“What are you doing here?” Piper said, shoving the mixer onto the counter.
“Spying,” the lizard said.
“What?”
The familiar tilted the bowl down and slid on to the table. “Spying,” he said again, tail wagging. “I forgot you can see me.”
Piper grabbed the bowl. “Look, little lizard, I don’t have time to relive a hallucination.”
“Fire Salamander and my name is Bazzo.”
Focus. She dashed to the oven and turned the dial to preheat. Then picked up almond flour and powdered sugar and shifted them together. Next, came mixing the eggs whites. Piper’s face pounded with heat, her brain demanded her hands move faster. Careful. No errors, not today. When the egg whites were ready, Piper slowly added in the almond flour mixture and some of the lavender tea with a couple of drops of purple coloring. No matter how many times she made macarons, the mixing was the worst part. Mix it too much or too hard and the consistency would be ruined. Too little would have the same result. Baazo’s wide eyes watched her. Was Jaala near by then? Her heart skipped.
No, no, she couldn’t think about him. She had one encounter with him. Elle slipped in her mind — “Attraction doesn’t always make sense, but sometimes that’s the fun of it.”
But a demon? A handsome demon who offered to take away all of her problems in a flash. If seemed too good to be true; it had to be. Her hand shook when she started to pipe out the batter. Piper took a deep breath. Each one needed to be a perfect, consistent circular shells. Once the first few were piped, her shoulders relaxed. She didn’t need a demon, she worked hard to get where she was at, she could make it. A steady squeeze of her piping bag and the tip shot onto the pan, bringing most of the batter with it. Piper didn’t blink.
She prepared another bag and started again. There should be enough batter for another round. Finally, the macarons were piped. Piper wiped her forehead. The shells needed to harden slightly to form a smooth shell once baked. Now, she could focus on the filling. All was going well, maybe too well. No, no, no, keep moving. More egg whites and powdered sugar went into a metal, along with a generous dollop of honey and salt. She flipped on the power button, watching the mixing attachment spin around with a mechanical hum. Now, they needed to bake. Piper leaned against the counter, stretching her neck and shoulders.
“Aren’t you wondering why you can see me?”
Piper stopped in her tracks, turning to the voice. She blinked – she forgot about Baazo. “Oh, well…” Actually, she pushed it to the back of her mind. A week had passed since Jaala appeared into her life. Enough time to convince herself it didn’t really happen. “No, I didn’t really think about it.”
Baazo flicked his tongue. “So you’ve met demons before?”
“Of course not!”
“Hmm.” Baazo sniffed at the macarons. “Maybe it is because of the weird thing in you. Only humans with the sight should be able to see us.”
“Weird thing?”
Bazzo squinted at her, pointing a black toe to her chest. “Near your heart.”
“Wouldn’t I know there was something weird in my body?”
“Maybe, maybe not.”
Piper clenched her shirt. Did Jaala send Baazo to scare her? What did she expect from a demon? Not that he would be hot. Piper groaned and popped the macarons into the oven. Her heart started to race as she turned the knob on the timer. Baazo seems nice enough, maybe not all demons are the same. But what did she know? Right now, she had a mess to clean up. Baazo continued to watch her, but didn’t say anything else. Eventually, He stretched his neck toward the bowl containing the honey filling. Piper trailed her finger along the edge, tasting her creation. Good, not too sweet.
Piper placed her elbows on the counter, holding her finger in front of his face. “There’s a little left.”
Baazo's eyes lit up. He shot his tongue out, wrapping it around her finger and cleaning off the remainder of the filling. Baazo jumped scurrying up her arm. The hair on her arms rose with each patter of his little foot. He kissed her cheek.
“That was delicious!”
Piper chuckled and rubbed his head. “Do demons like sweet things?”
“Most of them can’t handle sweet things. It reminds them how sour they are.”
The timer dinged. Piper crossed her fingers and pulled the tray out. Present feet and smooth tops. A picture perfect macaron shell. Even her extra ones turned out well. With a smile plastered on her face she turned the oven off and grabbed a plate. She twirled to the counter, fanning her hand over the shells. A hum danced on her lips while she waited for them to cool, then she piped the filling into the shells, sandwiching each one together.
There. A dozen lavender honey macarons ready. Piper tossed two of the extras to Baazo, leaving one for herself as a reward for a job well done. Baazo snapped up the cookies. She picked up the plate and the kitchen door swung open.
“Aren’t you done yet?” Bea demanded.
Piper jumped and the plate crashed to the floor.
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