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.
CHAPTERFIFTEEN
Squawk!Pete snapped his head toward the door, his heart rate kicking into a sprint. Rabbits were prey animals. Under normal circumstances, his instinct would’ve chosen flight or freeze, but not this time. When Destiny was in danger, fight was the only option.
He took off toward the door, slipping in a blob of cake mush and catching himself on the counter before he lost his footing. Righting himself, he grabbed a bread knife and plowed through the door, ready to skewer Helga and make goose kabobs with her carcass.
No one threatenedhisangel.
He darted past the counter and spun in a circle. Sunlight streamed in through the windows, and the front door stood ajar. Destiny was nowhere in sight.
His sprinting heart clawed its way into his throat as he flung open the bathroom door. Empty. He checked behind the counter and opened the cupboards. Nothing.
“Destiny?” He jogged out the front door, past the picket fence, shielding his eyes against the midday sun. A group of women laughed as they exited the restaurant next door, and a tall man in jeans and a black t-shirt walked a Yorkie across the street.
But no Destiny.
His stomach turned, souring, bitter bile creeping up the back of his throat as he made his way back inside. Max sat on the countertop, frowning at a white napkin clutched in his hands.
“It was Helga,” Pete said. “Where did she take her?”
“I don’t know, sir.” He offered the napkin. “I do hope angels are truly immortal.”
Pete took the napkin, his heart dropping as the red smear registered. No, it couldn’t be blood. It was strawberry sauce. It had to be. Helga the goose-pire did not bite his angel. No way had she taken her away to drain her.
This was Pete’s fault. He’d done a sweep of the entire downstairs, but Helga had obviously found a hiding place he hadn’t looked into.Fluff me.“Where did you get this?”
“There were a few drops on the floor, so I wiped them up. There’s also a bit of spatter on the wall.” Max pointed to the array of red spots dripping down the pale blue paint. “It looks like she bit into an artery.”
Pete’s stomach lurched again, his mind conjuring images from a bad B horror movie. He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head to chase away the intruding thoughts.
“I have to find her. She’s not immortal. Not right now.” He marched to the door and yanked it open.
“Where are you going, sir?” Max climbed down from the counter and followed.
“Next door. Helga isn’t the only one who can collude with the creatures here.” He strode across the lawn toward Mike and Crimson’s place and climbed the back steps. Without thinking about the lock, he flung the kitchen door open and hurried inside. The setup was the same as Destiny’s, with a door in the back corner covering a staircase that led to the living area upstairs.
“Whoa. No animals in the kitchen,” a man in a black apron said.
Max scurried toward Pete and clutched the leg of his pants, so he bent down and scooped him into his arms. “It’s okay. He’s a fae. Is Crimson upstairs?”
A woman with red hair secured in a tight bun gave the man a quizzical look. “Did he say fae?”
Mike cleared his throat and strode toward them. “He said ‘ESA.’ That’s his emotional support raccoon.” He opened the stairway door and gestured for Pete to enter. When they made it upstairs and out of the staff’s earshot, he said, “I’ve got humans in the kitchen. Careful what you say down there.”
“Sorry.” He set his new—or apparently old—raccoon friend on the floor. “Destiny’s been kidnapped. A vampire goose. I have to save her.”
