Page 3 of Minions and Magic
It wasn’t just his muscles and gorgeous face. It was his aura. Silver and black with swirls of orange. Looking at him with my second sight made me feel like I was staring down into an active volcano. Hot. Sexy.
And the best thing? He was scarfing down my food like a man who’d been living on cheap take-out for the last decade. I was a witch, but my greatest skills were in the kitchen. A man, or demon, that loved my cooking?Thatwas the way to my heart.
Of course, everyone loved my cooking. People swooning over my custard creams led more to catering deals than dates, but a woman could always hope. And whether or not this demon was interested in things beyond my food, I still had a win here—he was completely ignoring his job duties and instead of making my client’s life miserable, he was having a second helping of ginger cake.
Things got busy, and by the time the guests were beginning to filter out and I had started to clean up the empty trays and pans, the demon had left. Well, he’d left the food area where he’d stationed himself pretty much since he took that first taste of ginger cake. Just to make sure there was no mischief afoot that could tarnish my culinary reputation, I scanned the remaining crowd. Then I scanned once again using my second sight, just in case he’d changed forms.
Nope, no demon. My chest felt a little heavy to realize he truly was gone. Just like a hot guy to eat and run without even a thank-you. Figures.
I loaded the rest of the equipment into my van, cleaning the area and making some notes until Mr. Allen made his way over to me, check in hand. The man had always seemed polite and stately to me, and I admired that unlike most of my wealthy clients, he communicated with me himself rather than through an assistant or their party planner. Now I saw him through different eyes, looking at the lines around his mouth and the nervous tic at the corner of his eye. Had he really made a deal with a demon for his wealth?
The man handed me the check, which was made out for more than the contracted amount. “Thank you so much for today. The food was outstanding. Everyone raved about the cake and those little sandwiches. I’d worried there might be some…problem, but everything went off without a hitch.”
His gaze darted around the manicured lawn, and I couldn’t help but want to confirm what the demon had told me.
“You were worried about unwanted guests?” I smiled sympathetically. “An ex-boyfriend of your daughters with a grudge, perhaps?”
His laugh had a guilty edge to it. “No, more like an old business associate. I never invite him, but he has a habit of showing up and wrecking things. I thought maybe he was here earlier, but then nothing happened.”
I was pretty sure if an old business associate had been crashing parties and harassing him, he would have had security here and a long-standing restraining order out on the guy. Unless, of course, the old business associate was a demon.
And if he couldn’t keep a demon out of his bathroom, he didn’t have any hope of keeping him away from a private party.
“There was a man who I’m pretty sure wasn’t on the guest list.” I forced a worried frown. “I made him a plate of food and kept an eye on him. He left a while ago.”
I kept an eye on him because he was hot as sin and obviously enjoying my food, but Mr. Allen didn’t need to know that.
The man blew out a breath. “Thank you. It might not have been him, but I’m glad you were vigilant. I’d love to have you cater our board meeting next month, by the way.”
My heart danced. The more jobs on my calendar, the better. Didn’t matter how overbooked I was, or how many late nights I spent cooking and prepping. This was my life—well, this and brewing my healing potions. I was happy to throw myself twenty-four-seven into cooking and catering. It brought me joy. And it meant I was too busy to think about how lonely I’d become.
“I’d be happy to, Mr. Allen.” I reached out to shake his hand. “Just send me the details, and I’ll put it on my schedule.”
The man nodded, shook my hand and turned away from me. I slapped a hand over my mouth to hold back a laugh, because the man’s pants had split clear down the back seam revealing a bright red pair of underwear.
Clearly he hadn’t realized this. I was pretty sure I knew who was to blame for this wardrobe malfunction. And I must be just as bad as the demon, because I giggled to myself and never said a word, letting Mr. Allen walk all the way up to his house with his underwear showing.
Chapter 3
Glenda
Ithought about my upcoming catering jobs as I navigated the van over the twisted roads that led over the mountains, through the wards, and into the town of Accident. Most of my work was outside of the wards, in the human world of artfully decorated cupcakes and crust-less sandwiches, but the next two jobs were inside the wards and for non-human clients with some non-human culinary tastes.
Wednesday was a birthday party for one of the gnomes. Gronk was turning two-hundred years old, and this shindig was shaping up to be a sort of gnome bar mitzva. There were roughly eighty gnomes in Accident at any given time, most of them living in the underground tunnels they’d built to the east of the town. They weren’t completely subterranean, though, and this party would thankfully be held somewhere I’d have access to electricity.
Next Saturday was the event I was most excited for. Everyone in Accident had been pitching in to help rebuild Dallas’ compound after a rampaging fire-breathing T-rex burned most of it to the ground. It was a tragedy that had brought the two warring werewolf factions together, and so far that peace seemed to be holding up. It had been Cassie’s idea to have a huge party to celebration the completion of the compound restoration, to hopefully continue the goodwill between the two werewolf packs and the town. And what better way to make werewolves happy and thinking of peace-not-war, than filling their bellies with an amazing selection of roasted and smoked meats prepared by yours truly.
It had been a long day, and I knew I’d have several hours of unloading the van and cleaning up before I could yank off my shoes and my bra, and sprawl across my bed, but I still took a left turn once I hit Main Street, knowing it would save me time in the long run if I detoured and picked up a few essential things. The gnome party wasn’t until Wednesday, but a few of their requested foods required a long marinade and pickling, as well as fermentation, and the sooner I got started on those, the better. So I drove to the edge of town and turned off the dirt fishing road that ran along Hop Mill Stream. About three miles out was a little grove and a section where the stream became a tiny pond that sparkled with light both from above and below.
I parked a respectful distance and watched where I walked, ringing a set of wind chimes and waiting at the edge of the grove. The water bubbled, and a naked woman rose from the depths, her blue-green hair fanned out behind her, her body elongated and inhumanly fluid.
“Glenda Perkins.” She smiled, her voice like rain against summer leaves. “You are here for theschallea?”
“I am.” I watched as she walked along the surface of the water, her feet becoming more solid as she stepped onto the mossy ground of the grove. “How are you doing Besellia? We missed you at the Koi festival this spring.”
She waved behind her at the water, then bent down to retrieve two bottles from behind a tree. I looked and saw two pairs of eyes staring at me from the edge of the pond.
“I gave birth in March. Twins. It was not easy, and they have kept me busy. I was sorry to miss the festival, though. Perhaps next year when they are older.” She handed me the bottles and tilted her head toward the eyes with a fond smile. “Do not have children, Glenda Perkins. They drain the life out of you.”
