by L. L. Frost
I glance down at Torch. “You know how to read this thing?”
He flickers at me in response.
My lips purse. “No, you don’t.”
He flickers again.
I sigh hard enough to ruffle his flames. “Well, it’s too bad you can’t teach me.”
In response, he picks up a pellet from his food dish and shoves it into his stomach.
With a laugh, I shake my finger at him. “No, I will not let you get big again, just to teach me to read.”
He imitates me and shakes his little arm right back.
Still smiling, I crack open the book to the table of contents, then flip my notebook open to the first page and skim a finger down the list, searching for a reference to mind reading. Someday, Emil will demand I deliver myself to the bank for a negotiation, and he’ll expect me to be able to read people’s desires, and not the sexual ones that come with ease.
So far, the few times I’ve tried to do it on my own have resulted in full-on porn and nothing else. When I try to push those images aside, it makes my head hurt, like I’m pulling a rubber band that might snap if stretched too far. It worries me that I might hurt myself, but Emil says I can do it, which means other succubi can, too. Is this something else Landon would have taught me if I’d stayed put in dreamland?
Should I practice on non-humans? On something that lacks sexual desire?
My eyes drop to Torch. Do little ignis like to get their groove on?
I spindle out a line of energy and whisper, “Torch.”
He flickers at me, and I frown.
Ignis don’t have eyes, which is usually how I get inside someone’s mind. I focus on him, and he flickers again in question. An ache forms in my temples. The burn in my lungs reminds me to breathe, but no images appear in my mind.
I sag in frustration. Okay, Torch might not be a good test subject.
Would Tac be a better choice? At least he has eyes.
But the fatigue in my limbs keeps me in bed. I can try again tomorrow.
For now, I return my attention to the book, determined to find something inside to give me a starting point for my studies.
(un)Finished
Storm clouds cover the sky when I pull into the parking lot behind my bakery the next morning. I search the other parked cars, surprised not to see the HelloHell Deliveries van already there. Of course, I hadn’t called Julian last night. Maybe, he wasn’t sure if he should send my imps in today.
Drops of rain splatter against my windshield, and I use my briefcase to cover Torch’s box before I climb out and make a run for the side door. The rain falls faster, soaking into the shoulders of my hoodie and sticking my hair to my forehead. My key jams in the lock, and I wrestle with it before I make it inside. The faint scent of smoke still fills the air, but it’s weaker than I expected, the stronger smell of lemon cleaner helping to mask it.
When I get to the kitchen, I see little black footprints charred into the tiles. They lead from the open hatch of Torch’s home out through the swinging door that leads to the front of the shop. No amount of scrubbing will get rid of them, and I resign myself to living with the discoloration until I can afford new flooring back here.
I throw my briefcase onto the center island and carry the box to the wall of ovens. “You really left your mark here, Torch.”
He turns bright blue.
“Well, at least one of us is happy about it.” I crouch and inspect the hinges on the hatch.
They don’t look damaged, which surprises me. How did Torch get the door open without blasting it from the inside out? I close it and give the latch a tug. It stays closed. Then, I notice the door is shinier than the rest of the oven, the metal clean and free of the stains built up from years of use. Did someone replace it?
It used to squeak a little. I open it up and test the swing a couple more times. I meant to buy grease but hadn’t gotten around to it yet. Now, it doesn’t look like it will be a problem.
I pull Torch’s box closer, unsure how to get him in there without burning myself. After a moment of consideration, I stand, walk to the center island, and pull open the miscellaneous utensil drawer. Inside, I find a pair of serving tongs.
With a metallic snap, snap, I kneel by Torch’s box once more. “Okay, little guy, no funny business, okay?”
As soon as he spots the tongs, he runs in circles around his box, playing keep away. It makes the process more difficult since I don’t want to hurt him, but I eventually get his round center within the pincher’s and lift him.
Blue flame covers his body, and the tips of the tongs glow red.
“Yes, I’m glad you had fun, but now it’s time to go back to work.” Gently, I place him back inside the oven, then nudge his food tray closer. A handful of pellets already rattle around the bottom. Whoever fixed the door made sure he would have food when he returned, too.
I point with the red-hot tongs. “You be good. I’ll visit with you again tomorrow, okay?”
He flickers at me as he picks up a wood pellet and shoves it into his stomach.
Glad to have one part of the shop sorted, I stand and toss the tongs in the sink to cool, then head to the front of the shop to check out the real damage.
Out here, the scorched footprints are worse. I should have stuck with the checkered tiles, at least those could have been repainted. But the holes in the new wooden floor will be more difficult to cover. They lead from the kitchen to the center of the shop, circle in a large ring, then become spaced farther out on the way to the door.
The charred remains of two tables sit off to the side on a tarp. I vaguely recall seeing the blue sheet of plastic in the pantry, and I’m grateful someone had the foresight to bring it out. Even after a day, the tables still look soggy from whatever they used to put out the fire.
Shoved against the wall of booths, it appears the rest of the tables escaped the damage, for which I’m also grateful.
At least, I don’t have to replace them, too.
A thick lump forms in my throat, and I swallow it. Then, my nose and eyes prickle, and I lift a hand, surprised to see a fine tremor in my fingers. I curl them into a fist, digging my nails into my palm. This will not stop me. I’ve worked too hard to make Boo’s Boutique Bakery a reality. I just need to figure this out, too.
First, I need to check my savings account to see what I have to work with, and then I’ll use the landline here to call every available flooring person in the city until I find someone who can come out today to fix the floor.
Yeah, that’s totally realistic.
Tears make my vision waver, and I tip my head back to stare up at the ceiling, willing them to go away. There’s no time for a breakdown.
My imps. I need them here. They can help clean and reset the place.
Spinning around, I stride to the register and pull up the internet on the tablet we use for check out. I look up the number for HelloHell Deliveries and punch it into the phone that sits hidden behind a short wall on the counter, out of customer view.
It rings seven times before anyone picks up. “HelloHell Deliveries, how may I direct your call?”
I tap my fingers against the counter, annoyed I don’t have my cell to call my cousin directly. “Julian, please.”
A short pause fills the line before the person on the other end says, “I’m sorry, the owner’s not available. May I take a message?”
“This is his cousin, Adie, tell him I need to speak with him.”
The voice becomes uncertain. “I’m sorry, boss isn’t available.”
My eyes narrow, and I want to reach through the phone and shake the imp until he produces my cousin. Voice level, I ask, “What about Philip? Is he there?”
“One moment, please.” Elevator music fills the line.
While I wait, I check my bank account, relieved to see I still have enough of my loan to replace the floor and make it through my first three months of business. By then, I should be established enough in the community to cover the shop’s
costs.
The line clicks, and Philip’s voice comes through, high-pitched with stress. “Ms. Pond, what can I do for you?”
“My cousin and my imps.”
His voice becomes squeaky. “Boss is off site today. I can bring your imps, though.”
I frown at the empty shop. “Philip, is everything okay?”
“Just a busy day, nothing to concern yourself with.” The background noise becomes muffled, as if he covered the receiver, then he comes back on. “I can have them to you in twenty minutes?”
“That’s fine.” It will give me enough time to make my calls. “Can you tell Julian I lost my cell phone, but I’m getting a new one today?”
“I’ll pass the message along.” The line goes dead before I can say anymore.
Just to be safe, I pull up my email and shoot all of my cousins a group message. Not that most of them ever contact me. From my relatives, only Landon and Julian keep in regular touch. The rest of them think I’m crazy and are too busy hunting down rich humans to drain of energy and cash. Real role models, my cousins.
They’re who I should aspire to be, but I don’t have the heart for it.
A thunk comes from the kitchen, and I straighten in alarm. Did I not lock the side door when I came in? I check the clock on the register. Too soon for Philip to be here.
Two pairs of footsteps come from the hall, and I take a few steps to the side to peer through the pass-through into the kitchen.
Tally’s pink hair registers first, followed by a large man I haven’t met before.
“Tally?” I call as I lean across the counter for a better look. “What are you doing here?”
Tally spins toward my voice and smiles. “Adie, I wasn’t sure if you would be here yet. I came by yesterday, but there was a note on the door that you were closed.”
“Sorry about that.” My wings rustle with unhappiness. “There were unforeseen complications.”
“Is everything okay, now?” Her mahogany-colored eyes move to the stove. “Did you find Torch?”
“Yep, he’s back safely.” I walk away from the pass-through and push open the swinging door. “Who do you have with you today? Another roommate?”
It seems like Tally always has at least one of them with her, but I haven’t met this one yet. Scruffier than the other three, his cinnamon-brown bangs tuck behind one ear, and the beard that forms a large bush along his chin and cheeks shows red highlights. He hovers behind the baku demon, his brown eyes weary as he watches me approach.
Tally places one small hand on his tattoo-covered arm in a claiming gesture. “This is my Jax, we live together.”
“Nice to meet you.” I pause on the opposite side of the kitchen island from them and keep my hands behind my back. My focus shifts to her. “How many roommates do you have?”
“Four.” She beams up at the towering man. “Jax is Slater’s, too.”
“Slater’s friend, Tally,” he corrects gruffly. “I’m Xander and Reese’s friend, too.”
Her feathery eyebrows pinch together. “Yes, but you are Slater’s first.”
He sighs, as if this is a common argument, before he glances at me. “We grew up together, me and Slater.”
“Okay.” I’m not sure why he makes the point, except that he seems to want Tally to understand the differences in human interactions. “I’m afraid the front is a mess, but if you want to clear out a booth while you wait for Tally to finish for the day, then that’s fine.”
“Jax is here to help!” Tally raises her arm in excitement. “He’s a handyman!”
My heart skips a beat. “Can you do floors?”
Tally bounces in place, fists clenched in front of her chest. “Jax can do anything!”
He places on large hand on her shoulder to make her stop. “Let me see what we’re dealing with first.”
“Thank you, I would appreciate any help.” I gesture for him to follow me back out to the front of the shop. “It’s pretty bad.”
Once through the door, I step out of the way to let him get a proper idea of the work needed. Tally joins me, excited and full of too much energy.
I peer down at her. “Did he fix the oven when you came by yesterday, too? That was thoughtful.”
She shakes her head. “No, that was already done when we arrived.” She reaches into her jean’s pocket and pulls out a key. “I hope you don’t mind. I took it from the desk so I could lock up after I left.”
“Keep it.” I push her hand away. “You’ll need it for the days I’m not in the shop.”
“I practiced making the flowers at home last night.” After putting the key away, she grabs her cell phone from her back pocket and pulls up her photo folder. “See? I did roses, sunflowers, and carnations.”
I take the phone from her and zoom in. It shows a long counter covered in frosted cakes of varying colors and designs. They look like real flowers, just as good as mine. I hadn’t even taught her carnations yet. “Did you eat more baker’s dreams?”
She turns pink from head to toe. “A couple.” Her shoulders hunch. “Five.”
I swipe to the next picture for a closeup on the two-toned roses. “I’m surprised you could find that many.”
Her small fists open and close in a gimme gesture. “I am very dedicated to this job.”
“Your roommates must be sick of cake by now.” When I swipe again, I find a closeup of Tally with Slater. The serious looking man sticks his purple dyed tongue out at the camera. My chest tightens with an emotion that feels a lot like hunger, like want. I want this.
“We took most of them to the youth center on the way over.”
“What?” Confused, I stare at her before I remember the conversation. “The kids must have loved that.”
“They were so excited.” Her eyes light with enthusiasm. “Do you like kids?”
“I’ve never thought about it.” Before I give into temptation and dig through all her personal photos, I pass the phone back.
Jax interrupts as he joins us on the other side of the checkout counter. “I can fix this, no problem, but it will take me most of the day. I’m sure I can get replacement boards from the local flooring store if the contractors didn’t leave you any. Do you have a storage room?”
“Yeah, it’s upstairs.” I hadn’t had time to go through it yet. The previous owners left some old paint and tiles up there, along with a broken stand mixer I want to fix to use as a backup.
He shakes his head to get his long bangs out of his eyes. “I can go look. Are the stairs down the hall?”
“Yeah, it’s not locked.” So far, I haven’t found the key that goes with that door, but I haven’t looked very hard. I don’t think there’s a real reason to protect anything that’s up there.
“I’ll be right back.” He jogs into the kitchen.
I turn to Tally. “If he can fix the floor, he’ll be a life saver. Thank you so much for bringing him today.”
She beams with happiness. “Should we make cake while he works? To ensure Torch is back to his normal self?”
Tension eases from my shoulders. “That sounds fantastic right now.”
We have the first batch mixed up and on their way into the lined cupcake pan, and Jax has the first of the boards pulled up in the front, when a timid knock comes from the side door. I check the clock and mentally kick myself. Crap, I was supposed to meet Philip in the parking lot.
I hurry to the door and push it open, “Sorry, Phil—”
I stop, not spotting the driver among the group. Instead, five soggy imps huddle close to the door, the light rain from earlier now a full-on downpour. The dark storm clouds block out the sun, throwing the alley into darkness.
Confused, I step to the side to let them slog their way into the hall. “Did Philip just leave you?”
“He needed to return to the office.” Iris pushes rainbow hair from her face, scattering water everywhere. Not that it matters. Rain drips from all of them to form a puddle on the floor.
“Wait here. I’ll
go get you towels.” I jog to the storeroom and grab a whole stack hand towels, uncertain if they’ll be enough. For good measure, I pile a couple packages of paper towels on top.
When I return, I find half of them naked, the other half still struggling out of their water-logged clothes. Crap! I throw the towels at them and run back to the pantry for chef coats to cover them up with. I need to have a talk with them about when and where it’s appropriate to undress.
By the time I have them decent and we return to the kitchen, Tally has the cupcakes in the oven and a small batch of blue frosting whipping into a soft cloud of buttercream. She grins as she spots the imps, and they rush to surround her in quiet chatter.
Seems like they bonded while I wasn’t looking. It makes me happy to see all of my staff getting along so well. Hopefully, it’s a sign the bakery will run smoothly once the repairs finish.
For the next few hours, we all work to get the store back in shape, being careful to stay out of Jax’s way. Kelly takes an interest in Jax and follows him around, passing him tools and boards as needed. At first, Tally watches them, but when it becomes obvious the interest is in the hands-on labor and not the man, she settles down.
Outside, the weather continues to worsen. The few people who rush past the front windows huddle behind an umbrella. The wind blows hard enough to bend the decorative trees that line the sidewalk, and every so often, something hard bumps against the wall outside.
With the ovens going and the heater on, we stay nice and warm. Tally brings out her phone, and soft music fills the shop, which excites the imps, who take turns choosing songs.
Ringing cuts off the current pop song, and Tally checks the number and smiles before answering, “Slater, it’s pleasant to hear from you. Are you on break?” Her brow furrows. “Yes, I’m still at the bakery. Jax is here with me. He has a job, too, now.” The smile fades as her eyes find me. “Yes, she’s here.”
After a moment, she walks to me with the phone extended.
I take it, concerned at her quiet. “Hello?”
“Hey,” Slater’s strong voice comes through the line, his words clipped. “You need to come to the club. The boss needs you.”