Page 25 of Minions and Magic
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. Iletyou 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.
