Familiar Protocol, page 1
FAMILIAR PROTOCOL
SEMI-COZY PARANORMAL FUN
WITCHIN’ IMPOSSIBLE MYSTERIES
BOOK 3
RENEE GEORGE
BARKSIDE OF THE MOON PRESS
Familiar Protocol: Witchin’ Impossible Cozy Mysteries Book 3
Copyright © 2019 by Renee George
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the copyright holder.
Any trademarks, service marks, product names or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement by the author of this work.
This is a work of fiction. All characters and storylines in this book are inspired only by the author’s imagination. The characters are based solely in fiction and are in no relation inspired by anyone bearing the same name or names. Any similarities to real persons, situations, or incidents is purely coincidental.
Publisher: Barkside of the Moon Press
Print ISBN: 978-1-947177-27-7
NO AI TRAINING: Without in any way limiting the author’s [and publisher’s] exclusive rights under copyright, any use of this publication to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. The author reserves all rights to license uses of this work for generative AI training and development of machine learning language models.
CONTENTS
Acknowledgments
Blurb
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Mr. and Mrs. Shift - Sneak Peek
Murder and The Money Pit - Sneak Peek
The Pit List Murder - Sneak Peek
Paranormal Mysteries & Romances
About the Author
For Kona, Simon, and Ash
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
A special THANK YOU to the fabulous Robyn Peterman, an awesomely funny writer and my favorite cookie, for allowing me the privilege to write in her world and then turning around and allowing me to turn this series into my own world. I love your guts, woman!!
Also, I must thank my BFF and critique partner Michele Bardsley. You complete me! And to my sister Robbin, whom I would be completely lost without.
To my Rebels, you all RAWK! You keep me going every day with your support. I love you to the moon and back.
To my fans, I would not be anything without you. Seriously. If you keep reading, I’ll keep writing! Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. If I were reviewing you all, you would get five-gazillion stars and a million-gazillion smooches.
Oh! And lest I forget, thank you strong, black coffee. Without you, I couldn’t get out of bed in the morning, let alone write a single word.
A disgruntled bear fiancé. A familiar on the lamb. A hairless cat named Lonnie…and me without my magic.
When my familiar, Tizzy the Squirrel, fell in love with another familiar, we had no idea her furry pal would gain witch magic. Apparently, that’s a big no-no for the High Familiar Clowder, the council that rules all familiars. When the Clowder shows up in Paradise Falls to decommission Tizzy and send her to the in-between, I defy those stick-in-the-butt jerkfaces by refusing to trade Tiz in for a new familiar.
But the Clowder means business. They’ve stripped me of my magic, leaving me no better than a human. Worst of all, I’ve lost the mating scent I shared with my bear-beau, the hunky-handsome Ford Baylor. Without it or my witch powers, I can never be a real mate for him.
With only seventy-two hours to find a solution to my familiar and fiancé problems, my pals and I must find a way to stop the Clowder, get me witchified again, save Tizzy and her true love, and oh yeah, battle sinister forces intent on glomming as much power as possible.
Yep. Just another day in Paradise Falls.
CHAPTER 1
“OH, my Goddess! If there’s a witch heaven, this must be what it tastes like.” My eyes rolled back as the sweet confection of lemon buttercream and raspberry filling between six layers of moist vanilla sponge lit up my taste buds like cheap Roman candles on the Fourth of July.
Tizzy, my flying squirrel familiar, and I had been trying different flavors of cake since three o’clock. It was now four-fifteen. Luckily, one of the perks of being a witch was not gaining weight, which is a good thing, considering I’d easily put away twenty-million-bazillion calories. All sugar and fat. Mmmm mmmm mmm. I couldn’t think of a better way to spend a Sunday afternoon.
“Doorknobs and broomsticks, Haze. Do I need to book a room so you can be alone with the cake?” Tiz asked. She dragged her tiny clawed finger through the frosting and put it to her lips. Her big brown eyes brightened as she took another swipe. “I’ll make that a room for three. Wow. That is orgasmic.”
“Uh-huh,” I mumbled through my fifth bite. Then I realized that she’d said a room for three. “Ew. I do not want to think about you and…” I waved my hand at her.
“And orgasms?” Tizzy tried a little chunk of the sponge. “Yum.” Her long dark brown eyelashes fluttered as she savored the moment. After, she opened her eyes and gave me a cross look. “Don’t be a child, Haze. I’ve got a girlfriend now. You know orga—”
I put a buttercream-frosted fingertip to her lips. “Not another word. Blech. I can’t hear about you and Lumpypits without triggering my gag reflex.”
“Lupitia,” Tizzy said, her speech unhindered by my finger barrier.
“You say potato, I say Loopypoopy,” I teased. It wouldn’t be so bad, Tizzy being in love, if her feline girlfriend wasn’t so rude to me all the time. To make matters even more uncomfortable, we all shared a home. Ever since that Lupitia’s witch had managed to get herself jailed after attempting a dangerous ritual to wake up old magic over Halloween, the cat had been living with us.
Even so, I loved our new house. My bear shifter fiancé, Ford Baylor, and I had only been able to purchase the house because of an unfortunate murder related to some old magic that nearly killed the entire town of Paradise Falls. Maybe we’d rushed into signing on the dotted line, though. Ford had been a little distant the past three weeks, and whenever I asked him if anything was wrong, he’d give me some quick answer about being fine, then change the subject. I sighed. Maybe he was having regrets.
“What’s with the heavy sigh?” Tizzy had lay down on her stomach in front of her hot cocoa thimble cup, her little fists balled up under her chin. “You worried Ford has lost that loving feeling?”
“A. My sigh had nothing to do with Ford,” I lied. “And B. Mind your own business.” I adored my hunka-hunka-burning-bearman love. He made my knees knock, my knickers twist, and my knick-knack paddy whack. He certainly knew how to give a witch a bone. Which made his actions of late even more worrying.
“Yuck, Haze. Just yuck.” Tizzy’s expression was pure repulsion. “If you remember, I can read your mind now.” She clicked her teeth. “And there’s no way Winnie the Poop doesn’t love the crap out of you. He is hooked, lined, and stinkered.”
Cripes. I kept forgetting she could read my thoughts when she wanted to now. Another side effect of having Loopatootie in our lives. I still hadn’t figured out a way to block her access, but she could control when she heard me and when she didn’t. I pointed my fork at her. “Stop looking inside my head.”
“If you won’t talk to me, then I have no choice.” Tizzy swished her tail back and forth. “Besides,” she said, “it’s not like I have to read you mind. I’m not blind, after all. I see the tension between the two of you. So thick, I can cut it with my fingernail.” She held up a hot-pink, neatly manicured claw. “Is that why I’m here eating cake with you instead of Ford?”
I took another bite; this time the lemon tasted as sour as my darkening mood. “No.” Maybe. “You’re here because you invited yourself along, and Ford had work.”
“You’re the boss, Haze. It says so on your office door. Chief of Police.” She shook her head and puffed her furry cheeks out. “You need to get ahold of your man before he hightails it back to his cave in the deep woods.”
“Ford has never lived in a cave.”
“I’m just saying. You have to com-mune-eh-cate,” she enunciated. “It’s the only way to make a relationship work.”
“And what, suddenly, makes you a relationship expert?”
“Lupitia and I are coming up on four blissful months.”
“More like three and some change,” I pointed out. “That doesn’t make you an expert. Besides, cats are petty and can’t be trusted. That’s a terrible combo when you’re trying to make a relationship work.”
Tizzy gasped and clutched her chest. “I never thought I’d say this, Haze, but you’re a racist.”
“Am not!” I crossed my arms. “Maybe a speciesist, if that’s even a thing, but I believe every person is created equal. Lulupussygalore is not a person.”
Tizzy’s mouth drooped into a frown, and her eyes narrowed. “So…what does that make me then?”
Uh oh. “I’m so sorry, Tiz. I didn’t mean…”
“I understand now. To you, I’m a freaking pet, right? I’m property. An item you use to enhance your magic and nothing more. You think you are the more important of the two of us in this friendship—scratch that—partnership, beca use we ain’t friends anymore, Hazel Kinsey.”
“Come on, now. Don’t be like that. I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.” This was going to take more than a day spa pass and a gift certificate for the coffee shop to fix. I might actually have to be nice to… “Lupitia is so nice to you, but she’s so mean to me,” I said. It was a weak defense, but the only one I had.
“You said her name right.” Tizzy sat back on her hind legs. “That’s a start. You may not like her, Haze, but I love her.”
“And I love Ford. That doesn’t stop you from making fun of him, calling him names like Fozzy, Teddy, and Winnie the Poop all the time.” I didn’t have any real moral high ground, but I felt like the metaphorical “upper hand” ball had landed in my court. “If you stop talking crap about my boyfriend, I’ll stop talking crap about your…girlfriend.”
Her chest froze for a few seconds as she held her breath, paused in thought. She tapped her cheek and shook her head. “I can’t. I just can’t do it. Baloo gives me too much ammunition to pass up.”
“Ha ha. Very funny.”
She giggled, making a noise that sounded like chittering. “It really is. I have a million of them.”
My phone rang. I yanked it out of my purse, eager to end the conversation. “Chief Kinsey,” I answered.
“Haze,” said a deep voice that made my heart race and witchy bits shiver. It was Ford. I pulled the phone away from my ear. The number wasn’t familiar. Whose phone was he calling on?
“Ford,” I said when I put the phone back to my ear. “What’s wrong with your phone?”
I heard him sigh heavily before he said, “It fell in the water.”
“What water?” Had he gone out to the lake? It was near our new place, but it still seemed weird. Maybe he’d been on a call out there. “Did you have to go in after a rogue beaver shifter?”
“It’s a long story.”
“I’ve got time.” I drew a heart in the cake crumbs on my plate. Next, I drew a slash through it.
Tizzy’s eyes widened.
I shook my head at her. “Was it work? Is there something I should know about? A dead body?” I asked.
“No. No body,” Ford said.
“Cool. Then what’s up?”
He was quiet for a second, then said, “I need to talk to you later today.”
“Okay.” Someone telling you they needed to “talk” was never a good sign. Damn it! Why couldn’t it have been a body.
Tizzy jumped up, her eyes widening. “Uh oh,” she said.
“What?” I mouthed.
“Got to go, Haze. See ya at home.” And she poofed out.
Dang it! It was another power she’d gained as a result of living with that crabby cat.
“Haze? You still there?”
“I’m here,” I told Ford. “You sound like you have bad news. Do you have bad news? If so, just say it. Rip it off like a bloody bandage.”
“Not over the phone.”
Son of a witch, it was bad news. The door opened to the bakery and inside walked a procession of felines. I hissed into the phone, “Two tabbies, a Burmese, a British Shorthair, a Siamese, and two Bombay cats walked into the bakery.”
“Is this the beginning of a joke?” He sounded amused. That was a good sign, right?
“No,” I said. “Not a joke.” The mixed bag of pussycats surrounded my table, each one of them casting a judgmental glare at me. I put my hand over my mouth and the receiver. “I’m going to have to call you later.”
“But Haze—”
“I’m sorry, Ford. I’ll make it up to you. Remember the red crotchless panties?” I hung up on him before he could answer.
“Disgusting,” the Siamese cat said, its voice decidedly male. It had the classic creamy tan and black markings of its breed. “Hazel Kinsey, you are hereby summoned.”
“For what? And who the hell are you to summon me?” Cats were so freaking bossy. Another reason I didn’t like Loogiebutt.
“We are the High Familiar Clowder,” the British Shorthair, with a British accent, answered.
“Isn’t that soup?”
“Not chowder,” said the black Bombay on the right of me. “You really are a stupid witch.”
“Hey!” I pointed at the smug black cat. “Sticks and stones will break your bones when I pick them up and beat you with them.”
He took a step back. “You and your familiar are hereby charged with illegally acquiring an unregistered familiar. Do you deny these charges?”
“I most certainly do.” I had no idea what these kitties were going on about. “Who are you again?”
“The High Familiar Clow—”
“Right, right. Clam chowder.” I stood up. The seven of them moved in like a well-oiled military unit, surrounding my fuzzy winter boots. “Back off, gatos. I’m the chief in this town, and I’ll haul you in for Invasion of Personal Space.”
“That’s not a thing,” one of the tabbies said.
“Hey, buddy.” I put an indignant hand on my hip. “I make the laws around here.” I was beginning to think Tizzy had seen this coming and that’s why she’d skedaddled. I was going to kill her when I got home.
“You only enforce the laws. You can’t make them.” The voice behind the words was shrill and high-pitched.
I groaned. Tanya Freaking Geller. The town medical examiner and a general pain in my bootie. Oh, and she was dating my dad. Bile rose in my throat when I saw her standing in the doorway on the arm of the aforementioned father.
“Dad.” I nodded to my old man, who really looked anything but old. Again, perks of being a witch. Or a warlock, in his case. He looked young enough to be my brother. Which meant that even though Tanya was my age, they really did make a nice-looking couple.
I looked at Tanya again. “I don’t need any help from you.”
“Balderdash,” my father said.
“Balderdash to you, too,” I told him.
The Burmese said, “I’m Balderdash, you ignorant witch.”
I smirked. “At least my name isn’t dumb.”
My father spoke, intervening before I could step in it again. “What is the HFC doing in Paradise Falls?”
“Yeah.” I gave a quick nod. “What are you all doing here?”
“We’ve come to retrieve and rehabilitate Tisiphone and Lupitia.” The black cat on the right of me rubbed his body against my boot. “You will be assigned a new familiar until further notice.”
CHAPTER 2
“YOU HAVE GOT to be kidding me.” I stared at the big-eared, hairless, pink-skinned cat sitting on the wooden altar and almost crapped myself. My father had moved our party to the Witch-Shifter Coalition building. The seven cats that made up the familiar high mucky-mucks sat in the chairs usually reserved for the members.
The naked monstrosity gave me a bored look.
I pointed at it. “What am I supposed to do with this little mutant?”
“Lonnie is your new familiar,” Balderdash said.
I’d been introduced to the entire clowder now, and they all bore ridiculous names. The two Bombay black cats were Deva and Devi. The gray British Shorthair was Queenie, and the Siamese was named Pluto. The tabbies were John and Jane, which just sounded like aliases to me.
Behind them were four witches—two blondes and two—along with three warlocks, one with brown hair, one with black hair, and one was a sandy blond. They were lined up girl-boy-girl style, and they all stared in my direction, but almost as if they were looking through me, not at me. They affected an air of superiority, status quo for their kind, but what really caught my attention was the pulse of power emanating from them as a group.
My creep-o-meter pinged in the red, but I had bigger problems at the moment than the Stepford witches and warlocks.
“I don’t need a new familiar. I have a perfectly good squirrel. And why are only cat familiars represented here?” I couldn’t believe Tizzy called me a bigot. It seemed like familiars had their own hierarchy based on form.
“Tisiphone is under investigation. Her association with you has been less than an ideal partnership. According to regulation five-oh-one six B, a familiar shall at all times promote a healthy use of sound magic for his or her witch.”
