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“I guess turkeys just don’t believe in demselves enough!”
Fair enough. I gritted my tiny pointed teeth. It seemed that I’d reached a crossroads. Since Monique had abandoned me to go stalk Fabio, her ex-lover, I was on my own and knew I wouldn’t make any progress without an ally. Or three.
“Guys, I need your help,” I said. “I need to get to the diner, which is the last place I saw my husband. I have to warn him about what’s coming.”
“Dats a purdy weak plan, Sarah,” Boba said.
“It’s all I got. So, please, I’m asking you. No, actually, I’m begging you: will you help me?”
Jango nudged Fat Bastard and muttered something under his breath that sounded like “Bat brunch.”
Yeah, I’d go ahead and ignore that.
The three then turned their furry heads together and discussed the matter before turning to me again.
“Weese decided to help ya,” Fat Bastard announced. “Dere’s nothin’ worse than a bad warlock, and if your guy’s pals with da Baba Yaga, den we’re in.”
“Super,” I said, breathing out a sigh of relief.
“Youse can ride on my back.” He turned around. “Weese take you to the diner. It ain’t too far from here.”
Talk about a leap of faith.
Of course, I still had misgivings that three talking cats were going to be true to their word and not try to eat me, but I’d moved past the point of caution a while ago.
I let go of the branch, twisted in the air, flapped my wings a couple of times, shocked that I was able to safely flutter to the ground. I half-expected to break a bone. Possibly, my neck.
Didn’t I read somewhere that bats had hollow bones? The light weight helped them take flight. Or something like that. Didn’t matter. I wasn’t going to fly today. I was going to be taking the Fat Bastard Express across town.
I looked up, only to be greeted by the wide-open maw of Boba Fett. I screamed as he gently picked me up and plopped me onto Fat Bastard’s back. I hooked my tiny wing-claws into his fur.
“Whaddya think? I was gonna eat ya after weese agreed to help ya?” Boba Fett asked. “Sheesh. Rude.”
“No, no, no.” I shook my head. “I’m just a little on edge today. So sorry.”
He shrugged. “Fuhgeddaboudit.”
And with that, the cats and I began our journey from the backyard paradise to the Assjacket Diner. I held on for dear life, pressing my face into Fat Bastard’s soft fur, which made me sneeze at least a half a dozen times.
Allergies were a pain in the ass.
Not as much of a pain in the ass as being magically turned into a bat. But, still.
We arrived at the diner about twenty minutes later, and I was relieved to see that the rental car was still parked outside. That relief lasted only a couple of seconds before I worried that I was too late, that Damon and Alicia’s plan had already been enacted before I could do anything to stop it.
But then I saw him.
Thierry.
He was in front of the diner, pacing back and forth on the sidewalk, his phone pressed to his ear. When he turned in my direction, I could see his brow tightly furrowed, his jaw tense.
“Closer, please,” I urged Fat Bastard.
The cat did as I asked until I could hear Thierry’s voice.
“—have been searching for you and am beginning to worry. Call me when you get this latest message, Sarah. I hope you’re with Alicia, and there is nothing to fear, but I tried to tap into our bond and felt nothing…this worries me deeply. Please, be well.”
He ended the call and stared at the screen of his phone for a moment, then rubbed his hand over his mouth.
