Recipe for Disaster

by Theda Vallee

  Recipe For Disaster

  A Violetta Massoni Adventure Vol. 2

  Theda Vallee

  Recipe for Disaster

  A Violetta Massoni Adventure: Book 2

  Theda Vallee

  © 2019

  Killer Ladybug

  * * *

  Cover Design by Covers by Combs

  For Ms. Maxine Factor.

  Thank you for being a friend, traveled down a road and back again.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Zeppole

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Theda Vallee

  Chapter One

  Goosebumps spread across my skin as magic flooded my body. A manticore circled above me, its giant wings causing a downdraft with each beat. Stella, the magical symbiont living in me, had been snuggled away in my gut, allowing me to run this mission on my own—until the manticore had shown up. As soon as I’d eyeballed the mega beast, she’d flared into panic mode, and so had I. Holding my breath, I hoped the creature had crappy eyesight. I was nestled in a bush, but I had no idea how concealed I was.

  Stella clawed at my insides, demanding free rein. We’d come a long way in the four months since I’d begun working for the Osservatori, but she had a mind of her own more often than I’d like. To be fair, I’d kept her suppressed most of my life, afraid of using the magic I’d been born with. That had left her less than willing to trust me. A few months of letting her come out and play hadn’t made up for a lifetime of neglect.

  The manticore hadn’t been part of the plan. Our team was here to capture surveillance on a gang of pixies suspected of harvesting and selling their own dust. Pixie dust was illegal for anyone to possess once it left a pixie’s wing. I’d experienced the effects of it first-hand a few months ago, and I’m not going to lie, it was good shit. It’d raced through me like an electrical storm, making me feel like I could defeat the world. While it wasn’t harmful to the supernatural population, it was deadly to anyone else. The last thing we needed was a rash of human deaths that couldn’t be explained. The Osservatori existed to ensure magic was kept a secret from the human population. While I didn’t fully agree with their mission statement, I had no choice in the matter. I’d been forced to join after my magic escaped, almost leveling a city block in the process. My other option had been death, and I really liked living.

  The manticore passed above me again, this time flying low enough to rustle the branches cocooning me. Luc’s sexy accent crackled in my ear. “Etta, don’t move. You’re still hidden. Just sit tight.”

  I rolled my eyes, hoping he could see me from his vantage point. What did he think I’d do, try to outrun a freaking manticore? I pushed into the ground, willing myself to become as flat as possible. Every plate of pasta I’d ever eaten was coming back to haunt me right now.

  “Are you humping the ground? Girl, it’s only been a few days since Mr. Bossman gave it to you,” Brady said, cackling in my ear.

  “I do not feel sexual desire coming from Etta. Only frustration. Is it sexual frustration, Etta?” Vee asked, misunderstanding Brady’s humor as always.

  “Should we do something? Is she in danger?” Easton asked. He was a tracker fae that had been added to our team a few months ago, and he was not the brightest star in the sky.

  These were the people I was supposed to trust with my life. I wanted to punch them. They weren’t helping me stay calm. Instead, they were making my anxiety skyrocket, which, in turn, was aggravating Stella. The last thing she needed, was another reason to feel stressed about our situation.

  I bit my tongue, forcing myself to take deep, calming breaths. Instead of thinking about the manticore circling above me, I thought about the pixies toiling to harvest their own dust. It was hard to imagine the adorable little creatures I saw fluttering in the flowers were criminal masterminds. They were so freaking cute.

  However, the video evidence we’d captured over the last few weeks, showed they were the ones behind the influx of pixie dust on the streets. They’d built a machine that brushed their wings, breaking up the dust. Once it was loosened, they fluttered their dainty moth-like wings, sprinkling it down into a sieve that filtered to a tray below. From there, the contents were packed into vials and handed off for sale.

  Our intelligence, if it could be called that, had reported that not all of the pixies were willing participants. Wings were a pixie’s crowning glory. A rip or tear spelled disaster for them. It could take weeks for their bodies to make enough dust to protect the fragile membranes again. A scarred wing was seen as a deformity that often led to exile.

  Wiggling my legs, I tried once again to burrow as deep into the shrubbery as possible. A prick on my lower leg almost caused me to yelp. One of the joys of nature was all the pointy things that could lodge into soft flesh, one of the many reasons I hated camping. I’d tried to clear away most of the rocks and sticks before settling in, but clearly, I’d missed some.

  I moved my hand, feeling under my leg for the offending object. Another prick stung my thigh as the movement shifted my weight. What the hell? Was I laying on a whole branch?

  Carefully, I lifted my leg, craning my neck to see what was under me. A pale naked creature with bright-red wings clung to my shorts, a sword clenched in its free hand.

  Shit, the pixies had found me. How the hell did they know I was in here? I felt another prick of pain, this time on my hip. I rolled onto my back as slowly as possible, trying to keep my cover intact. The last thing I needed was to fight off a horde of pixie assassins and a damn manticore.

  I made it onto my back as ten of the wee monsters began clambering up my body, taking nibbles out of my flesh as they navigated my fat rolls. I swatted at the ones closest to me, hoping to scare them off.

  “Etta, what’s going on? Why are you moving so much?” Luc’s question crackled in my earpiece.

  “Tell your friends to surrender, or we’ll chew your flesh right off the bone,” a pixie said, standing on my chest, her hands defiantly fisted at her waist. “Did you think we wouldn’t notice a bunch of bigs like you making a ruckus in the woods? Your kind always underestimates us.”

  Before I could press down the mic button to inform the team we’d been caught, the pixie on my chest bent down, taking a nip at the soft flesh of my upper breast. I was really regretting my decision to wear a tank top on this mission. The pixie looked up at me, blood streaming down her perfect little chin before diving back in for another bite. My reflexes kicked in, forcing my hand to smack down on her of its own volition. Her limp body crumpled onto my chest, the iridescent teal wings bent and broken.

  “Jada! No!” A cry of anguish rose up from the pixies who’d been munching their way up my torso.

  Their wings buzzed like angry hummingbirds, and within seconds, they surrounded my head, striking out at my face with their tiny swords. My hands took the brunt of their attack as I tried to protect my face. Stella throbbed inside me, demanding to be unleashed. I tried to clamp down on her, but the pain was becoming unbearable, mak
ing it harder to control her.

  As a last-ditch effort, I tried to reason with my tiny attackers. “Please, stop. I didn’t mean to hurt Jada. I don’t want to hurt any of you. If I can, I’d like to help you.”

  “What makes you think we’d trust the person who just murdered our lieutenant?” one of the pixies buzzed.

  My carefully planned reply died on my lips as the mother of all pains radiated through me. “You bit my fucking vagina!”

  The control I’d been holding onto vanished. Stella released a burst of fire from my hands, lashing out in my defense. The pixies closest to me went up in flames, their bodies turning to ash on contact. Those who hadn’t been hit, darted off of me in a frenzied panic. I lashed out, smacking at them as they retreated, knocking as many as I could to the ground. It pained me to do it, but I had to keep them from leaving to alert the others. If a handful of them could chew me up this bad, I didn’t want to see what a whole army could do.

  “Etta, is your bush on fire?” Vee asked.

  Brady laughed triumphantly. “I told you she was horny.”

  “Shit! The fucking bush is on fire!” I screamed as the smell of smoke filled my nostrils.

  I jumped out of the bush faster than I’d ever thought possible, patting my clothes down to ensure I wasn’t going to combust. I scanned the horizon, searching for the manticore. I only had a matter of moments to decide where to go. I didn’t want to blow everyone’s cover but standing in the open made me a giant tasty target.

  Damnit, Stella! I know we were under attack, but did you have to set the bush on fire? We couldn’t have tried something else?

  Stella flitted around in reply, making it clear that she didn’t like my lack of appreciation over her valiant efforts.

  None of my options were great. Luc was closest to me, but I knew he was sitting there judging my every move. I’d rather run towards Brady, even if it was further. He’d just make a lot of puns about my burning bush, which was kind of funny. Luc on the other hand would berate me, blaming me for ruining the whole operation. He never could see my side of things without a knock-down-drag-out fight. We’d been dating for months, and I still had no idea what the hell I saw in him.

  “Vee, call in our backup. The pixies know we’re here. We need to go in now,” Luc’s voice commanded. “All you had to do was stay in that damn bush, Etta! Head over here, and we’ll move into the camp together.”

  I grunted in reply as I tried to force my pixie-chewed body to break into a sprint. My feet moved in rhythm with my racing heart as I worked my way across the field. Despite my best effort, I was still running at a snail’s pace. How many times in the last few months had I promised myself I’d get in shape? You’d think after running for your life more than twice you’d do something about it. I blamed Nonna. If I weren’t eating a carb-fueled buffet seven nights a week, I would’ve totally lost a few pounds by now.

  A gust of wind tousled my hair, cooling the sweat running down my neck. It would’ve been a welcome relief if it weren’t accompanied by an ear-shattering screech. The manticore had made its rounds and circled back just in time to find a snack, aka me.

  Duck!” a trio of voices screamed in my ear.

  I dropped to the ground, feeling a thick claw slice across the thin cotton of my tank top. If I’d delayed even half a second, that claw would’ve pierced my skin. It wasn’t the best time to celebrate that my reflexes were finally becoming honed, but I was totally putting a placeholder on it for later.

  “Roll, Etta. The stinger!” Vee shouted.

  I flipped as fast as I could, watching in slow motion as the stinger planted into the ground inches from where my thigh had just been. The beast’s very human eyes held my gaze as it hovered over me, its tongue lashing out in anticipation. He wasn’t used to losing, and as far as the manticore was concerned, my maneuvering was only a minor setback in his lunch plans.

  The bulbous stinger lifted from the ground, a drop of venom falling from the tip, landing with a sizzle. The grass instantly shriveled and turned brown, dying on contact. Instead of staying in the air, he landed a few feet from me. The tawny fur along his lion’s body, rippled in anticipation as his mouth curled into a sneer. He tucked his leathery wings against his body, squaring his shoulders to let me see the sheer power in every fiber of his frame.

  Closing my eyes, I searched for the feisty kernel of magic that had started all this drama. Stella languidly pulsed in my core, refusing to budge. Over the last few months, I’d learned to control her, but I hated doing it. I didn’t want to dominate her, but she’d picked a bad time to pout. If we were eaten by the manticore, neither of us would be around to figure out how to work together as equals. I forced my will into her, pushing until I felt the magic begin to fill my body. Power bubbled up like a fountain, spilling over into every cell.

  The manticore’s muscles twitched, the only hint that he was done playing with his food. Moving with a fluid grace, he pounced. His body arched through the air, talons gleaming in the sunlight. Without hesitation, I let the power pour out of me, directing it to do my bidding just as I’d been taught.

  Wind raced across the tall grass, whipping my hair against my face. I willed the air to bind together and create a funnel cloud. A swirling dervish swept in front of me, inhaling everything in its path. The manticore’s eyes bulged in surprise as the whirlwind sucked him into its center. The force tossed the creature around like a tennis ball at Wimbledon, twisting its body into unnatural angles. I continued to pour magic into the vortex until I felt myself reaching the point of fatigue.

  I released the magic slowly, willing the funnel to return to earth. The winds dispersed, dropping the crumpled beast to the ground with a resounding thud. Guilt settled over me as I walked over to the broken body of what had been a beautiful creature. I sunk to my knees next to him, stroking the silky fur of his mane. Logically, I knew it’d been him or me, but that didn’t make it easier. If I’d been home baking like the old days, this would’ve never happened.

  “Shit. Welcome to Oz, bitch,” Brady said, landing next to me. “Bravo, Dorothy.”

  “You can fly?” I asked. How did I not know this already?

  He turned to me with a grin. “It’s more of a glide, really. You’re a mess.”

  I struggled to get up, my knees sliding in the soft earth. Brady towered over me, his enormous presence casting a shadow as he stood with his hands on his hips laughing at me.

  “Can you please help me get up?” I asked through clenched teeth.

  “Was that so hard?” Brady asked, his emerald eyes sparkling with laughter. He bent over, lifting me up from the ground with ease.

  “I guess it’s true, gingers really have no soul,” I said, wiping the dirt off of my knees. “Where’s everyone else?”

  “They went to help Leontyne’s team sweep the camp. Your Moses act blew our surveillance, so we have to go kick some tiny asses,” he said. “We should get down there before we miss all the fun.”

  I nodded in agreement even though I didn’t want to go head to head with any more pixies. Blood oozed from the myriad of bites on my body, and they burned like a mother. Once they scabbed over, I was going to look like I had the plague. Limping after Brady, I followed him towards the pixie camp, cursing with every step.

  The camp was in total chaos. Agents ran in every direction, trying to capture the agile pixies. Vee stood out like a beacon, towering over everyone. Her blue hair had come undone, flowing behind her as she grasped at the pixies flitting past her. Her razor-sharp teeth were bared in frustration as she snatched at the air a second too late again and again.

  “This looks like a party we don’t want to miss. Come on, kitten, let’s see if we can manage to catch one,” Brady said, his eyebrows wiggling with glee.

  I stomped after him, determined not to hurt another living thing today. No one would notice what I did or didn’t do in this chaos. The Osservatori could make me work for them, but they couldn’t actually make me do work. Okay, technic
ally they could, but I could just walk around and look busy.

  I slid on something pliant as I made my way into the fray. Freezing mid-step, I lifted my foot with trepidation. Plastered to the bottom of my shoe was the remains of a pixie. My chest heaved with an unwelcome sob as I realized I was a serial killer. She could’ve been dead already, but odds were I’d smashed her with my big oafie foot. Why did they have to be so fragile? Tears welled up as I peeled the miniature body off my shoe. I’d been through worse since becoming an Osservatori, including killing a shifter in self-defense, but it wasn’t something I’d ever get used to.

  “Got one!” Brady shouted out to me, holding a protesting pixie in his fist. A look of confusion crossed his face as he eyed the cuffs in his other hand. With a shrug he clicked one of the cuffs around its body snapping the metal as tight as possible, damaging its wings in the process.

  “Don’t we have something better we can use?” I asked storming over as he dropped the pixie to the ground, allowing the cuffs to serve as an anchor. Brady shrugged, turning to chase after a set of wings that zoomed past.

  I crouched next to the pixie pinned to the ground. He was struggling to breathe under the weight of the iron cuffs. Some of them may be criminals, but they deserved to be treated with dignity. “I’m gonna help you get comfortable as long as you promise not to bite me.”

  “What do you care? I can smell dead pixie all over you, bitch,” he snarled at me from under the metal.