Witchin' Stix - Lissa Matthews Read online

  “The jealous little creature Barry told us about? What happened to her?”

  “That one is long dead. The current mischief maker is caged. She’s not happy about it, either. I’m curious...”

  “About?” Why were we having a conversation as though it were the most normal thing in the world?

  Mates.

  The single word bounced around in my mind and I waved a hand as though I could whoosh it away.

  “You haven’t asked my name.”

  “I don’t need to know your name in order to ask for my jar of magic back. And I hardly think names are important.”

  “Oh, but they’re very important. You’ll need it when we recite our vows.”

  “There aren’t going to be any vows. There’s you having my jar and me wanting it back.”

  “Morgan.”

  “What?”

  “That’s my name. Morgan.”

  “That’s not a demon name.”

  “It’s your demon’s name.”

  That one sentence stalled the words in my throat. My demon.

  My.

  Demon.

  I shook my head and stood, surprised my legs could hold me up and I walked out onto the balcony.

  The sun was shining. There were birds chirping. People still talked down below. The building next door also had a large apartment on the top floor with its balcony doors open. I watched the pale blue curtains blowing in the wind.

  Everything out here seemed real. Everything out here seemed normal. Almost.

  But it wasn’t normal.

  It wasn’t normal because there was a hot demon named Morgan inside behind me saying he was my mate. My demon.

  If I stood on the balcony railing and walked off, would I go splat, or would he catch me, whisking us off somewhere else where I couldn’t do anything silly trying to wake myself up from this alternate version of my life?

  I turned and faced him across the distance. “I woke up this morning intending to make candy. It’s what I do. I make candy. I make treats. They make other witches and warlocks and shifters and cats happy. But I couldn’t use my magic because it now makes sour candy. Then my jar was stolen right out from under my nose and you tell me I am your mate, that Baba Yaga owed you for taking care of a little problem, and there’s a Wicked who Barry said is jealous for some unknown reason. I just don’t know how to handle all this. It’s too much. It’s not my life and I don’t want to do it anymore. I want to go home. I want to crawl into my bed and sleep until it’s all over.”

  “My poor, poor Kandy girl. Do you think I wanted a witch for a mate? A good witch? I didn’t want a mate at all, but... You and me. We’re mates, we’re destined. And I must say, the more I learned about you from Barry, the more glimpses I was able to take through his eyes, the more I liked you and the more I welcomed our fate.”

  “There’s no getting through to you, is there?”

  “Of course, there is. Say yes.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  “You will.”

  “I won’t.”

  He smiled and stood, taking slow, measured steps toward me. Amir did nothing but watch the whole thing play out. I couldn’t blame him. What was there for him to do? Duel the demon? That wouldn’t work out very well. For all I knew, it would kill them both.

  I stayed where I was, pressed hard into the railing at my back. My hands clenched the iron until I thought for sure my fingers would snap or the iron would bend. Not that I had that kind of strength. It would be kind of cool if I did, though...

  Focus, Kandy, I reminded myself.

  I shouldn’t have to remind myself of that. But with a gorgeous demon striding my way... He grinned, and my knees threatened to buckle.

  “You have the most delightful, runaway thoughts.” He touched his fingertips to my forehead and stroked softly. I did my best not to moan or lean into the warmth of the touch, but I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t help wanting it to last a few moments longer. “I have never enjoyed being in someone’s mind quite like I enjoy yours.”

  “It’s not polite to make fun. Or read someone’s mind,” I said as panic at his nearness and touch began to settle in my belly.

  “Oh, my little witch, I’m not making fun. I do, sincerely find your scattered thoughts enjoyable. And as for reading minds, once we are bound, if you so wish it, I will never read yours again without an invitation.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  He dropped his hand back to his side and a little of the light dimmed in his eyes. “You will find I am not wrong.” His tone hardened, too. He was a demon used to getting what he wanted and while I might be a little enthralled, reluctantly, I would take his bit of coldness as a good sign that I still had my wits about me.

  “I would like to meet your Wicked.”

  “I don’t think that is a good idea.”

  “I am here for my magic back and so far, you’re not helping very much. I’d at least like to know why she’s jealous.”

  His gaze gave nothing away. It only peered hard into my own, but something must’ve satisfied him because he took my hand and the next thing I knew, I was standing in a small room with a golden bird cage suspended from the ceiling.

  The walls were dark and pricked with points of light, giving a feeling of being outside at night.

  I walked closer to the cage and came face to face with a pixie-like creature. She had large, gray eyes, and pale blue skin with deep blue hair. Her ears were moderately sized and pointed. Her body was short, but curvaceous.

  She was a miniature pin-up girl.

  “Hi.”

  And she hissed and growled at me. So, maybe not like a miniature pin-up girl.

  “Wilhelmina.” The demon’s voice from behind me was sharp and brooked no argument. “You will be nice.”

  “Wilhelmina. That’s a pretty name. My name is Kandace, but everyone calls me Kandy.”

  “I care not. Leave.”

  She crossed her small arms over her ample chest, then turned her back to me. I simply walked around to the other side of the cage. “Why are you mad at me?”

  “You want him for yourself and he is mine.”

  I flickered a look at the demon, then back at the pouting little Wicked. “I do not.”

  “You make him treats. You give him gifts.”

  “I don’t.”

  “The black furball does. From you.”

  Barry. That cat was a pain in my... “Not from me. I do not want your demon.”

  “I’m not—”

  I ignored him. “I do not want your demon, Wilhelmina. And just because you think you saw gifts from me, you didn’t.”

  “Do you promise?”

  For the first time, she looked relieved and not quite as hostile. “Yes, I promise. I only want my magic back and for you to leave my Witchin’ Stix alone, so I can share them with others who need them.” She didn’t look at all as though she believed me. “Stealing the jar wasn’t nice, but maybe you felt you had to? To protect him or keep him? Whatever it was, you have nothing to worry about. I won’t come between you and him.”

  “Witch...”

  There was a warning in the demon’s voice that I ignored.

  “What do you say Wilhelmina? Do you promise not to cause any further trouble?”

  “You’ll leave and never come back?”

  “Yes. I will leave and never come back.”

  “Then I will leave you alone from now on.”

  “Thank you.” I stuck my fingers through the bars on the cage. She looked at them and turned her pointed nose up. “It’s a handshake. To seal our deal.”

  With slowness and uncertainty, she touched her fingers to mine. They were cool and soft, like silk. “You may go, Witch.”

  She shimmered out of sight and I looked up at the demon. The thunderous expression on his face was nothing to be trifled with. However... I was done for the day. “Where did she go?”

  “She still there. She’s invisible.”

  “That�
�s a handy dandy trick. Can I go home now?”

  He shook his head. “You have no idea what you’ve done.”

  “I do so.”

  He snapped his fingers and we were back in the room with Amir who rushed toward me. “Are you alright, Kandy?”

  “I am. The Wicked... Wilhelmina and I struck a bargain. I won’t have designs on her demon and she’ll leave my magic alone.”

  “She made a devil’s bargain, is what she’s done,” the demon thundered causing me to jump in my skin.

  “Did you have to do that?”

  “You cannot keep your promise to her.”

  “I can. I have no designs on you.”

  “We. Are. Fated, dear, sweet, clueless witch. You cannot keep your promise to her,” he added in a soft, almost kind voice.

  “I do not want you.”

  “You do not have a choice. And you will.”

  I started to deny him once more, but he leaned forward, and I helplessly watched as his mouth descended to mine, his head blocking out all around us. His lips were soft when they touched mine, then, in a flash, he was gone and I was home. In my bed. In my pajamas.

  Amir stood in the doorway with a concerned look on his handsome face.

  “What happened?” I whispered.

  “He sent us back.”

  “Why?”

  “You said you wanted to come home.”

  “Oh. What do I do, Amir? I can’t be mated to a demon.”

  “I’m afraid you have no choice. If he is, then he is.”

  “But I’m a good witch. He said so.”

  “Yes. You are.”

  “Can’t Baba Yaga get me out of this?”

  “She can’t interfere with the Fates.”

  I pouted. “Well, they must’ve been drunk when they were playing matchmaker monopoly. I don’t suppose he sent the jar back with us, did he?”

  “Actually, yes.” Amir pointed to the jar sitting on the bedside table.

  “Then it’s all good. We have it back. And you’re not smiling. Why aren’t you smiling?”

  “There’s a note attached to the top.”

  Sure enough, there was. I sat up and plucked the pink sticky note off the lid.

  My peace offering to you, little witch.

  You have three days to seek me out again of your own free will.

  If you do not, I will come for you.

  You are my mate and I will not be denied what is mine.

  I tossed the note to the floor. “Well of all the high handedness. He must be taking lessons from you. If he thinks I’ll be seeking him out, he’s in for a really long wait. Much more than three days I can tell you.”

  “Kandy...” Amir admonished me with a tone he usually reserved for Broo when he was fed up with her denials and shook his head. “You can’t play a demon like that.”

  Chapter Seven

  “But a demon? How can I be mated to a demon? And how could you allow it?”

  “I didn’t allow it. Who your mate is, is not my call. That is up to the Fates.”

  “There’s a reason people don’t like you.”

  “I’m not here to be anyone’s friend. That is not my job.”

  “Well, that’s a good thing, because you’re definitely not my friend.”

  “Kandy...”

  “What am I supposed to do? He said I had three days to return to him of my own free will or he’ll come for me.”

  “If it helps, he has never reneged on a deal and he’s never failed to return a favor when it’s been needed because occasionally little demon underlings wiggle out of Hell.”

  “You mean like the Wicked?”

  “Yes, like the Wicked.”

  “But my magic is safe?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then why didn’t you tell me? Never mind. I’m not sure you’d tell me the truth anyway. You can go away now. I have things to figure out.”

  “Kandy, there are always reasons for why the Fates choose the way they do. Morgan is a demon, yes, but not all demons are evil at heart. He was born a demon, he had no choice about being a demon any more than you had being born a witch.”

  I watched, my mouth hanging open, as she smiled and disappeared, purple haze left in her wake.

  She couldn’t be right, could she? Not about a demon being an okay guy? We were warned against demons from the time we were born. Beware the gorgeous, smooth talking, dark dressed men, for they were not men at all. They were demons from Hell sent to do the bidding of evil.

  But no one ever warns you that you could end up as the mate of one.

  And no one ever tells you what to do about it if you do end up as the mate of one.

  How did he know we were mates without having met me?

  How long had he known?

  If I return to him within the three days, do I have to stay forever? How do I get answers to any of these questions without going back?

  None of this made me happy and I wanted my happy back. I missed my happy, my perky, my life that consisted of friends and baking sweet treats. I hadn’t been deprived of anything or anyone. I’d never even cared that I hadn’t been kissed. Not until yesterday. Not until Paris. Not until Morgan in his penthouse brushing his lips against mine.

  I still felt him. How could this be possible? I couldn’t stop thinking about him, either, but that was normal, right? I mean, given all that happened, all that had been revealed?

  For now, though, I was content to play in my kitchen and pretend that all was right with the world.

  “K?”

  “Not now Barry.”

  “I’m Larry.”

  “Not now Larry.”

  “Please let me help.”

  “Why are you being nice and wanting to help?”

  “I’m always nice and it’s my job to help.”

  “I don’t know what you can do, and I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Let me just be for a while.”

  “Is that candy I smell?” Barry the Cat asked, skidding to a halt just short of plowing into the kitchen island.

  “Yes.”

  He jumped up. “Can I have some?”

  “Get down off the counter.”

  “Can I have some?”

  “Get. Down. Off. The. Counter.”

  “Okay, okay. Geez... You’re so touchy.”

  “Am I, Barry? Am I?”

  “Yes.”

  I threw up my hands. No reason for me to keep repeating myself when the damn cats were going to do as pleased.

  Looking over the four pots on the stove, checking the temperatures on each of the candy thermometers, I gave my fingers a snap and each crystal wand began to stir the liquid sugars. Most of the time when I made candy, I didn’t use but a minimal amount of magic until it came time to add the color, the flavor, and turn the rock hard candy into powder.

  I actually loved doing the majority by hand, the way non-magicals did it. It made it all a little more authentic to me.

  I could use magic a hundred percent in the making if I wanted. None of it was of benefit to me. I gave away my candy to help others.

  Would I still be able to make candy if I was with Morgan? Would he allow it? Of course, he’d allow it. I mean, he liked my candy, right? That’s why the Wicked was so upset. Hmm... And what did being the mate of a demon even mean? Did it change who I was? Would I become a demon? Would our children be demons?

  Panic began to set in. I liked my life exactly as it was... Or at least as it had been before a demon was brought into my life because something called a Wicked decided to be a brat.

  “Um, Kandy?”

  “K?”

  “KANDY!”

  “What?”

  “One of the pots is about to... Oh never mind. It boiled over.”

  “What?” I looked back at the stove and sure enough... “Holy crap on a cracker...”

  I’d never had candy making accidents before. I was proficient from birth. It was my gift. My talent in this magical life. I could manipulate color and flavor into so
mething no one had ever tasted before. I could bring happiness to anyone with my creations, or I could make them burn up from the inside with them... But never, ever had I had a pot boil over.

  Hot, liquid sugar rolled across the floor.

  It pooled on the stove and sizzled when it connected with the still turned on the burner.

  “That’s it,” I said, and flipped the knobs to shut everything off, then, with a wave of my hands and two taps of my heels, the sticky hot sugar on my floor and on the stove righted itself, removing any traces of a mess.

  So, I’d only have three flavors this time around. I could make more tomorrow.

  “Tell me about the Wicked, Barry.”

  “Which one?”

  “How many are there?”

  “Thousands. They... Well, let’s just say they’re worse than bunnies. They’re everywhere. A nuisance for the most part.”

  “And the one at Morgan’s that I met?”

  “She’s Morgan’s. She learned you are his mate. She was unhappy about it and chose to act out. She’s still grounded.”

  “For how long?”

  “Another hundred years.”

  “That seems a bit harsh.”

  “That was mild, really. Wickeds aren’t supposed to venture into the magical realm and when they do, most are usually stripped of their powers and turned into servants, their magic bound.”

  “You’d think that’d be motivation to not do it.”

  I flicked my fingers and three lined pans set themselves end to end on the island, then which another flick, the pots, one by one lifted from the stovetop and floated on the air, to pour out their contents.

  In moments, I had brilliantly colored, piping hot, molten sugar. By morning, they will have cooled and hardened.

  My kitchen smelled delicious.

  It also glowed with the refracted light of my magic floating through the air.

  I might have to grudgingly admit that I owed Morgan the demon a thank you for giving the jar back to me.

  I didn’t want to. “I’m going back to bed,” I told the cats.

  “It’s not even noon, K.”

  “I know,” I said, walking out of the kitchen.

  “K...”

  “What?”

  “Are you going to be alright?”

  “I don’t know.” And I didn’t. But I didn’t want to think about that either. I just wanted to wake up yesterday morning and my life not be so profoundly changed.