Page 19 of Accidentally Summoned an Incubus

“Oh, fuck off, Priscilla!” came a voice from inside the shop. “Stop bothering my customers. And don’t bother coming around here again!”

The witch’s eyes practically glowed green as she threw a final, villainous stare into the store before barging past me. She attempted to throw me off balance by bashing her shoulder into mine, but I had expected it, and she almost went tumbling back to the ground. Blue flames licked up her arms as she regained her posture, which I matched with shadows of my own. Finally, she flicked her head, her hair moving in unison over her shoulder, and said, “You’re lucky I don’t have the time to deal with the likes of you.” With that, she glided past me and down the street.

It took a few long breaths for my shadows to coil back. For the second time, I was glad my mate wasn’t with me. If the witch had barreled into Lex the way she had me, I wasn’t sure I could have stopped myself from tearing her throat outwith a single swipe of my claws.

And killing coven-mates probably wouldn’t help me woo my witch.

A bell tinkled as I opened the door to the Handywitch shop. I scanned the shelves and was surprised to see that it was a hardware shop. For some reason, I’d been expecting gloves. I made a mental note to make a list of things that needed fixing around the house... if the house was amenable to letting me do some DIY.

A witch with loose brunette curls sat behind the counter, her Converse-clad feet resting on the countertop. She was blowing an iridescent bubble, her cheeks red with the effort, as she held up a finger in a gesture that she would be with me in just a minute. I waited patiently, scanning the workshop behind the witch. I had expected to see some wood-crafting items, maybe a half-finished bird box or something, what with this being a hardware shop and all, but surprisingly, there were only cauldrons, each brew containing a self-stirring spoon. Some frothed, while others sparked, but all of them smelled sickly sweet, like candy.

I wrinkled my nose at the too-sweet smell, and my eyes landed on a photo on the wall. A middle-aged blonde witch smiled, as did the black-haired incubus beside her, the picture of blissful matrimony. The teenage witch between them didn’t share the sentiment. While she looked almost exactly like her mother, she had the same thick black hair as her father. Her side fringe swooped across her kohled eyes, blending into her black, oversized hoodie.

Though she wore a frown, the young witch looked almost identical to the bubble-blowing witch in front of me, and I wondered if they were sisters.

Said witch gave a final, squeaky blow, and my head snapped toward her just in time to see a bubble the size of a hoppity hop explode into shooting stars, each zooming in different directions. I threw my hand over my head, but the sparks merely tickled my skin where they landed.

The witch excitedly punched the air. “Finally!” she cried.

“What the fuck was that?” I asked, panting heavily.

“Oh, just a thing I’ve been working on,” she said absentmindedly as she clicked her fingers and a notebook and pen appeared in front of her. She stuck her tongue between her teeth as she wrote furiously. I glanced at the notebook, but all the words looked like squiggles. “The ink has crushed-up, ethically-sourced dragon scale in it. It’s spelled so only I can read it. Had to take extra precautions since Priscilla took an interest,” she said without glancing up.

My eyes wandered back to the photo as I let the witch curate her thoughts. On second look, the teen witch looked even glummer than before.

“Cousin,” the witch said, her face sobering as she set her pen down. “I’m just looking after the shop until she gets back. In the meantime, I’m working on my real passion.” She jabbed a finger in the direction of the cauldrons behind her. “Magicked candy.”

While her tone was friendly, it was clipped enough for me to realize follow-up questions on either topic weren’t invited. Instead, I asked, “Who was the witch in here before me?”

The bubble witch rolled her eyes. “Priscilla Raisin,” she said, voice laced with boredom. “She’s been trying to find out how I make my candy for months.”

“I—” But I didn’t get the chance to find out more.

The doorbell tinkled, and I sucked in a breath, momentarily thinking Lex was plowing her way toward me. It took a full second for me to realize this witch must be her mother.

“As I live and breathe!” she cried, exultant. “I knew! I just had a feeling she’d do the summoning!”

“Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

“Lovely to meet you too, sweetie,” she said, her eyes glancing around, searching proudly for her daughter.

“She’s not here. She’s working on her trial notes.”

“Well, that is disappointing. Sensible, but disappointing. Oh, hi, Caitlyn, honey,” she said, giving the bubble-gum witch a wave.

“Hi, Ms. Cole!” The witch waved back.

Ms. Cole looped her arms into mine. “Come, Lochran. I want to get to know my new son-in-mating over a nice cup of tea.”

***

“Honey, I’m home!” I called from the door.

Lex poked her head from around the kitchen doorframe, a pretty scowl on her face. She’d fixed her bun and was now in a different set of pajamas from what she’d had on this morning—though no less scanty. My heart skittered in my chest. I didn’t think I’d ever get used to how beautiful she was.

“How was your day, dear?” she said,every word laced with sarcasm.

“Before I tell you, take this.” I held out a cup of tea that I’d let the incubus at the shop pick for me.

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