“Okay, hold still,” I said to Fat Bastard as I prepared to spray his ass with Windex.

I wasn’t sure I believed Sassy, but since I was working at a disadvantage I figured it couldn’t hurt… much.

“Jeeze,” Fat Bastard yelled as he winced, jumped three feet in the air, and then fell off the examining table with a thud. “What are youse trying to do here? Remove my ass?”

“Youse gots a huge ass,” Jango commented, enjoying the show immensely. “Youse could use a reduction.”

“Say dat again,” Fat Bastard hissed.

“I said, youse gots a…”

And that was all Jango got out before Fat Bastard launched his corpulent carcass at his partner in crime. The hissing and swearing was outrageous. If it wasn’t so destructive to my pretty office space, I would have laughed at my pudgy felines having a smackdown.

“Enough,” I shouted coming this close to using my forbidden magic.

The fat fuckers ignored me. Not happening. They didn’t want to listen? Fine.

Not. A. Problem.

Brandishing my Windex, I found an opening and went in. I pumped that trigger like I was a freakin’ gunslinger in the old west.

And it worked. It really was human magic juice.

“Motherhumper in a fuckin’ jockstrap with jock itch,” Fat Bastard shrieked. “Youse made me blind.”

“I’m squeakin’” Jango shouted. “What the ever lovin’ jackhole is dat shit?”

“Windex,” I replied with my finger still on the trigger. “And I’ll use it again if you two asshats keep fighting.”

“Weeze are done,” Jango confirmed as he dragged his squeaky body to the exit. “Dat shit is evil.”

“Smells like Boba’s ass in August,” Fat Bastard commented as he went to town on his nuts to remove the offending scent.

“I present dat,” Boba Fett grunted as he sharpened his claws in preparation for a brawl. “Youse gots an ass that smells like a garbage truck full of dead bodies.”

“Don’t you mean resent?” I asked, slightly confused.

“S’what I said,” Boba shot back.

“Say dat again, youse atomic turd fungus,” Fat Bastard snarled.

“Wit pleasure, youse moist knob buccaneer.”

“Nope,” I shouted, aiming the blue bottle at them. “Do not ever say moist again. I will make you drink this shit if you do. I hate that word—I mean the rest of it was gross too, but the M word is not okay.” I was not going to break up another cat smackdown with magic human juice. Besides the cats were correct. It did smell funky. “All of you jackwads are leaving. Bermangoggleshitz is arriving soon. I don’t want you to beat the hell out of each other unnecessarily. You feel me?”

“Youse got it Sugar Socks,” Fat Bastard grumbled, flipping his kitty middle figure at his two buddies. “Weeze will get cleaned up and be back.”

“What about his butt?” Sassy asked, pointed at the Bastard’s still injured ass.

My brain raced to find a solution. This was not the way things were supposed to be. As much as I didn’t want to deal with Bermangoggleshitz, I knew I needed him. I had a job to do and I couldn’t do it. Crap.

“I don’t know,” I admitted in a small voice.

“I have an idea,” Sassy announced.

The cats froze in fear and I inched my way toward the exit just incase her idea included an explosion.

“Will we survive it?” I asked, keeping my voice as neutral as possible.

“Yessssssss,” she said with a giggle. “Your dad is a healer warlock. All you gorgeous redheaded witches are healers. So, I say until you’re able to do magic that doesn’t include bestowing multiple dongs, your dad can heal the Shifters.”

Sassy was brilliant—simply brilliant. Even my cats were impressed.

All redheaded witches were healers and we were rare. The witches were stronger than the warlocks in the healing department, but my dad could definitely take care of our people until I got a grip on my dark magic.

Sassy was the walking definition of idiotic brilliance and I adored her for it.

“You can pick three things from my closet,” I told my BFF.

“And I can keep them?” she squealed.

“Yes,” I said, not even caring if she took the Birkin bag.

I was maturing… kind of… plus I had every intention of hiding my newest Birkin.