A Frightening Fangs-giving

who is this Elliot she’s looking for—whom she admitted was about to prove my point? Even though that wasn’t the point I was getting at. I was making a dig at the fact she liked to suck the blood straight from the necks of her enemies. I’ve long suspected she sleeps upside down in a closet.
A trio of meows comes from my papoose and all three kittens poke their heads out at once.
Is this the killer? Pumpkin, the one with a pink dot on her nose, twitches her whiskers.
Spice, the one in the middle with extra-long fur on her ears, recoils at the sight of Mackenzie. Oh, she’s a witch! I’d recognize one anywhere. She jerks her head my way. Sherlock Bones has been telling us all about her.
A soft laugh strums from me, and Mack makes a sour face at the trio of cuteness on hand. Figures. Not only is she looking to cheat on my poor brother with some man named Elliot, but she can’t stand to be around anything as adorable as these kittens. It probably diminishes her witchy powers if she stagnates too long in their presence.
“What are you mewling at?” she snaps at the three of them.
“Rumor has it, they were wondering if you were a witch.”
A dark smile curves on her lips. It doesn’t shock me that Mackenzie sees this as a compliment.
Her attention is abruptly hijacked as she stares hard to my left.
There he is. It’s go time. I’ve only got twenty minutes before Huxley shows up. Elliot and I will need to get right down to business.
She starts to take off, and I step in front of her.
“Where are you off to so quickly?” And more importantly, who is this Elliot character?
She takes a moment to glower at me. “Unlike you, I’m off to make sure the townspeople are having a good time.” And boy, am I ever about to have a good time.
She zips into the crowd, and I’ve lost her in the tangle of bodies that has congregated out on the sand.
“How do you like that?” I whisper as I give Cookie a quick scratch on the head. “I think Mackenzie Woods might just be two-timing my brother. I always knew they’d be a flash in the pan, but I had no idea this is how it would go down. Poor Hux.”
Little Cookie mewls, Do you think she’ll kill him?
“No, no.” I give her a kiss on her furry little forehead. “Not every human has a tendency to commit murder.”
“I’m going to kill you,” a female voice declares from behind, and I turn to find Macy chasing Georgie in my direction. Macy looks cozy in a winter white cable knit sweater over jeans. Admiring my sister’s wardrobe has long since been a pastime of mine, but her autumn wardrobe in particular has made me crave a shopping spree or two. And, of course, Georgie is wearing a bright orange kaftan with a matching wonky quilt cinched around her neck.
“And I stand corrected,” I mutter to the tiny tots nestled against my chest. “What’s happening?” I ask just as Georgie grabs ahold of me and uses my body as a shield.
Macy charges forward as Georgie moans directly into my ear.
“Quick, Bizzy, give me a kitten,” Georgie says while scooping Pumpkin right out of my papoose while all three kittens yowl for help. “You wouldn’t attack a woman holding a kitten, would you, Macy?”
My sister sheds a growl. “Only if I could attack the kitten first.”
And on that note, Pumpkin does her best to scramble out of Georgie’s hands.
I give up! Pumpkin screeches. Oh, put me back in the alley where I’ll have to hunt live rats for my meals. Humans are far too brutal for me to handle.
I make a face. Fish may have told them the horror stories of what might have happened if Sherlock didn’t discover them, and oddly, they rather liked the idea of hunting for rats. I can’t blame them. They’re hardwired to give chase to a rat now and again.
Macy lunges our way and I hold a hand out, separating Macy from the wonky quilt that looks as if it can land a 747.
“What’s going on, Macy?” I ask, even though I’m not sure I want to know.
Cookie stands up straight as she lands her front paws over the edge of the papoose.
Macy? Cookie chirps. Oh, Pumpkin, you’re in so much trouble. Fish told us just last night that Macy makes a meal out of men. If she eats men, you can bet she’ll eat a kitten as an appetizer.
Pumpkin belts out a roar worthy of a lion, and I snatch her back from Georgie and tuck her into the carrier once again.
“Now”—I look to the warring women before me—“do I need to call the sheriff’s department to mediate, or should I cut out the middle man and call the men with the big nets?”
“Funny.” Macy gives Georgie a sour look. “I just had three men—two of which were missing teeth, one of which had two black eyes—come up to me and ask if my screen name at the Dating Not Waiting website was Macy-gives-chasey. And do you know what I discovered?”
I lean in. “That you’d rather wait and never date again?”
She inches back, looking affronted at the thought. “You really don’t know me, do you, Bizzy?”
I motion for her to get on with it. “What did you learn?”
“That this one”—she jabs a finger at Georgie and nearly pokes her eye out from over my shoulder—“created a profile at some app for seniors, and apparently men who swear I was very, very interested in them are coming out of the woodwork. And it’s all your fault, Georgie!”
Georgie tosses her hands in the air. “How was I supposed to know they all liked country music?”
“Because that was on your list of favorite music!” Macy riots over at her.
“Ignore the men, Macy,” I tell her. “You have men hitting on you on a daily basis. Georgie, please don’t