Deals with the Devil (PA #1)

Chapter 19

Not wanting to be left alone with my turbulent thoughts again, I travel to the kitchens to see if I can assist in any last minute baking. Entering the sweltering basement area, I observe all of the chaos taking place. There are Lodes carrying platters of food and drinks up the servant's staircase to be displayed outside. Scattered across stainless steel counters and stoves are dead human chefs whisking, chopping, and then plating dishes. Despite the mayhem in the cavernous room, there's some measure of order that keeps the whole thing from falling apart.

Catching a passing server, I take a full glass of fizzy pink liquid and quickly down the contents. My taste buds explode with a tart sweetness that leaves my mouth wanting more. Since humans always describe alcohol as being bitter, I assume that this drink is some kind of soda or carbonated juice and therefore safe for me to consume in large quantities. Like a sugar addict, I gulp down three more glasses of the pink stuff in a way that would make a gluttonous Anne proud.

When I reach for the last glass on the server's tray, a booming voice halts my movements. "Willow, stop! That's faerie wine!" The voice belongs to an Italian chef who, during his life on earth, poisoned the husbands of women he wanted to have sexual relations with. Terrible guy, but he makes a great tortellini. Oh, tortellini sounds so good right now. I lick my lips at the imagined taste of pasta and sauce before realizing that I can't really feel my lips.

Confused by the loss of sensation, it takes a moment for the words he spoke to permeate my brain. Once they do, I gasp in shock. Or at least, I think I gasp. It's kind of hard to tell if my lips are moving at all. Like his words were a catalyst, I start to notice how warm I feel and how much my limbs are tingling. Oh, crap.

At the edge of my vision, Chef Ricci appears with a stern frown. "You can't drink faerie wine, Willow. Especially four glasses. That's enough to get a dragon shifter tipsy, who knows what it will do to a human."

Without meaning to, I burp at him. "I think I'm floating," I tell him before giggling like a loon.

He wrings his hands in front of him. "Fuck. If Lucifer finds out about this, then I can kiss my ass goodbye. Literally, Paimon will sew my asshole shut and then force feed me expired cat food. Please, Willow, don't tell anyone you got the wine here. Better yet, blame it on Kenneth. I'm sure Lucifer would believe that."

Struggling to follow the conversation, I quietly shush him so I can have time to catch up. Except he covers his ears afterwards, so maybe it wasn't that quiet. "I'm gonna go feed the birds now. Don't worry, no one will know I was here. Secret secret. See-crit. Sea-grit." Mumbling variations of words that sound like 'secret' over and over under my breath, I stealthily exit the room like the super sleuth that I am.

"Ouch!" I shout as I bump my shoulder into a wall that totally came out of nowhere. "Screw you, magic wall!" I yell as I rub the sore spot. Remembering that I'm supposed to be silent and not draw attention to myself, I glance around the room to see if anyone noticed my outburst. Luckily, everyone is preoccupied with their work and I'm able to carefully tiptoe up the servant's stairs with them none the wiser.

At the top of the stairs is an oversized metal door currently open to the back gardens of the castle. Once I cross the threshold, I attempt to pat myself on the back for a job well done but find that my arms won't bend that far. Not even worried about the implications of my decreasing mobility, I settle on finding bread to feed the pigeons. That's what they eat, right? Or do they like apple tarts? Mmm, I think. Apple tarts.

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That's the last thing I remember before suddenly finding myself stuck in a bed of red spider lilies. Groaning, I try to figure out exactly where I am and any other clues about my current situation. Somewhere around me, there are muted sounds of laughter and incomprehensible words being drowned out by upbeat music. Taking stock of myself, I find a tear in the right side of my dress that leaves a large portion of my leg exposed. Since it could easily be viewed by others as an intentional slit, I decide to not worry about it. There are no other visible signs of what happened to me while I blacked out, so I start the arduous task of extracting myself from the flower bush.