I stared at the tub full of water.
“Do you think you’re ready to get in?” Amy asked, breaking an indeterminable period of silence.
“I-I just need another moment,” I replied, shifting my weight from foot to foot. “Hang on.”
“Moss,” Amy whispered gently. “We both know you’ve got to get in that tub.”
“But maybe we could avoid this whole thing if Kaye just used her magic,” I moaned pathetically.
“You already know she can’t. We need every bit of her reserve ready to bring down our exposer. And we can’t have your gorgeous fur matted with mud overnight. The longer it sets in, the harder it will be to get it all out.”
“I know,” I said tightly. “But knowing and making myself get in are two very different things.
Amy sucked air in through her teeth, then without warning, she gave me a quick shove into the tepid water. “Don’t jump out!” she shouted over my sputtering.
I fought the urge with everything I had. Surely, I was clean enough now. Or maybe living a life caked in mud wouldn’t be the worst possible thing. The effort it took to remain in that water was like trying to ignore a thousand bugs as they creeped and crawled all over me.
“Moss,” Amy’s voice broke through my horror. “You…”
“What?” I demanded. I couldn’t handle any more bad news, but I also just needed her to come out with whatever she wanted to say.
“What is it?” I glanced around wildly. The edge of the tub was right there. I could reach up and pull myself out. I could still escape this torture chamber…
Amy brought her hand down to the water’s surface and plucked something between her fingertips. “You had a flea.”
“A what?” I yelled, leaping to the side.
Amy held up a teeny black thing that wriggled within her grip.
“Oh, no,” I moaned. “Gross! Stupid, horrible mutts.”
“Hang on,” she said. “I'll go get some dish soap. That's supposed to be a good home remedy.”
But ‘hanging on’ was easier said than done. Now, when I felt bugs crawling on my skin, I pictured actual bugs inching along my skin.
Ick, ick, ick!
Also, why me?
I'd never been so mortified in all my life—not only that I had fleas, but that Amy knew it.
This little outbreak was totally ruining my game.
Amy returned with a blue bottle of dish soap and squeezed a generous portion onto my back. “Okay, let me wash you really well with this. And I imagine the longer you stay in the deeper water, the more likely you’ll drown those little buggers.”
"So, you're a flea expert now?” I asked, trying to force a smile for her benefit.
Amy rolled her eyes. “No, of course not. But I am the person who’s trying to help you. You could lose a little bit of the attitude, please.”
I nodded sheepishly as she got to work scratching and scrubbing. I fought every urge to flee, while she fought off the actual swarm.
She also agreed not to tell the others about this horrible infestation. Now we shared a secret, bringing us even closer. It’s not a secret I would have chosen, but I was trying to make the best out of a bad situation here.
“What did you need the dish soap for?” Brewer asked when we emerged from the bathroom. “Did you have to wash his mouth out?”
Amy just shrugged. “Some of that dirt was really stuck in there.”
“Ah,” he said, then turned back to the TV show he was watching. And that was the end of it.
Yup, that did it. When I got my skin suit back, I was submitting Amy for sainthood.
Dinner was a much more relaxed affair than it had been the night before. Either someone had spoken to Brewer about his previous behavior, or he’d finally realized on his own that Amy just wasn’t interested. Whatever the case, he now kept his conversation with her professional. About time!
Johnson had cooked up some sort of chicken and rice dish in a skillet, saving a bowl of pure and simple shredded chicken for me.
“I was a little worried that you wouldn't be able to stomach the full dish,” Kaye said. “I'm never really sure how far along you are in the whole cat-versus-person thing.”
“Yeah, well, me neither, toots,” I said between mouthfuls of the plain, unseasoned meat. I’d have much rather had the fried stuff.
We’d barely finished the meal when Kaye’s phone rang.
She looked at all of us in panic before answering. “It’s Mason. I haven't told him what happened this afternoon, and I'm not planning to. So, everybody just keep quiet, please.”
Brewer looked like he wanted to say something, but thankfully, he kept it to himself.
“Hello, Mr. Mason, Agent Godwin here,” Kaye said, holding up crossed fingers.
“Of course it's Agent Godwin,” he barked, his voice booming through the speakers. “I called you. Remember? Now, tell me. Do you have anything of note to report?”
Kaye glared at Johnson and Brewer. “Not at the moment sir,” she said with a nod. “We've determined that our man has a dog, and we believe he's been spending some time at a local dog park. We’ve been canvassing the area, but so far no luck.”
“Well, I have news for you. That man's name is Bill Garrison. He’s in his seventies and registered in the system as a full-on human. We don’t have him listed as a magic user in any of our records, and—believe me—we’ve scoured them all.”
“How can that be?” Johnson asked, despite Kaye’s directive to remain silent. “We’ve got everyone identified and cataloged in there.”
“Well, we do have most,” Mason admitted with a sigh. “More than likely, he’s someone who was born at home and has managed to fly under the radar since. Those types do exist, but they’re incredibly rare.”
Brewer grabbed the phone out of Kaye’s hand. “An undocumented magic user is so dangerous. We have no idea the scope of powers and no way of knowing what we need to do to combat them.”
“Thanks for the book report, Brewer, but this isn’t a school assignment,” Mason barked. “Hand the phone back to Godwin.”
I couldn’t help but smile at the boss man’s reprimand. Seemed I wasn’t the only one who had it out for Brewer. Good.
“Thanks for the intel,” Kaye said smoothly. Even her spirits seemed higher now. “We’ll do whatever it takes to bring him in.”
“Indeed,” Mason said dryly. “I’m counting on precisely that.”