Witchin' Sugar

by Lissa Matthews

  “He’s a demon.”

  “I know that, too, but even demons serve a purpose.”

  “I believe you’re his purpose. His job was, well, a job.”

  “It’s what he was born to.”

  “He was also born for you.”

  “Love has made you kooky.”

  “Cookie? Oh yes, I’d love one.”

  “Ha-ha.” Yet, she tore a hunk of cookie dough off the corner and proceeded to devour it bit by bit. “It’ll work out. You’ll see. You just have to let your guard down and let him in.”

  “You didn’t want to with Morgan.”

  “And then I did.” It suited her, too.

  “Want to see something strange?” I asked.

  “Always.”

  “Okay, so, I was going to try Gertie’s cookie recipe again, but when I went to measure the ingredients using my own measuring cups and my own mixing bowl, her things started flipping out on the counter over there.”

  “Really? Show me.”

  So, I did.

  I took the recipe from beside Gertie’s bowl and set it by mine, then took out my favorite measuring cup. As I began to scoop flour into it, her measuring spoons started clacking against themselves and her bowl thumped against the counter.

  “Oh my.”

  “And that’s not all.” I picked up my measuring cup of flour and turned it upside down over my bowl, only to have it slide back and flour end up on the counter and floor.

  “Uh…”

  I nodded. “I know. Crazy, right?”

  “No, honey. That’s freaky. Who’s controlling, or what’s controlling your bowl?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “It’s like her stuff is jealous or something.”

  “Or haunted.”

  “What if…”

  “What if what?”

  “What if Gertie isn’t really dead.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What if Gertie is the bowl? Or what if she was cursed into the bowl somehow?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think that’s what’s going on. I think her belongings, these belongings are enchanted, yes, but even the ghosts say she didn’t go anywhere or enter any competition without using that bowl and those measuring cups and spoons.”

  “I’m just sayin’… Seems a little odd that stuff would go berserk just because you tried to use the recipe with another bowl.”

  Later, after Kandy left, I had to admit, she might’ve been on to something. We’d seen some crazy things over the years, though none quite as crazy as Broo and the Wicked Shitz and the magical baking staff.

  Still, though…

  Reveal to me your secrets

  Butter, sugar, and flour

  Lift away your enchantments

  And roll away deeds, sweet and sour

  At first, nothing happened, and I figured it was the same as the pieces of paper in the trunk up in the attic. But the moment I decided to turn away, the air in the kitchen filled with the scent of vanilla and butter.

  “Oh, fudge. Don’t be another ghost. Please.”

  The mixing bowl began to spin. Slow at first, then faster and faster until I thought it might spin right off the counter. It never did.

  When it slowed and took its final spin, what I saw had me blinking and backing up to the other side of the room.

  There were a pair of eyes. A nose. And lips, which were pursed at first, but then widened into a porcelain smile.

  “Only another cookie witch who’d found my recipe would’ve been able to find me. Hello, dear.”

  “H-hello,” I said meekly. “Why are you trapped inside a mixing bowl?”

  “Obviously, I was cursed into it.”

  Obviously. “You don’t seem angry.”

  “What’s the use in being angry. I can’t do anything about it.”

  “Is there no way to get you out?”

  “I imagine a pretty powerful witch or wizard could, but you don’t seem to be one.”

  “That’s rather rude. How do you know I’m not?”

  “Well, are you?”

  “No, but that’s beside the point.”

  “Tell me, have you found my recipe?”

  “Yes.”

  “And do you know its secret?”

  “That you cursed three thieves into it? Yep.”

  “I didn’t do that.”

  “They said you did.”

  “But, I didn’t.”

  “I am so confused.”

  “Seems you’ve had a busy couple of days.”

  “I have. So, if you didn’t curse them, then who did? And why?”

  The lips turned to a frown and the eyes became sad.

  And I was talking to a bowl.

  “Jealousy, plain and simple.”

  “Because of your recipe?”

  “No. Well, yes.”

  “I gotta tell you, they must be some incredible cookies. I’ve been baking all my life and I’ve never found any recipe worth stealing or cursing people for.”

  “It’s not the cookies themselves, dear, but what others get out of them. But they are pretty spectacular and followed precisely, the cookies are the perfect blend of sweet, buttery, soft, and crispy. That’s not why she was jealous, though.”

  “She? Who was it that was jealous?”

  “My sister.”

  “Gracie? Aunt Gracie did this to you?”

  “To them, too.”

  “They swear it was you.”

  “I was already here, inside this bowl. I couldn’t have done it. I was supposed to meet Howard for dinner, but I never made it.”

  “Howard? Oh! Bowler Hat.” Now that I think about it, he looked like a Howard. “Okay, well, we have to get you out of the bowl. I don’t know how, but clearly I can’t leave you in there.”

  “You’ll need a pretty power —”

  “Yes, yes, I know. A pretty powerful witch or wizard. What about a demon? And if you come out of the bowl, will you be alive or a ghostly figure of yourself?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t know. Gracie didn’t want me coming out still alive, so possibly ghostly.”

  “If she did this to you, how do you know what she did to them?”

  “She made me watch. I couldn’t speak and they never realized I was witness to what happened.”

  “Do you know how to get rid of them?”

  “I don’t know what lies beyond this existence.”

  “Well, isn’t that just awesome… Can you tell me why I can’t make your recipe in my own bowl?”

  “Oh, dear, you can. I just needed to somehow get your attention. You seemed content to think me a mere enchanted piece of kitchenware. You know, you should listen to your sister more. She’s a bright one, she is.”

  “That’s it. I’ve had enough for one morning. I’ll get back to you.”

  Gertie spluttered as I tossed a kitchen towel over her ceramic residence.

  *

  “Bethilda?” I called, materializing inside the lobby of the Blue Balls Falls Inn.

  “Kaydence! What a delight! What brings you here for the second day in a row?”

  “Gertie. She was cursed into her mixing bowl.”

  Bethilda slapped a hand over her heart and gasped. “What?”

  “You know how… Well, you know… Ah, hell… I’ve had my fill of ghosts and talking pottery. I need a powerful witch to get Gertie out of the bowl.”

  “Slow down… Tell me everything.”

  And so, I did.

  Bethilda’s eyes widened and after a bit, she ushered me into a small room which she closed off from the rest of the inn. A tray with a pitcher of lavender lemonade appeared on a small table next to a comfy looking arm chair. I plopped down and helped myself to a glass.

  “Is that all?” she asked when I came to the end of my tale.

  “Yes.”

  She plopped down into an identical chair on the other side of the small table. “Well, I never would’ve thought that of Gracie. She had us all snowed
.”

  “Speaking of snowed… This is not how I’d pictured Christmas in July going.”

  “I know. We’ll get this all sorted out and you’ll be back to celebrating in no time.”

  “So, you know someone who can help?”

  “I do, but you won’t like it.”

  “I am not calling for her. Do you think one of the demons can do it? It’s not like we have a shortage of them in town. They’re minions of Hell. Surely one of them can undo a curse like this.”

  “It’s possible we can get her out of the bowl, but what to do with her after? That’s out of our realm unless you want to destroy them, and that is beyond questionable.”

  “I guess it makes sense now why Aunt Gracie never wanted to talk about Gertie again.”

  “Yes, I would agree.”

  “I guess Daddy never knew what Aunt Gracie had done.”

  “I can’t imagine what it must’ve done to her to keep the secret for so many years. She was sweet as pie on the outside, but she must’ve been shriveled up on the inside. The war she must’ve raged within herself.”

  “I don’t think I’d care much about that. How anyone could do something like that to a sister is beyond me.”

  “Did Gertie say what the jealousy was about? Was it the fame Gertie had that made Gracie do this or was it something else?”

  “She didn’t say.” I swallowed the last of my lemonade and filled my glass again. “There’s something different about this batch of lemonade.”

  “Oh, it’s got a little pick-me-up in it. I figured you might need it.”

  “I do. Did. This has been a rough two days and I just want my life back.”

  She reached over and patted my hand. “Call your demon, Kay. See what he can do.”

  Chapter Seven

  “How did you get here?” I asked Merrick, who was holding me tight against his chest. “How did I get here?”

  “Bethilda reached out to Kandy who reached out to me. Seems you had a little too much libation, as the innkeeper put it, and your system wasn’t able to handle it. How do you feel?”

  I yawned. “Sleepy.”

  “I’ll put you to bed.”

  “You’ll do no such… BUUUUUURP… thing. Sorry.”

  Merrick chuckled, but didn’t skip a beat as he carried me through the cottage to my bedroom. “I will.”

  “It’s still daylight.”

  “It’s early afternoon. You shouldn’t be drinking such things this early in the day.” He laid me on top of my bed and with a small gesture, produced a beautiful blanket that matched the midnight of his skin.

  “A lot happened after you left.”

  “So I’m told.”

  “Can you help?”

  Merrick settled the blanket over me and a sigh escaped my lips. It was like being surrounded by him. His heat, his scent… “I’m going to try.”

  “What will it cost me?” I asked on another yawn. I turned on my side and settled my head into my pillow. He knelt beside my bed and brushed my hair back from my face. He was so lovely to gaze upon.

  Were all demons as lovely as he and his brothers?

  “No, love. Not all. And it will cost you nothing.”

  “Of course, it will cost me something. Everything you do costs me something. Nothing is free.”

  “This time I will make an exception. For you. There is nothing in this for me to gain by making bargains or deals.”

  “Demons aren’t kind.”

  “This one is. Is not my brother kind to your sister?”

  “That’s different.”

  “Not so much. Rest now, love. I will keep watch over your home and your guests.”

  “And the bowl.”

  “I will see what I can do to free your aunt from her prison.”

  I settled in with the warmth of the blanket over me and the warmth of his hand caressing my face and hair. This must be what it felt like to be tempted by him and if so, I could understand why mere mortals would give in to him.

  I closed my eyes, though I didn’t want to do so. I wanted to continue looking at Merrick, but my eyelids were so heavy and I drifted off.

  By the time I came to, Merrick was still sitting in front of me, still brushing my hair back from my face, still smiling at me, but more than that, there were excited voices coming from somewhere else in the house. Female voices. More than one, and my sisters weren’t among them.

  “Who’s here?” I said, sounding more like a croaking frog than a woman. Merrick produced a glass of water, which he held out to me. I sat up and immediately wished I hadn’t. The headache was awful, but the cotton in my mouth was worse.

  He helped me take a few sips, then eased my head back down on my pillow.

  “Well, it seems there were a few ladies who’d heard about your issue with your aunt in the bowl and felt called to come and see what they could do to help out.”

  “A few ladies?”

  “Ruth and the Prayer Circle?”

  “Oh. Did they know Gertie?”

  “Seems they did and were more than eager to put their collective powers to use.”

  “Did it work?”

  “It did.”

  “Are you alright?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “They’re called the Prayer Circle.”

  “Yes, well, that isn’t a big deal with me. It’s not like being around them or them around me is going to set one of us on fire. We’re free to associate.”

  “So, my aunt is out of her mixing bowl?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is she a ghost?”

  “No. She isn’t.”

  “So, Gracie took the life forces of the others, but not Gertie’s?”

  “That’s what it sounds like.”

  I closed my eyes again and lay there trying to process everything Merrick was telling me. The laughter from the kitchen made me smile, but it still left a few questions, the main one being, what were we supposed to do with the ghosts?

  “I should get up and go see what’s going on.”

  “Careful, love.”

  “You’re a demon,” I whispered.

  “Yes, that’s been well established.”

  “Why are you so nice?”

  “Just because I’m a demon doesn’t mean I have to be unkind. Haven’t you ever heard the saying about honey and vinegar?”

  “Yes. You’re saying you charm people by being nice.”

  “Are you charmed, love?”

  I was afraid if I wasn’t already, that before long I would be.

  With his hand behind me and my hand gripping his arm, he helped me sit up again. I drained the glass of water and put my feet on the floor. “I don’t think I want whatever Bethilda put in that lemonade again.”

  “No, I don’t think that would be a good idea at all. You’re a bit of a lightweight.”

  “I am not.”

  “You can’t hold your liquor, so, yes you are.”

  “Oh. Okay, well, that might be true.” I stood and was a little wobbly, but within a few seconds I was able to stand on my own and walk out the bedroom door without bumping into the wall or falling over.

  The kitchen was a merry place. Cookies were baking, as were a few pies. It smelled heavenly and my stomach rumbled.

  “Oh, my dear, you’re awake.”

  “And you’re not in the bowl anymore,” I said with a smile.

  “Thank the Goddess for that. And my Prayer Circle friends, too. My… You look just like I did when I was… Well, me.”

  “You’re still you, Gertie.”

  “Not the me I was. My hair is red with loads of gray and I’m a smidge paler than I used to be.”

  “How do you feel?”

  “I honestly don’t know. I have been trying to figure that out and I’m not sure.”

  “Did you bake all these?” I motioned to the cookies cooling on racks. Every available surface in the kitchen was occupied by either a mess, cookies, or pies.

  “We all baked a little
something,” one of The Prayer Circle ladies said. “It was the least we could do. You’ve had a hectic couple of days.”

  Why did everyone keep saying that? It wasn’t that I was unable to handle a little bit of stress. Sure, three ghosts and an aunt stuck in a bowl was a little more than most people had to deal with on a daily basis, but as long as this was a once in a lifetime event, I was good. I wasn’t helpless. I still didn’t have a plan for getting the ghosts out of my house, but I wasn’t helpless and I would come up with something sooner or later.

  Hopefully, sooner. Like in the immediate future.

  Speaking of… “Where are the others?”

  “Still outside. I believe they’re all napping.”

  I glanced out the window over the sink and sure enough, in the shade of one of the oak trees, the three blue Wickeds and the three ghosts, were passed out in the grass. “So, they don’t even know Gertie is here?”

  “Not yet.”

  I stole a cookie from the nearest cooling rack and turned to Gertie. “What was the jealousy about? What could Aunt Gracie be so bothered by that she’d do the things she did?”

  “She was in love with Howard.”

  “Who? Oh… right. Sorry. They don’t remember their names,” I informed her. “They don’t remember what year it happened, either.”

  “What do they remember?”

  “Bits and pieces of things. The curse she placed on them… She made sure they’d remember the very last thing that happened to them.”

  “Meaning where they thought it was me doing that to them.” Gertie’s face fell in sadness and a tear slipped from one of her eyes. “I didn’t realize Gracie hated me so much.”

  “I don’t think she hated you.” I said the words, but what else drives a sister to do what Gracie did?

  “She must have. She cursed us all to wretched existences and for what? Because she wanted a man who wanted me? Because she wanted the fame that I had? Because she couldn’t see beyond her own jealousy?”

  The Prayer Circle enveloped Gertie in a hug as she cried.

  I nibbled on the cookie in my hand and though it was the most delicious thing I’d ever tasted, given the circumstances, it rather tasted like ash in my mouth, too.

  I couldn’t imagine the feeling of betrayal and the heartbrokenness Gertie must feel. And I couldn’t imagine my sisters ever being jealous of me in that way or me jealous of them. We were so close, as close as sisters could be and we each had our own talents and own powers that kept us free from encroaching on each other.