Page 12 of Holy Shift (New Orleans Nocturnes #8)

CHAPTER TWELVE

“I set the oven too hot.” Because of course she did. Gabriela probably thought she was doing the world a favor by binding Destiny’s powers. But Destiny didn’t need magic to be a world-class screw-up. No, she did just fine at that job whether she could use her magic or not.

She fanned the smoke with an oven mitt and reached inside to grab the pan with her bare hand. “Ow! Dammit!”

Searing pain sliced through her palm, and she yanked her hand back, dropping the mitt and gripping her wrist. Use your brain, Destiny. Angels aren’t heatproof.

“Are you okay?” Pete rushed toward her and examined the burn. “Oof. That looks angry. I hope angels heal quickly.”

“We do.” She waved off his concern and reached for the mitt.

He beat her to it and safely pulled the burned bread pudding from the oven. “It helps if you actually wear them.” He winked and set the offending pan on a hotplate before dropping the mitt on the counter. “All better?”

She eyed the wounds on her palm and fingers. Normally, a burn like this would be healed within sixty seconds. But not this time. No, this time her skin screamed with pain, and blisters bubbled on her fingertips. “When Gabriela bound my powers, she apparently bound everything. My healing ability included.”

Pete frowned at her hand and gently cradled it in his. “Do you have a first aid kit?”

“No. I’ve never needed one.”

“You’ll need a bandage and some ointment.” He shoved his hands into his front pockets and pulled out both, his feat of magic not even registering as he smoothed the medicine onto her hand and wrapped it in gauze.

The pain cooled immediately, but the fact his medicine obviously had magical properties wasn’t what had her in awe. “Pete, you pulled that from thin air.”

He chuckled and returned the items to his pockets, where they disappeared instantly. “More like from a cotton/poly blend.”

“And you have no idea how you did it? Can you do it again?”

He reached in and shrugged. “I suppose I just needed it, so it was there. It’s gone now.” He used the oven mitt to dump the burnt bread pudding into the trash. “Was that for an order?”

“Shoot. Yes, it was. I’ll have to make more.” She scurried to the pantry to gather the ingredients. “Between this and the cakes, it’s going to take me all day. If you want to go for a walk or watch television, that’s fine. I’m afraid I won’t be much company until the orders are filled.” She set a loaf of French bread on a cutting board and took a serrated knife from the block.

“Let me help you. What can I do first?”

“I’ve got it.” She sawed into the slightly stale bread, cutting it into small pieces. “I should’ve paid more attention to the oven temperature. I screwed it up, so I’ll fix it.”

“Destiny.” He stepped behind her, giving her shoulders a squeeze. “It’s okay to make mistakes, and it’s okay to let people help you. Especially when you’re injured.”

Warmth radiated from his body, and she closed her eyes for a long blink, giving herself three full seconds to enjoy the sensation before stepping out of his embrace. “Spending all day cooped up in my bakery won’t help you get your memories back.”

“If I help you, it won’t take all day.” He carried the now-empty pan to the sink and started to wash it.

He wasn’t wrong. Together, they could work at twice the speed, and maybe, just maybe…

“Put that down. I have an idea.” She strode toward the four-tiered cake she’d begun frosting before the bread pudding disaster and filled a bag with gold icing. “You can help by decorating this cake.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know the first thing about cake decorating.” He dried his hands and strode toward her.

“It’s easy. Here are all the icing tips.” She gestured to the box of little silver tips and set a sheet of laminated paper next to it. “This illustrates how the icing will look coming out of each one, and this is what you’re making.”

She tapped a tablet screen and pulled up the image the customer had submitted. “It’s for a St. Patrick’s Day party happening tonight. Green, white, and gold. Argyle pattern on the bottom layer, draw some shamrocks on the others, and top it with a little pot of gold. It’s art. You’re an artist. You can even make a little fondant rainbow if you want to jazz it up.”

He stilled, staring at the partially frosted cake. “I don’t remember being an artist.”

“It’ll come back to you.” She pressed a bag of green frosting into his hand. “Like riding a bike.” Or so she hoped. If she could get him designing again, shifting his thoughts away from trying to remember his past and focusing them on creating art, maybe something might come to him.

His brow furrowed, his gaze cutting between the cake, the icing bag, and the example image, but still, he didn’t move.

“Like this.” She took his hand and guided it to the counter, squeezing the bag and creating a star-shaped blob of green. “And if you move your hand while you squeeze…” She guided him to the right, lifting and pushing back to make a series of shell shapes. “That’s what the bottom border should look like.”

He blinked, a strange expression overtaking his features that Destiny hoped to heaven was the look of a memory jogging loose. “Yeah. Okay, I can do this.”

She backed away slowly so she didn’t spook whatever his brain was attempting to conjure and grabbed another loaf of bread to start the pudding recipe again. Her hand tingled, and she peeked beneath the bandage. Whatever ointment he’d pulled from his magical pocket was a miracle unto itself. Her burns had completely healed. So cool.

She tossed the gauze into the trash and chuckled as she imagined all the women of the world having pockets like Pete’s, being able to access whatever they needed, whenever they needed it. Now that was a miracle-worthy endeavor. Hell, most women would be thrilled for their pants to be blessed with pockets they could fit a cellphone in. Or at least a full set of keys.

Fifteen minutes passed as she worked on the recipe, and she put a new pan of pudding into the oven, double-checking the temperature so she didn’t burn it again. She set the timer and checked the computer for the next order before glancing at Pete, who put the final swirl on the top layer of cake.

“Done,” he said, and he set the icing bag on the counter. “What’s next?”

Destiny peered at his creation and padded toward him. The cake looked magnificent, the lines clean, the shamrocks virtually perfect. “You did this whole thing in fifteen minutes.”

She parked her hands on her hips and admired his work. It would have taken her at least an hour to pull off something this elaborate, and that was when she had access to her magic. He’d even added flakes of edible glitter to highlight the gold coins. She hadn’t given him any glitter. Did he pull that out of the cotton/poly blend too?

“It took me a minute to get used to the pressure. The next one should be faster.” He wiped the back of his hand across his cheek, smudging himself with gold icing.

“Faster?” She laughed and wiped his face with a hand towel. “At this rate, we’ll be done before lunchtime.”

“I’m okay with that.” His gaze dropped to her mouth before flicking back to her eyes. “Then we can finish what we started before I blacked out.”

Her stomach looped, but she managed to cut off the maniacal giggle before it escaped her throat. That idea sounded way better than lunch. Heat crept up her neck as she held his gaze, and her pulse quickened. Was it bad that she considered saying to hell with the cakes and taking him upstairs right then and there?

Yes, Destiny. You’ve got customers counting on you. Realms, even. Still, it was a fun idea to entertain.

“We’ll see about that.” She playfully slapped the towel against his stomach and headed for the walk-in fridge to cool herself off. Holy hellhounds in a handbasket. If their chemistry got any hotter, she’d short-circuit the entire city.

She took a deep breath, letting the chilled air center her. Next up was a full sheet cake with psychedelic swirls in a pallet straight from the seventies. She’d baked the cakes in advance, using her angel magic to preserve them, so frosting was the only step left.

“Grab the tablet and pull up order one sixty-two.” She carried the cake to the table before retrieving tubs of brown, yellow, and orange icing. “This one is for an adult birthday, and when you’re done, you can start on one sixty-three if you like.”

He arched a brow at the screen. “These are the colors they want?”

“Yep. Exactly those, but you have freedom in the design. Swirl and twirl however you want.”

He grinned. “On it.”

Destiny mixed a white chocolate sauce, letting it cool before putting it into a plastic container. The oven timer dinged, and she pulled out the bread pudding, perfectly baked this time, and set it on a rack before turning to Pete.

“How’s it go…ing?” Her brows shot toward her hairline. In the half-hour it had taken her to finish the pudding, he’d frosted three cakes and hand-decorated six dozen sugar cookies for an order that had apparently come in eight minutes ago. “How in heaven do you move so fast?”

“I have to. How else could I get billions of eggs ready for delivery in two weeks’ time?” His brown slammed down over his eyes. “I have help. We’re all fast. They… I…” He set down the icing bag and scratched his head. “I think I have a team. I…I don’t know.”

“Pete!” She rushed toward him, taking his face in her hands before clutching his shoulders. “Focus. The eggs. You paint billions?”

His eyes tightened, his forehead creasing as he concentrated. He squeezed his lids shut, his lips pursing until he finally sighed. “I can’t remember. I lost it.”

“It’s okay.” She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a hug. “Your memories are there. We just have to knock them loose, and I promise you it will be my only focus until it’s done.”

“It can’t be your only focus.” He tried to break the hug, but she held him tighter.

“It can and it will be. I’m going to make this right.”

“Destiny.” He gripped her shoulders, gently pushing her away. “My life isn’t the only one at stake. What about your miracle? You need to focus on that too.”

“Well, I can’t miracle your memories back. I tried.” She shrugged out of his embrace. “I honestly can’t think of anything else that might get approved, so I’m just going to do my best to help you. At the very least, if I have to grow old and die, I can do it knowing I did everything in my power to help you save your realm.”

“No, I don’t like that. There has to be a way.” He tapped a finger to his lips. “The prophecy said I would leave my land to devise a plan. If I came here to ask Gaston for help, I have a feeling my plan was to take him to Eostre’s realm to investigate. Can that be your miracle? Sending a fae and a vampire across realms?”

She pouted her lips, contemplating Gabriela’s likely response to a request like that. Maybe if she worded it just right, she could… Her shoulders slumped. Who was she kidding? “You’re a fae. The ability to cross realms is ingrained in your soul. Gabriela wouldn’t find that miracle-worthy. I doubt the request would make it past her assistant’s desk.”

“Are you sure? Because Eostre is a goddess, and even she couldn’t drag me across. If a goddess couldn’t make it happen, it sounds like it would take a miracle to get me there.”

Destiny shook her head. “Eostre said she couldn’t take you because you have to remember how to cross the realms yourself. Your lack of memory is my fault. I can’t request a miracle to remedy my own mistake.”

A conspiratorial grin lifted his lips. “Eostre said she can’t get me across unless I remember.”

“So?”

“So, that means it really would take a miracle. I might not remember how to be the Easter Bunny, but you can bet your shiny gold halo I know how to improvise. Get me to Eostre’s realm, and I’ll figure the rest out from there. It might be with goose eggs this year, but we will make Easter happen.”

She sucked in a sharp breath. “You’re right. I’m not asking to make you remember how to cross realms. I’m asking to send you there myself.”

“Exactly.” He set her laptop in front of her. “We can do this together. You and me.”

“Together. Eostre said that was the only way we could fix things.” She logged in to the miracle network and cracked her knuckles.

She typed furiously, backspacing and rewording to make certain no mention or vague reference to Pete’s missing memories remained in her request. She didn’t ask to save Easter either. This request was all new and precisely specific. Send Pete to the fae realm. That was all. The fewer details she gave, the more likely it would pass through.

When she finished, she read it four more times. “I told them I know the ability is ingrained in your soul, but you can’t access it. Souls are a big deal to angels, so that should get their attention.” Plus, angels hated the fae. Shipping one back to his own realm should sound appealing enough.

Her pulse racing, she hovered her finger above the enter key and flicked her gaze to Pete. “Together?”

He smiled and laid his hand over hers. “Together.”

They pressed the button, sending the miracle request into the ether. Her breath came out in a rush, and she closed the laptop before turning around.

Pete stood facing her, his otherworldly eyes glittering. “Feels good to find a solution, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t know about good. I’m still a nervous wreck. The waiting is the hardest part.” Because they could be stuck waiting until their time ran out.

He stepped toward her, brushing the back of his fingers across her cheek. “Then let me take your mind off it.”