Magic of the Demon Fae (Demonfae, #1) - Ava Mason
I jerked out of my reverie, a gasp of air filling my lungs. The distinct sound of gagging somewhere nearby made my fingers tingle with unspent magic.
My head turned to the side, and I narrowed my eyes at the sight of my cat. His head was thrusting back and forth, eyes bulging and tongue hanging out. “Tuddle!” I tried to scramble out from under the Lamborghini. “Don’t you dare throw up on my new carpet!”
“Of course, Love.” He gave me a knowing smirk, his tongue flicking out before his stomach lurched again. Time seemed to slow as his neck stretched forward, his mouth fell open and chunky green bits projectiled out of his throat all over the carpet.
“Ewe!” I recoiled and squeezed my eyes shut, my whole body jerking in disgust. Vomit was the worst.
Magic sparked from my fingers, spurting out in one giant, frantic surge. My eyes flew open to see it hit the wiring harness above me, right between the transmission and the engine.
“No!” I sucked in a breath, horrified. The wiring sparked, blue magic sizzling over it like a sparkler going off. Hissing like an angry cat, grey and blue smoke exploded in a puff.
Shit. I was in so much trouble.
It was bad enough that I was a girl working in a man’s world. Any mistake I made would be doubly scrutinized, purely because of my gender. Little did I know that this was only the beginning of the shit storm about to enter my life. In fact, it would turn out to be one of the highlights of my week.
Pulling myself out from under the car, I jumped up and, frustrated, kicked at the fender. I yelped as it dented, and more dollar signs flashed in my mind. I was going to have to fix that now, too, as my body work guy had given the bird to this small town and flown permanently south to Mexico for a life of sipping margaritas on the beach. “Argh!”
I ran my fingers through my hair and swiveled around to face my orange tabby cat. “Tuddle. I’m going to kill you.”
The brownies, little-sized people, who’d been watching me all day from the top shelf giggled. One of them picked his long, green nose, then shoved the booger in his mouth. I shuddered, more disgusted about that than the vomit, and turned back to Tuddle.
He sat next to the puddle, licking his paws, pleased as punch.
“I just replaced this carpet, you asshole.” I stomped towards him, ready to put the smash down on my stupid cat. “You’re going to clean that up. I’m not doing it! And you’re going to scrub every inch so that you can’t even tell it was there, even if you have to lick it up with your own tongue.”
Tuddle stopped licking his paw and tilted his head towards me, a bored look on his furry face. “I don’t clean up my own vomit, love. That’s a hooman woman’s job.” He layered his fake British accent on thick; he knew I liked it and always did that when he was in trouble. It was his way of buttering me up, even though he’d never visited the great isles in his life. “One for the nanny. Mary used to do it all the time.”
Years ago, I’d magicked my cat so he could speak his thoughts. That was before I knew what a deluded, misogynistic jerk he was. “Mary Poppins was never your nanny, and you know it. And said nanny never was available. She died in 1802 when nannies went out of style and children were expected to do their own cleaning.”
“It’s not my fault you put white carpet in a mechanic’s office.” He glanced down at his vomit, a look of disgust on his furry face. “I really hope it doesn’t stain.” Then he stood, flicking his tail and trotted off without a care in the world, only glancing back to flash me a haughty look. “Besides, I’m not the one that looks like Freddy Krueger had trouble opening an oil bottle. Just watch. There’ll be oil and dirt eating this floor within the week.”
I grabbed an oil rag and flung it at him, hitting him right in the back of his head. He hissed and sat down, his paws grappling at the cloth. I laughed at how ridiculous he looked, then turned back towards the car, frowning. If I focked up the wiring in the car, all my earnings from replacing the tranny would be flushed