Epilogue
Three months later
Maxim’s apartment felt much better with someone else living in it. He finally bought a new lamp for his study, and after quite a bit of Pippa teasing him about it, he convinced the landlord to purchase a ceiling sconce that didn’t look like a tit.
Pippa had been able to salvage some of her things from her apartment, although they still smelled a bit like smoke.
Some of her books on demon cooking fit nicely on the bookshelf next to his books about fake demons.
Many books had turned to ash, so Maxim gave her a stack of new ones as a housewarming gift.
It turned out that Eaten Right By The Duke had been part of a series.
She’d already finished all of them except for the last one, Matey’ed Right By The Pirate, which in Maxim’s opinion sounded like the author was running out of steam, though by book fourteen it was understandable.
Right after Pippa had moved in, she’d started looking for another job so she wouldn’t feel uncomfortable about currently fucking one of her coworkers.
She found an admin job on the floor below, so they were able to have lunch together every day and listen to books on the drive to and from the building.
She’d joked about having another closet tryst, but both of them had decided that the comfort of their bed (their bed, oh it felt nice to say that) was far better than the thrill of a potential HR nightmare.
They also had the kitchen, and the couch, and on one highly uncomfortable occasion, the back of his car.
Sometimes, Maxim dreamed he was floating in emptiness.
He’d fall asleep and suddenly the air would be like silk against him, brilliant light flashing into his eyes.
He’d see ancient civilizations and beautiful landscapes, strange faces barely visible behind a swirl of dust. Then he’d wake up with sweat slick and hot on his neck and in the darkness of their bedroom he’d wonder for a split second if he’d ever truly left.
Every once in a while, usually when he was tired or fretting about something, he would see a shadow that lingered a little bit too long for it to be a trick of his sight.
He hadn’t told Pippa about it yet. She knew, though, in the concerned look she gave him every time he’d flinch at a shape hovering just at the edge of his vision.
He wondered if there might have been consequences when she brought him back. If the coven who’d ostracized her knew about what she’d done—the killed demons, the Reaper magic, him—they hadn’t sent any word about it.
Pippa was working on starting her own coven. It was very small, and right now only included her mother and Jules, but more were coming. She was close to convincing her succubus friend (which was a combination of words about which Maxim still felt a bit incredulous), and seemed optimistic.
Jules had taken the new world of magic and demons about as well as Pippa thought she would, and was so beyond thrilled to be included that she had to be threatened into secrecy.
Maxim wasn’t sure what would happen when Jules finally met the succubus, and he was simultaneously anxious and delighted for the day he’d experience it.
Pippa had also been learning embroidery. He showed her all of the basics he remembered, which were not much, and she used videos and experimentation to figure out the rest.
She was sitting on the couch now, her jaw set in determination. Her yelps and curses were becoming less frequent as she worked on needle control.
Maxim looked over her shoulder at her hoop.
Crooked letters were scrawled in black thread across the bottom.
Above the words, she’d stitched a stylized needle and spool of thread surrounded by sparkles and cartoon stars.
The needle was too thick and quite phallic, though he didn’t mention anything.
The top of the spool also looked a bit like a vulva, but he wasn’t going to mention anything about that either.
Pippa caught him looking.
“What do you think?” She held it up to him so he could read it better. “I want to put it in the bathroom.”
Witches Get Stitches.
He leaned in so he could kiss her. “It’s perfect.”