Minions and Magic: Accidental Witches Book 5

by Dunbar, Debra

  Gritting my teeth, I lowered myself over the edge, envisioning the path I needed to take to safely get down to where Stanley was. The muscles in my arms trembled as I gingerly felt for toe-holds to support my weight.

  One rock slipped under my foot, sending the stone clattering down the side of the mountain, but my other foot found a stable hold, and the next rock helped balance my weight. Relaxing for a moment, I eased one hand down, testing my weight on the rock before lowering the opposing foot to a thick root extending from a crack in a sheer space of stone.

  Slowly I made my way down until I found myself on the narrow ledge with Stanley. Forcing myself not to immediately provide aid to the werewolf, I took in my surroundings. The tree where Stanley’s legs were tangled was anchored deep in the cliff face, and there were several smaller trees just like it a few feet below the werewolf. The shelf where I stood and where Stanley’s upper body rested was narrow, but widened off to my right. A stout bush jutted out just where the ledge ended.

  The hearty trees and shrubs gave me something to quickly grab if I started to slip off the shelf. But I wasn’t the problem right now, it was Stanley. If I slid him off the tree to lay down on the ledge, his weight might pull the pair of us off the side. And there was no way I could hold Stanley’s weight and catch myself on the trees.

  Lowering myself to the ledge, I eased forward toward Stanley and put my fingers on his neck. His pulse was slow and thready. There was blood from a head wound, and from a bunch of scratches, and his one leg twisted at an abnormal angle. But aside from that, he didn’t seem to be suffering from any significant injury.

  Why was he unconscious? I’d seen werewolves not even notice these types of injuries. I ran my hands over his face and dark brown beard, then down his neck to his chest, closing my eyes as I tried to sense where unseen injuries might be.

  It hit me with a strength that made my nose twitch and eyes sting. I sneezed, then pulled my hands away to rub my eyes.

  Wolfsbane. A lot of wolfsbane.

  It caused an allergic reaction among werewolves, but just like allergies in humans, their reactions and sensitivity varied. Most werewolves got itchy hives. Some couldn’t shift for a few hours. Some had reduced abilities to heal. Some had life-threatening incidents of anaphylactic shock.

  I wasn’t an expert in werewolf culture, but I knew that physical weaknesses were considered character flaws among them. Physical strength, the ability to quickly heal wounds, and a stoic endurance of any pain—physical or emotional—was highly prized. Ophelia and I had spent hours discussing how frustrating this was, and how it hindered our ability to help werewolf patients who weren’t forthcoming about allergies, sensitivities, past injuries, or genetic conditions.

  Clearly this level of wolfsbane was not only keeping Stanley in an unconscious state and hindering his breathing, but it was also blocking his shifter ability to heal. In his current condition, if he hadn’t been caught on this tree and ledge, if he’d fallen all the way down this cliff, then he might have died. Briarly must have somehow dosed him with wolfsbane without becoming affected herself, then tossed him over this cliff. When we’d arrived, she was probably trying to figure out how to knock him off the ledge and all the way down.

  I heard a yelp from up above and grimaced, hoping Tink was doing okay.

  Reaching out to check Stanley’s pulse again, I was alarmed at his slowing heartbeat and the shallow breathing. And here I was with nothing to help him. I’d brought healing potions, but in my panic, I’d left them all in the van. All I could do was hope to keep the werewolf stable, and pray that Cassie and Lucien got here soon.

  A rock the size of a softball nearly missed my head, hitting Stanley in the abdomen and sliding him toward the edge of the shelf. I grabbed him, and glanced up to see Briarly, aiming another rock at us. Had she bested Tink? She must know that she’d be put to death for killing Dallas’ mate and co-alpha of the pack. Was she so desperate to murder Stanley that she’d sacrifice her own life for this?

  Another rock hit the tree where Stanley’s legs were tangled. It bounced and one of his legs came free, shifting his weight even further off the ledge. I braced myself against the cliff face, looping an arm around the thorny bush and holding onto Stanley’s waistband with the other hand.

  I had to do something. Cassie was probably on her way, but this werewolf might knock both Stanley and me off the ledge before she got here to help. If only he wasn’t unconscious. I could manage myself if I didn’t have to worry about holding Stanley’s weight.

  If only he wasn’t unconscious. If only I could clear the effects of the wolfsbane from him, heal him, and wake him up, then he could easily scale up the side of this cliff and fight Briarly while I made my much slower way up. I’d only ever healed with smoothies, mixing my magic with the fruit and yogurt into something magical that tasted like paint and sweaty gym socks. But Xavier had insisted there was magic in all my cooking. Hoping I didn’t get hit by a rock, I let go of the bush and reached inside my pocket for a bag holding two truffles.

  Another rock bounced off the cliff face above my head, sending a shower of pebbles and dirt down on us. I took the chocolates from the plastic bag, held them in my hand, and poured my magic into them.

  A rock hit the tree, and both Stanley’s legs came free. I gasped, and nearly dropped the chocolates as I grabbed him with both hands, easing him onto the ledge partially on top of me. Wrapping my arms around him, I gripped the smashed chocolates tightly and again sent my magic into them, trying not to think about how one well-aimed rock would send us both plunging downward.

  A rock chipped the corner of the ledge. Time was running out. These crushed, half-melted chocolates in my hand weren’t smoothies, but they’d have to do. Another rock barely missed us as I reached over and crammed the chocolates into Stanley’s mouth, holding it shut and rubbing his throat as if I were giving a pill to a dog.

  Looking up I saw Briarly leaning out over the cliff edge, a huge rock in her hands. This time she was taking careful aim. She held the boulder in both hands and began to raise it over her head, shifting her weight to keep from falling over the edge herself. I gritted my teeth and held Stanley’s mouth shut as he choked and gagged on the chocolates.

  We weren’t going to make it. Well, I wasn’t going to make it. This boulder would hit us, sending us both off the edge, and where Stanley might survive thanks to my chocolates, I’d have no such luck.

  Fear spiked through me as I watched Briarly, unable to look away. Then something hit her from behind—something that snarled ferociously. The two werewolves tumbled over the cliff, both scrabbling for the trees jutting from the rockface as they fell.

  Stanley began to squirm, and I let go of his mouth. His eyes opened and he sucked in a breath, gagging and spitting as if he might vomit. With a shudder, he partially shifted, his hands and feet becoming claws.

  “Don’t stab me,” I told him. “It would really suck if I survived Briarly only to have my patient claw me to death.”

  “What…what happened?” Stanley looked around, eyes wide. “Briarly said Bart needed to talk to me—something urgent. Then there was wolfsbane, and that’s all I remember.” He shuddered again. “Stuff nearly killed me twenty years ago when a tree branch broke and I felt into a patch of it.”

  “Briarly threw you over the cliff, but you got caught on the tree and this ledge.” I shifted slightly, trying to look over. Were the two werewolves down at the bottom, broken and injured? Or dead? I almost didn’t want to look.

  But if I hadn’t looked, I wouldn’t have seen Tink, climbing her way up the rockface, jabbing her claws into the cliff on her way. She was covered in blood, but had a determined expression on her face that reminded me as tiny as she was, she was still one hundred percent the alpha.

  “How’s your leg?” I asked Stanley, wondering if he’d healed enough that he could make his way up the rocks the same way Tink was.

  Stanley grimaced. “Healing, but not to the point I can climb wi
th it. I could just stay here an hour or so, then climb up.”

  “Nonsense.” Tink pulled herself onto the tree next to us that had previously held Stanley’s legs. Sometime during the climb she’d shifted back into human form and was both naked and still covered in blood. “You can do it three-legged. Shift into wolf form, and I’ll help you up.”

  Stanley did as she commanded, careful not to crowd me off the ledge. Between the two of them, they both made their way up the rest of the way. I held my breath, nearly having a panic attack each time one of their hands, or paws, slipped, letting it out as they both disappeared over the top.

  Now it was my turn.

  I was shaky from all the adrenaline, but going up had always been easier for me than climbing down. By the time I heaved myself over the top edge, I was thinking I needed to get back into climbing again. Maybe I could take a look at my schedule and take Tuesday mornings off? I wondered if Xavier liked to climb.

  Tink and Stanley helped me to my feet, Stanley gingerly putting weight on the leg that had been broken.

  “Thanks for healing me, Glenda. Again.” Stanley wrinkled up his nose and shuddered. “Whatever that was you shoved in my mouth, it was worse than your smoothies. It was like eating poop, and not the good kind either.”

  There were good kinds of poop? I really didn’t want to know about that. Instead I patted Stanley on the shoulder, examined Tink for injuries, and joked about making her lick the melted chocolate off my hand to heal her.

  “No way,” she laughed. “I’ll suffer. I don’t want to be put off eating chocolate for the rest of my life.”

  It was then that Cassie, Lucien, Adrienne, Dallas, and Clinton all burst into the clearing.

  “Too late, as always,” I called out with a smile to let them know we were all okay. My smile must not have been too reassuring because Dallas grabbed Tink in his arms, nearly crushing her, and Cassie immediately began to examine me, asking questions, as she exclaimed over every tiny scratch and minor bruise.

  “I had worse when I used to climb as a kid,” I told her.

  “Yeah, and I about had a heart attack every time you headed up the mountains with your gear. I celebrated the day you gave all that up and decided just to cook instead.”

  I rolled my eyes, thinking my eldest sister probably still worried about my burning myself on the stove, or slicing a finger chopping vegetables. That’s what Cassie did; she worried. And now was definitely not the time to tell her I was thinking of taking up climbing again.

  “What’ll happen with Briarly?” I heard Stanley ask Dallas and Tink.

  I nearly fell over with astonishment when Dallas turned to Cassie. “Assuming the sheriff needs a call on this one?”

  Two months ago, the werewolf pack would have handled it themselves, either by delivering a death sentence or banishing the wolf who’d gone against her alpha’s laws.

  “Yes, but we’ll be taking your input on this one, Dallas,” Cassie replied. “I doubt a long prison sentence would be appropriate for a werewolf, and we don’t really have the facilities to jail a wolf for a decade or so.”

  Dallas nodded. “Thinking banishment once she’s healed, but I want to hear what Stanley wants to happen.”

  I turned to the lone wolf, shocked once again that the alpha of the pack was allowing a lone wolf, an exile from their pack, input on appropriate sentencing.

  Stanley nodded. “I don’t want her dead. She’s Bart’s sister. I’m thinking exile from Accident with a review every ten years regarding reinstatement?”

  “Agreed.” Dallas looked down at Tink. “Do you want to coordinate her retrieval and escort her into town to the sheriff’s office?”

  Tink grinned. “It would be my pleasure.”

  We all made our way back to the clearing, where the guests had gone leaving only my sisters cleaning up my supplies and loading them into the van. Desiree and her helpers had come back and were making short work of the tables and chairs. The beautiful ice sculpture remained, glistening as it slowly melted in the sun.

  The party had been a huge success. Stanley’s attacker had been caught and would face justice. Things were changing in Accident for the better.

  And I had a boyfriend, who was probably waiting naked for me at home. Grabbing a few empty trays from the buffet table, I shoved them haphazardly in the back of the van. I didn’t care what sort of mess I was making. I’d deal with it tomorrow. All I wanted right now was to go home—to go home to my demon.

  Chapter 22

  Glenda

  I couldn’t park in my driveway. In fact, I got the idea I’d never be able to park in my driveway again, unless I expanded it to wrap around to the back of my house.

  Where my van usually sat was a brand new Ford F-250, shiny red with all the bells and whistles. But it wasn’t the truck that made my mouth drop open and made me squeal with delight, it was what was attached to the hitch.

  It was a trailer, but not just any trailer. It was a food-truck trailer complete with a fold-down bar top, stool seats for customers, and a Mugnaini wood-fired pizza oven. On the side of the trailer were bright red letters that said Glenda, the Food Witch.

  I cried—as in blubbery mess ugly cry cried. No one had ever given me something so amazing, so incredible. I couldn’t even begin to imagine how much all of this cost, or how much time and planning Xavier had put into getting this for me. When had he ordered it? He must have been planning this since our sandwich contest.

  I examined the truck and the trailer, ooing and ahing over how perfect everything was. Then realizing Xavier wasn’t coming outside to meet me, I headed for the door.

  Would he be inside? Naked and waiting for me in the bedroom as I’d hoped? Surely he’d gotten the subtext of what I’d wished for after the brisket contest. The truck and trailer were amazing, but what I really wanted was him.

  As I went inside I realized the lights were already on. A demon stood inside my kitchen-that-was-the-whole house, elbows on the stainless steel table that we’d made love on just four days ago.

  “Do you like it?” He asked softly, uncertainty in his eyes. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted an oven to install here, or one for outside. Then I figured it would be really cool if you could make custom to-order pizzas from a food truck. It would give your business that extra that other caterers don’t have. And maybe you could make slug pizzas for the gnomes to make up for the birthday party.”

  My heart leapt at the sight of him. “It’s amazing. Beautiful. And the name on the side is…perfect.” I squirmed. Now was the time to be courageous. What did I have to lose besides my pride?

  “It’s not what I really want though,” I blurted out.

  An unreadable expression flickered across his face. “You wanted the indoor pizza oven instead?”

  “No.” It was now or never. “I want the pizza oven you gave me earlier this week. I mean, I wanted us to…well, not just that.” I took a deep breath. “I want you. I want you to stay here, to stay with me. I want you to cook with me, to be my friend, to be my lover, to hopefully be my everything, my bond-mate or whatever you demons call it.”

  He blinked, but remained silent.

  “It wasn’t your fault at all Xavier, and I’m so sorry for not trusting you, for not even letting you have a chance to explain,” I went on. “There was a mix-up in the spices. Shelby gave me the wrong ones, and that’s how the coriander got into the slugs. I jumped to conclusions. I automatically assumed you were at fault because you’re a crossroads demon and I didn’t trust you. Actually, I didn’t trust me. I’d started to feel something for you, and I always fall in love with the wrong guys, the guys who don’t care about me and disappoint me in the end. It was horrible of me to dump that baggage onto your shoulders, to believe you’d be like the others. I’m sorry, and I hope you’ll forgive me and give me a chance to make it up to you.”

  His lips twitched. “Like you’re going to make it up to the gnomes?”

  I couldn’t help but smile. “If you really w
ant a wood-fired slug pizza, I’ll make you one, but I was thinking of something else. If you’re interested, that is.”

  He came around the stainless steel table, heading right for me. “Glenda, I’m happy to indulge in any wood-fired pizza you offer me, whether it’s crust topped with slugs, or me topped with your gorgeous naked body.”

  “Then that’s a yes?” I asked as he stopped inches from me. “You forgive me.”

  He bent and gave me a kiss, long and slow and so sexy my legs barely held me upright.

  “That’s a yes, my witch. And as for the rest…well, you did win our bet.”

  I suspected he’d thrown the bet, not wanting to force me into anything I might not want. And I knew that his saying “yes” to all I wanted had nothing to do with our bet. Still, a deal was a deal. I reached up and wound my arms around his neck, pulling him in for another kiss.

  Then I dragged him off to bed to give him the best wood-fired pizza he’d ever experienced.

  About the Author

  Debra lives in a little house in the woods of Maryland with her sons and two slobbery bloodhounds. On a good day, she jogs and horseback rides, hopefully managing to keep the horse between herself and the ground. Her only known super power is 'Identify Roadkill'.

  For more information:

  www.debradunbar.com

  Debra Dunbar’s Author page

  Also by Debra Dunbar

  Accidental Witches Series

  Brimstone and Broomsticks

  Warmongers and Wands

  Death and Divination

  Hell and Hexes

  Minions and Magic

  Fiends and Familiars (2019)

  Devils and the Dead (2019)