Minions and Magic: Accidental Witches Book 5

by Dunbar, Debra

  “Wow, he is hot,” Adrienne exclaimed. Addy and her vulture had arrived just after Lucien and Cassie, and just before Xavier had left in some demon-teleport way that I’d never seen the others besides Eshu use.

  “So judging by what I saw of the pair of you, all is forgiven?” Cassie’s eyes narrowed. “He screwed with your cooking, and you actually forgave him?”

  I nodded. “We talked. He swears he didn’t do anything intentionally. It must have been a mistake. I did have him do the marinade and the sauce for the slugs, and really didn’t give adequate supervision.”

  “Well, I’m glad that’s cleared up,” Lucien announced cheerfully. “Now he won’t take your soul if he somehow manages to win this cooking contest you got yourself mixed up in.”

  “What?” Cassie shrieked. “Oh Glenda, how could you?”

  “Sex,” Adrienne told her. “Lots of good sex. It makes me agree to all sorts of stupid shit. Can’t blame Glenda for that one.”

  The vulture hissed and bounced his head in agreement.

  “It’s not like she’s going to lose,” Lucien reassured Cassie. “This is Glenda we’re talking about. Everything she makes is amazing.”

  “Except for her smoothies,” Adrienne added.

  “I’m not using healing magic on the brisket, so I think we’re okay there,” I told her. “Now help me set this stuff out. Dallas, Clinton, and Tink just arrived and the other werewolves won’t be far behind them.”

  Cassie and Lucien headed over to greet the alphas, slackers that they were, but Adrienne stayed to help unload the food and make sure all the canisters for the chafing dishes were lit.

  “I’m happy things are working out for you and this demon, Glenda,” she said as she stole a piece of pulled pork from a tray and tossed it to the vulture. “I gotta admit that I was kinda psyched about giving him a horrible case of lice though. And having birds poop on his head. You have no idea how much Drake can poop. No one wants that on their head.”

  “I’m sure there will be another opportunity,” I said as I handed her a tray of potato salad.

  “Oh, I know. It’s just that the party would have been so much more fun if I’d been able to give a demon lice.”

  I shook my head and smiled at Addy’s weirdness, but cars, trucks, and wolves were beginning to arrive and I needed to concentrate on the party.

  Dallas, Tink, and Clinton had positioned themselves near the entrance as a receiving party, each of them welcoming werewolves from either pack and people from the town. As everyone streamed in, they made a beeline straight for the buffet, and Addy and I struggled to keep up with refreshing the trays of quickly vanishing food. I rolled my neck to try to release the tension. Everything was going smoothly so far. Yes, the greetings were a bit warmer between pack members and their own alpha, but not so noticeable than anyone might feel slighted. Werewolf politics weren’t terribly convoluted, but there were a lot of emphasis on social interactions, so this event was critical in keeping the peace between the two groups.

  The clearing was filling up, and everyone was eating—an activity which tended to calm any shifter and especially werewolves. As bellies began to fill and conversation rose to a happy buzz, Alberta and Shelby arrived.

  That tension between my shoulders was back with a vengeance. Those closest to the entrance were suddenly silent, and like a wave, the rest of the guests quieted as well. I heard a growl from my left and hoped that Cassie was ready to intervene if necessary. It wasn’t like I could do anything other than throw a healing potion into someone’s face or stab them with a serving fork.

  “Welcome.” Dallas’ voice sounded like he’d gargled with glass, but he did extend a hand to shake Shelby’s. I saw Alberta’s aura flare red-gold, the strength of her magic nearly blinding me. Fae were far more powerful than anyone in Accident realized, and although none of the others would ever admit it, trolls had more magic than six fairies combined. I saw Alberta put a protective arm around Shelby’s shoulder, then reach forward to shake Dallas’ hand. A few more werewolves in the crowd growled.

  Tink was the one who broke the tension.

  “Shelby!” The diminutive werewolf sprang forward to grab the lone wolf in a hug. “Damn, I’ve missed you girl! Is Alberta treating you right?” Tink waved a finger at the troll and smiled. “You know I’ve got your back if she’s not being a proper mate to you, Shelby.”

  Linking her arms with the other werewolf and the troll, Tink paused just a moment for Clinton to greet the two, then proceeded to drag them both over to the buffet. The entire time she loudly exclaimed about how adorable both their outfits were and demanded to know what nail polish Alberta had on.

  “Don’t got nail polish on,” the troll replied, looking rather stunned at the entire turn of events. Her aura had faded into a pleasant lavender and peach hue, so I rolled my neck once more and turned to check the smoker, confident that Tink had everything well in hand.

  The new batch of grilled salmon to replace the nearly empty chafing dishes was coming along nicely, and the fifth round of pork loin was ready to coat with my special vinegar-based sauce. The brisket, my pièce de résistance, was nearly done. I’d marinated. I’d dry rubbed. I’d smoked. This baby was gonna be amazing, and it was going to beat the pants of Xavier’s or I wasn’t a witch with an incredible talent in the kitchen.

  Mmmm. Xavier without pants. The very idea made my legs weak. Would we jump right back into bed tonight, picking up where we’d left off after I’d had my freak-out, or would we take it slow and actually court and woo each other for a while? I hoped for the former, because I was a witch with very little patience, and now that I’d decided to trust him, my heart was racing forward at the speed of sound.

  I filled a metal chafing dish with the grilled salmon and headed to refill the buffet line just as Tink, Alberta, and Shelby started to fill their plates.

  “Hi Glenda!” Shelby’s voice was high and nervous, the whites of her eyes showing clear around the dark brown irises. “How did those spices and herbs work out? It was good to see you last week. You need to come over more often for tea, or whisky, or a rare steak.”

  Her aura flared with anxiety, and I wanted to give her a hug. Shelby was a bad-ass werewolf who could take on just about anyone in her former pack and come out on top, but she was clearly uneasy about her place now that she was a lone wolf who’d left the pack to mate with a troll.

  “I’d love to come by for tea and a rare steak sometime,” I told her. “The gnome party didn’t work out all that well, but I’m sure the herbs and spices you both supplied were amazing as always. A new assistant of mine accidently put some coriander into the slug marinade and gnomes don’t do well with coriander.”

  Alberta recoiled, her eyes wide. “Coriander?”

  I nodded and gave her an apologetic smile. “I know. I must have had a jar on the counter next to your herbs and spices, and my assistant didn’t know not to include it. I’ll just need to be more careful in the future and make sure my instructions are very detailed.”

  “Shit. Shit!” Alberta turned to Shelby and said something rapidly in fae. Shelby replied and I found myself wondering when the werewolf had learned the troll’s language.

  Shelby paled. “Oh no! Glenda, I am so sorry! This is all my fault. What can I do to make things right? It’s all my fault.”

  I shook my head. “What are you talking about?”

  “She gave you the wrong bag of herbs and spices,” Alberta said. “You were supposed to get the other bag, and the centaurs were supposed to get the one you received. I would never have included coriander in an herbal mixture that was intended for gnome food. I know better than that.”

  “It was all my fault.” Tears sparkled in Shelby’s eyes. “I didn’t know anything of herbs or spices before I moved in with Alberta. Werewolves aren’t sensitive to anything beyond wolf’s bane and a few other herbs, so I didn’t even notice. I’ve got no idea what makes gnomes sick or makes merfolk sick or makes fae sick beyond what Alb
erta gets green over. I’m so sorry.”

  I reached over the buffet trays to grab her hands. “It’s not your fault. You didn’t know. Honestly it’s my fault for not checking the herbs and spices before I used them. I got distracted by…something. And I was hurrying, and using an assistant who wouldn’t know the difference. It’s completely my fault, not yours.”

  “I need to label my deliveries better,” Alberta said. “And I need to spend more time showing Shelby what’s what. I’ll talk to the gnomes and explain what happened. I don’t want you to take the blame for this one, Glenda.”

  I’d blamed Xavier for this when the packet of herbs and spices he’d used had been the wrong one. It was completely my fault for not checking it. I’d been busy, distracted by what had happened to Stanley, really distracted by my attraction to Xavier, and I’d not taken proper care to check what I was adding to the slug sauce.

  “No, I’m the one who prepared the dish. I’m the one that didn’t check the spice mixture. It’s my fault, not yours.” I smiled at the troll, then at the werewolf. “It’s okay. I can see how such a mistake would happen. Coriander is a common spice, and I can’t imagine that Shelby would know such a thing would be harmful to gnomes.”

  “I’ll learn more,” the werewolf vowed. “And I’ll make sure I pay more attention to Alberta’s instructions in the future.”

  “And I’ll make sure I label the bags,” Alberta added. “If I can do anything in the future to make this up to you, please let me know. I’m so embarrassed that you got the wrong delivery, and I swear this won’t ever happen again.”

  “No worries, Alberta. Mistakes happen, and I’m not going to hold you responsible for this. I know how much pride you take in your gardening.” I heaped a huge helping of grilled salmon onto Shelby’s plate, knowing how much the werewolf loved fish, then left the buffet line to return to my smoker.

  It hadn’t been Xavier’s fault at all. Not only had I blamed him for intentionally tampering with the food, but even after our conversation today I’d assumed his unintentional mistake had led to the coriander in the slugs. Come to find out the problem had been in the spice bag I’d gotten from Alberta.

  I was such a fool. I’d thrown away a potentially amazing relationship because I’d jumped to conclusions, because I’d let my past baggage weigh heavy on my mind. I owed Xavier an additional apology, and I needed to stop my knee-jerk reactions and actually trust my emotions for once in my freaking life.

  I added more pork to the chafing dish, then checked again on the brisket, tearing off a sliver to taste. It was the best I’d ever made. The flavors made my eyes roll back in my head and brought me to the edge of a food orgasm. If Xavier’s was better than this, then he was truly my master.

  That thought led me down all sorts of naughty pathways. What if he won? What sort of thing would he ask of me? I wasn’t worried any more about him demanding my soul, instead I was titillated thinking of kinky stuff he might ask as his reward.

  But he’d never win. My brisket was damned good, and although pride might be my sin, I knew good food when I tasted it.

  “Stanley’s here.” Adrienne appeared beside me and snuck a quick grab of brisket. The vulture behind her protested, and she grabbed another piece to toss to him. “Drake likes his meat raw and about two days fermenting in the sun, but he says yours is a close second.”

  Great. My cooking was a close second to roadkill in the opinion of a vulture. “I don’t see Stanley,” I said, looking over toward the entrance.

  “The flies say he’s a hundred yards out, but approaching.” Adrienne snagged another piece of brisket. “He’s alone.”

  Alone. Bart hadn’t come with him. I had mixed feelings about that. I knew Stanley wanted him to lay low, but I’d really hoped that Bart would attend. Actually I hoped that Bart and Stanley would attend together. The fact that Stanley was coming to the barbeque by himself spoke to his courage, and his faith in us witches to protect him. I wasn’t about to let him down.

  I left Adrienne picking bits of brisket off the smoker and headed to the entranceway where Dallas and Clinton stood. The two alphas, father and son, where chatting in an amicable tone that I’d never imagined would happen a month ago. Tink was off sitting with Alberta and Shelby as they ate, ensuring they both had her visible support as the alpha’s mate. But Stanley…

  I hung near the entrance as the werewolf came from the forest. I was sure most in the room had smelled him arriving from a mile away given their shifter noses and the prevailing winds, but unlike with Alberta and Shelby, conversation did not halt when Stanley arrived—it continued as if he were invisible.

  Dallas greeted him stiffly, shaking his hand and making the bare minimum of welcoming conversation. Clinton did the same. Stanley was tense and nervous as he moved past the alphas into the clearing. I intercepted him, guiding him toward the buffet line.

  “Everything okay?”

  He nodded. “So far. Ain’t seen anyone besides you come to welcome me.”

  “Bart?” I looked around for the other werewolf.

  Stanley bared his teeth. “I’m not gonna risk his status in the pack. Either I can stand on my own or I can’t.”

  Okay then. I glanced over to where Shelby and Alberta and Tink were sitting and chatting, and debated the wisdom of placing Stanley there. I didn’t want to segregate the lone wolves, even though Tink seemed to be making it her mission to bring them into the fold. There wasn’t anyone else that I could sit Stanley next to other than Petunia, who was his boss at the auto repair, bait, and beer shop. What I really wanted was to begin to integrate him back into the wolf packs, though, and I didn’t see how that would be possible.

  “Grab some food from the buffet and sit with Petunia or my sisters,” I told him, regretting that I couldn’t do more.

  Stanley nodded and headed off, filling a plate and making his way through the tables. A few werewolves growled. Some put their feet out as if to trip him. Others scoffed, and I heard the word “traitor” bandied about. I held my breath, wondering what the heck I’d do if someone tried to attack the werewolf.

  That was Cassie’s job. And Bronwyn’s. My witch siblings who could do more than make nasty tasting potions that healed people. All I could do was watch and hope for the best.

  Stanley sat down with Petunia and his crew, and I turned my attention back to the buffet. There was a hectic few hours of refilling meat and the other chafing dishes as everyone ate. A group of werewolves took the stage with instruments to start some folk tunes, and several couples got up to dance. Dallas and Clinton had moved from the entrance to get their own plates of food, and I was happy to see the pair sit down next to each other and enjoy some friendly conversation as they ate. Once again the tension between my shoulders relaxed and I hoped that this would be the event that solidified peace between the werewolf packs, and provided a link between them and the other supernatural creatures in town including the lone wolves.

  Finally the moment came and Dallas, Tink, and Clinton rose to announce the contest. There were lengthy speeches on both side about packs, loyalty, and solidarity, then they joked about their prowess in deciding the best brisket at the barbeque. I looked across the clearing, and for the first time in hours saw Xavier smiling with a smug expression as he held a platter of meat in front of him.

  I pulled mine from the smoker and sliced it as I watched the demon present his brisket. Dallas, Clinton, and Tink all took a substantial helping, making approving noises as they ate.

  It would really suck to lose out to Xavier on a matter of cooking. The nervousness I’d felt over him dragging me off to hell or taking my soul as his reward had vanished, and now I only pondered what a sting to my pride a loss would be. My cooking had always been the best ever since I’d been a child. To have someone else’s food judged superior would truly wound.

  But maybe there was room in the world, and in Accident, for two amazing chefs. Xavier might beat me out on brisket, but I knew I still held the crown when it ca
me to baked goods. Perhaps sharing the honor of best chef would be a good thing. I could feature some of his dishes in my catering jobs. He might eventually become a partner in my business with specialties of his own. And how nice would it be to relax for once and let someone else cook for me?

  I swirled my special cognac sauce on the bottom of a platter, layered my brisket slices on top, then sprinkled on some fresh cracked peppercorn. With a quick wipe to make sure the serving dish was pristine, I made my way over to where the alphas sat.

  “Gonna be hard to beat this one, Glenda.” Clinton stabbed another slice from Xavier’s nearly empty tray and shoved it in his mouth.

  “Thinking we need to make him an honorary werewolf,” Dallas said as I moved Xavier’s tray to the side and put my platter in front of the three werewolves.

  They all seemed happy, joking with each other and sitting together like this. The barbeque had been a success. Everywhere werewolves were mingling with other townsfolk, and the two packs were slowly starting to socialize with each other, migrating into mixed groups. This was what my sisters and I wanted—two packs living in harmony with the rest of the town. No more werewolf isolation. No more violence in the mountains between the two groups. Yes, they’d probably always live apart from the rest of Accident, but we’d all benefit if the us-versus-them mentality vanished.

  “I’d love to be an honorary werewolf,” Xavier replied to Dallas. “All it will cost you is your soul.”

  “I don’t think that’s what he meant.” I playfully swatted Xavier on the shoulder. “And souls inside the wards are off limits, demon. Make your deals outside of Accident.”

  This was fun. This was amazingly fun. All of us here joking and enjoying the food and the friendship. And Xavier by my side, my…friend. More than a friend.

  “Changing the rules are we?” The crossroads demon wiggled his eyebrows at me. “I’ll honor this new mandate, but rules put in place after a bet is made don’t apply. If I win this contest, I get anything I want. There were no limitations at the time of our bargain.”