Destiny’s eyes widened as he tugged a faery realm identification card from an inside slot. “Pete!” Her mouth dropped open, and she snatched the card. “Where did this come from?”
“From my…” He frowned at the wallet in his hand. “I don’t know. I just reached for it, and it was there.”
“You have magic pockets! This is good. You’re remembering how to use your powers.” She handed the ID to him, and he examined it.
The card listed his name, height, eye color, and an address on Lucky Foot Lane. His photo occupied the top left corner, but seeing his own eyes staring back at him wasn’t the strangest thing. “Is that supposed to be my birthday? I think there’s a digit missing.”
Destiny stood next to him, her shoulder resting against his arm as she peered at the card. “March 1, 316. I supposed that’s right.”
“That would make me over seventeen hundred years old.”
“Mm-hmm.” She returned to her cake without batting an eye.
“You don’t find that hard to believe?”
“From one immortal being to another, no. Not at all.” She filled a bag with white frosting and attached a metal tip to one end. “My half-millennium mark is coming up soon.”
He returned the card to his wallet and shoved it into his back pocket, where it completely disappeared. Just like that. “Look at this.” He patted his butt and turned around, gesturing for her to do the same. “Feel it.”
“That’s okay. I don’t need to feel your butt.” Her cheeks pinkened again as she reached toward his backside, fisting her hand and jerking it away before she cleared her throat. “I can see.”
He slipped his hand into it and moved it around. “It’s gone.”
“Until you need it again. You have some type of glamour magic, which isn’t surprising.” She filled another icing bag, and a timer pinged across the room.
“No, it’s really gone.” He tried to grab it from the nothingness in his pocket, but his fingers only brushed the fabric of his pants. “If it were simple glamour, it would still be there.”
“Then it’s not simple.” Destiny strode to the oven and opened the door, a cloud of black smoke billowing out as she bent down. “Oh, dear. Oh, no!”
CHAPTERTWELVE
“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?”
