Page 57 of Sugar, Spice, and Magical Midlife

“Too late,” I called back. “I’m knee-deep in this shit-show now.” I wanted to add that I’d been wading through shit ever since that succubus killed my parents. I kept that part to myself, especially after Ric let out a litany of curse words that would make a disease-infested sailor blush.

When the wizard gave me an impatient look, I placed my hand on the leather, feeling the buzz of magic beneath. The old wizard’s breath smelled like rotten crotch, and the facial hair around his mouth shone like a glazed donut. I didn’t want to know what old witch’s pie he’d been munching. I just hoped he douched his face before approaching anyone else.

“Do you solemnly swear to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth or risk a hex on your soul?” he asked.

I turned my head to suck in a breath of fresh, crotchless air. “I do.”

Thank my lucky starlight, the old wizard flew back to the sorceress’s dais.

“His breath is gross,” Des whispered. “I want to go.”

“I know, darling. Just give Mama a few more minutes.”

He answered with a frustrated sigh.

My anxiety ratcheted up times ten while I worried Des would soon have a meltdown, but then I heard the flutter of wings, and Des smiled as little claw marks appeared on his shoulder. I’d have to thank Puffy later. Even though Ethyl’s pet was a royal pain, he knew how to calm my son, which more than made up for the occasional dragon splat on the bottom of my oven.

“Luciella Lovelle,” the sorceress asked, “where is your family from?”

“My parents were from Europe,” I answered, my throat tightening at the mention of them, “but they relocated to the states before I was born.”

She waved her wand and produced a big book on the dais in front of her. I recognized the bulbous nose sticking out of the book, probably one of Alfred’s cousins. She thumbed through the book, stopping, no doubt, on my name in the registry. Her jaw dropped as she looked back up at me. “You are listed as an alpha witch. Graduatedmagna cum laudefrom the Salem School of Witchcraft. Your profession is listed as a baker.” Sheclosed the book, folding her hands in front of her while staring across the room at me as if I was an errant toddler. “Why would such a gifted witch waste her talent making cakes?”

“I love to bake,” I answered, which was true, but not the entire reason I had decided to become a small-town baker. The main reason was safety. Succubi weren’t looking to possess us, and not just because we worked with sugar. No, they wanted witches in powerful positions.

The sorceress arched a brow, and I could tell she didn’t buy my excuse. “How much does your bakery make?”

I shrugged. “We get by.”

“You could’ve worked for any of the top magical agencies as a spellcaster,” she said accusingly.

I refused to break away from her intimidating stare. “Ireallylove to bake.”

My blood turned to ice when the sorceress nodded toward Des. “Why are you holding this young man’s hand?”

“He’s my son,” I answered. “He’s frightened. He has autism.”

She looked him over as if she was assessing the worth of a sow. “Is he verbal?”

My heart took off at a race. Why did she care? Would she interrogate him? “Rarely,” I answered, hoping that would be enough for her to leave him alone.

She made a disgusted snort. “You dragged an autistic boy to the Tribunal?”

I worked hard to unclench my jaw as ire threatened to split open my skull. “I didn’t have a choice.”

“Why not?”

I heaved out an aggravated breath. We were already knee-deep in shit. Might as well pull up our pants and wade all the way in. “We’re being hunted by a succubus,” I answered. “The same one who framed Ric and probably the same one who—” I paused,swallowing back my emotion while ignoring the sorceress’s aggravating glare. “Who killed my parents.”

The crowd broke into a wave of murmurs and gasps.

My gooseflesh rose when the person in the hooded robe who sat behind the sorceress whispered in her ear. Were those gossipy witches right? Did this advisor rule the sorceress? If so, how? Was the sorceress being spellcast, and why wasn’t anyone doing anything about it?

The sorceress scrunched up her face and flipped through the registry. “It says here your parents died in a hex accident.”

“Wrong,” I blurted. “They were killed by a succubus.” But, yeah, that’s what it said in the registry. Nana Clara had always said it was safest that way after she’d forced me to pretend I hadn’t seen that succubus slaughter my parents. I’d been too young to understand then, but I was starting to realize now that Nana Clara was trying to protect me from some very bad and powerful demons, some of which were probably working for the Tribunal. How else had Ric been framed for Lenny’s murder?

The sorceress gave me a pitying look, as if I was a confused child. “Is that really what you think?”

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