Gone With the Witch by Heather Blake

through the room, coming from the vicinity of the back door.
    I knew that noise. It was Archie’s version of a doorbell.
    Before anyone could stand up, his muffled voice came through the door. “Darcy? Are you in there? Shake a leg! It’s not safe out here for a bird like me!”

Chapter Seven
    â€œI ’ll get him,” Mimi said, jumping up.
    â€œNot safe?” I looked at Harper. “What do you think he means by that?”
    â€œI don’t know, but he’s definitely safer out there than in here with Higgins and Tilda,” Harper said, making a good point.
    Both animals tended to view Archie as a snack.
    A moment later, Mimi was back. Archie flew behind her, dropping feathers as he floated along.
    â€œI’m molting. Molting!” he exclaimed as he landed on the edge of the coffee table and began pacing.
    Higgins surged to his feet. In his eyes, Archie was similar to one big chicken nugget.
    â€œNot the drool,” Archie cried in his most ardent voice as he stared at the enormous dog. “Anything but the drool. Shoo! Shoo!” He flapped his wings at Higgins.
    Drool puddled on the table.
    Harper snatched the chips out of the line of fire, snapped her fingers, and gave Higgins a stern “
Pzzzt
. Down.”
    Obediently, he sat, his thick eyebrows twitching as he glanced between Harper and his potential dinner.
    â€œDown,” she said, dragging the word out. “All the way.”
    He plopped to the floor, sulking.
    She was magic where he was concerned, a true dog whisperer.
    As Tilda watched Archie from the mantel, he went back to pacing the table, his beady eyes frenzied, his colorful wings quivering. “Can this day get any worse? I ask you. Can it? No, no, it cannot,” he said in his deep voice, answering his own question.
    â€œWhat happened?” I asked. “Why do you feel unsafe?”
    Archie was well-known for his theatrics, but I’d never seen him this agitated before. He was frantic.
    â€œWhat happened, you ask?” He pivoted when he reached the far end of the table. “What happened, you ask? I’ll—”
    Harper jabbed a finger in his direction. “If you don’t stop repeating yourself like that, I’m going to feed you to the dog.”
    He puffed out his colorful chest. His words oozing with pomposity, he said, “You would not dare.”
    She leaned in, her nose to his beak. “Bet me.”
    To prevent a fight, I said to Archie, “What’s with the molting?”
    He cleared his throat. “‘Listen, this is embarrassing for me,’” he said in a stage whisper
.
“‘This is hard to talk about.’”
    Harper and Mimi groaned in unison. Neither enjoyed Archie’s and my long-standing game of trying to stump each other with movie quotes. We, however, found it endlessly entertaining.
    â€œThe 40-Year-Old Virgin,”
I said, ignoring the peanut gallery. “Now spill.”
    â€œFirst,” he said, pacing again, “I had to endure the exceeding humiliation of the Extravaganza. It wasn’t enough for people passing by to touch me at every turn, to try to
pluck my feathers
,” he stated emphatically while spreading his wings, which had bald spots, “but for some reason my normally effusive audience dwindled to a dribble this year. A dribble, I te—”
    Harper coughed a warning.
    Archie stomped a claw. “I’ll tell you the reason! It’s Lady Catherine’s fault. An unoriginal canine pout usurping my soliloquies and a cappella melodies? It’s an affront of the highest order. I’m outraged! Incensed! Aggrieved!”
    Titania seemed entranced by Archie. She kept a steady watch on him, her gaze following his every move. Her interest didn’t seem to be in a snack food kind of way, but simply out of curiosity. I rubbed her chin and wondered what she thought of being here with us, instead of home with Natasha where she