Page 33 of Sugar, Spice, and Magical Moonlight (Midlife Menace #2)

B reakfast was disappointing, to say the least. No crepes and no rude coffee.

In fact, according to Ric, the ghosts had all left the house.

Where they were, he had no idea, but we didn’t have time to search for them, as we had to get to the ruggel game.

Fortunately, Ethyl and Frederica had baked some pastries that weren’t half bad.

We paired that with some scrambled eggs and my attempt at making coffee with a café press from last century.

The result was a few extra grounds that made me think of gnome turds when I drank them.

Needless to say, I didn’t finish my coffee, which meant I’d be groggy and cranky while also trying to keep a keen eye out for assassins.

There was no sign of the Enchantress and her creepy staff, so Ethyl and Frederica were kind enough to leave food at their door.

Not enough to sate Nimue’s appetite, but I didn’t care.

Let them be hungry and cranky, too, especially considering I still didn’t trust that they weren’t about to turn on us, blood oath or not.

My mother’s heart twisted and pitched at the thought of having to leave the game early. He’d been begging to go to a ruggel game for years. I hated that I might have to disappoint him.

Ric, Des, and I made our way to the foyer, my black rhinestone boots clicking and my faux leather miniskirt swishing with each step.

My black fishnet stockings itched the Hades out of my thighs as they rubbed together, though I didn’t complain, for poor Ric had to wear leather pants that were so shiny, he looked like a wet seal.

Each step seemed to pain him, and he complained more than once about lack of space for his dangly bits.

It looked like he was smuggling water balloons in his crotch.

But it was his makeup that most disturbed me.

Shu had made his face as white as a ghost and then had added a triangular black nose and matching cat whiskers, and had teased his hair into a spiky mullet.

He could have auditioned for the Latin version of KISS, which would have suited him perfectly, considering “Lick It Up” was his theme song in the bedroom.

The Enchantress and her strange staff were already waiting for us.

Was it my imagination, or did the Enchantress have puffy bags under her eyes that appeared to be a little bloodshot?

Had she been crying? It must’ve been my imagination.

The Enchantress would never go anywhere looking less than perfect.

My gaze shot to Nimue, who stood in the shadows, a small, child’s backpack slung across her shoulder, her features maybe a little more pinched than usual.

Had the Enchantress and Nimue had a fight?

Frederica stomped into the hall, Ethyl fluttering behind her, and I was taken aback by the minotaur’s rocker Viking costume.

Her floppy dildo horns must’ve been stuffed into her bronze helmet with upright horns.

Her face was painted to look like a shield, and she had huge metal spikes on thick shoulder pads to match her silver guitar that was strapped to her front like a sword.

Ethyl looked like the pixie version of an ’80s pop singer, with teased rainbow-hued hair to match her wings, a cute lime green bodysuit, a short, fuchsia tutu, and bright purple stockings with rips in the knees, complemented by high-top sneakers with rainbow laces.

Shu looked like he’d just stepped out of a pop video, and he was ready to “Party Like It’s 1999.

” He’d been doused in “Purple Rain,” from his heeled plum velvet boots to his tight, dark purple leather pants and matching leather jacket with a deep V waist and thick shoulder pads.

His hair was so tall that he’d either stuck his finger in a light socket, or he’d used enough Aqua Net hairspray to blow a wide hole in the ozone.

Walking a slow circle around us, the Enchantress clucked her tongue. “What in cauldron’s name are you wearing?”

“Our disguises.” I bristled at her tone.

She snickered. “Do you honestly think it’s good enough?”

I matched her judgmental scowl with one of my own. “I’m hoping we’ll be in and out of there fast enough that it won’t matter.”

“I need to make contact with my connections and then arrange for the drop-off.” She paused, catching Nimue’s eye, sharing a secretive look that had me rethinking this crazy scheme. “We will be there at least an hour.”

“An hour?” Ric grumbled.

Des clasped his hands together, that gleam in his eyes reminiscent of his excitement at opening presents on Yule Eve. “Does that mean we get to watch the game?”

“Of course.” The Enchantress flashed Des a wide smile. “We’ll be in a private box with catering and the best seats in the stadium.”

“Whose box?” Ric rumbled, taking a wide stance that made me think he was about to belt out “I Was Made For Loving You.”

“I rented it through my connections.” Turning up her chin, she waved away his concern. “They are discreet.”

“How do I know your connections won’t tell?” I pressed.

“They won’t. I pay top dollar for their discretion.

Besides, they never work directly with me.

” She nodded toward her beefy bodyguard.

“Nimue is their point of contact.” She turned toward Shu, her expression expectant.

“Now, for some changes. Everyone knows fairy godparents are brilliant at disguises.” She turned on me with a scowl. “But these costumes fall short.”

Shu frowned. “My disguise spells are totally tubular.”

“I agree,” I said, feeling the need to defend my godfather. “We can hide in plain sight this way. We’ll either look like eager fans or halftime show performers.”

She shook her head. “I recognize your face beneath the makeup.” She waved toward my hips while sweetly smiling. “And your baker’s curves are very recognizable.”

Baker’s curves? Why did her sweet insults always leave a bitter taste in my mouth? I crossed one thigh over the other, failing to make my “baker’s curves” appear smaller.

Ric squeezed my shoulder, whispering warmly in my ear. “Those curves give me something to hold on to at night.”

My knees weakened as I forced myself to step away from him before I combusted into flames. I gave him a sultry wink while mouthing, Later . My lion lover always knew the right thing to say. I would definitely give him something to hold on to tonight if we both survived this insane trip.

Shu looked me over with a frown while tapping his chin. “Agreed. What did you have in mind?”

Of all the nerve!

The Enchantress eyed Ric and me as if we were wayward children, and she was deciding on our punishment. She and Nimue shared a few heated whispers before she said, “Make them satyrs.”

Wait. What? “Absolutely not!”

She wagged a finger. “Do you want to avoid the Insurgi or not?”

“Then make me something else.” I motioned toward Ethyl and Frederica.

“A pixie or a minotaur. Anything but a satyr.” A chill swept through me as I remembered all those satyr sausages hanging from the kitchen cupboards at our demon host’s house in Rome.

And the satyr pubes and goat turds after being forced to share a bathroom with them.

Ethyl fluttered next to me. “Not a pixie, dearest. It will take you weeks to learn how to use your wings.”

Frederica frowned, crossing her arms. “And even longer to learn not to bump into and break things as a minotaur. You will learn the hard way the first time you sit in a chair.”

Dragon balls! They were right!

I turned pleading eyes on Shu. “Then just make us different witches.”

“I think the Enchantress is right,” Ethyl squeaked while wringing her hands together. “We should all be satyrs. They’d never suspect us.”

“They leave goat turds everywhere,” I groaned, fearing I was going to lose this argument.

Ric laughed, rubbing my back. “It’s just undigested hay.”

I turned on him with a snarl. “That’s disgusting.” Was he really going along with this insane plan?

He gave me an apologetic shrug. “They’re less likely to suspect satyrs of being the Phoenix and her family.”

Yeah , I thought, because no witch in their right mind would willingly be a satyr . “Fine,” I grumbled, my shoulders falling in defeat.

Ric stepped forward, giving Shu a hard stare. “I’ll go first.”

Shu walked around him, his boots clicking against the marble floor as he eyed Ric like an art critic judging a sculpture.

Then he pulled out a thick pen with four clickable colors and waved it in front of Ric.

In the next instant, my handsome shifter was a goat man.

He let out an extremely unsexy bleat, and that’s when it hit me.

His face appeared more goat than human. His nostrils were flat, upturned slits etched into his furry face.

His eyebrows looked like fuzzy, dead caterpillars.

His ears reminded me of rotating hands as he eyed me with those vacuous goat eyes.

But most unnerving were his puckered lips that flapped when he bleated.

Ugh. How did satyrs reproduce with those faces?

Gone were his shiny leather pants. Instead, he wore a Fiery Dragons T-shirt and a matching red and black kilt, revealing bare goat calves.

I sure as Hades hoped he had on tight underwear to restrain his swinging goat balls, because I’d never forgive him if I stepped on any poop balls or pubes.

“How do I looook?” he asked me, his words coming out with noisy goat vibrato.

I didn’t know how to answer as I gave Shu an accusatory look. “Why is his face so goaty?”

“You can’t keep your faces,” the Enchantress answered for him while eyeing Ric with a scowl. “They’ll recognize you.”

I waved at my once sexy feline stud, now a Pez-ball dispensing, hay muncher, and not the good kind of hay muncher. “He looks pure goat.”

“Almost,” Shu answered. “There’s a colony of satyrs on the Cretian Islands that are goatier than most.”

I shot him a glare. Why were he and the Enchantress on the same page? I thought our fairy godfather was on our side.