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“You can’t fool me. I know that thing’s called a trash griffin! I don’t want it pigging the place up, because do you know who will have to clean it up? Me. So take your little garbage pet along, or get a leash.”
“Oh, I’ve got one.” Joy flipped open her purse and dug around inside it.
Don’t ask, don’t ask, don’t ask, I internally pleaded as Leila watched Joy extract a purple, cat sized slip leash.PLEASE, don’t ask.
Queen Leila obviously knew about my abilities, and I wasn’t shy about who I was, but. Somehow, I knew that if Joy had to explain how frequently she and Pat had saved me from humane societies that they now kept leashes in their cars/bags to this beautiful fae empress, my dignity was going to die.
I took the leash from my sister, made a loop, and dropped it over French Fry’s head.
Instead of settling around his neck, it slid down to his chest, so it looked like a ridiculous necklace.
French Fry preened and cooed up at me as I smoothed his wings for him and restored order to his soft raccoon fur.
“Sorry, he’s leashed now.” I held French Fry up once I’d gotten him as groomed as he was going to get.
Landon stared at him through still narrowed eyes. “I don’t know if we allow birds in here.”
“Seriously Landon?” Leila said. “He’s leashed, that’s your store policy. It says nothing about birds!”
“That would be because we’ve never had a nut try tobringa bird in here—which is saying something since you’re a regular customer,” Landon said.
“Fine,” Leila said. “Then go ask Rhonda about the policy.”
“’kay.” Landon stood upright, sucked in a breath of air, then yelled. “Rhonda!”
“Gofindher, Landon. No one wants to hear you shouting like that,” Leila scolded.
“Geez, okay, okay.” Now it was Landon’s turn to roll his eyes. “You got super bossy once the fae started calling you an empress, did you know that?” He skulked off before Leila could reply, disappearing into what I assume was a storage room.
Leila shook her head then smiled at me. “Sorry about all of that, Chloe. But, um…do you know that’s a trash griffin?”
“Yes.” I tried to ignore French Fry, who was staring up at me, bobbing his head from side to side in an attempt to invite me to pet him. “He is…I see him frequently—ouch, French Fry, stop that!”
French Fry, grabbing at my clothes with his beak, hauled himself up the front of my jacket so he could sit on my shoulder. He bit my ear to stabilize himself, then cooed and affectionately rubbed his head against mine.
“Wow.” Leila retreated a few steps to pick up a to go drink—one of two left on a small end table. “Now that is something I’ve never seen before. He’s a pet?”
“More of a friend?” I pushed French Fry’s raccoon tail out of my face. “He finds me whenever I walk around Magiford, and he’s built a nest outside my apartment window. I call him French Fry. I don’t make him do this, or anything. He’s just been flying around since I moved here,” I nervously explained. “I know he’s yours since he belongs to the Night Court.”
Leila raised both of her eyebrows as she studied French Fry. “I’d say the trash griffins are my subjects, not my personal pets, though I get what you mean.”
The gloom at Leila’s side twitched its whiskers before it made this horrible warbling noise that sounded like a goblin getting sat on.
“I’m sorry, where are my manners? This is Muffin.” Leila set her drink back down, then crouched down next to the cat, ignored its teeth that were as big as the joints of her fingers, and loosely hugged the creature before scratching under its throat, eliciting a throaty purr from it.
Watching the interaction, I gulped a little.I am so glad my powers only work on housecats, not all felines.
Leila smiled at her pet, then peered back up at me. “So…French Fry?”
“It’s his favorite food,” I said. “He likes to show them off to me a lot.”
“That sounds about right,” Leila said. “And he just started following you around one day?”
“Yeah. I saw him around a lot and assumed it was a Magiford thing,” I said. “We got friendly over the years, and now…” I trailed off so I could catch French Fry when he fell off my shoulder. “I’m sorry,” I said.
Leila laughed. “Why apologize?”
“Because he’s your, er, subject.”
