“So where is he now, Lemuel?” she said, getting up.

“I think he is upstairs as you told him to be. I think he is berating himself for not having rid you of your virginity very privately and long ago.”

“Oh,” she said blankly. “Well, that would be something he should tell me. No one else. But I thank you for trying to make me feel better.”

“You are welcome,” Lemuel said. “You are a strong woman, Miss Fiji, and I respect you.”

“Ahhhhh . . . thanks,” the witch said, a little doubtfully, and with no more ado she left for her house. She was neither crying nor laughing, but she was deep in thought. Lemuel thought that might be worse.

27

Back in her own kitchen, blessedly alone, Fiji slumped at her kitchen table, the spell she’d been working on abandoned before her. Her spell bowl was full of odd ingredients, and she’d been rapt in her work until she’d gotten the phone call to go over to the pawnshop . . . and the absurdity of being a virgin in this place and at this moment had come back to bite her in the butt. Maybe literally.

Now that she’d had a little laugh at the absurdity of her situation, she was bleakly aware this was one of the worst days of her life.

After she did a quick riffle through bad-day memories, she revised her evaluation.

This was the worst day.

Not only to have her virginity common knowledge—but to be required to have public sex to stop the end of the world as she knew it.

“All right,” she said out loud. “Let’s pretend I don’t feel this is all about me.”

“Something you want to talk about?” Mr. Snuggly said from somewhere under the table.

“Yes,” she said simply. The cat emerged from his hiding place and jumped up onto the other kitchen chair, then to the table. He looked at her expectantly. “Get on with it,” Mr. Snuggly said. “I can’t read your mind, even if I wanted to.”

Fiji explained.

She had to go over some points a couple of times, because Mr. Snuggly did not understand why it was embarrassing for a human to have sex in front of other humans. He also did not understand why she cared who saw her body. “It’s only a vehicle,” he said, clearly puzzled. “You just ride around in it.”

“Well, true enough,” she said, “but I sure need to take my vehicle in to the shop and get some dings hammered out.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” the cat said. He seemed to be digging around for something nice to say. “You’re soft and warm,” he said. “You smell pretty good. You would look nice carrying cubs.”

“Oh my goddess,” she said, letting her head fall to the table with a dramatic thunk. “What if I get pregnant?”

“You would have to spend a lot of time with a baby,” Mr. Snuggly said, looking much less pleased. “You might forget to feed me.”

“How could I forget?” she said, raising her head to cast a baleful eye at the cat. “You remind me often enough.”

Mr. Snuggly looked off into the distance regally. After a moment, he abandoned the pose and asked, “Will you need me for the ceremony?”

“I’d think, as my familiar, you’d definitely better be there. You boost my power.”

Mr. Snuggly looked as pleased as a cat can look. “I can’t transform into a big man,” the cat said. “So I’m afraid I can’t help with the sex thing.”

Fiji thought she’d thrown up in her mouth a little bit at the idea of Mr. Snuggly becoming a man to have sex with her. “Thanks, anyway,” she said in a strained voice. “I have some candidates.”

“Splendid,” Mr. Snuggly said. “Will they draw straws for the honor?”

Fiji glared at him. “You’re being a jerk, Snug.”

The cat looked bored.

After a second, her anger collapsed under the weight of her worry.

“What would Aunt Mildred have done?” she asked Mr. Snuggly.

He looked somewhat more interested. “Mildred would have used a spell to determine the right sperm donor,” he said, after some thought.

“What about her personal preference?” Fiji looked away as she asked.

“That would have been interesting to know. I think, though, that the spell would have been her choice. Mildred was not a hot-blooded woman. She did not think highly of humans who let their lust get the better of their judgment.”

“Not helpful,” Fiji muttered.

“Oh? Did you want me to tell you to follow your heart? In that case, just call the blond hunk across the road and tell him he’s the one.”

“He’s a nice guy,” Fiji said defensively, knowing that the words were inadequate.

“That’s what you should go for, then. A nice guy.” Mr. Snuggly’s words dripped with sarcasm. He lifted a leg and bent to clean his butt.

“There’s nothing wrong with a nice guy,” Fiji said, in a voice that was almost a snarl.

“Oh, gosh, no. Let’s skip three powerful weretigers, both the mature one and the younger one and the really young one. And the angels. And the psychic. And the half-demon hunk with the long black hair. And the vampire. Let’s go for the plain-vanilla human with the tragic life.” He turned away pointedly.

“If you weren’t a small animal I’d take you down,” Fiji said. She was so angry it took her a moment to realize how ridiculous that was. Her mouth twitched.

“You could try,” Mr. Snuggly said coldly, and turned around to give her a glare. “Oh, you think that’s humorous!”

Fiji couldn’t manage to laugh, but she smiled. “You’ll definitely have to be there,” she said. “All hands on deck. It’ll be dangerous.”

Mr. Snuggly said, “The upside of this whole situation is that Rasta has been gone. I suppose they’ll bring him back afterward.”

“Sure. If there is an ‘after.’ Joe and Chuy miss Rasta.”

The cat made a sound just like hacking up a hairball. Fiji realized he was laughing. “Manfred should have let him get run over that day,” Mr. Snuggly said. “Brainless ball of fur.”

There were many things Fiji could have said in return, but she kept her mouth shut. She decided that the next day would be dedicated to looking up a spell to help her choose her deflowerer. “And that sucks,” she said, as she brushed her teeth.