Gross.
Almost as bad as that shifter who’d gotten in my way. No surprise that my thoughts turned back to Oz. But with good cause. He was the reason I didn’t have my necklace. What had possessed him to chase that pirate in the first place?
And did he have no shame? Standing around afterward, naked as the day he was born, his big, bulky body on display. Then there was that massive erection.
So massive.
For me.
That tingly feeling between my legs happened again. I immediately squelched it. Witches might not have many standards, but in my family, we did at least know better than to consort with Oz’s kind. Grandma tended to be old school in that respect. I still remembered her cackling in glee as her nemesis, Rasputin, had a granddaughter who married some feline. Which wasn’t enough to stem her jealousy when the other granddaughter of her enemy married the Antichrist.
Personally, I was jealous of the fact that this Evangeline character, the one with the pussy husband, got the title Wickedest Witch when all I got from my peers was the Bitchy Witch. Also well deserved, but not as cool.
If I cared about such things. Which I didn’t. What I cared about was getting my damned locket back—without a husband attached to it.
If the pirate no longer had it, then who did? All I knew for sure was that it remained somewhere on the ship. I could feel the faint link between it and me, but I was too tired to deal with it tonight. Especially since wandering the ship meant dealing with drunken ogres, centaurs, and other creatures. Best wait until morning when the night owls and sun-challenged were all passed out.
I cast a spell so I could sleep. The following day, I readied myself to face the world. It took a few stabs in the bag before I located some clothes and made it to breakfast. I’d concocted a dull plan, which consisted of wandering around the ship until the locket tugged at me. With no clear place to start my search, I began in the dining room, which was set up with tables in rounds and a massive buffet.
The room was emptier than expected. People, demons, things sleeping off their hangovers. The lack of a crowd made it easy for Grandma to spot me.
“There’s my sweet granddaughter,” she exclaimed, her voice almost as bright as her ensemble, an orange blouse tucked into a green skirt. But most astonishing of all…
“Grandma, where are your wrinkles?” I demanded. Because the woman in front of me, while definitely the one who’d spent a good portion of my life raising me, looked nothing like the matron who’d arrived on the boat. Now sporting an age of around forty, her face had smoothed, her boobs had lifted, and she’d even shaved her legs! Longer appendages than she’d had when we landed on the ship.
“Please, you didn’t actually think a witch of my powers looks that old, did you?” Grandma snickered. “I only wear an age glamour to keep the mundanes in the neighborhood from noticing.”
“But…but…” I had no words to explain the annoyance with myself that I’d never caught on. In my defense, the house was steeped in magic, and thus, I always assumed the miasma of power around Grandma was natural.
“Close your mouth, dear. We don’t want people to think you’re easy, now do we?” She used a fingertip to shut my jaw.
Speaking of easy… “Where were you last night?” I said, crossing my arms. “You didn’t sleep in your bed.”
“None of your business. But if it makes you feel better, I don’t think I got pregnant.”
I almost choked. Then I did cough as a deep voice behind me said, “Morning, Glinda.”
“You!” I whirled and glared at Oz, who had the temerity to wear a grin—and clothing. Jerk.
“You again? Why, a lady might start thinking you’re stalking her and welcome it?” Grandma tossed her head.
The comment had me eyeing my grandma. “You know this man?”
“Not well enough yet,” she purred.
Gag.
“Any time you want to have a chat…” Oz flirted right back.
“Hands off the pussy,” I snapped to Grandma. “And you keep your dirty paws off my grandmother.”
“Does this mean I should keep my pawing to you?” he riposted.
“Don’t make me find a leash,” I growled.
Whereas Grandma beamed. “Well, good for you, finally claiming yourself a pet.”
Oz choked with laughter, whereas I gritted my teeth. “He’s not my anything.”
“Then that makes him fair game.” Grandma eyed Oz up and down and might have said more if a voice didn’t interrupt. “Good morning, Dottie.” The demi-demon from the day before appeared with a big smile.
“Who’s Dottie?” I asked.
Grandma pursed her lips. “Me.”
I frowned. “Since when?” Grandma was just…Grandma. Unless she was hanging with her friends, who called her Dorothy.
“She’s been Dottie for a long time. She used to hate her real name, seeing as how she got it before that Baum fellow made it famous,” Shax advised with a wink. Then, to my grandma, he said, “So delighted you are joining me for breakfast.”
“You wish,” she scoffed. “I am eating with Jane.”
“Ah, yes, your lovely granddaughter.” Shax sketched me a bow. “So nice to see you again.”
“Not really,” grumbled my grandma, and I finally knew how to get back at her.
“You know what? You really should have breakfast with Shax. Catch up on old times.”
“I have nothing to say to him.” Grandma tilted her chin.
“Just as stubborn as ever.”
“Must be a family trait,” muttered Oz, which earned him a jab and a glare from me.
“It is too early for this. I need a mimosa,” muttered Grandma before she stomped off. With a demi-demon shadow.
“I wonder who he is,” I muttered aloud. I’d never seen Grandma let anyone get under her skin before.
“I thought you knew his name.” Oz had yet to disappear.
“I do. Shax something or other.” I shrugged.
Oz snapped his fingers. “I know that name. Uncle to the captain from what I heard,” said Oz, who remained by my side. Fully clothed. Annoying me. Mostly because I’d prefer he wore nothing at all.
“Don’t you have some mice to chase for breakfast?” I asked.
“I prefer honey drizzled on succulent fruit.” His gaze was on my mouth. His words stroked me with phantom fingers. My libido woke up, starved for more.
“Must you make everything about sex?”
He angled a brow. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Was it me and my horny girly bits turning innocuous words into something dirty? “I need coffee.”
“As my witch commands.” He snared a cup from a passing waiter and held it out, waiting until it was filled to the brim before handing it to me.
“Who says I drink it black?”
He smiled. “You want cream, just say the word.”
I choked down a scalding mouthful. While my tongue tried to recover from the abuse, I veered my attention to the entrance of our illustrious captain. Adexios, son of the infamous Charon, the boatman for the Styx. Which wasn’t as reassuring as you’d think. Even on the mundane side, everyone had heard about Adexios’s mishaps. He’d lost more souls in the crossings than all the other boatmen combined.