Repent, Jessie Shimmer!
My familiar Palimpsest kept insisting we go back to Madame Devereaux’s house in the heart of bayou country to properly thank her for curing him of lycanthropy. And I kept telling him it wouldn’t work; he was stuck in the form of a bear and would be awfully hard to explain to the townsfolk if we stopped to get a cake and flowers down at the Piggly Wiggly. Not to mention the difficulty of finding a rental car with a seat that could hold 800 pounds of grizzly.
Fate smiled on his determination a couple of weeks later. Well. Smiled is the wrong word. It was more a fately smirk. A newly-hired guard—one who apparently dozed off during his orientation on the strange creatures living in my father’s castle—stumbled onto Pal after my familiar’s morning swim in the moat. The
