Page 12 of Devils Don’t Deal

“Very melodramatic fellow,” my father agreed, nodding wisely. “Let’s get started on this project, shall we? Seems we have a lot to do if we’re going to get this cursed shop to turn a profit and the rabbit to not die in the next week.”

I scooped up the rabbit and covered his ears. “Don’t listen to him,” I said, though how could he hear me with his ears covered? “You’re a magical rabbit. You’ll live forever, hopping around, chewing on carrots, and frolicking in the meadow.” I lowered my hands and frowned at my father. “Do you think he’d like the fairy glade?”

“A magic glade and a cursed rabbit? The magic might clash and kill him right away.”

I wrinkled my nose. Too bad. I could’ve used some frolicking. But not if it was time to work.

Rawley came in with another stack of papers. “Here are the dimensions of the shop. If you need help figuring out the space, I’ll bring in a designer for you.”

“Do designers make deals with the devil?”

She blinked her hazel eyes at me. “They do, but in this case, we’d hire someone.”

“Hire someone, meaning…?”

“Mr. Gray’s contract stated that you would be provided with everything necessary for the proper owning and running of a bakery.” She put the plans on the desk. “Dinner will be brought in shortly. Mr. Gray will be unable to dine with you this evening due to his business with the goblin factions. Until your shop is up and running, I will be here to assist you.”

I hesitated a second then pored over the architectural sheets. It wasn’t a huge space, but it was perfectly respectable, and I could put in everything necessary, plus a few unnecessary things. I’d been designing my dream kitchen for as long as I could remember, so I already had a very good idea of what I wanted. And it would be absolutely magical.

We ate dinner, but I didn’t taste it, not with the focus I put into the plans. It took much less time than Rowley had expected for me to make a list of everything I wanted. Then I drew up the schematics. After that, we were off to the kitchen supply store.

Professional grade dual fuel convection ovens with gas stove tops. Had anything ever been more beautiful? Perfection! Sinks, lights, shelves, racks, everything, including the kitchen sink. It was going to be so pretty, all professional sleek in the back with the whimsical beauty in the front. I picked out fancy chandeliers, pastel blue and pink, with mushroom lights that would seem to be growing out of the walls. My dad was a genius when it came to putting together technology and magic. The Rabbit Hole would be every bit as magical as Wonderland the casino. Every bit and then some.

Going to the shop for the first time was a bit of a disappointment. The whole thing wasn’t very visible, like it didn’t want to be noticed—no doubt thanks to the excellent counterfeiters who hadn’t wanted to be seen. We’d have to nullify all those spells, because one thing we needed was to be seen.

“Bit drab,” was all my dad said then took a large bite out of his mutton sandwich. I’d just pretend it was mutton.

I smiled brightly then climbed out the back of the lush limousine. The outside of the vehicle had rounded tire wells, the whole thing the texture of snail shells. Maybe it was made out of snail shells. The devil clearly liked to make use of unusual materials.

Rawley handed over the bakery’s key while I stood there, staring at the building my eyes wanted to slide off. I took the large brass thing, holding it tightly while I held the rabbit in my other arm, then I walked up the steps, put the key into the lock, and turned it.

Gold sparks and pale smoke filled with glitter erupted, just like the contract.

“Very melodramatic,” my dad grumbled behind me.

“Or just dramatic,” I said, glancing over at him with a smile.

For some reason, there was something comforting about having the same special effects with each step in this process. And I needed all the comfort I could get as I walked into the cursed shop that would be my home for the next five years…or forever.

Chapter

Five

Twenty-four hours later, I was pulling my first batch of cursed macarons out of the oven. We’d gotten power to the place and spent time washing it down from ceiling to floor.

The floor was so bad, but I needed to get working on the curse first, so we tiled black-and-white checkerboard along the wall under the enormous stove, two ovens wide, so I could start baking while my dad worked on the tile. Rawley offered outside help by bringing in flooring guys, but my dad had to place anti-curse spells with every tile, and who else could do that? No one on such short notice. It was lucky goblins were so accustomed to dealing with curses. We had to work constantly to keep the curse from affecting the stove before we’d cleared it, so that was what we did—made a tiny corner of safety surrounding the stove—and then I baked.

I swirled my favorite wooden spoon around the bowl and inhaled the scent of almonds and sugar before I piped the pink macaronage onto the parchment paper. The cuteness of the entire process was watched by the dull if slightly judgmental eyes of the rabbit. It didn’t matter. I baked and baked, pulling the curses from the walls into the adorable macarons. I put them together with chocolate ganache, raspberry jam, and ended by piping the cutest little gel hearts on top. Shiny.

The oven was so good. It only took me three batches to make the perfect macarons. So pretty. Pity I couldn’t eat them or sell them, but it was good to iron out all the kinks with the stove, and even better to remove the curse. No one wanted cursed baked goods.

My dad worked on the anti-curse tiles while I baked batch after batch. Fourteen hours later, my dad had the entire place tiled, and I had a batch of macarons that were entirely curse free. All the adorable, cursed macarons were in piles, pink and pretty but, of course, deadly.

I frowned when I realized the rabbit wasn’t on the counter. Had he ceased to exist while I wasn’t looking? I looked over the counter and there he was, eating the first batch, the most cursed of all the macarons.

I shrieked, and my dad rushed in, holding a trowel, ready to slay the enemy.

I scooped up the rabbit. “Dad, I need to take him to the healery! Can you get rid of them while I’m gone?”