by Zoe Arden
Snake wagged his tail at all of us then scurried down my dad's arm and out of sight.
"Doesn't he like us?" I asked.
"Sure, he likes you. He's a little upset with me right now is all."
"Why?" Eleanor asked. "Aren't you two getting along? Tell him that there's always an adjustment period with new familiars."
"That's not it," my dad said. He sighed. "Snake doesn't like secrets. He wants me to tell you all that... Sadie and I are getting married."
His face turned red, especially when me, Trixie, and Eleanor all let out rather loud shrieks and ran over to him. I pulled him into a hug.
"When did you propose?" I asked him.
"A few days ago."
"Why didn't you tell us sooner?" Eleanor demanded.
"There was so much going on, plus I didn't want Ava and Colt to feel like I was stealing their thunder. One wedding at a time is plenty."
"Nonsense," I said and handed him the book of wedding cakes. "Now it's your turn. Start looking." I turned to Eleanor and Trixie. "We'll have to book him an appointment to try on tuxedos."
"Men don't need appointments to try on tuxedos," my dad said. "We rent one."
"Oh, no," Eleanor said. "You're not renting anything. And you don't have just one type of tuxedo to choose from anymore. There are different colors, different styles..." Her eyes widened. "Oh, my roses, we haven't booked any appointments for Colt. I'll call Bridal Barista and see if we can get him in later this week."
"Oh, uh, that's not necessary," Colt stammered.
"Of course, it is," Eleanor snapped at him.
I looked sympathetically at him. "Don't fight it. It'll be easier on you if you just go along with everything and don't ask questions."
He sighed and nodded.
"Good," Eleanor said. "Maybe we can get both you and Eli appointments together."
"Great," my dad said, forcing a smile.
Colt's phone rang then. "It's Dean," he said and answered it. He nodded, grunted, then hung up. "Judgement's back. COMHA and the Witch's Council are unanimous. Life at Swords and Bones for all three of them."
My family and I all cheered.
"That's just what we were hoping for," Eleanor said.
Colt said, "According to Dean, there were those on COMHA's council who wanted them put to death, but in the end, they decided life in maximum security prison would be far worse, especially with the type of prison assignments they're planning for them."
"How'd they take it?" I asked.
"Burch declared he'd rather be hung. Jaggers asked if he could go to a human prison instead—his request was denied. And Gordie Peterman declared that there was no prison that could hold him."
"That might be true," said Eleanor.
Colt shook his head. "Dean's already spoken to the warden at Swords and Bones. They're constructing a special cell just for him. There's no way he's getting out."
"Then I guess everything turned out as it should," I said.
"Mostly."
"Mostly?" I asked, thinking he was referring to the rest of the management team at Standards. Despite looking into it with a fine-tooth comb, there had been no evidence to indicate that any of the other managers knew what was going on. They appeared to be pawns in the whole matter.
As for the warehouse workers who'd been helping load up the trucks that night... none of them knew those creatures used to be human. They'd all been told they were vicious monsters that had to be kept under lock and key. The men had been put through several lie detector tests and it had been determined they were telling the truth, so no charges had been filed. They were just more pawns.
Several of the mutants had turned out to be former warehouse workers themselves. Apparently, it wasn't just tourists who'd been kidnapped and experimented on. Gordie was a master at disguise. All he'd had to do was pretend to be nothing more than a security guard and the workers trusted him, especially when he turned a blind eye to a few extra minutes for lunch or an unplanned nap in the break room.
The night Gordie had first worked the night shift alone with Damon, he'd been planning on taking Damon and adding him to his collection, but things had gone wrong. Owen had escaped, and Damon had seen him. They'd had to move swiftly to get Owen back in his tank, and that meant getting rid of Damon as quickly and easily as possible, so they'd fired him. Then they'd decided he knew too much and had tried to get him back, but Damon had run.
"Well," Colt said, "Dean doesn't want this getting spread around, but it seems that there have been a few escaped mutants over the last year since Standards started with their experiments. No one knows precisely where they are, but Dean's on a mission to track them all down and see if he can help them."
I bit my lip, thinking that maybe I'd been wrong about Dean. Anyone who would go out of his way to help a bunch of mutants couldn't be all bad.
"You might try looking around Old Blue," I said.
"The lighthouse?"
"Yeah. I've heard there's supposed to be a mer-dragon living out that way."
"Thanks. I'll pass that on to Dean."
I bit my bottom lip. "Is Glenn still mad at me?"
Colt didn't answer right away. "He'll get over it, but if you ever see him again, I wouldn't mention COMHA or Dean Lampton. You could tell him the Earth revolved around the sun, and he wouldn't believe a word you say. Not anymore."
I nodded. "What if I send him some cookies? Or a cake?"
Colt frowned. "You can try, I suppose. Cookies do have a way of mending fences."
"I'll get some together. Don't leave without them."
My aunts gathered up all the magazines they'd been handing off to me and piled them up in front of my father.
Colt took me aside. "How's Damon holding up?"
"All right," I told him. "He's tough; he'll bounce back. I just wish he wasn't alone."
"Ava..." Colt said.
"What?" I asked innocently.
"I've seen that look in your eyes before. I'm going to tell you right now, men don't like being set up."
"I'm sure they wouldn't object if it was the right girl though."
"People don't like blind dates."
"I'll make sure Damon sees a picture of her first; that way, it won't be blind."
Colt shook his head. "Who do you have in mind?"
I shrugged. "Just a girl I know... sort of," I said, making a mental note to talk to Max as soon as possible.
The door to the bakery chimed just then and Lottie Mudget walked in. Colt arched an eyebrow.
"No," I assured him. "It's not Lottie. She's the biggest gossip in town and would drive Damon mad."
"All right, then tell me who it is. I want to warn him."
I laughed. "Let me talk to her first and see what she thinks. Then I'll tell you."
He scrunched his face up. "Fine. But don't do anything until you talk to me first."
"All right," I said, pouting.
"Promise?" he asked.
"Promise," I said and crossed my fingers behind my back.
* * *
Epilogue
.
Lucy let out a squeal that drew looks from everyone in the coffee shop, including Melbourne.
"Oh, my gosh! Oh, my gosh, how did you get these?" she demanded.
"I told you I would," I said, smiling as she jumped up and down.
"Yeah, but I didn't think you'd actually do it. The Starlights have been sold out forever."
"Is Wren going to be as excited as you when he finds out you're taking him?"
Lucy stopped jumping. "Wren and I are through."
"Since when?" I asked.
"Since he told me he doesn't like coffee. Can you believe that? Who in their right mind doesn't like coffee? I just can't date someone like that."
I nodded sympathetically. If Colt had told me that he didn't like cookies, I wasn't sure we'd be getting married right now. There were some things there was just no compromising on. Cookies and coffee were two of them.
The espres
so machine behind Lucy suddenly started spurting coffee everywhere. She and Olivia hurried to stop it, ducking out of the way as hot streams of espresso went sizzling past their heads. When they finally got it turned off, Lucy searched the coffee shop for Melbourne.
"When are you going to get that thing fixed?" she yelled at him.
"I've already had two repairmen out here to look at it. They couldn't find anything wrong with it, or that steamer you keep complaining about."
Lucy's eyes widened. "It's not just me who's complaining about it."
Olivia spoke up. "Lucy's right. These machines are getting worse. It's like they have a mind of their own, like they're alive or something."
"That's ridiculous," Melbourne said. "You just need to know how to handle them." He walked over to the espresso machine, turned it back on, and pushed the buttons to brew himself a cup. When it had finished, he turned to Lucy and Olivia and smiled at them. "See?" he said. "There's nothing to it."
Then a stream of espresso shot out of the machine, hitting him right in his eye. If he hadn't been a vampire, he'd have been shouting in pain right now. As it was, he wiped the coffee off his face and said, "I'll call another repairman." Then he walked into his office and shut the door.
A man walked up to the counter. He was six feet tall with dark hair and handsome eyes. "Excuse me," he said. "Are you Ava Fortune?"
"Yes," I said, not recognizing him.
"I just wanted to thank you for all you've done on the Standards Warehouse case."
"Do I know you?"
"We haven't officially met. I'm Owen Kendall."
My mouth dropped open. "Oh, my roses. I'm sorry, I didn't recognize you."
"I look quite different from last time you saw me, I imagine."
"Do you want to sit down?" I asked.
"I don't have time. I've got to get to Sweetland Hospital for a check-in with Dr. Dunne. I just happened to be passing by and saw you through the window."
"How much longer do you need to go for checkups?" I asked.
"Another few months, at least. He and Dean Lampton just want to make sure that nothing resurfaces."
I cocked my head to the side. "I didn't think any of Peterman's, um... creations... remembered anything, but you seem to remember me."
"I don't remember much," he said. "Just bits and pieces. I remember you the clearest. Seeing you through the glass when I was in that tank..." He shook his head. "I remember thinking that you were going to help me, and you did." He smiled sadly. "If Grace were alive, she'd want to thank you, too."
"She'd be happy knowing that you were safe. That was all she wanted."
He nodded.
The steamer began spurting jets of steam into the space behind the counter, making it look like London fog inside the coffee shop.
"If there's anything I can ever do for you," I told Owen, "just let me know."
"Thanks, but you've already done more than I could have ever asked for."
He left to keep his appointment with Dr. Dunne, and I left before that steamer decided I was a cappuccino instead of a witch and tried to froth me.
The thought foremost in my mind was how to get Damon on a date with Max's daughter without making it seem like a setup. Maybe Max could help me with that.
His daughter lived in Mistmoor. I could invite her to lunch sometime and meet her there. Colt could come with me, and then we could do a double date instead of a blind date. I'd have to talk to him about it later. For now, I had cookies to bake.
* * *
THANK YOU
for reading my book and
i hope you have enjoyed the story.
Sugar Magic Murder is Book 11 in Sweetland Witch Series.
If you have enjoyed reading Sugar Magic Murder , I believe you will be interested in checking out the next book.
The next book targeted release date will be 11th April.
In the meantime . . .
If you have enjoyed reading Sugar Magic Murder, I believe you will be interested in checking out the previous book.
I have enclosed a sneak preview of the previous book.
Is FREE on Kindle Unlimited. (around 330 pages)
Check it out below . . .
* * *
PROLOGUE
Natalie Vargas looked around the empty ferry dock, searching the darkness for Mack. He had to be here. Mack was nothing if not punctual. Even when they'd dated, so many years ago it seemed like another lifetime, he'd never been late for one of their evenings out. Not once. So, when he still hadn't shown up after five minutes, she began to worry.
"Mack?" she called out tentatively.
It was after nine now, and the place was the deserted. The last ferry off the island of Heavenly Haven had left over an hour ago, and the remaining boats that would return them to Florida's mainland were closed up for the night. People didn't linger at the ferry docks after dark. It wasn't that they were dangerous—nothing in Heavenly Haven was particularly dangerous, the island was quite safe—but there was nothing to do here when the sun went down.
The beach was nice, and people walked along its shores even during the middle of the night sometimes, but those people were few and far between. Most of the tourists who came here preferred to see the beaches during the day. They wanted to laugh and play in the water, not stare out at the vast, black ocean, which never looked more menacing than it did at night.
She walked along the pier, still searching. The sand just beyond the pier was a bright tan color. Even in the darkness, the sand stood out. She looked just past it, onto the beach itself, looking to see if she could make out any figures. She couldn't. Dark structures loomed at the edge of the beach as it began to meld with the streets and town—restaurants, gift shops, that sort of thing—but no people that she could make out.
She turned back around to face the water and walked to the top of the pier where the wooden dock widened into a square. There were benches all along the deck, installed for those awaiting the ferry's arrival. She sat down and took a breath.
If her husband, Bill, knew she was here, he'd lose his mind. She'd begun dating Bill when she and Mack had been on the verge of breaking up but had technically still been a couple. The first time Natalie and Bill went to see a movie, she and Mack hadn't been out on a date in about three weeks, and he hadn't kissed for even longer. Their conversations had consisted of two-minute phone calls that were neither thrilling nor heartfelt. They had become something of a routine, a perfunctory operation performed out of guilt rather than desire.
"What'd you do today?"
"Nothing much."
"Wanna get together later?"
"Can't, I'm busy."
There would be a sigh of relief at this last part, as neither of them had really wanted to get together, yet neither of them had the courage not to ask. When she'd finally broken it off with Mack, there had been tears on both sides, sincere despite their strained relationship. She and Mack had been high school sweethearts, after all. It was hard not to take the breakup emotionally, even if they'd both known it was over for some time.
Bill had been relieved when she'd told him she'd ended things with Mack. They'd begun dating more regularly and had married just after college. She'd lost touch with Mack but had always wondered about him. He'd disappeared off the island for a while, probably gone in search of himself or some other foolish twenty-something adventure. Kids in their early twenties and late teens were always going on foolish adventures.
When he'd opened his bar on the island, just outside their hometown of Sweetland Cove, she'd been surprised but happy to learn he was still alive. He hadn't married, or so she'd heard, but she'd never sought him out to find out for sure. She'd heard some rumors, made some assumptions, and left it all at that. She had no interest in the past. Yet when he'd sent her the letter that had gotten her here, she'd been unable to tell him no.
She was glad he had his own business, but she had no reason to step inside of it. His bar wasn't meant for people like her, anyway.
It was on the outskirts of Sweetland Cove, almost so far out that it didn't qualify as part of the town itself. It was meant for high-ranking officials traveling through Heavenly Haven on business. Humans were not allowed in there unless accompanied by someone in the magical world, though any witch or wizard was welcome so long as they weren't there just to drink and get loud.
From what she heard, Mack's Bar was not the type of place you wanted to get drunk in; it was the type of place you went to meet someone for unofficial business—the type of business that had to get done yet could never be put on record.
"Mack?" Natalie called again, wondering for the millionth time why she was here. She had no interest in him; she loved Bill. She just couldn't tell him no when he'd asked for her help. Not without finding out what this was all about, at least.
She heard a creaking noise. Her head snapped around, and she found herself staring at an approaching figure with an egg-shaped head and a large body. She stood up and drew in a breath, held it, and let it back out. "I was beginning to wonder if you were still coming," she said.
"Why would you wonder that?" Mack asked, his voice low. He was trying to keep their volume down.
"You're late," she told him. "You're never late."
He stepped out of the shadows and smiled softly at her. Some people found him strange looking; she had always thought him handsome.
She had never been very good at reading him, though he'd been a master at reading her. There were times when he'd been able to almost read her mind, though of course that had come later in their relationship and had hurt things rather than helped them.
"I wasn't late," he told her. "I was already here when you arrived. I watched you walk up the dock and sit down."
