“Good. How did the show go?”
A wide smile broke across Zach’s lips. “It was great. The kids did such a good job, and they had loads of fun. I got lots of videos.”
“Thanks. Can we watch them a little later? I’ll be busy in here for another hour or so.”
Zach leaned in for another kiss, but Drew didn’t miss the slightly concerned glance he shot toward the oven. “Whatcha cooking?”
Drew rolled his eyes. “Stop being such a drama queen. I’m making baked chicken and salad for dinner—I hardly think I’ll manage to summon anything with something so simple.”
“That doesn’t look like chicken,” Zach said, pointing at the oven.
“It’s a pie. It’s half done already, and look—no demons!” Drew gestured wildly around the kitchen.
When Zach peered around the counter and opened the door to the pantry to double-check, Drew had to rein in the instinct to smack him on the back of the head. “Your confidence in me issoreassuring.”
“It doesn’t hurt to be cautious!”
“Well, it will hurt when my foot meets your ass! Get the hell out of my kitchen, Zach, and go do something else while I finish up.”
“Am I allowed to sit in the living room, or am I being banished to the bedroom?” Zach was over two thousand years old, but his pout rivalled that of a two-year-old’s.
There were drawbacks to having an open-plan living area. Drew sighed. “Yes, you can sit in the living room. Just don’t hover.”
Zach marched over to the sofa and tried to shoo Leila off his spot. She merely cracked one eye open and glared at him until he huffed and sat on the opposite end of the sofa and pulled out his phone.
Drew didn’t have a stand mixer, but he pulled out the little electric handheld mixer to prepare the meringue topping for the pie. He carefully separated the eggs, muttering curses under his breath as he cracked two of them way too hard and broke the yolks.
The air in the kitchen seemed to thicken.
Drew didn’t notice as he dutifully wiped a splotch of yolk off the side of the bowl, hoping it hadn’t touched the egg whites.
He added the sugar, biting off another curse when he managed to spill half of it over the counter as he poured it from the measuring cup into the bowl.
The lights flickered.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” he cried, as he splashed way too much vanilla essence into the mix.
A deep rumbling filled the room, and his ears popped.
Realizing way too late that something wasverywrong, Drew slowly looked up from the mixing bowl.
A swirling vortex was churning in the air above the countertop that formed part of the breakfast nook. “Oh dear,” he whispered.
“Drew!” Zach’s worried voice rang out from the living room.
“Zach! I think I might have done something by accident,” he called, completely unnecessarily.
There was a smallpop,and Leila suddenly appeared on his shoulder. A moment later, Zach skidded into the kitchen and placed himself between Drew and the vortex.
“What exactly did you do?” Zach asked quietly.
“Um . . . nothing. I was just trying to make the meringue topping.”
“Meringue? Really? I thought you were keeping things simple!”
“I wanted to make it the same way the diner does!” Drew protested. “It’s much nicer than sweet cream topping!”
“And clearly much more dangerous,” Zach retorted.
