Immerse yourself in the captivating and darkly humorous world inside the compelling novel Unnatural Circumstances. Embark on the journey of three unconventional individuals who willingly set out on an adventure only to become entangled in a disturbi...
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As Casper finishes washing the dishes and utensils, he collects his backpack before following Cricket outside the boarding house.
On the one hand, the eighteen-year-old was sad to leave the Black Cat Manor. Though he had spent the night there, Casper enjoyed eating Southern cuisines and talking to Nadia and her aunt. It almost made him wish he had that nurturing environment in foster care.
"Yo, Cass," Cricket yawns. "Are you okay?"
"No," Casper grumbles.
Cricket rests her right cheek against her hand, then lifts her lips into a teasing smile. "Aw, are you still thinking about calling your girlfriend?"
"Christ," groaned Casper. "Why do you fucking keep calling Nadia my girlfriend? It's not like we're not official."
Ichabod, who trots beside Cricket's feet, glances away from the concrete floor and gawks at Casper.
"Because, Kriss Kross," said the cat. "Nadia spent the entire night batting her eyelashes at you."
"Plus," Cricket quips. "She gave you her number and a dazzling smile and-"
"Oh, haha," said Casper. "Can't we steal a car and drive to Salty Joe's? Flying makes me puke."
A bitter Cricket folds her arms.
"We can't steal a car, dumbass," she sighs. "Especially not the ones in the parking lot."
Casper sticks out his bottom lip. "But we used to steal cars all the time."
Ichabod, who is finished licking his paw, glances up at Casper and tells him to give it a rest.
"Listen, kid," the cat groans. "The sooner you spread those wings, the quicker we investigate this shit and go home."
Casper furrows his eyebrows at Ichabod, then looks back at Cricket, who is busy eyeing the empty car parked on the sidewalk.
"Okay, quick question: why is Ichabod coming with us?" he groans. "He's a fucking piece of shit."
"Yeah, but Soleil left us in charge of Ichabod until she and Ben return from the meeting," said Cricket.
"Are you shitting me?" moaned Casper. "But I hate cats!"
"Who cares?" Cricket grunts. "Sol's counting on us to watch him, and we'll do it."
Ichabod smugly flicks his tail at Casper's leg. His yellowish-green eyes examine the eighteen-year-old boy's until the shapeshifter reluctantly lifts his hands to his obnoxious face.
"Fine," he grumbles reluctantly. "I'll do this one time."
"Alright-" said Cricket, lowering her wrinkled map.
"But, after I do this shit," Casper snaps. "You owe me a large bowl of cookie dough ice cream with whipped cream and rainbow sprinkles."
Cricket's eyes widen. "You want an ice cream sundae?"
