Page 8 of Bewitched By the Voodoo King (The Bewitching Hour #7)

A loud pop sounded from down the hall and I groaned.

Not another problem. Since becoming the Voodoo King, I dealt with more issues than I ever knew possible within the coven.

Starting with toilets overflowing into a neighboring home and ending with a magical catastrophe on Bourbon Street.

I could hardly believe some of the problems people brought to my door and by that sound…

it meant another was coming right for me.

I rolled my neck on my shoulders and contemplated turning the other way. I could pretend I didn’t hear it, but that would only prolong dealing with whatever it was. Which didn’t look good, if anyone found out or it could just make it that much bigger of a mess.

Dragging my feet, I walked down the hallway to the massive kitchen that took up the middle of the coven’s compound.

I pushed the swinging doors open and had to cover my mouth to keep from laughing.

Maple stood in the center of the kitchen holding a bag of flour.

Her face was completely covered in white, as well as the surrounding floor.

She blinked a few times before she turned around and placed the bag onto the granite countertop.

It was rather comical and nothing I expected.

“I… I don’t know what happened,” she said stunned. “I just wanted to bake something nice for your mother and then one by one each of the ingredient containers exploded in my face.”

I gritted my teeth together and covered my mouth with a closed fist to keep from laughing out loud.

I cleared my throat. “Well, for starters, you trespassed against an elemental witch’s domain.

She has everything spelled in here with her magic and I’m sure she will be here in three…

two…” and before I could get to one, Magnolia was bursting through the doors.

“What the hell is happening in my kitchen? What kind of person doesn’t stop after the first hex?” Magnolia, also known as Maggie stepped into the kitchen with her rolling pin held high and her ample hips swinging. “I hate a kitchen trespassing bitch.”

Maggie stopped when she spotted me and she almost looked sheepish. “Rune, I’m glad you made it before I did. I would have whooped this girl’s ass. Who are you?”

I couldn’t help but clear my throat again. It became even more comical the longer Maple stood there. Her hazel eyes rounded and her mouth formed an O even though no sound escaped her.

“Maggie, this is Maple.”

Maggie’s rolling pin lowered slightly, though her expression remained skeptical as she studied Maple. “Maple, huh? You’re the one everyone’s been whispering about?”

Maple finally seemed to find her voice. “Whispering? About me?” Her tone was a mix of confusion and indignation, her hands gesturing wildly, inadvertently sending another puff of flour into the air. “I didn’t even do anything!”

Maggie arched a brow, glancing pointedly at the flour-coated counters, floor, and Maple herself. “You didn’t do anything? Girl, my kitchen looks like it got hit by a powdered sugar hurricane!”

“I just wanted to bake something nice for Rene,” Maple said defensively, her hands landing on her hips. “How was I supposed to know the kitchen was booby-trapped?”

“Booby-trapped?” Maggie looked personally offended. “It’s spelled, not booby-trapped. This kitchen runs smoother than a New Orleans parade when people respect the rules. You come in here with your chaotic energy and now look at it!”

I couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out of me.

Both women turned to glare at me, but the scene was too good to hold it in.

Maple, her hair and face dusted white, looking like a guilty child caught raiding a cookie jar, and Maggie, towering over her like an avenging culinary goddess, rolling pin in hand.

“Rune,” Maggie said, her tone dripping with warning, as she planted a closed fist on her ample hip, “if you’re not going to help, I suggest you take your laughing ass elsewhere.”

I raised my hands in mock surrender, still grinning. The expression felt funny on my usual serious face. “I’m staying out of this.”

“No, you’re not,” Maple said quickly, turning toward me with a mix of desperation and irritation. “You’re the Voodoo King , aren’t you? Help me!”

“That’s not how this works,” I said, leaning casually against the counter, enjoying this far too much. “You broke the kitchen rules, and now you’ve got to answer to Maggie.”

“I didn’t know there were rules!” Maple exclaimed, throwing her hands up. “No one told me the kitchen was spelled!”

Maggie narrowed her eyes. “First rule of surviving in a coven: don’t mess with an elemental witch’s domain unless you want to end up on her bad side. You’re lucky I’m feeling generous today.”

Maple groaned, her head falling into her flour-covered hands. “I just wanted to make something for Rene. Is that so wrong?”

Maggie’s stern expression softened slightly, though she tried to hide it. “It’s not wrong,” she said gruffly. “But next time, ask before you start tearing through my pantry.”

“I’ll clean it up,” Maple said quickly, her tone earnest. “I’ll clean everything. Just… please don’t banish me from the kitchen forever.”

Maggie eyed her for a moment before nodding. “Fine. But you’re on probation. And if you want to bake, you’ll do it under my supervision. And I want to know what you were planning on making.”

“Well,” Maple started. “I see that you don’t have a sourdough starter.”

Maggie held her hand up. “Girl, I told you my kitchen was spelled. I do, indeed, dabble in sourdough. Maybe if you asked first, you wouldn’t have gotten yourself into this mess.”

Maple’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t exactly have anyone to help me or show me around. I waited in here for thirty minutes thinking you would show up and you never did.”

Maggie pinched her lips together. “Get out of my kitchen, but you can come by later and help me with the rice and gravy I’ll have cooking.”

“Oh, I don’t really cook?—”

Maggie raised a brow and held up her rolling pin like it was a weapon. “I wasn’t askin’.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Maggie turned her dark glare on me. “Get this girl out of here before I teach you both a lesson.”

Maple held up a hand like she was asking a question in school. “Can I at least help you clean up?”

Maggie rolled her eyes. “No!”

The swinging doors barely had time to close before Maple spun around, her arms crossed and her face still streaked with flour.

“Seriously? You just stood there and let her tear into me. Aren’t you supposed to be in charge or something?”

I fought back a smirk, shoving my hands into my pockets. “Being in charge doesn’t mean I have to save you from your own mistakes.”

“Oh, so now this is my fault?” she shot back, her tone sharp, though the flush creeping into her cheeks betrayed a mix of embarrassment and irritation.

“I just wanted to do something nice for your mother, and instead, I ended up being yelled at and threatened with a rolling pin. Great first impression.”

“Actually,” I said, leaning casually against the wall, “I’d say you made quite an impression. Maggie doesn’t offer probation to just anyone.”

“Well, none of this would have happened if you had been waiting for me when I was done with your mother. I didn’t know where to go or what to do with myself.

I hardly made it back to my own room.” She stopped and crossed her arms over her chest. “Speaking of rooms. When am I going to get my chest with all of my things in it?”

The chest had been delivered to my room and I’d been too busy to think of it.

Because we were technically married, she would need to live in my quarters but that was the last thing I wanted.

It was bad enough that I’d just broken up with Babette the week before—for things completely unrelated—and now I was going to have to introduce my new bride to the coven.

It didn’t look good. I didn’t know where to start.

We were all still mourning the loss of my father and the witches from weeks before.

How could I possibly spring this on them too?

Only a few knew of the arranged marriage and no one else was supposed to know that it was all for allies and strength.

If the witches in this coven knew it was all fake, they would probably be the first to feed her to the wolves as a sacrifice.

Louis had already suggested it. I knew the others would think the same too.

I bit into my bottom lip before speaking. “Your things are in my room, but it’s much more complicated and I don’t know how to introduce you to the rest of the coven.”

Maple ran her hands down her flour-covered face, only making her look sillier. “So what am I to do? Just wait around for you to acknowledge me? I thought I would at least get the opportunity to try good food.”

I raised my brows at her. “Maggie’s cooking is the best you’ll have in this entire state.”

She threw her head back like a child throwing a fit. “I wanted some adventure here.”

“Haven’t you had enough adventure already?” I gestured to her flour-streaked face.

Maple groaned, swiping at her flour-covered face again, only managing to smear it into even more ridiculous patterns.

She glared at me, her hands falling to her sides in defeat.

“So, let me get this straight. My stuff is in your room, I have to wait for you to decide when it’s safe to introduce me to the coven, and on top of that, I can’t even make a good impression because your kitchen is cursed? ”

“It’s spelled,” I corrected, crossing my arms. “Not cursed. There’s a difference.”

“Oh, excuse me,” she said, throwing her hands up. “I’m sorry I didn’t take the Spelled Kitchens 101 course before I got here.”

I sighed, dragging a hand over my face. She wasn’t wrong to be frustrated, but she didn’t understand how precarious this situation was. “Look, this isn’t simple, Maple. You showing up wasn’t exactly part of the plan.”

“Yep, because I just stumbled right into your coven without anyone inviting me,” she shot back, stepping closer and narrowing her eyes.

“So maybe instead of leaving me to wander around like a lost puppy, you could give me something—anything—to work with. A plan. Directions. Hell, even a map would be better than this.”

Her words struck a chord, and for a moment, guilt twisted in my chest. She had a point.

I’d been so caught up in everything—my father’s death, the wolves, the politics of holding this coven together—I hadn’t considered what it must be like for her.

Alone in an unfamiliar place, surrounded by people who saw her as an outsider at best and a liability at worst.

I exhaled heavily. “Fine. You’re right.”

She blinked, clearly not expecting me to agree so easily. “Wait. What?”

“I said you’re right,” I repeated, pushing off the wall. “You deserve better than this. I’ve been… distracted, but I’ll make sure you’re taken care of. Starting with your things.”

Her arms uncrossed slightly, but she didn’t look entirely convinced. “And after that?”

I frowned, thinking. “I’ll introduce you to the coven. But we have to do it carefully. Only a few people know about this arrangement, and if we don’t handle it the right way?—”

“I’ll be fed to the wolves?” she interrupted, her tone laced with dry humor.

My jaw tightened. “That’s not funny.”

Her smirk faltered and she nodded. “Sorry. I guess I’m not used to all this… political maneuvering.”

“Neither am I,” I admitted, surprising even myself. “But we’ll figure it out.”

Her brow arched. “We?”

“Yes, we, ” I said, my tone firm. “This isn’t just my problem anymore. You’re part of this now, whether either of us likes it or not.”

Her lips twitched like she wanted to argue but couldn’t find the words. Instead, she sighed, muttering, “Fine. But for the record, I don’t appreciate being a pawn in some grand scheme.”

“You’re not a pawn,” I said, meeting her gaze. “You’re… part of the strategy.”

She gave me a look that clearly said, Oh, that’s so much better.

Before I could explain further, her stomach growled loudly, breaking the tension. Her eyes widened, and I couldn’t hold back the laugh that escaped.

“Sounds like you’re ready for some of Maggie’s rice and gravy,” I said, smirking.

She groaned, her cheeks flushing. “Don’t remind me. I’m still not over the rolling pin threat.”

“Then don’t keep her waiting,” I said, starting to walk back toward the hallway. “Trust me, Maggie’s food is worth the risk.”

She hesitated for a moment, then followed me, her steps lighter than before. As ridiculous as she looked, there was a spark in her that I couldn’t ignore—one that, against all odds, made me think she might just survive here. Flour explosions and all.