Chapter Eleven

The rest of the workday passes in a strange sort of quiet. Abigail returns to her work as if nothing happened, except she keeps looking at you when she thinks you’re not paying attention.

Joke’s on her, you’re always paying attention.

Still, as you sweep the last of the shop and push the dust under a shelf, you’re left with enough quiet time to think things through. Abigail is really nice. She gives good hugs, is fun to cuddle, and is kind enough to share her food with you. That’s more than you can say about literally any creature you met in any other realm. You don’t know if it’s because she’s a frail mortal, or if it’s a quirk that’s unique to her.

In the end it doesn’t matter, she must be protected.

Abigail’s going to get old, and frailer, and then she’s going to die.

The wooden handle of your broom cracks as your fists tighten around it. No more hugs. No more cuddles.

Unacceptable.

No, from here on out, you decide that since you’re Abigail’s familiar you’re going to be the best familiar ever. You’re going to teach her how to be like a god compared to all the other mortals, and if she wants to go to some magic school then you’re going to make sure she learns all of the magic and is the biggest boss of that school even if it means having to eat the headmaster.

You’re brought out of your reverie about delicious school staff when Abigail trudges to the front of the shop and flips the little Open/Closed board over the front door.“ That’s it for today,” she says aloud.

“That was kind of fun,” you say as you move to the back and lean the broom against the counter. The floor is super clean thanks to your efforts. And so are some of the shelves because those efforts made you peckish.

“Yeah, I’m... glad you helped,” Abigail says. Her smile feels a little strained.

Your eyes narrow as you cross the room and come to stand on your tentacles so that you’re at her head’s height. Abigail tries to back away, but your tentacuddlers grab her and keep her in place. “You’re hurt!” you accuse after a bit of inspecting.

“I’m fine,” Abigail lies like a big fat liar.

You harrumph quite strongly and shake your head at how silly your summoner is being. Obviously she somehow got hurt while you weren’t paying attention. It’s definitely not because you killed her and brought her back from the dead, because that would just be silly. “Stay still,” you order her, not that she can really uncuddle herself from your grasp.

“Dreamer,” she complains.

You ignore her protests and inspect her properly. Some of her fleshy bits seem damaged, mostly around her head. Maybe you patted too much into her brain and it’s trying to fix itself? You’re not quite sure. The problem is that you’re not a fleshcrafter. This isn’t your area of expertise. “You’re a little hurt,” you tell her. “You need a person that can fix mortals to make you better. Or... I could improve you.”

“I think I’ll be fine,” she protests even more. “I’ll get better, and if I don’t I’ll ask a physician. I know a few from working here, they can help.”

You haven’t decided what to do when the doorbell jingles as it opens.

Releasing Abigail, you plop onto your feet and lean to the side to see past Abigail and to the front. There’s a woman there, tall, with severe features and long braided hair. She eyes the shop with a quick glance, then focuses first on Abigail, then on you. “Hello Abigail. I didn’t think we still had a customer left in the shop?”

“Ah, hello Madam Morrigan,” Abigail says with a quick bow from the hip.

This lady must be important if your summoner is bowing to her. Plus her name is on the front of the shop.

“How was the day?” the lady says as she moves deeper into the shop. You can sense her scanning everything with a gimlet eye. “Productive, I see, judging by the lowered stock. I’ll have to send a request to restock the inventory sooner than I had expected.”

“It wasn’t too busy, actually,” Abigail says as she walks over to the lady and follows her. “Oh, by the way, this is Dreamer, she’s my familiar.”

“Hello!” you say.

The madam stops and eyes you up and down. “Her dress is ill-fitting. You’ll need to find something more appropriate for it to wear. A mimic of some sort?”

“Something like that,” Abigail says with a nervous chuckle. “She helped around the shop today.”

“You sell delicious stuff,” you tell the lady.

Abigail starts going very red in the face at that. You’re not sure why, it’s not like you lied or anything.

The lady looks around again, then faces Abigail properly. “It will be docked from your pay,” she says. “Get me a full inventory by the end of the week. I’ll see about charging only the supplier rates. Do train your new familiar better.”

“Yes ma’am,” Abigail says while staring at the floor.

“Well, the shop’s closed. I’m certain you have better things to do. Go, shoo. Have some fun, you’re too young to spend the entire day in this dusty store.”

“T-thank you, ma’am,” Abigail says before turning, grabbing your hand, and moving towards the front.

How very curious.