Chapter 21 Peter
PETER
August came and went without incident. Much to Peter’s surprise, Gregory hadn’t come knocking on Faye’s door to drag him back to Purgatory.
He’d been keeping up with his collections, even offering to do some extras in Ravenstown and Willow Valley, Foxford’s neighbouring sanctuaries, to earn himself some brownie points with Gregory, which also gave him a valid excuse not to have to return to Purgatory so often.
Faye was kept busy between the café and practicing new recipes for the baking competition, so he kept himself occupied and out of her hair, but the nights were theirs –cooking together, or she cooked while he cleaned up, dodging Scarlett’s fireballs.
She’d mastered aiming them in his direction because she wasn’t too happy with his constant presence.
Still, he was determined to win over the winged beast. He didn’t know how long they could sustain their current arrangement, but he only had until October.
He was going to make the most of the time they had together, even if it meant risking his own soul every day.
After a month of seeing how hard Faye was working at the café, Peter wanted to do something special for her.
Lucy was always bringing Benedict his favourite pie, so he’d decided to go one step further and bake Faye her favourite cake.
He’d found her collection of colour-coded recipes on the shelves, and judging from how battered the lemon drizzle cake page was, it was her favourite. How hard could a lemon drizzle cake be?
In the early morning, he tried his best to be quiet while waiting for the oven to heat up.
It was his first time baking anything, let alone a cake.
Carefully, he laid out all the ingredients and double-checked everything he needed.
He hadn’t realised how messy baking was; there were so many different-sized bowls, pots, and utensils, and he quickly ran out of patience.
He wished he still had access to his cleaning spells; he could have enchanted the sink to clean up for him as he went along.
Thankfully, Faye wouldn’t be awake for another few hours, so he would have plenty of time to tidy.
His lack of experience wasn’t the only challenge – he also had to fight off a tiny dragon trying to help by snatching his batter. Peter ended up filling up a plastic tub with icing to keep the little beast calm quiet and out of his hair.
The first cake he made was too soggy, as he overestimated how much lemon syrup it needed and ruined it. The next was too dry and tasted like sour sand.
One more attempt was the perfect case of third time lucky: the cake looked good, held together nicely, and was not too soggy. The icing wasn’t too sweet, and the syrup wasn’t too sour. Peter proudly thought it looked similar to what Faye made for her customers.
“Think your mum will like it?” he asked the dragonia, perched on a shelf and enjoying her bowl of icing. He took the puff of smoke to mean yes.
He decided to test the enchanted candles he had picked up from Grams’s shop.
When lit, they were supposed to spell out Happy Birthday.
He was feeling pretty good about himself until the fire alarm started going off.
To his horror, the candles turned into fireworks that began to burn up the cake.
Peter waved a tea towel in front of the alarm on the ceiling to shut it up, but that only seemed to make it squeak all the louder, so he knocked it off with a broom handle.
It went flying across the kitchen. He should’ve known better than to trust Grams Hawthorne’s candles.
Once his attention was back on the cake, he found the dragonia burning it in small bursts of breath like it was a threat to their existence. “No! Get back on your shelf,” he snapped, picking up the burning cake to toss it in the sink, only to get lost in a shroud of white dust.
“What the hell are you doing?” Faye shouted, spraying him with the fire extinguisher. When the dust finally cleared, he saw her biting back her laughter.
“I was making you a cake,” Peter said, blinking away the dust. He looked like he’d been covered in thick icing sugar. His intentions had been pure – his execution, not so much.
“With a flame-thrower?” Faye asked, looking at the charred cake in his hands. “I would say you somewhat succeeded if you were trying to make a flambé, and I wouldn’t recommend that for beginners.”
“I didn’t mean to burn it. I put some sparklers on it, but Grams gave me the wrong candles. Once the sparklers started, your little dragon joined in on the fun and fanned the flames,” Peter said, side-eying the demon perched demurely on her shelf as though she were sweet and innocent.
“Grams has been getting more confused. Last week she was supposed to give Mr Rodriguez special drops for his gout. Instead, she nearly poisoned him with belladonna,” Faye said.
“Lucy’s mum has been trying to help out more with the shop between travelling with her husband.
With all Lucy’s coven responsibilities and still running the library, it’s hard to keep track of Grams, especially when she refuses to believe that she isn’t as sharp as she once was. ”
She worried too much about everyone. It was cute how she got a little furrow in her brow as she spoke about those she loved.
“Maybe I should stop by when I close up and see if she needs some help, or even someone to help with deliveries in the evenings. Then I could double-check the orders,” she mused, completely distracted. Peter wondered if she was still talking to him or if she’d switched to her inner monologue.
“I thought you were already running on steam here,” he said gently.
He thought it was probably due to Ian’s manipulation that she always put herself last, but maybe Ian had seen the trait and taken advantage of it.
“It’s your birthday. How about just for today…
you think about yourself and what you want?
” He put down the cake and snapped his finger to free himself from the extinguisher dust.
“My birthday?” Faye asked, glancing at the calendar on the wall by the fridge.
“Your birthday happens every year on the same day,” he pointed out.
“I forgot.”
“I figured.”
“Between testing recipes for the competition and running the shop, I don’t have time to remember to wash my hair, never mind my birthday,” she said, touching her up-do.
“Then it’s a good thing you have me to remind you,” Peter said, “but I’ll get you a better cake. I should’ve bought one from Fowlers, but I wanted to surprise you with my lack of talent.”
“It’s the thought that counts, and it wasn’t your fault that Scar helped feed the flames.
She does love to help.” Faye smirked as the dragonia landed on her shoulder, seeming to scowl at Peter.
“Even though the icing is a little charred, we can still try it. I don’t want your hard work to go to waste. ” Faye reached for the cake.
He pulled it away from her, not wanting to accidentally poison her. “You really don’t have to.” His goal was to keep her away from death’s door; his baking made it seem like he was trying to walk her through it.
“We can take a piece from the bottom. There’s no burning there, and the wrap protected it from dust,” Faye said, peeling off the paper sleeve. “Lemon drizzle – my favourite.”
“More like charred lemon drizzle, a new recipe.” He smiled as she put the slice on a plate for them, then took out two forks and handed him one. “Birthday girl should take the first bite,” he said, hoping she would enjoy it so he could salvage some of his pride.
He watched hopefully as she brought it to her lips, but when she hesitated mid-chew, he knew it couldn’t be good.
“Peter?” she asked softly. “Which container did you use for the sugar?”
“The purple one…?”
“That’s the salt,” Faye told him, grabbing a paper towel to remove the piece from her mouth. “Sorry! Not very graceful, but if I had swallowed, I’d have consumed my sodium intake for the next month.”
“No way,” Peter said, picking up her fork and taking a bite. “Shit. I did think it didn’t look right, but I thought it was a special sugar for cakes. I was trying to work fast so Scarlett didn’t snatch it.” His grimace made her laugh. “Maybe she set it on fire to protect you from me.”
“You tried, and that’s the best gift I could’ve asked for. Next time, I’ll help you,” Faye said, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him. Her lips tasted far better than any cake.
“I’ll make it up to you. I’ll find you another gift – something that won’t poison you,” Peter promised, tossing the remainder in the bin.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. It was an honest mistake, and I don’t need a gift. You being here with me is enough.”
“Stop, you’ll make me blush,” he teased, holding her waist. “There must be something you want or need. It can be anything.” He didn’t want her birthday to be like any other passing day. “You deserve to be celebrated.”
“What I really need is a second set of hands. If you know anyone willing to work for pennies, I’d be forever in your debt,” Faye sighed.
“I think my hands are good and strong,” he said, lifting her onto the counter so she didn’t have to stare up at him.
“Very funny.” She slapped his chest playfully as he stood between her legs, which probably wasn’t a good idea.
“I’m serious. I can help you,” Peter said eagerly.
“You want to work here?” Faye asked, clearly taken aback by his sudden offer.
“Why not? Consider me a spare set of hands. My baking skills are clearly not up to scratch, but I can clean tables, wash dishes, and serve customers.”
“Is that even allowed?” she asked, picking at a loose button on his shirt. He’d had been at an early morning collection, so formal dress had been required. He didn’t mention that.
If he was honest, he wasn’t entirely sure.
He didn’t think there was a rule for or against it.
Most ghosts didn’t opt for employment, but it wasn’t like he wanted or needed to be paid.
He just wanted a legitimate reason to be around Faye, without giving Gregory and his brother a reason to breathe down his neck.
It was a lousy excuse, but it was better than nothing.
“Nothing in the rule book says I can’t help a friend, and you don’t have to pay me for it, so I’m not taking up a second job. So long as it doesn’t interfere with my official duties, there shouldn’t be an issue.”
“So I’m a friend?” Faye asked cautiously.
“Yes, a girl who’s my friend,” he said, amused by her small smile. “That wouldn’t be breaking any rules.”
“A girl-friend?” she clarified, her cheeks turning pink.
“Is that okay with you?” he asked, hoping he hadn’t pushed too hard. They were taking this slow, and he didn’t want to do anything that made Faye uncomfortable.
She nodded. “I like the sound of that.”
“Good.” He nodded firmly, trying not to sound too excited. “That’s settled then.”
“Settled,” Faye agreed, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Can you help me down now, boy-friend? We have to clean this kitchen.”
He gripped her thighs and placed her on the ground, but not before kissing her until she was breathless.
“We really do have to clean the kitchen,” Faye grumbled, breaking away from him.
“Absolutely not; you get your birthday butt upstairs and take a long shower or bath – whatever you prefer – and leave opening up to me. I should be able to survive without you for a few hours,” Peter said, eager to give her some time off.
“Are you sure? I don’t want to leave you to face the morning rush.”
“If I can handle souls, I can handle those in need of caffeine.”
“Thank you. I really didn’t want to admit that I was drowning here,” Faye told him, and Peter wished he had thought of this before.
“If anything happens, just come and get me. There’s a list of all the oven times for the pastries in the fridge.
Just pop them in the oven. Are you sure you know how to work the coffee machine? ”
“I’ve watched you a million times. I’m sure I can figure it out,” Peter said, stopping himself when he realized he sounded like a stalker. If he had watched her, it had been for purely professional reasons. Mostly.
“You’ve watched me?” She frowned, though she sounded rather amused.
“Not in a creepy ‘I’m watching you’ way, but I’ve seen you work. Just go and have some time for yourself,” he reassured her confidently.
“Okay, but if you want to help regularly, I’ve got to teach you the basics when we close. How about I show you how to bake a cake, and then you can pretend to give it to me later?” She tossed Peter an apron as he started to clean up the mess.
“So long as I get a slice,” he said eagerly. “I’m yours to teach, maestro.”
Faye hurried upstairs. He didn’t think he had ever been so happy to clean in his life.