Page 14 of Holy Shift (New Orleans Nocturnes #8)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Destiny scrambled to put on her clothes, not bothering with shoes before she and Pete darted downstairs to the sounds of metal clanking and crashing and glass shattering. She reached for the door separating the bakery from her home, but Pete caught her wrist.

“Wait,” he whispered. “They might be armed.”

“So? I can’t let them destroy my bakery.” She tried to tug from his grasp, but he turned her hand over and ran his fingertips over her palm.

“I don’t know if my magical salve can fix a bullet wound. We have to be smart.” He let her go, and she clutched her hand, brushing her thumb over the spot that used to be blistered and burned.

He scooted past her and cracked open the door, flattening himself against the wall as he peered into the kitchen. His brow scrunched, and he leaned forward, pushing the door slightly more ajar.

“What do you see?” She clutched his arm, using all her will to keep herself from busting through and throwing herself in harm’s way. If a hot pan could burn her as badly as it had, she didn’t want to think about getting her butt kicked. “It’s a demon, isn’t it? I bet it’s Richard. He’s the most gluttonous famine demon I’ve ever met.”

“I’m not sure.” Pressing a finger to his lips, he pushed the door all the way open, and of course it creaked on its hinges, alerting the intruder just like in the movies.

The culprit let out a startled squawk-squeal, and Destiny heard the distinct sound of feathers rustling before a metal shelving unit, filled with dozens of empty cake pans and baking sheets, crashed to the floor.

Pete stepped into the kitchen, holding an arm out as if to shield her as she followed. When she saw the state of disarray her beloved bakery lay in, you could bet your sweet blood pudding Destiny wasn’t the one who needed protection. She’d never been so livid in her entire existence.

Not a single tool, pan, or pot remained on the shelves. Everything she owned lay busted on the floor. The intruder had turned circular cake pans into smushed ovals, shattered her tablet screen, and broken her laptop into three pieces.

They’d swiped the beautiful cakes Pete had decorated off the table, and now all his work lay in colorful blobs on the floor, and… Oh, lovely. The sheet cake had a butt print right in the center of the psychedelic swirls.

But that wasn’t even the worst of it.

Her gaze landed on the wide-open door to the walk-in fridge, and her breath caught. Her throat thickened as she stepped over the butt cake, a sense of dread settling in her stomach like a two-pound fruitcake.

“Oh, please no.” She took two cautious steps forward and froze. All two-weeks’ worth of angel food cakes—the very things that kept the demons of New Orleans at bay—lay crumbled on the floor. Whoever broke in had mashed the light, airy cakes into nearly nothing and poured vegetable oil and vinegar over the mess, making certain they were inedible.

“I didn’t see anyone in the shop, and the front door is still locked. They must have run out the back.” Pete rested a hand on the small of her back. “Oh, damn. Are those…”

“All that was left of the angel food cakes? Yeah. And with my magic bound, I can’t make more. I don’t…” She turned in a circle, taking in the messy scene, and a sob rolled up from her chest. Pressure built in her eyes, and she pressed her hands to her cheeks as the tears rolled down.

“I’m done. It’s over.” She sniffled and sobbed again, half from distress and the other half from the sheer anger burning in her veins.

“Hey, don’t say that. We’ll figure this out.” He rubbed her back, and she shrugged away.

“Please, I can’t handle one of your peppy pep talks right now. As soon as Gabriela finds out, she’ll send another angel to swoop in and take over, and I’ll be kicked to the curb. And not even a pretty Garden District curb. No, I’ll land in a puddle of pee on Bourbon Street outside a seedy strip club at three A.M.”

He had the nerve to laugh. “Well, that sounds awful.”

“It isn’t funny, Pete.”

“No, you’re right.” He raised his hands. “What happened isn’t funny, but we can fix it. Your boss doesn’t need to know.”

“I have to take care of the demons. It’s my job to keep the balance.” She gasped. “‘Balance dies. Destiny is awry.’ What if the prophecy really is about me…about the balance here in New Orleans, and not in the fae realm?”

He frowned. “I don’t think fae gods would concern themselves with angel problems.”

“No, I guess not. This…” She exhaled and gestured to the mess. “This is personal. Someone sabotaged me. Why would they…?” The anger sparking in her chest turned into a raging fire as the realization sank in.

She clenched her teeth, grinding them until her jaw ached. “Gabriela did this.”

Pete’s frown deepened, and he righted a toppled shelving unit, scooting it back into place. “Do angels commit sabotage? That sounds like it would be very against the rules.”

“It is, but Gabriela has been out to get me since my first screwup. The only reason I haven’t been wasting away in the repository for centuries is that Michelle wouldn’t let her send me there.”

He picked up a pan and tried to bend it back into shape. “I don’t know. A demon seems the more likely culprit.”

“I heard feathers. Wings rustling. Demon wings are leathery, not feathery.” She tapped her tablet screen, waking it up so she could send her boss a scathing email. She’d CC Michelle, too, just to be certain the higher ups knew. “She’s making sure she never has to deal with me again. Dammit.” She couldn’t see anything on the shattered screen. “I need to get my phone.”

“Hold on. Let’s think about this.” He picked up a baking sheet and set it on the shelf. “Wouldn’t it be easier for Gabriela just to reject your miracle requests? Why would she go to all this trouble?”

“Because she’s extra like that.” Destiny crossed her arms, digging in her heels, but Pete did have a point. Gabriela rarely left her office.

“It wasn’t an angel,” a tiny, disembodied voice said.

Destiny snapped her gaze in the direction of the sound. Her industrial stand mixer, too bulky and heavy for the culprit to knock over, stood in the corner. She marched toward it, and two teensy hands gripped the edge of the icing vat before a blob of green frosting with big black eyes peered over it.

“Gremlin!” She lunged toward the mixer, flipping the switch to turn it on high and backpedaling as quickly as her feet would take her, which was, apparently, too quick.

Her heel landed on a rolling pin, and her leg slipped out from under her. She stumbled, her attempt to catch herself on the edge of the table only making matters worse.

Her hand landed in a smear of frosting and slipped across the surface. Her head smacked the edge, and she bounced off, careening backward and landing in a mound of smashed cake.

The nasty little gremlin grunted and squealed as he went round and round in the mixer. Frosting flew from the bowl, inertia forcing the creature higher and higher up the edges until he sailed across the room and hit the wall with a thunk . He made an errrrr sound as he slid to the floor, and Destiny sat up, clutching her aching head.

“Are you okay?” Pete kneeled beside her, taking her head in his hands and examining her. He brushed her hair from her forehead and grimaced. “You’ve got a lump the size of a chocolate cream egg.”

“I’ll be fine.” Humiliation would do her in long before a bump on her head ever could. She hauled herself to her feet, being careful not to slip in the mess. “We have to catch the gremlin before he destroys the whole building.”

Pete tilted his head and narrowed his eyes at the creature in question. “Are you sure that’s a gremlin? It looks like a raccoon to me.”

She followed his gaze and found, not the leathery green, toad-like creature she expected, but a furry, masked critter who was probably fluffy and cuddly when his fur wasn’t matted with frosting.

The raccoon used his tiny paws to wipe his face. He sniffed the green icing on his fingers and gave them a lick, his eyes widening as he nodded and continued to clean himself. He wiped his little snoot, and when his face was as clean as he could get it without a bath, he stood and waddled toward Pete.

“Mr. Hasen, sir. It’s so good to see you.” He bowed his head before turning to Destiny. “Ma’am.”

She stared at the creature and blinked. Raccoons couldn’t talk. Not in this realm, anyway. Squinting, she tried to read his aura, but with her magic bound, she couldn’t tell the difference between a demon and a dessert tray.

The critter was either enchanted by a witch or he was a fae. After all she’d been through, Destiny would put her money on the latter. She snatched the rolling pin she’d slipped on and held it toward him as threateningly as she could.

“Why did you destroy my bakery?” She moved to stand next to Pete, trying her damnedest not to slip again.

“I didn’t.” He picked a blob of frosting from his arm and flicked it to the floor. “Mr. Rabbit, you know I would never do something like this.”

“I do?” Pete’s face scrunched. “Who are you?”

The raccoon sighed, his posture slumping. “Eostre warned me you might not remember me. I’m Max, the lead elfen in your egg studio. You’ve known me for going on a thousand years.”

“A thousand years.” He continued staring at Max, no doubt trying to force the memory to surface.

Destiny waited fifteen seconds. When Pete didn’t have the ah-ha moment he was searching for, she waved the rolling pin. “If you didn’t do this, who did?”

“It was Helga.” Max eyed Pete warily. “You remember her, right? The poultry thorn in your side?”

He shifted his gaze up and to the right as if someone in the ether might send the memories down to him. “Sorry.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t remember anything.”

“Who’s Helga?” Destiny loosened her grip on the rolling pin. Her ability to read auras and tap into the collective consciousness might be bound more tightly than a baby in a bunting, but she was still an excellent judge of character. Max seemed sincere, and the concerned expression on his fuzzy little face told her he meant no harm.

He combed more frosting from his fur. “May I borrow your sink?”

“Of course.” Where were her manners? “Right over here.”

Max walked on his hind legs to the sink and stood on his tippy toes, stretching both arms up toward the ledge. When he couldn’t reach, he tried one arm and then the other.

“Would you like some help?” Destiny asked. “I can lift you.”

He turned toward her. “That would be nice. Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” She smiled softly and picked him up, placing him in the sink before turning on the water.

“Max,” Pete mumbled. “Helga. Didn’t Eostre say something about Helga?”

“Oh, yeah. That’s why the name sounds familiar.” Destiny handed Max the spray nozzle. “She said Helga offered to help. That her geese flock would lay the eggs.”

Max snorted and squeezed the sprayer, rinsing his face and chest. “Helga isn’t helping. She’s trying to take over.”

“To take over Easter?” Destiny wiped her hands on a dishtowel.

“Yep. Would you mind getting my back?” Max offered the sprayer. “She has all Pete’s elfen locked in the studio, and she’s forcing them to use stencils to paint the eggs.”

“Stencils?” Pete’s lip curled. “But then they’ll all look the same.”

“I know, sir. It’s a travesty.” Max turned around, and Destiny sprayed water on his back, using her fingers to work out the icing clumps.

With Max’s fur clean and frosting-free, Destiny grabbed a clean dishtowel and dried him before setting him on the floor. He gave his body a shake, and his damp fur fluffed out, turning him into a little poof ball.

She set the towel on the counter, her face pinching as she tried to make sense of his story. “How does destroying my bakery help Helga take over Easter? And why were you hiding in a vat of frosting?”

“Stencils.” Pete scoffed and crossed his arms. “How many different designs?”

“Just one, sir. One stencil for billions of eggs, and she doubled everyone’s quotas. She’s working them to the bone.”

Pete shook his head like he couldn’t believe what he’d heard. “How can I help?”

“Hold on.” Destiny raised her hands. Stencils were the least of her worries. “I need you to start from the beginning because none of this makes sense.”

Max climbed onto a stool, getting closer to their eye level. “A vampire is killing the hens. The rest are too stressed to lay eggs, so Pete came to this realm to get help from his vampire friend. But he ended up with amnesia.”

“I know that much. I’m the one who gave it to him.” She leaned against the counter and crossed her arms.

“Helga, the golden goose, offered her supposed help,” Max continued, “and Eostre agreed to let her supply the eggs. That’s all she agreed to, but…”

He looked at Pete, his eyes full of sympathy. “Before Eostre allowed Helga into the studio, she asked me to keep an eye on her. She thought something about her had changed, but she didn’t know what. I haven’t been able to reach Eostre since. She doesn’t answer my calls. She doesn’t check in at the studio. I don’t know where she is.”

“So, Helga has hijacked Easter, and Eostre is MIA.” She drummed her fingers against her biceps. “What does my bakery have to do with any of that?”

“Right.” Pete wrapped an arm around her waist. “There are too many pieces missing from this puzzle.”

“Eostre recognized your bond when she visited this realm,” Max said. “She told me about it, and I’m certain she told Frigg too. Helga must have overheard and come here to sabotage you. She’s always been jealous of Pete and anyone close to him.”

“So, she did all this because she wants to be the Easter Bunny? Because she wants Pete’s job?” Jealousy was the ugliest of emotions, but Destiny still couldn’t fathom her reasons. “Did you date her?”

His lip curled in revulsion. “Never.”

“Are you sure?” she asked. “Your memory isn’t what it used to be.”

He opened his mouth to defend his answer, but he paused, his brow furrowing before he shook his head. “I’m positive. The thought of it makes my stomach turn.”

“He has never and would never,” Max said. “And though I don’t doubt she’s also jealous of you for winning his affections, her intention here was to make him feel the need to protect you.”

“Because if you return to your realm, you can reclaim Easter.” She rested a hand on Pete’s chest. “She’s trying to keep you here.”

He nodded. “She knows there’s no way in all the realms I would leave you alone with the culprit still on the loose. That’s one smart goose.”

“And take a gander at this,” Max said. “I’ve been following her, which is why I’m here. Helga has been in cahoots with beings from your realm. She’s gotten powers she shouldn’t have, and I’ve seen her drink blood.”

“Blood,” Pete said, and Max nodded his head.

“Helga the fae golden goose was turned into a vampire?” Destiny rubbed her chin, smearing frosting onto her face. “That would explain how a vamp crossed into your realm, but…” She gestured at the mess and then at the window. “It’s daylight. How could she be out in the middle of the day?”

Pete offered her a towel. “She’s still a fae. Maybe that’s the difference. Can she shift to a human form?”

“Not that I’ve seen,” Max said. “But she’s unnaturally strong and ornerier than a rabid honey badger. I hid in the mixer bowl because it was the only thing heavy enough to withstand her strength. I didn’t realize it was full until I dove in.”

“I’m still trying to wrap my mind around this.” Destiny wiped her face and hands. “Helga destroyed my bakery, hoping I’d blame it on someone else and feel unsafe in my own home.”

“Exactly.” Max nodded. “Because the mating bond between fae is unbreakable. Pete will never leave your side.”

“That’s true,” Pete said. “Whether our bond is fae, shifter, or plain old man to woman, nothing is going to happen to you on my watch.”

Good gravy. This mess was thickening like someone added way too much cornstarch to…well, to the gravy. Still, her stomach did flutter a bit at Max’s mention of an unbreakable mating bond and Pete’s adamant confirmation that it was true. She could appreciate silver linings, no matter how big and messy the cloud.

“You have to come home, sir. The elfen need you. Eostre too.”

Pete shook his head. “Destiny needs me here.”

She gazed at the mess Helga had made of her bakery. There was no possible way she could clean it up and redo the orders on her own, but honestly? The world wouldn’t end if a sixty-year-old didn’t get her psychedelic birthday cake.

The only truly life-altering malady that had come from this was the angel food cake stash being destroyed. They had a few days at most until the demons started running amuck, and, as much as it pained her, she needed to get ahold of Gabriela so she could send someone else to bake more.

“I need to use the computer out front. I’ll be right back.” She padded through the kitchen door into the shop area and powered up the desktop on the counter. As the computer whirred to life, a thud sounded from a cabinet beneath the display case.

Her pulse raced, but before she could move, an ear-piercing squawk sounded from below and a white goose with blood-red eyes and a set of disproportionally large fangs leaped onto the counter.

Destiny gasped. “Helga.”

The goose squawked again and sprung, sinking her fangs into Destiny’s neck.