Bat Out of Hell (Promised to the Demons Book 2)

by Lidiya Foxglove

  Lemon Moon--A crust of lemon and maple sugar encasing a full moon of macadamia nut cream. This dessert brings clarity and should be shared to strengthen bonds of friendship.

  "They sound pretty weird," Bevan said, hovering over my shoulder. The trouble with his height now--he was always hovering.

  "They sound like magic." I clutched the menu. "I wonder if the chef takes apprentices! Oh--I did swear myself to be your apprentice. And I don't regret it, but maybe..."

  "You don't have to wait seven years," Bevan said. "If the chef does take apprentices, you can go right ahead. But I don't know for sure if we can stay here. Let's start smaller and ask if we can see the kitchens."

  "Smaller. Right."

  "After all, don't promise yourself to too many masters!" Bevan took my hand and we brought the menu back. "Miss, my lady is a baker herself, from Etherium, and she wondered if she could beg a peek at your kitchens because she's in such awe of your craft."

  "I don't think so," the girl said. "The recipes are secret."

  "I would never steal anything!” I said. “I just have never made a pastry outside of my masters' kitchens and I can hardly believe such a beautiful place as this exists. I would swear an undying vow to watch your chef work."

  "That--that probably isn't necessary. I can ask." She walked off and I wrinkled my nose.

  "Did I sound like a simpleton just now?" I asked Bevan.

  "You sound like someone who doesn't get out much," he said, suppressing a laugh. "And it's so convincing that you might just get what you want."

  "Ugh," I said under my breath. I was starting to get frustrated with my own self for how naive I'd been, and I didn't want to sound like that all the time, but it kept slipping out.

  "She says you can come to the kitchen for just a moment," the girl said.

  When I got to the back, warm air from the ovens struck my face, along with the smell of home--only magnified, as every sort of sweet dough, berry, nut and chocolate was being worked into delicious treats by a small fleet of assistants. A tall, athletic woman with a kind face, but a no-nonsense one, was walking up to greet me.

  "I thought you meant a little kid!" she said to the shop girl, with a raspy laugh. "Like, a little girl who wanted to be a baker when she grew up!"

  Now I was dying, wondering how the shopgirl described me.

  "Oh, no, chef, I meant--a lady, but...a little...young...exuberant...lady."

  "Well, never mind, it's fine. Poor girl's turning cherry red. I'm Chef Kerra. What makes you so interested in seeing the blood and guts of this place?"

  She really must be a mage, I thought. She had a toughness I associated with witches, as if baking could be more of a serious business than I expected. "It's my passion in life, but I'm all self taught. I just wanted to see a real baker's kitchen."

  "Where are you from, sweet?"

  "St. Augustine, Florida."

  "I think I've heard that name lately... Human realm?"

  "A parallel city. But I was a familiar there, so I wasn't allowed out of the house."

  "Not allowed out of the house? That must be a story. Who were you baking for? Just you?"

  "Of course not! My warlock and his mother. Mostly his mother. He went off to join the council guard."

  "And who's this tall fellow? Your knight in shining armor?"

  "Pretty much."

  "What is your name, sweet?"

  "Uh..." I was going to say Jenny, and then I thought that maybe Bevan was right. Maybe I needed to stop being Jenny. If I was lucky enough that Kerra taught me anything, did I really want to be known forever as a different girl?

  "You don't know your own name?” Kerra asked. “Or should I just call you one nickname after another? I’ll do it if you let me. Maybe ‘hazelnut’ or maybe ‘wren’. Don’t hate me, but I might even let ‘freckles’ slip.”

  "It's Celeste!" I said, a little too loudly, although I thought having an older witch mentor who called me nicknames sounded very wonderful. "Celeste."

  "I see. I get the sense that you just offered me something of importance, and I can't think why. But...I have a good feeling about you. I have an opening for work here, Celeste. Are you interested in giving it a try?"

  "The trouble is, I don't know if we'll be here for long enough to work," Bevan said. "We're on a mission to help all familiars and Queen Morgana will tell us something soon, I think."

  "Bevan's right. I don't know if I could take a job, as much as I'd love to. I just really wanted to glimpse it for a moment, for now."

  "Too bad. I bet you're a hard worker," Kerra said. "Come back if you mean to stay.”

  “I—I certainly will.” I smothered disappointment, which I was really very good at doing.

  "Hang on," Kerra said. She slipped off to a side room, where a puff of cold air hit the steamy kitchen as she opened the thick door. She must have an enchanted freezer for keeping all the cold dishes.

  She brought out a plate with about a dozen honey-colored snowflakes. "A client ordered them a while back and never picked them up, so go ahead. Compliments of the house, Celeste."

  "So this is an enchanted dessert...," Bevan said, after I thanked her profusely and we found a table to enjoy them.

  The honey snowflakes rested on a bed of snow sprinkled with sugar tinted pale blue. Even after we took the time to find a place to sit and found spoons, the snow and snowflakes didn't melt. The snowflakes were the exact golden gleaming color of honey, but crystalline and star-shaped, each one different.

  I certainly had never seen this in a cookbook. "They're too pretty to eat..."

  "But eat them, we shall," Bevan said, putting one in his mouth. "Mm...wow...it's a little crackly at the edges somehow, but soft inside, and it melts. The flavor's insane. That really is better than any honey I've ever had."

  "Oooh...you're right! It's so good!"

  "I won't say it's better than sex, but..."

  "Almost," I agreed.

  "Almost, but not quite." He ate another one. "You have the rest. They're supposed to be healing."

  "Is it creating a snow spell from honey instead of water? It couldn't be that simple..."

  "But you're going to try it as soon as you get home?" Bevan said.

  "I'm not very good at snow spells. Snow spells and Florida don't get along."

  "I'll teach you a snow spell first," he said. "You're still my apprentice, for now.”

  "I would love that. I might even let you peek at my boobs later," I teased.

  After we finished the honeycomb snowflakes, we had some apple cranberry cake with almond crumb, which was hearty enough to almost be a meal.

  "Could I bring some desserts back to our friends?" I asked.

  "Which friends?" Bevan sounded a little grumpy about it.

  "Well, not Variel. And not Uram."

  He sighed, and I just jumped in with an order for some delicate slices of chocolate and hazelnut cake, apple tart, and spiced cream puff, based on what I knew of each person's tastes. The shopgirl wrapped each one up in its own pink paper box with a ribbon.

  Bevan took the cake from me. "Is this for Piers?"

  "It was, yes." I felt tension crackle between us. “How did you know which one was for Piers?”

  “I don’t know. I just did. I’ll take this one to him," Bevan said, with a hint of possessiveness that made me anxious. I knew I probably shouldn't have gotten anything for Piers.

  “Chocolate is his one and only happiness,” I said, a little defensively.

  We parted ways at the palace, after Bevan told me that Gillian and Jameson were up the stairs, not far from my own room.

  I knocked on their door. Lord Variel answered, and I stood firm, determined to show him that I wasn't a pushover. "I'm here to see Gillian and Jameson," I said.

  "Is that so?" He looked at the boxes. "Any gift they receive is really a gift to me."

  “It’s not for you, it’s for my friends.”

  He pressed his fisted hand against the frame of the door. "I doubt
you would have any respect for me if I wasn't firm with the servants. Some day they might be our servants."

  "I certainly don't want you to act like an ass to the servants or anyone else. I want you to act like a normal person!"

  "I cannot act like a 'normal person', if you mean a human or any other mortal. Have you ever tried to act like you aren’t a toad familiar?”

  “I don’t think I could.”

  “Exactly.”

  “But I’m just…weak and timid, so if I’m trying to act like someone else, it’s only to protect myself.”

  “Weak and timid?” He snorted. “You are not exactly weak and timid, considering how often you start provoking me deliberately. How many women do you think have told me not to act like an ass?”

  “I will guess…not many,” I said, biting my lip. I wasn’t sure if I was walking into another trap now.

  “Even when we’re back at my castle, I hope you will still tell me to stop acting like an ass, even if I’m not able to entirely fulfill your request.”

  “That’s enough,” I said. “I don’t ever want to see your sickness-infested castle again.”

  “But it’s my home, and a man cannot just abandon the family castle.”

  "But...you could build a new home. A cozier home."

  “Cozy? I should like to see you try to manage a demon's household full of willful servants and monsters at the door for nine hundred years and then speak to me about cozy," he growled back.

  “Where are Jameson and Gillian?” I asked. “I don’t think we have anything else to say to each other.”

  "Jameson is at a rehearsal for his Shakespeare whatever at the opera house. I'm sure Gillian is watching him, since she is good for little else.” Then he added, sounding softer, "You do smell very nice. Like your old self…like sugar and dough. So...you're feeling better?"

  “I don’t even need to tell you how I’m feeling, since you clearly don’t care how your servants feel,” I said, leaving the room and slamming the door behind me.

  But it was funny. When Bernard got angry at me like that, I could hardly keep from sobbing and feeling afraid of him. It was the most miserable feeling in the world. With Lord Variel, I didn't get any twisting in my gut or tears blurring in my eyes.

  I was actually starting to get used to fighting back at him.

  In fact, I almost wished he'd fought with me a little longer…but what a silly thought. I was the one who put an end to it.

  Chapter Ten

  Bevan

  I had no idea where Piers was staying, so I had to ask around. I was very tempted just to eat the cake myself, but I wanted the excuse to keep tabs on the warlock.

  "He's in the library," Lord Cyrus told me. "He was curious to look over some of the archival materials about familiars, I think."

  "What? Archival materials? It’s not his business. I’m not sure he’s trustworthy."

  "He doesn't have an ulterior motive," Cyrus said. "I approved it. I see no reason not to give him something to do."

  "Did you give him a psych evaluation or something?"

  "I can read minds," Cyrus said, with a grim smile.

  Damn faeries.

  Now I had to walk a mile to the library with the stupid cake, irritated at the very idea of Piers getting his hands on rare books about familiars. Just because he saved Jenny’s life—maybe—didn’t mean Jenny should give him any cake. Or the queen should give him any books.

  By the time I actually found him in one of the reading rooms with piles of ragged scrolls and leather-bound tomes surrounding him, my anger at him was raging. He needed to stop sniffing around my girl and my business or I was going to use this powerful body to kick his scrawny ass back to Wizardville and let them deal with him.

  I dropped the cake on the corner of the table and yanked the book right out from under his hand. "What the fuck do you think you're doing? I don't care if Queen Morgana is under some spell of yours, these books should belong to familiars. In fact, we should have our own library and get all this stuff back!"

  “I’m sorry, Bevan. I was trying to put my spare time to some good use. Research is what I’m good at.”

  "You can take your research and shove it up your pale ass!"

  Piers stood up so we were more on a level, and looked right at me. ”Are you okay?"

  "Everyone needs to stop asking me that! I've never been better." I grabbed a stack of books.

  "Bevan, they're very delicate. You need gloves to touch them." He held up his hand. "I told you to be careful about taking Variel's power."

  "Of course you don't want me to take Variel's power, you little shit."

  But when I looked at him…oh, damnit.

  Piers knew me well enough to know that I was a very calm personality. I wasn't acting like myself. I saw it in his eyes, and I knew it, too. I wasn't controlled anymore. All I could think about was beating up people I was angry at, doing grandiose things that would anoint me the leader of all familiar-kind, and taking Jenny for my own like she was some sort of prize.

  "I know how you're feeling," Piers said. "The power coursing through you makes you feel like you can do anything."

  "Don't compare anything you did to how I feel. Familiars have been used by people like you. And by you personally, for that matter. It is not the same."

  “Yes. You're right," Piers said. “But just because you have good reasons doesn’t mean you won’t do something regrettable.”

  “I can control it, though. I'm not trying to do anything like what you tried to do."

  "I know warnings are probably useless," Piers said. "But 'I can control it' definitely falls in famous last words territory."

  "You're really the last person who should talk." I was scowling at the cake box now.

  "Jenny told me I should try to find something I can do to make the world better," Piers said.

  “Variel said he wanted to study familiars to make Jenny happy. What happened to him, I wonder?”

  “He walked into the library,” Piers said. “But I had already checked out all the material, and the librarians told him to leave. They don’t trust a demon. I guess I managed to pass muster. Librarians always did like me…”

  “I guess I’d rather you than him,” I said.

  “I just find myself wanting to protect you,” Piers said. “Because she loves you, and she deserves happiness. She’s so good, so loyal, like Chester was. I don't want to get in the way. I swear on all that’s holy, Bevan. She still doesn't even realize the extent of the damage I caused, or she'd hate me more than Variel. I just want to beg one thing of you: don't corrupt that girl. You'll never forgive yourself.”

  “Do you really have a little life left in your shriveled heart, Piers?” I groaned. “I can’t believe you don’t just want something.”

  “I want—redemption!” Piers said. “I want to stop feeling like I despise myself and I don’t even deserve to enjoy my breakfast, much less…magical research. Which I used to love. I know why you don’t trust me. I wouldn’t either. But if I can actually help you and Jenny—I’d feel like I could breathe again. Just a little.”

  I pushed the cake box toward him.

  "What's that?" Piers asked.

  "Jenny wanted you to have some cake." I shrugged. "She's bringing some to Gillian and Jameson. I volunteered to find you." I started to leave.

  "Bevan," Piers called. "Hang on."

  "What is it now?"

  "Do you want to know what I've been finding out in these books? That's what you really wanted to know, isn't it?"

  Chapter Eleven

  Jenny

  Now that I was getting over my sickness, I realized I was in the most wonderful and romantic place in the world. I must have walked miles every day, just exploring the streets and the palace and visiting the patisserie and some of the smaller bake shops as well.

  If I was ever fortunate enough to do what I wanted in life, I would certainly become a baking witch and learn how to make pastries that healed people and gave them
insight. La Serenissima had several shops of the type, and even if I couldn't become an apprentice yet, I spent as much time there as I could. I would order a sweet and a coffee and nurse it for a long while, watching what customers ordered, what they needed, and how they reacted to the flavors if they ate it there in the shop. I saw how they settled in, how it was a happy part of their day. Even when they were sitting alone, they seemed content.

  I dreamed about how I would decorate the shop and what I would wear and I was already pairing in my mind what I knew of baking ingredients and spells.

  After a few days, much to my astonishment, a beautiful box tied with a ribbon was delivered to my room. I opened it only to find the Lavender Cloud.

  “Bevan!” I turned to where he was lounging on the bed we shared here now, reading a book. “Did you order this for me?”

  “I wish I had that kind of money, but I expect the queen heard you’ve been taking an interest and decided to order you a get well present,” Bevan said.

  “I can’t wait to thank her,” I said, drinking in the scent of the pastry, savoring every aspect of it before I dared to eat it.

  I had never been so free in my life. The ladies all said La Serenissima was a safe place to stroll, and Bevan was often busy in the archives with Piers, while Variel...well, I avoided him as much as I could.

  I was still nervous about this upcoming ball held for me and the idea that I was supposed to decide Variel's punishment. One day I walked by the Bridge of Sighs and I heard a prisoner wailing as he was led across the bridge. It struck me as a terrible, Medieval sort of sound, in a city that was otherwise so lovely.

  It just doesn't seem right to lock people up all alone without any love or friendship... It seems to me that would make Variel worse, not better. But then, what would make him better? He's so stubborn about this demon business. What would possibly show him that he doesn't need to be cruel to anyone in order to be respected?

  I was so caught up thinking about it that I looked up and realized Variel was right in front of me walking out of one of the flower shop.