The Pastry Predicament (The Serene City #1)

CHAPTER 1

SHADE

The streets are empty and the lights overhead give off a calming hum as I walk.

Daylight is still a few hours away and the quiet of an early morning always sooths me.

I’ve been in Serene City for a few months now, laying low.

Well, as low as a big, tall and handsome demon of my caliber can.

In truth, I’m trying to avoid an unexpected run-in with a rather psychotic witch.

Ah, witches! So many things to say about them, and none of them are good.

Before the veil between our realm and the human world lifted, demons worked from the shadows or alongside the witches of this world, summoned to do their bidding or aid them with their magic.

Honestly, I feel like the witches had a hand in the veil falling all those years ago.

Probably just wanted more power, as most witches do.

There is a lot the history books and folklore got wrong when it came to demons in general.

We aren't about death and destruction. Well, mostly.

Our great creator may say otherwise if asked, but our realm was like a more intense version of a temp agency.

Contracts for magic or services and sometimes souls. A real downer of a time.

Unlike my demonic brethren, I consider myself a freelance demon.

I can't do the board rooms and stuffy suits, pushing contracts every five minutes, like they do. It has never been me. I’ve declined several offers to work at one of their firms downtown, much to fellow demon and best friend, Marla’s, dismay. She can't control me and she hates it.

I seek enjoyment wherever I can find it, living carefree like the wind. Which is probably how I ended up on the run in the first place. But I won't dwell on that when I have tastier things to think about.

My little guilty pleasure is sweets. Desserts of all kinds.

I can’t get enough. And that’s why I am hunting those tasty morsels down.

Wherever I travel, I have to visit the local bakeries and shops, on the lookout for the best cake or pie.

I’m such a sugar baby. If I could bake for myself, I would have a never-ending supply of sweet treats just waiting for me.

Alas, I’m more likely to burn the kitchen down than produce something edible. I have come to terms with, though in extremely rare cases, that I am not amazing at everything I do.

I round a quiet street corner and instantly pick up the scent of vanilla and almond.

Across the street is a teal door and a sign in the window, Sugar Mama’s: Pastries, Cookies & Cakes.

Cute. The street is quiet, the mood dark and empty, like the life was being sucked out of this area.

Very odd. A place that smells this good can’t possibly be bad.

I jog up to the front door, feeling an oddly familiar magic in the air.

All the lights are out inside and the door is locked.

Oh no, it’s closed! I guess I have to do a little breaking and entering.

Que the Mission Impossible heist music. Using my own magic, I transport myself inside the bakery.

Thanks to the street lights I can see the space is set up like a little dining room.

Steel chairs and tables rest against the far wall in a light teal color.

Beautifully decorated cake displays line a high shelf and little pops of color art are scattered throughout the space.

Halloween decorations line the walls and the counter.

Little ghosts holding lollipops and cupcakes hang from the ceiling.

It’s an adorable place. Whoever owns it puts a lot of themselves here.

Soon, my tour leads me to the back, a quaint kitchen space lit up with under counter lights.

The smells coming from this space are divine.

The ovens are still warm from use and the stainless-steel counters were cleaned so well they shine.

Next to the large standing oven, I find it, the main source of the amazing smell.

A tall cart full from top to bottom of pastries, brownies and cookies.

I grin like a school boy as I take in their crumbly goodness.

There is another scent here. Not as strong.

Like it was just there. Cherries and toasted marshmallows.

It’s mouth-watering. Definitely a female scent.

Possibly the owner of this bakery. The base of my horns begins to heat up.

It is intoxicating and definitely something I will commit to memory.

“Where to start!” I think to myself, rubbing my hands together.

Opening the plastic cover protecting the rack, I grab a pastry.

The cut apples and buttery crust look baked to perfection.

And as a demon who lives on sweets, I think I’m a pretty good judge.

Oh, my hells! I groan. The first bite is heaven.

I have literal tears in my eyes. Before I knew it, I had eaten four of the tasty treats.

Good thing I don’t care about my waist line.

Next are the chocolate brownies covered in powdered sugar. Thoroughly devoured.

I’m in love.

Whoever this baker is, they are a magician.

I’ve eaten about seventeen of the cursed desserts before I finally feel full.

The evidence covering my black band t-shirt.

Icing and crumbs everywhere. Definitely a dessert crime scene.

I grab some paper towels and start to clean up my mess.

I may be a monster by human standards, but I have some manners.

You know, other than breaking into a closed bakery and eating most of the desserts I find. But I’ll leave a generous tip.

After a good forty-five minutes pass and I have wiped my nails and fingers clean, I figure it’s time to leave before the owner returns.

I try to pull my magic to the front of my mind, willing my body out of the space.

Nothing happens. When I try again, a force pushes me back to the ground. I struggle and retry but nothing works.

Walking to the front door, I figured I'd just leave normally. As soon as I touched the door handle, my body shoots backwards, straight through the opening to the kitchen. My back slams hard against the wall, knocking the breath from my lungs.

“What in the hells?” I moan, rolling to sit upright.

Now I know why it felt odd around this place.

It’s warded with magic. Whoever placed this spell made sure whoever came in here uninvited wouldn’t be getting out easily.

The more I think about it, the more it feels like a trap.

My body feels heavy, making it almost impossible to move my arms and legs.

I’m stuck on the floor. Great. Not my best look.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” I think, a tiny part of me starting to panic as an unsettling darkness claims me.

My eyes pop open a short time later when my ears pick up at the sound of keys jingling and a lock twisting.

Just my luck. The owner of the bakery was coming in.

I must have passed out and laid here longer than I realized.

I hear slow footsteps moving closer towards the kitchen.

They are going to freak out when they see a huge horned, gloriously golden demon laid out on the floor, covered in icing and cookie bits.

Unfortunately, whomever put a spell on this place happened to null my powers and trap me here.

The food coma was setting back in thanks to whatever crack they put in these pastries.

If I am ever going to get out of here, I'll have to muster the strength to use the ol’ demon charm.

Hopefully, whoever this is won’t run out of the building, screaming.