Black Magic Mousse

By Liz Schulte

Maggie finally found love, but a mistake in the past has taken it away from her, seemingly forever. Her focus is squarely settled on how to get back to the reality she lost, but trouble brews on the horizon in the form of a dark witch with sinister intentions.
All she has ever tried to do was help, but every time she does, her world falls apart. This time, she can either let Phoenix go and stop this newest enemy, or she can fight for all that she wants and risk losing everything.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Liz Schulte
• Release date: Oct 13, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370297023

Liz Schulte

Many authors claim to have known their calling from a young age. Liz Schulte, however, didn't always want to be an author. In fact, she had no clue. Liz wanted to be a veterinarian, then she wanted to be a lawyer, then she wanted to be a criminal profiler. In a valiant effort to keep from becoming Walter Mitty, Liz put pen to paper and began writing her first novel. It was at that moment she realized this is what she was meant to do. As a scribe she could be all of those things and so much more.When Liz isn’t writing or on social networks she is inflicting movie quotes and trivia on people, reading, traveling, and hanging out with friends and family. Liz is a Midwest girl through and through, though she would be perfectly happy never having to shovel her driveway again. She has a love for all things spooky, supernatural, and snarky. Her favorite authors range from Edgar Allen Poe to Joseph Heller to Jane Austen to Jim Butcher and everything in between.

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Smashwords Edition

Black Magic Mousse

Knead to Know Book 5

Copyright © 2016 by Liz Schulte

Editing by Ev Bishop

Cover design by Karri Klawiter

All rights reserved.

Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the author of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

About the Author

Check out more books by Liz

Chapter 1

The smell of incense clung to the air in the cavernous room. I never really thought about churches having a smell, but then again I wasn’t Catholic. Did they all smell like this? Definitely frankincense with something else I couldn’t place. Either way it was alarming. Or maybe that was just the man sitting next to me.

Back again?

His dark, rich voice hadn’t changed at all. It still slid down my neck and tightened my chest with anticipation—completely wasted anticipation. In fact, every time I heard him talk, I died a little, or maybe that was just my heart. Okay, so I was being melodramatic, but come on. Why couldn’t I catch a break?

Logically, I knew everyone was right. I should let Phoenix go. And he was better off now than he had been. Even I couldn’t justify changing him back. Yet, I couldn’t stay away. Night after night, I wandered back into his church, stuck in this limbo of indecision. Should I go back to the past again and risk everything, or should I leave him be? On one hand the answer was clear. On the other, there he sat beside me, dark hair, smoldering eyes, and that barely there smile. He was a walking, talking temptation, even more so now that I couldn’t have him.

The really damnable part of all of this was that he had been mine for the taking. Phoenix loved me. If he admitted it to Holden of all people, how could it be anything but true? I was the one who resisted. I was the one dragging my feet, unwilling to see what was in front of me. I’d thought I wanted something else, and maybe part of me still did—but it didn’t change the fact that when I returned to the past, he was the one I thought endlessly about, even with Baker there. He was the one I missed in a visceral way I hadn’t even thought possible: his slow devil-may-care smile, the way he made me laugh, and most surprisingly, the way he pushed my buttons and tested my boundaries relentlessly.

He wasn’t the perfect man by any stretch of the imagination. I couldn’t fathom cuddling on the couch with him, while watching mindless television shows—or anything else so wonderfully couple-y and boring. Even being able to trust what he told me without questioning his angle seemed impossibly far off from where we were, but ultimately it didn’t matter. My heart had finally made up its damn mind. I’d been ready to go all in. Then this.

My shoulders sank further. I really did have the worst luck.

I nudged the box bearing a single dessert closer to where he sat on the pew, without looking up. Hearing his voice was bad enough. Looking at him too directly was cruel and my frayed nerves couldn’t stand it. And yet, I was here with my nightly offering. This particular road to hell was paved with buttercream.

Criminal or priest, Phoenix knew how to fill a room. I didn’t have to see his smile to know that he wore one. It warmed the air and curled around me, making the hair on my arms stand up. Had we always been this connected? I hadn’t thought so . . . or maybe I just hadn’t wanted to see it. Hadn’t wanted to admit to the very real possibility I had fallen for someone so much like my own father. Even now, the thought made my insides tighten. I’d spent too many early mornings before the sun came up standing in my kitchen kneading dough and thinking about all the ways Phoenix was way too similar to my father. They were both charming, both had way too little respect for other people’s lives or property, and they both had the uncanny ability to talk me into doing things I knew were wrong.

Which was exactly the reason why I should have left this church and never came back.

My tongue traced the inside of my bottom lip as I searched for my voice. Most nights, I failed to find it and simply sat there in uncomfortable silence, while the damn near-perfect bastard sat with me, acting like all was well and I wasn’t being a complete fruitcake. The door behind us closed as the last parishioner left. We were alone. I needed to say something. Anything at this point would be a relief from my unending internal analyzing and debating. It doesn’t seem safe to keep the church open this late, I said, voice cracking.

If Phoenix was surprised that I spoke he did an excellent job not showing it. Do you believe guidance is only deserved by those who brave the harsh light of day? The sarcastic tone forced me to look at him, searching for the jinni I had lost, but the softness in his eyes killed that dream. It’s important for me to be here for all of my parishioners, including you—though I’ve never seen you attend mass. He raised an eyebrow.

I’m not Catholic, I said.

He nodded. Yet you come every night. You must be looking for something.

I averted my eyes, shaking my head. If he knew why I was there, he’d lock the door. Some people drank their coffee black and some liked cream and sugar. I apparently liked my men a little bit evil. Not that his new piety was making that much of a difference to my attraction for him, but I couldn’t deny that I was constantly on the lookout for the darker side of his personality to show.

There’s an AA meeting in the basement. I like to keep the sanctuary open for them. You could perhaps be looking for the courage to join?

Great, now he thought I was an alcoholic. I stared at the spines of the hymnals. A priest. He just had to be a priest. I glanced up toward the ceiling. You think this is funny, don’t you?

Yet, somehow, I don’t think that’s it. Something else is weighing heavily on you. He picked up the bakery box and peeked under the lid with a hint of a smile. Are you ready to tell me your name?

Eat, I said.

He didn’t argue with me for once. It would’ve been the same standoff we’d had every other night since Olivia found him. He wanted to know why I came to see him, yet never said anything. The answers to that weren’t exactly easy to vocalize. And naturally, since I couldn’t tell him why I was there, I fed him.

The papery whisper of the box opening echoed through the empty sanctuary. The smell of chocolate hit me, making my mouth water. Just one more thing I wanted and couldn’t have. At some point, there has to be a reward or a payoff for all this. Please let it be Phoenix. Is that really too much to ask?

What do we have tonight? he asked, a not so sneaky way to get me talking again.

It’s a new recipe I’ve been working on. Salted dark chocolate cups filled with a caramel milk chocolate mousse, topped with a raspberry ganache and whipped cream. I’m thinking about naming it Black Magic Mousse.

He picked up the small disposable spoon in the box and took a healthy-sized bite. His eyelashes fluttered slightly as he slowly pulled the spoon from his mouth, completely clean. Decadent, he said, taking another bite.

I was aiming for sinful, I said before I could stop myself.

He chuckled lightly. Goal accomplished. Surely you have someone else to taste your desserts, though—not that I’m complaining. Please, by all means, bring as many as you like.

I shrugged, turning back toward the front of the church. This had to stop. I had to make a damn decision. Tonight was the last night I was coming here. No more wallowing. I had to cut myself off from him cold turkey or…I shook my head. I didn’t want to even think about the consequence of living this half-life.

He licked the spoon clean again, focusing on it rather than on me, which made it easier to watch him. You don’t have to tell me anything until you’re ready, but I want to make sure you know that no matter how good your desserts are, they will never buy your way out of whatever guilt you’re living with.

I blinked. A direct hit. I’m not trying to buy anything. I just want to do what’s right. After the first time I saw him like this, happy and just so priestly, I swore I’d never come back. Obviously that vow didn’t go well. Once I was home and had oodles of time to think things over, I convinced myself that maybe he wasn’t as happy as he appeared. But I returned, searching for a sign that some part of him wanted a different life, was restless, but just like before I couldn’t tell a single thought in his head.

He nodded slowly. Am I disrupting your ruminations? Should I leave you to your thoughts?

I shook my head. Being that he was the center of those thoughts, he was necessary. I’d rather you stay. Maybe Phoenix deserved a say in what future he had. If I could find the right words to explain what happened so he wouldn’t want a restraining order (or worse, try to exorcise the demon from me—um, been there, done that), then maybe I wouldn’t have to make a decision at all. I turned toward him abruptly and a little too fast for a human, but he didn’t flinch. Are you happy?

He pressed his lips together, and tugged at his white collar. I’m at peace, he finally said, but I didn’t hear truth in his words.

The butterflies in my stomach perked up. It was an opening. You don’t want to hear the truth, my conscience pointed out. "But are you happy? Do you look back on your life and not want to change anything, not even a single moment?"

The skin tightened around his eyes, and he studied me somewhat apprehensively. When you first came here, you said you knew me in another life. What exactly does that mean? Where are you from?

In the time I’d known Phoenix when he was a jinni, he had lied to me plenty and I had started to recognize the signs. Redirecting was almost always one of them. Conclusion: Priest Phoenix wasn’t one hundred percent different from Jinn Phoenix, after all—and he was definitely hiding something. Something he didn’t want to face. I smiled a little, then immediately felt bad—but not bad enough to stop digging. I asked you first. It’s a simple question.

He took a deep breath. Everything happens for a reason. I have to believe that. The true test of character isn’t to live perfectly; it’s how you recover from the mistakes you make. It’s carrying on even when all you want to do is quit.

I nodded. And you have recovered from yours?

Every day helps, he said softly. I know it might not feel like it right now, but you can talk to me. I won’t judge you. I, myself, am not without sin.

I snorted. It just came out; I couldn’t hold it back.

He gave me a sharp look. I want to help. Whatever you have done, it can be forgiven if you can find the courage to ask.

I studied my hands, and my eyes snagged on a trace of flour still on the sleeve of my shirt. My sin hadn’t been committed yet. In fact, I wasn’t sure I was going to do it at all. I probably wouldn’t. I had pro and con lists coming out of my ears. The dilemma was simple enough. I wanted my Phoenix back just as he had been. However, I didn’t know anything about my Phoenix’s past—at least not enough to make this choice for him. Something had happened in his life to make him take a demon’s deal and sell his soul. But when I went back to 1923 to help a friend, I killed the jinn who’d made contact with Phoenix originally—and Phoenix’s past (present? It was confusing to think about!) was changed. He obviously never made the deal. What I couldn’t tell was whether or not the moment of crisis ever came. Had he avoided it all together in this version of life, or without the jinni option was becoming a priest how he coped with it? What the hell would make someone a priest in one life and a criminal in another?

I’m not looking for God’s forgiveness, I said, crossing my legs and tapping my foot in the air. God was the least of my concern. I needed Phoenix’s forgiveness, or, more accurately, permission to turn him back into the morally bankrupt jinni who had gotten under my skin. I wanted his dark smiles and tender caresses. I wanted our late night rendezvouses and early morning baking moments.

Have you talked to the person that does concern you?

I try, but it’s not easy, I said. This was the moment. The perfect moment to tell him everything. Who I was, who he was, and what had happened to bring us to this point. I stared into his fathomless eyes, though, and the decision was easy. I couldn’t tell him. He deserved to be happy and it was beyond arrogant to believe I made him happier than he was now. I can’t seem to bring myself to say the words that need to be spoken. But maybe it’s for the best.

Why?

My smile, while strained, at least felt real. My leg bounced harder—I needed to feed—and I cleared my throat. Because I love him. It was the first time I had said it out loud. It was hard enough to admit it to myself, let alone to the person in question even if he didn’t know I was