Minions and Magic: Accidental Witches Book 5

by Dunbar, Debra

  “I’m so terribly sorry.” The words sounded less than adequate. “I’ll figure out what happened and ensure this sort of thing never occurs again. Of course, I don’t expect payment at all for the catering, and I’ll be refunding your deposit. I’ll get in touch with you in a few days and we can talk about what I can do to make this up to you.”

  Piffle clapped a hand over her mouth, nodding before she dashed off again. Knowing there was nothing I could do, I packed up, taking the sour cherry pies with me. I was pretty sure none of the gnomes would risk eating them after what had happened, and I couldn’t stand for them to go to waste.

  As I wheeled my cart toward the door, I saw Anwan standing in the parking lot, staring into the distance as if his glare alone could hold back any human that might dared to even venture down this road.

  “You save any of those slugs for me?” he asked.

  Tears blurred my vision. “Oh, Antwan, you don’t want to eat those. Something’s wrong with them. All the gnomes are sick. They’re getting sick all over your putt-putt course.”

  Antwan didn’t seem particularly bothered about the clean-up facing him after the gnomes left. Instead, he pursed his lips and with another narrow-eyed glance toward the road, took the foil-wrapped plate from my cart.

  “This them?”

  I nodded, too choked up to say anything.

  He peeled the foil back and gave them a sniff, picking one up with two fingers.

  “Don’t do it, Antwan,” I told him.

  He shrugged. “I’m a shark. I can eat just about anything and be okay. Might not like it but won’t make me sick. Not much makes me sick.”

  Before I could say another word, he popped the pastry-wrapped slug into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. Nodding, another slug pastry followed the first.

  “These are good,” he said, picking up the third and last piece. “I’ll definitely ask you to make some of these for me in the future. The coriander in the sauce really gives it an extra little kick.”

  Coriander?

  I stared at him, horrified. Coriander was what the seeds were generally called, where the leafy part of the plant was better known as cilantro or Chinese parsley. I hadn’t used coriander seeds or any types of parsley in my cooking. I knew better. Gnomes could tolerate the leaves, although they always claimed cilantro tasted like soap to them, but the coriander seeds made them very ill. I knew that. There was no way I would have made such a mistake.

  But my cooking was the only food served at this party. I couldn’t deny the gnomes’ gastro-intestinal issues were caused by anything else, especially given the reaction by every single attendee. Something had gone terribly wrong, and as mortified as I was, I couldn’t deny responsibility. Whether it was my fault or not, I’d made and served this food, and the buck stopped with me.

  Wait. I wasn’t the only one who’d made this food. Suddenly I remembered Xavier at the engagement party, with his hand over the ginger cake, ready to infect it with something that would completely ruin the event. He’d helped with the slugs. He’d been the one who’d ground the spices and put together the sauce.

  Three of my sisters had found love with demons, and one with a reaper, but that didn’t mean all of hell’s minions were equally kind, loyal, and loving. Humans, shifters, merfolk, heck even gnomes, came with all sorts of personalities—some of them good, and some of them not so good. I couldn’t judge every demon I met by Lucien, Hadur, and Eshu standards.

  I needed to face it, as wonderful as the last two days had been, Xavier was still a demon—a crossroads demon who made deals, took souls, and did all he could to wiggle his way around his contracts and make humans’ lives miserable. There was no changing demon nature. I’d foolishly allowed a crossroads demon to help me with the most important thing in my life—my career. And I’d been stupid and prideful enough to enter into a second contest with him—one that would probably cost me my soul.

  But I’d worry about my soul later. Right now I was facing a career-ending crisis.

  I drove home and for the first time in my adult life, I didn’t feel that sense of happiness and comfort as I entered my house. With a heavy heart, I unpacked the van and washed all the dishes. Then I made a pot of coffee, sat down with a mug and a slice of sour cherry pie, and cried. For a few hours I wallowed in my grief and despair. My reputation would be shot. No one would ever trust me to cater their events again. No one would ever eat anything I’d prepared again. My business would fold and I’d become a bitter, lonely witch cooped up in my house for the rest of my life. I had no real friends. I had no boyfriend. No one would care except my sisters who might show up once or twice a week to deliver groceries for a pity visit, being careful not to even drink a cup of coffee that my hands had touched. Then when I died, Xavier would come collect my soul and I’d spend an eternity being tormented in hell—which would probably be preferable to the lonely life I was envisioning.

  After two pieces of pie and half a pot of coffee, I wasn’t feeling particularly cheerful, but at least I’d stopped my drama-filled imagining of my future and started to feel something else. Anger, for one. If Xavier had truly messed with my slugs—and I couldn’t imagine what else could have happened—then I was going to run him through my meat grinder feet-first. Then I was going to kick his ass at the werewolf barbeque and keep my soul. And somehow over the next few weeks, I was going to make things right with the gnomes. Never again would I let anyone in my kitchen, especially a demon. Never again.

  In fact, I was never letting one in my house again. Not in my bed, not in my kitchen, not even on my front porch.

  There was a knock at the door and I realized as I opened it that I was going to have to postpone my vow a bit because I really didn’t want to have a screaming argument with Xavier in the middle of the street.

  “So what are we cooking tonight?” Xavier wiggled his eyebrows at me as he walked in. “More wood-fired pizza?”

  I was never having wood-fired pizza again. Either the real stuff or our euphemism.

  “You’ve got some nerve showing up after what you did,” I snapped. “How could you? How could you do that?”

  He stopped, tilting his head and frowning. “It’s what I do. I’m a crossroads demon. I thought you knew that. I make deals with people. I bargain for their souls and once the deal is sealed, I make their life miserable until I can collect upon their death.”

  I blinked back furious tears. “You asshole. You utter asshole. Stupid me, I thought things would be different, that somehow what we had would…I don’t know, change you or something.”

  He froze, confusion on his face. “I am who I am, Glenda. I can’t stop being a crossroads demon any more than you can stop using your magic and cooking up delicious food.”

  Delicious food. I instantly thought back to the gnomes racing from the party, every one of them made sick because of this guy.

  “Get out,” I snapped, shoving him toward the door. “Get out and don’t come back.”

  His face revealed a moment of vulnerable pain before he closed it away and glared at me. “We still have a bet, witch. A deal is a deal, and I won’t allow you to back out on me.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of backing out. It’s not like you’ve got a chance in hell of beating me anyway. I could out-cook you with my wand-hand tied behind my back.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Hardly. I let you win last time. I won’t let you win this time.” He took a step closer, crowding me. I caught my breath, struggling to keep from taking a step backward. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of intimidating me, of making me move.

  “I’ll win. And then I’ll have your soul.”

  Before I could wrestle my emotions enough to muster a reply he’d left, slamming my door so hard it rattled the house. I gritted my teeth, determined not to fall back into a flood of tears and spend the night drowning my sorrow in sour cherry pie. I needed to get my shit together. I needed to plan for the most amazing catering job of my life, to create food that would make th
e angels in heaven weep. I needed to make sure I won and kept my soul.

  Which meant that I didn’t need to be alone tonight with my very tumultuous thoughts. No, tonight of all nights, I needed my sisters.

  Chapter 14

  Xavier

  My anger faded before I was two blocks from Glenda’s house, but I didn’t have the courage to return and face her wrath and disappointment. How could she think that a few days in her company would completely change me? Did she truly expect me to give up everything I was to be with her? A part of me wondered if I even could. As demons, we reported to a higher power, and that higher power didn’t exactly appreciate dereliction of duty. There had been a few exceptions over the ages. Occasionally a demon got trapped in an oil lamp, or a bottle, or a circle, and was basically on what amounted to an extended leave. Sometimes those individuals were forgotten for a while. Although everyone assumed they were still trapped, no one really checked up on them. I supposed that a demon could have been released on go the minion equivalent of AWOL, but I didn’t know how that would work out in my case.

  And why was I even thinking of this? I loved my work. I wasn’t about to give it up for a sexy witch who made me feel all sorts of things I’d never felt before. A witch who wove her magic around me in the kitchen as well as in the bedroom. Even now I longed to be with her, but not if she insisted I give up everything that made me a demon.

  Damnation, I just didn’t understand witches at all. But I knew one demon who did. All of hell had gossiped when he’d gone on vacation and bound a witch to his side. Although a lot of demons joked that it was the witch who’d bound Lucien to her side instead.

  Being the son of Satan gave Lucien quite a lot of street cred, but snagging himself a witch had sent that reputation into the stratosphere. He was here in Accident. Everyone knew that, especially those who needed to contact him for business reasons. I could find him, but would he talk to me? Lucien was pretty high above my pay grade, but right now I needed someone who knew witches. I needed someone who could advise me how to get this crazy idea out of Glenda’s head, to make her forgive me, make her love me, make her mine.

  I zipped back to hell, bribed a few demons, then found myself back in Accident, standing in front of an old house that seemed to have a hodge-podge of additions stuck onto it. It didn’t exactly look like the sort of place I’d expect the son of Satan to reside, but there was no accounting for tastes. Besides, I’d heard the guy was rather eccentric. Marching up the steps, I rang the doorbell and waited.

  A woman answered. She had reddish brown hair, was wearing a business suit, and from the resemblance, I immediately realized she must be a relative of Glenda’s. A cousin? A sister? We’d spent so much time cooking and flirting that I’d never asked her about her family. Of course this woman had to be some sort of relative though. Glenda was a witch. Lucien’s bonded female was a witch. I doubted there were two witches in this town that weren’t related.

  “I’m here to see Lucien.” I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to address the demon’s witch consort. As a crossroads demon, I’d been a bit out of the loop on affairs in hell, and I didn’t know how formal their relationship was.

  The witch spun around and motioned for me to follow. “He’s in the kitchen. Are you from the second circle? I hope that acid situation is resolved because we’ve got plans this weekend. There is no way I’m going to let Lucien go running off to hell when we’ve got the werewolf barbeque and family dinner night. If you all can’t get it straightened out by Friday, then it’s just going to have to wait until Monday.”

  I stared at her back, a little shocked at her bossy tone. Not that I expected the son of Lucifer and Lilith would bond with a passive female, but this seemed excessive. I barely knew Lucien, but he must be a very strong demon to control this woman.

  Or perhaps those demons in hell were right, and the witch was wearing the pants in this relationship.

  “Lucien!” the woman shouted as she entered the kitchen. “Some flunky from hell to see you, even though it’s after five o’clock.”

  I half expected him to turn around and fry her to ash on the spot for such insubordination, but instead Lucien dried his hands on a kitchen towel and commented drily, “It’s not like you don’t bring work home with you, Cassie. I’ll be at the barbeque, and I’ll be here for family dinner, but sometimes I need to work on the weekends.”

  The demon turned, clearly not recognizing me from his perplexed frown. Not that I’d expected him to know who I was. I bowed, then with a quick glance at the witch, spoke in Enochian, hoping that she wouldn’t understand me.

  “Son of Satan, I am in service as a crossroads demon, and I beg for your assistance in a matter of importance.”

  He shot a quick glance at the witch he’d called Cassie and nodded, replying in English. “I totally forgot about our meeting.”

  The witch narrowed her eyes. “Lucien, it’s date night. We’ve got plans.”

  Lucien held up his hands. “I know, I know. Just give me an hour to meet with Freddy here. I’ll make it up to you I promise.”

  Freddy?

  “Yes, it will only take an hour.” I turned my sexiest smile at the witch and saw a familiar spark in her eyes. Then I turned and saw a very clear warning in Lucien’s eyes. Noted. No flirting with the witch belonging to the son of Lucifer.

  He grabbed my arm and steered me out the front door and to a dark gray SUV in the driveway. I climbed in the passenger side and we rode in silence outside the wards to a little diner next to an entrance ramp onto the highway.

  “We’ve got to make this quick,” Lucien told me. “The town is full of shifters, and they can hear a pin drop from six blocks away. I’m assuming whatever you’ve got to tell me isn’t something we want known outside of hell, so this is the safest place to talk. We’ve only got an hour though.” He checked his watch. “Actually, we’ve only got about ten minutes. I’ve got to be back for date night or Cassie will skin me alive.”

  I choked back a laugh, wondering exactly how powerful this witch of his was. But since we only had ten minutes, I didn’t have time to ask questions—well, questions beyond the ones I’d originally planned to ask.

  “I need to know about witches. Did your witch ask you to give up your work in hell? Or change who you are? Is that a reasonable request?”

  Lucien’s eyes widened. “I thought…you’re not from the second circle? Or the fourth? This isn’t about the acid or the three souls that managed to escape?”

  “No. I’m a crossroads demon, and I met a witch last Saturday. I’m…fond of her. And I thought she was fond of me, but she just threw me out and told me never to come back because she’d expected me to change.” I ran a hand through my hair. “Did your witch do this?”

  A look of amusement flitted across Lucien’s face and he leaned back in the booth, signaling for the waitress to come over. “What’s your name?”

  “I go by Xavier right now.”

  He nodded, asking the waitress for two coffees and two slices of cherry pie before turning back to me. “What did you do to piss her off, Xavier?”

  I shook my head. “Just my job. We had an amazing night together. I left in the morning and had to go do all the things that had been pushed back while I spent time with her.”

  Lucien chuckled. “That’s normal. I can’t tell you how I scramble to fit in everything while Cassie is at work. It’s not easy, but she expects me to be there for her when she’s home and not be running off on hell’s business all the time. It’s the price you pay for being with a witch.”

  “I had two contracts I needed to make, six souls to collect and deliver to the appropriate circle of hell for eternal punishment, then I had to contact eight prospective candidates concerning a possible future contract.” I let out a frustrated breath. “It was a busy day. And all I wanted to do when I got to her house was enjoy some private time, if you know what I mean.”

  “Oh I know.” Lucien waited as the waitress gave us our pie and coffee.<
br />
  I poured some disgusting non-dairy creamer into mine and took a sip, hiding a grimace. Then I ate a bite of pie. It was…okay. Too sweet, and the cherries were obviously canned with that nasty gel that constitutes a filler. The crust was made with shortening, which can be delightfully flaky if done correctly. This wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t what I’d call good either. And it certainly wasn’t up to the level I’d come to expect in the last few days.

  “Glenda’s is better,” I muttered. “I really wanted some of that sour cherry pie she made for the gnomes. I was hoping to have a few pieces tonight.”

  “Glenda?” Lucien nearly choked on his pie laughing. “That’s who you’re mooning over? Glenda?”

  I felt myself bristle. “She beautiful, and her magic is in everything she touches. From the first moment when she slapped my hand and told me I couldn’t befoul her ginger cake, I knew I wanted her to be mine.”

  “Why would you want to mess with Glenda’s ginger cake? That’s got to be one of the best desserts I’ve ever tasted.” Lucien took a bite of his pie and looked down at the pastry mournfully. I realized I wasn’t the only one noting the difference between this and Glenda’s creations.

  “I was going to poison the food to torment a man whose soul I’ve been waiting to collect, but the moment I tasted it I forgot all about my victim and found myself trapped by her magic, her beauty, those amazing prime-rib sandwiches. You should have tasted the chicken pesto sandwich she made me yesterday.”

  Lucien nodded. “Glenda’s cooking is amazing. Honestly, I don’t know that much about her other than she’s one of Cassie’s younger sisters and her magic involves healing. She’s not around the house as much as the other sisters. Other than a few occasions here and there, I only see her during Sunday family dinner.”

  “You’re bound to a witch,” I insisted. “I was hoping you could give me advice. Pointers. Did your witch demand that you give up your job? Being a demon? That you deny your father and walk away from your infernal inheritance?”