Page 41 of Sugar, Spice, and Magical Moonlight (Midlife Menace #2)

W alking was weird in jeans so tight, I practically had to bathe in butter to get them on.

It was Ethyl’s idea to dress hip for the camera, in jeans and what Shu had called “go-go boots” with side zippers and slight heels.

They clicked across the tiles with each step, heralding my arrival and eliminating the element of surprise.

The jeans were so tight, their pockets were almost rendered useless.

I only had room for my lipstick wand, which pressed uncomfortably against my hip.

I’d have a wand-sized bruise there later.

I shouldn’t have been surprised when Ric and I passed an army of gnomes pushing a stack of three pizza boxes on Des’s skateboard toward the Enchantress’s bedroom like tiny soldiers heaving a catapult toward a fortress. Guess she was getting my pizza one way or another.

I heaved a sigh while skirting around them.

“Want me to take the pizzas from them?” Ric whispered.

I shrugged. “Why bother? They probably got their grubby hands all over the crusts by now.” And left a few “coffee grounds , ” I wanted to add while secretly hoping the Enchantress ate gnome shit.

The Enchantress and her weird staff were waiting for me.

The influencer was in all black, from her chiffon blouse that exposed far too much chest, to the onyx tiara she wore in her hair.

I wondered if Ric had reclaimed all his family’s jewels, or if he’d let her keep this one. The thought boiled my blood.

Bea was twitchier than normal, her eyebrows drawn low, her hair still a mess and hanging over her eyes, like she’d just crab- walked out of a well while dragging the severed, soaked heads of her enemies.

The hollowness in her eyes was enough to make me slip my wand out of my pocket, casually pressing it between my palm and my thigh.

Under the glare of the bright lights, I could see that the Enchantress had red-rimmed eyes.

If all the tissues in her wastebasket were any indication, either she’d been crying, or she was allergic to lying and manipulation.

If that was the case, I expected her to go into anaphylactic shock at any moment.

Like before, I sat on the stool while she stood opposite me.

I shifted uncomfortably, my jeans digging into my sides.

The wand pressed into my palm felt the size of a brick.

Nimue operated the camera this time while Bea twitched in the corner.

Ric stood in the threshold, his wary gaze trained on Bea, his nostrils flared as if he was trying to decipher her scent.

I knew he was also wondering how a banshee could end up in a sprite’s body.

Before I realized what was happening, the lights were blinding my eyes, and Nimue was livestreaming us. I blinked into the light, nervous that Ric was merely a shadow behind Nimue now.

Arms crossed, the Enchantress eyed me intently. “Tell me about the Luci you want us all to know. What was your childhood like?”

I swallowed at that. Why would she dredge up painful memories? Was she trying to get me to cry on camera? “Wonderful, until I lost my parents.”

She leaned toward me, eyes narrowing. “What happened to your parents?”

Facing the camera, I blinked back moisture that gathered behind my eyelids. “I saw a succubus kill them and our cousin, Ethyl’s mom, when I was fifteen. Ethyl was with me. She was only five.”

“Why did a succubus kill your parents?” she pressed, her voice lacking inflection.

I glared at her. What kind of question was that? “I assume to get to me.”

“How did you get away?”

I hesitated to answer and reveal all my magical secrets. Then again, if I was supposedly the Phoenix, I should have a plethora of spells at my fingertips. “The succubus never saw me. I hid myself with an invisibility spell.”

She impatiently tapped her foot. “Most witches will never learn invisibility spells in their lifetime, not even alpha witches.”

Well, duh. But I wasn’t most witches. I worked hard to keep my tone even. “I know.”

“And you mastered it at fifteen.”

I didn’t like the note of incredulity in her voice. My bones began to vibrate with anger. “I’d mastered it when I was a child.”

She stared at me, the slightest of smiles tugging at her lips, and I had a feeling she wasn’t just looking at me—she was looking through me. “How was the succubus able to kill your mother?”

“Using a stunning spell,” I answered, still confused by her line of questions. Was she trying to break me?

“Forgive me,” she drawled, averting her gaze to pick a speck of grime from beneath a polished fingernail. “But throughout history, the mothers of Phoenixes have been known to have great magic themselves. How did the demon overpower such a powerful witch?”

Alarm bells started blaring in my head, and I felt slight tremors beneath my stool. I breathed out a shaky breath. Last thing I needed was for my earth-splitting magic to act up again. “The element of surprise.”

She leered at me from beneath thick lashes. “But you had enough warning to hide.”

“It all happened so fast,” I blurted while clenching my trembling hands in my lap, my wand digging into my palm.

“From what I’ve read,” she drawled, a feral gleam in her eyes, “there are no stronger strigas than the mothers of Phoenixes, other than the Phoenixes themselves, and yet, this demon was stronger than your mother.”

Merlin’s crusty nutsack.

She knew Des was the Phoenix, and now she was toying with me like a gnome between a cat’s paws on livestream.

Well played, Enchantress.

I hadn’t remembered reading that striga mothers were the second most powerful witches, but considering my strong magic and aura, it made sense.

I wondered if she also knew that “Hell hath no fury like the protective mother of a Phoenix,” for she was about to find out.

The stool beneath me rattled as vibrations pulsed across the floor.

If the annoying influencer kept goading me, I refused to be held responsible if my earth-splitting magic sent her sprawling into the camera.

Turning up my chin, I feigned indifference, refusing to let her followers see she’d rattled me, though she had. I gritted my teeth, trying to push my worries for my son out of my mind. My aunt already knew he was the Phoenix. I couldn’t keep it from the world forever. “Not stronger, just faster.”

She tapped her chin with a manicured nail, appearing lost in thought. “I see.”

I arched a brow. “Do you?”

“Yes.” Her smile reminded me of a portrait I’d seen of a happy siren feasting on a sailor. All she needed was that orgasm afterglow and blood running down her chin. Talk about a strange post-sex ritual. I usually preferred snuggles, but to each their own.

“Okay,” I said on a huff while smoothing invisible wrinkles from my jeans, “because I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”

“What happened to you after you were orphaned?” she pressed.

“My distant cousin raised me.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Just one cousin and no other protection?”

I forced a smile. “Our anonymity was our protection.”

“And you thought that was enough after the last demon found your family?”

“No.” I bristled at her tone. “I never thought it was enough. I’ve been looking over my shoulder for demons my whole life.”

“I’m surprised you had a child, given your fears.”

I dug my nails into my denim at the mention of my son. “I was afraid to bring a child into this world, but my ex-husband threatened to divorce me if I didn’t give him a child, and now I’m glad I did.”

She tilted her head like a predator deciding if she wanted to play with her prey or eat it. “How old is your son?”

I narrowed my eyes. “I’d prefer not to discuss my son.” The last thing I wanted to do was bring attention to him and make him a target of our enemies. She knew this.

She dismissed my answer with a casual flick of the wrist. “Your son is on the spectrum, isn’t he?”

“Why are you asking about my son when this interview is supposed to be about me?” I wasn’t ashamed my son was on the spectrum. I was proud of his unique abilities, but I didn’t want our enemies thinking they could take advantage of him.

She leaned toward me. “Can you tell us anything about him?”

“No,” I answered curtly. “Considering demons are chasing us, I’d rather keep information about my son private.”

She shrugged. “Fair enough.” The wicked smile she flashed made my bones quake with panic. “On the first day we met, he grew a flower for me in his palm.” She opened her hand, showing a perfectly preserved flower to the screen.

Vibrations buzzed through my skull. “A simple spell I taught him ages ago.”

Her eyes flashed with malice. “Then, do it.”

“Do what?”

She gave me an expectant look. “Grow a flower.”

Ohh, the bitch. She knew Des was the Phoenix, and she was trying to expose us to her followers. For that reason alone, I should’ve turned her to ash with a flick of my wand.

“Is this how you test my magic,” I asked with a disinterested slur, laughter ringing in my words, “having me grow flowers?” Truthfully, I didn’t know the spell, but I knew plenty of other hexes. Fingering my wand, I whispered a simple confusion spell under my breath.

The Enchantress opened her mouth, as if to speak, then blurted, “Who the hex are you?” She blinked into the bright lights, her mouth dropping. “What the hex is going on?”

I slowly stood, motioning to Nimue to cut the camera. The spell was a weak one and should only last a few minutes, long enough for the Enchantress to look a fool to her viewers and then be furious with me afterward.

Good. I looked forward to her retaliation. She’d picked the wrong witch to mess with. Nobody could out-bitch me. And now that I knew I was the second most powerful striga alive, I had the confidence to go with my strength.

Nimue let out a hiss as I walked around the glare from the camera lights and straight up to Ric.