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6
Islowly came to, and my head throbbed and buzzed like it had been stuck in an iron vice made of angry bees. I glanced up, expecting to be on the floor of Rags to Riches, but instead, I was outside, beneath a tree with an enormous trunk and massive branches that blocked the bright sun.
Grimm stood above me, looking down, with a pinched expression.
“Try not to panic,” he told me grimly.
I blinked a few times, attempting to orient myself. “What the hell happened?” I muttered.
Then I frowned.
There was something wrong with my voice. It sounded higher pitched and, oddly, squeakier than normal.
I cleared my throat and shook my head before I attempted to push myself up to my feet.
That was when I realized that something was very wrong.
Actually, let me rephrase. That sounded far calmer and much more levelheaded than I felt about what had happened to me, not that it had totally sunk in yet.
I looked down at myself, expecting to see the black shirt, Levi’s, and my brand new hot pink, comfort-chic shoes.
Instead, I saw fur. Dark brown fur all the way down the front of me.
I raised a hand to my face, but it wasn’t a hand anymore. It was…a wing.
A black, leathery wing, which ended in what looked like a small claw.
“Oh, my God,” I squeaked. “That warlock. He…he…”
Grimm’s translucent, bearded face was set in a pained grimace. “He turned into a bat.”
I stared up at him, shaking my head so hard I felt dizzy. “No, no, no. Wrong, you’re wrong. This isn’t happening. He must have knocked me out, and I’m dreaming. This is just a really bizarre dream, that’s all. Stuff like this doesn’t happen. People don’t get turned into animals by evil shoe-making warlocks. This isn’t Harry-freaking-Potter! This is my life!”
And yet, even as I said it, I knew I didn’t speak the truth. I’d known a witch who turned her fiancé into a small furry animal as punishment every time he looked at another woman. So it was definitely possible.
“If only Damon hadn’t caught you spying on them,” Grim said unhelpfully. “This never would have happened.”
I glared up at him from where I lay, splayed out on the ground. Apparently, bats couldn’t just easily stand up and stroll around like they did in cartoons.
At least I could talk. I rubbed my lips together, cringing at the bizarrely furry feeling.
This was a horror movie, and apparently, I’d just been cast in the lead role.
A bat. A bat, of all things! I couldn’t figure out why for a moment, but then I remembered chatting with Alicia about my expectations regarding being a vampire and how disappointed I was that I couldn’t turn into a bat. Which was a joke, of course. I wasn’t totally insane. At least, not yet.
“Maybe you could make one of her dreams come true,”Alicia had said.
That heinous bitch. I was going to Moulin her Rouge so hard she might never walk again.
“Okay, Grimm, talk,” I said. “How do I fix this?”
He pointed at himself. “You’re asking me?”
“No, I’m asking the other ghost-elf named Grimm standing behind you.”
“It’s good that you haven’t lost your sense of humor. That will help you survive this unfortunate situation.” He shrugged. “I’m sorry, but I don’t have the sort of magic that can return you to your former form.”
“I don’t have time for this,” I hissed. “Alicia has a grimoire that’s going to make all hell break loose back in Assjacket, not to mention a magical poofing locket to get her there in two seconds, and I’m currently stuck in Paris.”
