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“I’m a raven, you empty-brained leech.” She clacks her beak at me.
I raise my hands in surrender. “Excuse me for not knowing my avian species. I stand corrected.”
Josie giggles beside me, although I don’t find any of this funny. “Ask it why it dive-bombed me. And why I’m sensing magic from it.”
“She wants to know—” I start, but the bird speaks over me.
“First: to get your attention, duh. Second: because I’m a familiar. Again—duh.”
“It says?—”
“And stop calling me an it,” the raven demands, clacking her beak at me again.
“Wow, you’re all kinds of temperamental.”
“Ask it what?—”
I hold up a finger. “She doesn’t approve of the ‘it’ calling. She is a she.”
Josie pauses, considering. “And does she have a name? What would she prefer to be called?”
“My name is Phi.”
I relay the information.
“Maybe we should take our conversation into the shop,” I offer, casting a look around.
There aren’t many people on the street—just a couple in their forties taking an evening stroll, their tiny wiener dog trotting along behind them.
Josie quirks a brow. “Why? Isn’t having in-depth conversations with birds normal in America? It’s a well-loved pastime in England.”
I roll my eyes and open the door for her. “All right, smartass, get the talking raven inside before some human catches you using magic.”
Thankfully, the houses surrounding the shop are almost completely occupied by witch families.
“Back so soon?” Elara says when we step through the door. “Did you forget something? You two have a masquerade ball to get ready for.”
“We have a bit of a situation.” Once we’re inside, I gesture for the bird to follow.
Phi bounces across the floor behind me, bobbing like a helium balloon.
“Looks like my masquerade montage moment must wait,” Josie says. “A raven familiar descended upon us out on the stoop.”
I close the door, set the lock, and flip the sign in the window to ‘closed’.
“Tell her I want to make a pact with her,” Phi caws at me expectantly.
“She wants to be your familiar and make it official,” I say.
Josie frowns. “Sorry, I’m not in the market for a familiar. Not now. Not ever. You’d be better to try another witch. And you’re in luck. There’s a big party tonight. There will be plenty of witches to choose from.”
“You didn’t summon her?” Elara asks, blonde brows drawing together.
“Why don’t you want her?” I ask. “Don’t familiars help witches and boost their magic? Elara’s little furry rodent-snake is pretty cute. Almost.”
“Tavor is adorable,” Elara says.
Josie sends her a kind smile. “He is. I’m just not interested in making a pact with a familiar.”
