Page 37 of Minnie: Double, Double, Toil and Trouble

Zoe flicks her wrist, sending the wine bottle and glasses flying to the kitchen, and a fork and knife for me flying out. Then turns to her mate. “Xav? You coming?”

Ghost snorts. “He’s been like this since we left.”

Leith grunts in agreement.

Xavi kicks off his sneakers. “That’s because I’ve got news. Big news.”

A bunch of women in Silver Springs finding fated mates type news? Does that mean I’ve found mine?

Zoe perks up. “What kind of news? Did Dr. Reddy have a heart attack and croak?”

My insides cringe. How could I be so shallow? All I can think of is finding a fated mate, when there are actual problems I should be worried about. Like the fate of the fuzzies.

Xavi’s phone buzzes and he glances down briefly. “Sorry, no. But guess what? Not a Vampire broke up! It’s all over Screech.”

I swear I can’t go half a day without someone mentioning that stupid band.

Zoe cringes, but for a whole other reason. “Oh no. Poor Amber!”

I feel another wave of guilt. Amber’s literally the band’s number one fan. She’s going to be gutted, and once again, I’m only thinking about myself. But then, I’ve always known I’m a terrible person. I shouldn’t be surprised.

Xavi grimaces. “Shit! I forgot about Amber.” At least I’m not the only one.

Leith swallows a huge bite of pizza. “Izaguirre here has been trying to get the inside scoop.”

Xavi nods. “No one knows why the band broke up. But I’m going to find out first.”

I roll my eyes. “I bet Damien Starr and his massive ego decided to go solo.”

I know I sound petty, but Xavi nods. “That’s the leading theory. That or he’s on his deathbed. A few people are posting that, but there’s no evidence.”

Formula M is weaker right now, so it’s calming effects are muted, and I start to worry about Damien Starr. Which only makes me more pissed off. If our roles were reversed and I was dying, he wouldn’t bat an eye.

Ghost rubs his chin thoughtfully. “The band members are all supes. Which means they probably have relatives in town. We could question them, see if that gives us any leads.”

I cut a small piece off my pizza, take a dainty bite, and dab my lips with my napkin. I could tell them exactly where they can find some relatives—namely Damien Starr’s, aka Danny Stravinsky’s parents—but I’d never invade his privacy like that. Not even after everything he’s done.

Plus, I don’t care about Not a Vampire or Danny or Damien or whoever the hell he is now. I have enough problems already. Like giving a speech in front of half the town so I can save the fuzzies, seeing Delphine in order to break the curse, finding my maybe-mate, and taking care of Natty. And even that is more than I can handle.

Chapter 20

Minnie

Natty, Snow and I spend the night at Zoe’s—in a large guest bedroom with a full bathroom, running water, a flushing toilet, and a bed bumper so Natty and I can co-sleep without him tumbling out in the middle of the night.

Leith wakes up early and picks up a delicious to-go breakfast from Yes Now, Bob’s—with waffles and ice cream, of course—and we all go over the plan to stop Dr. Reddy. I also tell them about my plans for the day, including Amber’s plan to break the curse with Delphine’s help.

“Oh, Minnie. I hope it works this time.” Zoe pulls me in for a hug. “You deserve so much better.”

Only she’s wrong. I’ve been a failure since the day I was born, and I have long since given up hoping for better. Honestly, given how things have been going lately, all I have in my future is worse.

“I’m sure it will work,” I lie and search my Birkin for the vial with the diamond-shaped lid. “Come on, Natty. Time to go.”

Zoe levitates Natty’s wagon from the porch to the driveway, and Ghost levitates a giggling Natty into the wagon. I down the contents of my Formula M vial and head after them.

As I tug the wagon down the driveway, Natty turns around and yells ‘bye.’ At least one of us has manners.

I should do the same, especially since they let us spend the night, but Formula M doesn’t let me yell. It does let me raise my arm, but I end up waving like the freaking queen of England.