The Lying, the Witch, and the Werewolf (Down & Dirty Supernatural Cleaning Services Book 4) by Kate Quinn (uplifting books for women .txt) 📗

Adorra spins on her heel, her hair flying out in a fan, and I halfway wonder if there’s going to be some kind of hair-pulling beauty queen showdown when a deep voice comes from behind me.

“Well, hello there!”

I jump, flushed from my hiding spot, to find an enormous dude walking along the path, pushing a wheelbarrow in front of him, covered with burlap bags. Even though it’s a little chilly here in the woods, this guy is going shirtless. And I can really say I blame him. If I was cut like that I’d probably lead with my pecs, too.

“Hello,” I say, trying to act like I’m not paying attention as I see Giselle move around the corner of the house. A moment later her little sports car comes zipping down the lane, and I watch it go, relieved. The last thing I need is my old romantic rival outing me to the rest of the cult.

Also, last time I saw her I warned her that Brent was going to do her the way he did me: dirty. She did not appreciate my honesty and it must have had zero effect anyway, since she married the bastard.

“I don’t think we’ve met,” the man says, reaching his hand out. “I’m Priapus.”

“Paige,” I say, as my hand is completely enveloped in his. “Pria…” I stumble over his name. “Prius? Like the car?”

He chuckles, low and sonorous and I’m half tempted to toss my hair around like Adorra had. This guy could make a girl skip dinner and go straight for dessert.

“No, dear,” he says. “Priapus. I’m a minor fertility god.”

“Ohhhhh,” I say, blood suddenly rushing to my face.

I knew that some beings were running around, calling themselves gods from the Greek and Roman world. Whether or not they’re actual gods, they had a hand in the collapse of the world—but I’d never met one of these “gods.”

Was I supposed to bow? I mean, this guy is way more impressive than that stuffed Dalmanther and everyone hit the ground for him.

Priapus must sense my discomfort because he smiles at me broadly. “There's no reason to be alarmed,” he says. “I’m not the lightning-bolt throwing type.”

“Cool,” I say, still a little flummoxed. I glance down at his wheelbarrow. “So, a fertility god, huh? Do you handle all the landscaping around here? I’ve got to tell you it’s done to perfect—”

I stop, absolutely dumbstruck as Priapus flings back the burlap sacks and I realize that the wheelbarrow isn’t an indicator of his profession. Instead, it’s the perambulator of his penis.

“Holy shitballs,” I say, backing away. “And giant monster shlong.”

“I’m also the god of livestock, fruit plants, and male genitalia,” he explains, looking proudly down at his dick, which—even limp—takes up the entire wheelbarrow.

“I…that’s…please don’t get turned on,” I say, still backpedaling. “That thing fully sprung could take my head off.”

“Yes it could,” Priapus laughs as if the idea of beheading a strange woman with his dick is funny. “But please don’t be frightened,” he adds, moving forward to join me, his wheelbarrow and its contents leading the way. “Due to the enormous size of my pee-pee, I don’t have hoo-hoo contact with human women. It would quite literally kill them.”

“Well, that’s…kind of you to abstain,” I say, my gaze still transfixed. “Wait—did you just call it a pee-pee?”

“Yes, of course” he says, as we approach the clearing at the back of the house. “I once taught the sex-ed class at Mount Olympus Academy, and I am a stickler for proper stickenfrick terminology.”

“Scientific?” I correct, guessing at what he was aiming for.

“That’s the one!” He grins.

“As long as my hoo-hoo is safe with you, I don’t care what you call it,” I tell him, scanning the back porch. There’s no sign of Adorra, and now that Shit broke my magical toothbrush phone, I have no way of telling Nico about this new development.

The sound of a gong echoes across the compound. “Time for dinner,” Priapus announces, flipping the burlap sack back over his enormous pee-pee. “Thank you for accompanying me as I aired out, Paige. Would you mind assisting me with the steps?”

I feel like a weird mix of a nursing home attendant and a weightlifter as I help heft Priapus’ penis wagon up to the porch. That thing is no joke! I’m sweating by the time we enter the dining room, and realize I never asked Adorra which wave of dining room participants I’m supposed to be in.

Luckily, Seraphina catches my eye and waves me over to her.

“I see you’ve met Priapus,” she says, as I settle into my chair.

“And his pee-pee,” I tell her. I laugh. I can’t help it. My life seems to be a comedy of errors. Might as well enjoy the show.

“Is that the word he’s using today?” she asks. “We never know if it’s going to be his wing-wang, dingle-dong, pee-pee, or wiener-schnauzen.”

“Wiener-schnauzen?” I repeat.

“Yeah, he adopted that one after we had a wave of Germans pass through for one of our themed weekends. Last fall we had an Octoberfest one, called Wiener Your Schnitzel. I can’t believe you’re here,” Seraphina says, delicately lifting a fork as the swinging doors to the kitchen open and the members whose chores include making dinner begin to fill the plates in front of us. “What made you decide to leave Charms and join Together We Come?”

“Oh, it’s more like—is that sushi?” I ask.

It’s a very lame redirect, but quite effective on the mermaid. “What?” Seraphina asks, suddenly livid. “No,” she corrects me, flummoxed as the member doling out food puts some on her plate. “That’s a cheeseburger.”

“Yeah, a cheeseburger,” I agree. “Sorry, it’s been a long day.”

“Right,” she says, eyeing me. “So, tell me how—”

“Broken heart,” I say, figuring I’d just tell her the same thing I did Adorra.

“Oh, Paige,” Seraphina says, her hand suddenly in mine, her eyes shining. “I’m so sorry. Did things with you and Nico