Minions and Magic: Accidental Witches Book 5

by Dunbar, Debra

  I saw Cassie’s aura flare bright white, saw the determination in her face. She’d be there to help me if I needed it, but I didn’t need her help.

  Trust. We’d never have anything together if I couldn’t trust him.

  I rolled my eyes. “Like you’d want my soul. Two hours and you’d be begging me to take it back.”

  He chuckled. “You’re probably right. But quit stalling. Serve your meat and get ready for defeat.”

  I bit back a laugh at the rhyme and scooped the slices of brisket from my platter onto fresh plates.

  The werewolves dug in, and the only sound for the next few minutes was the scrape of knives on the plates. Tink was the first to say something.

  “Damn, girl. I think I came in my pants just now.” She sat back and licked the sauce off her fork. “Forget making that demon an honorary werewolf. I want you to come up to the compound and cook for me every day. I’d be so fat they’d need to wheel me through the woods in a cart for our hunts. Honey, can we afford to hire Glenda as our personal alpha-house chef?”

  “Mrmfrm,” Dallas responded, not even looking at her as he chewed.

  “I thought Bart’s smoked trout was good.” Clinton shook his head, then shoved another piece of brisket in his mouth. “Mmmm. Mmmm, mmmm.”

  “Almost as good as raw venison straight from the kill,” Dallas finally said. “And that’s saying something. Thought that ginger cake of yours was good, Glenda, but this here is a clear winner. You got my vote.”

  I couldn’t help but grin and do a little hop-dance in excitement.

  “Glenda gets my vote, too.” Dallas raised his fork in the air as he spoke, as if he were royalty making a proclamation.

  “Mine too. And I still want to hire you full time.” Tink winked at me. “Or at least get on your catering schedule for the harvest party if you’re available.”

  “I’m calling a foul. Clearly the witch paid the three of you off. There’s no way her brisket is better than mine.” Xavier reached past me, picking up a slice of brisket off the platter with his fingers dripping sauce down his hands and chin as he shoved it into his mouth. When he was done with the piece, he licked the sauce off his hand and winked at me.

  “I might be a demon, but I cannot lie when it comes to food. Glenda, once more I bow before you and declare you the master of all things food.”

  The crowd cheered. Tink clapped her hands. “What are you going to ask him for, Glenda? You won, and now he has to give you anything you want.”

  I was pretty sure I was more red than the rarest prime rib right now. Tink was looking at me. My sisters were looking at me. Everyone was looking at me.

  Xavier folded his arms across his chest, that little smirk on his face. “Yes, Glenda the Good Witch, what do you ask of me? I’m bound by my promise to give you anything.”

  I was about to die of embarrassment right now.

  “I’ve got some suggestions!” Sylvie called out.

  “Which means they’re X-rated, of course,” Bronwyn chimed in.

  X-rated suggestions were the last thing I wanted to hear—well out here in public anyway. With all sorts of naughty ideas racing through my mind, I blurted out “pizza oven”.

  “What?” Tink tilted her head and stared at me.

  “I want a Mugnaini wood-fired pizza oven.”

  “Color me shocked,” Cassie drawled.

  “My money was on one of those zucchini spiralizers,” Ophelia added.

  Xavier performed a stately bow before me. “Your wish is my command. If the witch wants a pizza oven, then that’s what she’ll get.”

  “Wood-fired,” I reminded him, hoping he understood the subtext. “Mugnaini, because it’s the best.”

  “And only the best will do for my witch.” He turned about and walked away, into the forest and out of sight. I watched him go, not quite sure what had just happened. Did he understand that it was him I wanted, not a pizza oven? We’d been using that as a euphemism for sex since we’d had the sandwich contest. Surely he couldn’t have forgotten.

  Maybe he was going to my house to wait for me, naked and in my bed? I hoped so, although he’d have quite a wait because the barbeque wasn’t over yet, and I still had a lot of clean up and put away before I headed home.

  “I thought you said everything was okay between the pair of you?” Adrienne stepped up beside me and put an arm around my shoulders.

  “It is.” I looked in the direction Xavier had gone.

  “Then what’s with the pizza oven? And why did he leave?”

  “He should have stayed and helped you clean up,” Babylon added, walking up to my other side. “Just like a man to eat and leave you holding an entire buffet full of dirty dishes.”

  “You’ll have to train him,” Cassie said from behind me. “Trust me, it’s a lifelong process.”

  “But in the meantime, we’ll help you clean up.” Bronwyn said.

  “Absolutely,” Ophelia added.

  “I’ll help too, although I can think of a lot better things to ask a hot demon to do for me than getting me a lousy pizza oven.” Sylvie laughed, then led the way.

  Chapter 21

  Glenda

  My sisters tackled the buffet leftovers, while I put out the cakes, pies, and chocolates along with little signs identifying them and their special significance to each alpha. They were a huge hit, and I heard several werewolves from different packs joking about whether they were a “Dallas pie wolf” or a “Clinton cake wolf”. The truffles I’d made in honor of Tink went even faster than the cakes and pies, so I bagged a couple and put them into the pocket of my baggy work pants to take home for Xavier to try.

  Only a few hours more, and I’d be home. And for once in my adult life I was going to let all these dirty pans and dishes stay in the van until morning. All I wanted was to see Xavier, to spend some time in his arms. And none of my romantic fantasies included scrubbing pots and pans.

  Tink once more made her way to Shelby and Alberta, talking animatedly with the pair of them, and grabbing another werewolf to include in their conversation. I turned to look for Stanley, but didn’t see him. Had he gone home? He’d been over by Petunia just a few minutes ago eating a piece of cake. I knew he felt awkward and unwanted here, and I wouldn’t blame him for sneaking off unnoticed. It made me feel bad that I hadn’t had time to sit with him and at least give him someone to talk to besides a few of the town folk and his boss. Clinton and Dallas hadn’t exactly been warm and fuzzy to the other werewolf, but they had welcomed him and shook his hand. That should have been enough to at least keep him from being snubbed.

  But it still had to have been awkward and lonely being surrounded by former pack mates who wouldn’t even speak to him.

  Worried, I made my way to Petunia, taking the boar shifter a second piece of caramel apple pie.

  “Thank you, Glenda.” He took the pie with a smile. “The food today was real good. I especially liked the fried chicken.”

  “If there’s any leftover, I’ll bring some by the shop tomorrow.” I looked around again. “Did Stanley leave? I saw him sitting next to you earlier.”

  The boar shifter nodded. “That poor guy can’t catch a break. I know how lonely he gets without his kinfolk around. Me and the other shifters aren’t the same as having wolves to pal around with, especially since he was raised pretty much only knowing werewolves until his teens. I was glad when that wolf came and told him his friend was here and wanted to see him.”

  “Bart?” I looked around, but didn’t see either of the werewolves.

  “Yeah, Bart. That wolf delivering the message didn’t look too happy about it. I know the pair of them have been keeping it quiet that they’re hanging out together. Stanley told me he made Bart promise not to come to the barbeque, or if he did, not to talk to him. He doesn’t want his friend to be going through the same kind of shunning.” Petunia shook his head. “Don’t understand it all. Boars don’t do that kind of thing, but then again we don’t live in packs either. Just
couples and young. Sometimes family gets together for holidays, but most of the time we’re living alone until we find a mate. I try to be sympathetic, but it’s hard to understand when Stanley gets mopey.”

  “But Bart told someone? Another werewolf?” None of this made sense, and a chill was beginning to shiver its way down my spine. The two of them had been so careful, and outside of my sisters and I, and Petunia, no one else knew that Bart had remained friends with Stanley after his exile. Had they been discovered? Had someone followed Bart and seen him pick Stanley up from the hospital? Seen him at Stanley’s house the other night?

  “What did this werewolf look like?”

  Petunia scratched his chin. “They kinda all look the same, you know? Brown hair. Not a lot of beard. I’m assuming it was a female because she had her nails painted real nice. Corvette red.”

  I immediately envisioned bright red nails. Red polish. Like red paint. Polish that could have dripped onto a hiking boot and stayed there, a crimson blob on the brown leather. With a hasty good-bye, I left Petunia and ran to where I’d last seen the alphas. Dallas and Clinton were talking to a group of fairies. Without even an apology, I barged right into the middle of them and interrupted a conversation about power tools.

  “Is Bart here?” I asked Dallas. “Did he come today? Has anyone seen him?”

  I was in near panic, but I didn’t want to make a complete fool of myself and risk exposing Bart and Stanley if I was wrong.

  “No. He said he was going fishing.” Dallas shrugged. “Normally I would have insisted he come along and at least stay for an hour, but I know how close he and Stanley were, and I figured he just couldn’t bear to see him yet. I’m hoping he’ll come around soon, but it will take time.”

  I tried to steady my breathing. Werewolves were notorious gossips. If one of them had discovered that Bart was sneaking into town to see Stanley, then the entire compound would have known about it—Dallas would have definitely known about it. And the only reason someone would have for keeping such a juicy tidbit of gossip to themselves would be if they had another use for it.

  Like to use the information to lure Stanley off into the woods by himself, where he would be unsuspectingly set upon and injured. Killed.

  “Who wears red nail polish?” I looked back and forth between Clinton and Dallas.

  “I do,” one of the fairies chimed in unhelpfully.

  “A werewolf,” I added breathlessly. “What female werewolf with a beard and brown hair wears bright red nail polish?”

  Dallas and Clinton exchanged puzzled looks. “Don’t pay much attention to what nail color a woman’s got on,” the elder alpha said.

  Crap. There was one werewolf who might have paid attention, a werewolf alpha who loved make-up and a good mani-pedi. I left Dallas and Clinton just as abruptly as I’d arrived and raced over to where Tink was chatting with Adrienne and Ophelia.

  “I need you to see if you can divine where Stanley is,” I told Ophelia.

  Her eyes widened. “He’s gone? You don’t think…”

  “Stanley?” Tink shrugged. “Maybe he went home? I was meaning to go over and talk to him, but by the time I finished forcing a couple of my packmates to talk to Alberta and Shelby, I couldn’t find him.”

  “Petunia said a werewolf came and told him to meet…meet someone in the woods. Brown hair. Brown beard. Bright red nail polish.”

  “Oh, that’s nice,” Tink said. “I’m glad someone is reaching out to him.”

  I threw up my hands in exasperation. “It’s not nice. That someone is trying to kill him. A werewolf tampered with Stanley’s car last weekend, then followed him and kicked the jack out when Stanley was under it. If I hadn’t come by, he might not have made it. This werewolf with the red nails lured him into the woods, and I think she’s the one who tried to kill him before. I need to know what female in your pack likes to wear bright red nail polish.”

  I knew none of that probably made much sense, but I didn’t have time to explain it all to Tink in detail.

  “Well, me, but obviously it’s not me.” Tink held up her hands. “I only do red in the fall and winter. Summer is for corals and fun colors like lavender and lime green. Unless you’ve got a formal event and a red dress, but even then I’m not a fan of the matchy-matchy stuff.”

  “Tink!” I curled my hands into fists to keep from shaking her. Shaking one of the pack alphas wouldn’t be a good thing. “Who else? We need to know.”

  She pursed her lips and tapped them with a manicured coral fingernail. “I remember Briarly always has her nails red. Says it reminds her of blood after the hunt. She’s romantic that way.”

  “Briarly?” I wracked my brain trying to remember if I’d ever met her.

  “She’s Bart’s sister. She never liked Stanley, but I can’t think why she’d be going after him now. I mean, she should be happy about his exile. She hated that they were always together, fishing and hunting, and watching those survival shows, drinking beer down at Pistol Pete’s. But since Stanley was exiled, Bart won’t even mention his name. Bart’s loyal, and Stanley’s betrayal hurt him deep. There’s no reason for Briarly to want Stanley hurt or dead. Not now, anyway.”

  “Crap,” Ophelia muttered. “Stupid Mercury retrograde. I can’t get a fix on him. All I see is forest, and red, and something that looks like a rock.”

  I ground my teeth in frustration. We had a name, but that wouldn’t do us any good if we couldn’t get to Stanley in time. Was he hurt? Was he already dead? His safety mattered far more to me right now that delivering justice to this Briarly wolf.

  Although that was a strong second on my to-do list.

  “Can you track him? Or her?” I asked Tink. “Is there any way you can lead us to Stanley? Or if not him, to this Briarly?”

  “I’ll do my best to pick up a scent.”

  Tink headed to the perimeter of the clearing where we were holding the party and began weaving her way back and forth among the trees and bushes, her mouth slightly open as she breathed in. Adrienne and I followed her while Ophelia went to get Cassie and Lucien, and to alert the other alphas. As we moved, I noticed Addy brushing her hand across bushes Tink had already sniffed and murmuring something.

  “Mobilizing my insect friends,” she said at my questioning glance. “Insects use odor signals to communicate with each other, and their ability to detect these scents over distances as long as several miles is great. I’ve asked them to notify me of ‘food’ that came out of the clearing and headed into the woods.”

  “Flies see us as food?” Ugh, that was so disgusting. We’d used Addy on occasion to keep ants away from our picnic baskets, but I’d never considered that bugs might be as interested in us as in our lunches.

  “They don’t see us as food—well, unless we’re dead because then we’re food for everyone. Flies see us more as the food delivery guys. We eat meat and they eat meat. We sometimes have food residue on our clothing and skin. Our sweat and breath often smells of last night’s dinner. They’re not dumb. They know if they smell a human, or in this case a werewolf, that dinner is most likely nearby.”

  Disgusting, but intriguing. “What about fairies?”

  Adrienne knelt down to put her hand beside an ant’s mound before responding. “Insects don’t like fae. Well, except for trolls. From what a few flies have told me, fae smell bad. I think it’s a lavender odor, but I don’t know if it’s intentional on their part, or part of their natural scent.”

  “But trolls?” I was definitely intrigued.

  “Trolls evidently can change their scent pattern. Their glamour abilities are the highest of the fae, and since they enjoy gardening, they take care not to offend or repel useful insects. They like to blend into their surroundings, and mesh with the circle of life, so their scent changes from neutral to whatever balances best with their current environment.”

  “I’ve got it!” Tink cried out, cutting off any further conversation on insects and fae odor.

  Tink took off and Adri
enne and I ran after her, struggling not to lose sight of the werewolf as she barreled through the forest. Just as she vanished out of sight, I heard a snarl that sent shivers down my back, followed by a ripping sound.

  Adrienne and I burst into a rocky clearing just in time to see Tink launch herself at a werewolf in human form. The werewolf cowered before her alpha, but survival instinct overruled pack hierarchy, and in a flash the two wolves were rolling across the ground, snapping at each other. The wolf that I assumed was Briarly managed to roll free and tried to run for the woods, only to be tackled by Tink within a few strides.

  Tink was a tiny werewolf in her human form, and she wasn’t as large as the other werewolf in her animal form, but the alpha was fierce and fast. Still, the other werewolf was steadily overpowering her as they rolled and bit. Knowing I’d only end up hurt if I got in the middle of the fight and tried to help, I turned away from Tink and looked for Stanley.

  The other werewolf wasn’t in the clearing, so I headed to where I’d seen Briarly standing when Tink had first jumped her. Climbing a pile of rocks, I pushed myself up and onto a flat boulder and nearly fell off the other side where a sheer drop of twenty feet ended with a narrow shelf and a tree growing sideways from the rockface.

  Hanging half on the tree and half on the ledge was an unconscious and bleeding Stanley.

  “Get Cassie,” I shouted back to Adrienne.

  There was no way I could get the werewolf up off that ledge unassisted, but there might be a way I could get down to him. Taking a steadying breath, I studied the cliff side, and tried to remember all the years I’d climbed this mountain as a kid, all the times I’d clawed my way up a rockface with tiny handholds and not much to support my weight.

  All the times I’d almost fallen but been too young to realize the consequences of such a fall. Kids feel invincible. A twenty-seven-year-old woman does not feel so invincible, and eyeing the descent, all I could think of was my body splatted below in a twisted heap of broken bones and flesh.

  But something tugged at me deep inside where my magic dwelled. Something told me that Stanley needed me. I was a witch who had no offensive or defensive capabilities. I was shit in a fight, but I could heal, and right now I knew that’s what Stanley needed.