

Luckily, Natty’s always up before the sun rises, so there’s rarely anyone around. Which doesn’t mean we’re in the clear. One of the shop owners could still be standing by the window, looking out, or someone could turn the corner at any time.

Luckily, I have a vial of invisibility dust in my Birkin, and I sprinkle some of the contents over our heads before carrying Natty and Tiptoe outside.

It’s still chilly out, which calls for some Summer Spritz. I pull out the spray bottle and pump the nozzle, covering us all in a fine mist. Since Natty hates wearing sweaters—and so does Formula M—the heating spell’s been a lifesaver.

Warmth seeps into my skin and Natty giggles as we make our way down the street, away from Jewels Cafe. We round the corner and duck into a narrow alley between two buildings. The street is blissfully empty, and we wait the five or so minutes it takes for the invisibility spell to wear off, before doubling back to Jewels Cafe.

The old, wooden sandwich board sign advertising pumpkin spice lattes—which sell like hotcakes each fall—is already outside. And Amber—who owns the place—is behind the counter. She’s six months pregnant, with triplets, but from my vantage point the only evidence is that her face is fuller. That and she’s glowing.

She’s snuggled up against her bear shifter mate, Wes, the golden rope of magic connecting them a constant reminder that they’re fated mates.

The bear shifter breaks into a grin when he sees us. “Look who’s here. It’s Minnie and Natty.” His voice booms across the cafe.

Amber lights up, too. “Morning, Minnie. Morning, Natey-Nate.”

“Good morning.” My own tone is neutral, because that’s all Formula M will allow, but Natty more than makes up for it.

“Hi. Hi. Hi!” He waves his arm so wildly he almost hits me in the side of the face. Tiptoe nearly tumbles straight off, and I help steady the mouse.

The song playing on the cafe speakers changes and Little Wolf, the new hit single by Not a Vampire, comes on.

Amber perks up. “I love this song!”

Wes, who loves her despite her terrible taste in music, smiles down at her affectionately.

Natty, who has equally terrible taste in music, scrambles out of my arms and starts to wiggle to the beat. Traitorous Tiptoe, Fan of the Forbidden Tune, joins him, dancing on his shoulder.

I roll my eyes. “Not a Vampire is so lame.”

Amber gasps. “Little Wolf is legit the best thing I’ve heard all year! I’ve literally had it on repeat for hours.”

Wes nods. “She has.”

Poor guy. Well, poor guys, since Amber has two other mates—Julian, who’s a witch with wonky powers, and is currently on the other side of town, and Chase, a bunny shifter who spends his days glued to his laptop, writing romance novels. While listening to Not a Vampire.

Amber continues to gush about how much the band has evolved, but how Little Wolf is still so them, while Damien Starr’s words echo through the speakers. “Innocent and sweet, wild and free, My good little wolf, come to me. Every touch, under twilight’s track, Yes, just like that, no holding back.”

You think you’re all that, but you’re not, Damien Starr. Or should I say Danny Stravinsky?