Deadly Sweet

by Lola Dodge

  “Croissant,” Seth said with the perfect French accent.

  Wynn snorted.

  Not helping. I shot him a glare before refocusing on Seth.

  I wracked my brain for the classes he’d be taking in second year. “Did you make them in Breads and Rolls?”

  “Bakeshop Production.” Seth held out the box. “Want one?”

  “Yes!” The word blurted out too loud. I rubbed my lips with the back of my hand. “I mean, yes.”

  “Knock yourself out.” Seth slid the box across the table. Taking a deep, buttery breath, I plucked out a croissant.

  The rich layers melted on my tongue.

  Perfection.

  “This is so good.” My toes happily tapped the floor as I took a second bite. “So good.” Maybe the butter was saturating my brain, but I couldn’t help gushing. “How’d you get the layers so perfect?”

  The corner of Seth’s lip tilted up, not smug but maybe gratified? I’d keep the adoration coming if this was how he baked. He deserved the praise.

  “Practice,” he said.

  I’d practiced plenty of croissants and they didn’t come out of the oven like this. Either Seth was holding out on me, or he was just that good. I gobbled the entire piece and then licked my fingers, thankful the bandages left my fingertips bare.

  “What happened to the hands?”

  “The attack.” I assumed he knew about it since everyone else did. “I was working front of the house at the bakery. All the cases shattered and I ended up with a couple handfuls of glass.” Knees too, but my leggings had cushioned the worst or I wouldn’t be walking around.

  “Ouch.” He flinched. “When you clear to start baking again?”

  I bit back a smile. Seth understood that being out of the kitchen was the worst part of this mess. “I’m hoping the bandages can come off tomorrow.” My happiness faded fast, though. “They’d better come off tomorrow. I owe Oates a make-up cake or she’s probably failing me.”

  “Need help?”

  My lips parted and all I could do was blink at him. Seth wanted to help me?

  Me?

  I could make that cake in my sleep, but if he was volunteering… How else would I ever get to spend time with him? “You’d help me?”

  “Sure. Oates gave me so much shit in first year. But I do have ulterior motives.” He leaned over the table, letting loose a secret little smile that made the air evacuate my lungs. “I’ve always wanted to see inside Agatha’s kitchen.”

  I could so make that happen. “I’d love the help. Could you make it tomorrow morning?”

  “Yeah. Here.” He slid over his unlocked phone. “Give me your number.”

  I fumbled for a sec, figuring out his system. Then my thumbs hit the wrong buttons a few times as I typed in my digits. Is this really happening? A baking date with Seth?

  Finished, I slid the phone back. After he did some typing of his own, my phone vibrated in my backpack. I have Seth’s number. Seth’s real actual phone number. I wanted to bounce up and down.

  “Text me.” He grabbed his tray even though his food was only half eaten.

  “I’ll—See you!” I called out behind him.

  He’d left his box of croissants and I hugged them to my chest as soon as he was out the door. A baking date and a box of my dream guy’s home-baked goodies. I wouldn’t have cared if the warlock marched in and sat down next to me at this point. I pushed aside the tray of pizza and grabbed for a second croissant.

  Blair found me sighing over croissant number three.

  “Switching to an all-carb diet?” She asked as she pulled out a chair.

  “You should too.” I slid the box over to her. There were enough croissants left that I was willing to share.

  “Dang.” She touched her lips after the first bite. “Why is this the best croissant I’ve ever had?”

  “Because Seth made it.”

  “What? You’re working fast, lady.” Blair gave a wicked smile. “Good job.”

  “He’s helping me with a make-up bake.” I wasn’t reading much more into it, as much as I wanted to. If I expected too much, I’d be disappointed.

  “If you’re making dates, you must not have had any trouble.”

  I glanced over my shoulder. Blair had added five Servants to the entourage. Hers were dressed in sweats instead of full business suits, so now we looked like a basketball team and their trainers on the way to a game. “I don’t think anyone would dare.”

  “True.” Blair cracked open a yogurt and started to stir.

  “Any news from the Syndicate?” I didn’t mind being last to know what was up, but I did need to know eventually.

  “Agatha’s been tearing up the town but all they can find are traces of old castings.”

  “Well, I have a map. I at least want to do some scrying.” I wasn’t dumb enough to run after a warlock myself, but I could at least pass the info along to Agatha if I found anything.

  “Tonight?” Blair asked. “I was going to invite Gabi over anyway. We can make it a sleepover. Ouija board it, even.”

  “Ouija board? Can’t you talk to spirits?” Or was I misunderstanding necromancy?

  She rolled her eyes. “Humor me, Anise.”

  “Okay.” It just seemed like the equivalent of me using an Easy Bake Oven.

  She rubbed her hands together. “I’ll give you free reign of our kitchen if you want to make snacks.”

  “I’ll bake something.” Nutella brownies, maybe? Those seemed like good sleepover food. “Do we have chips?”

  “Not yet. Let’s hit groceries after Comp.”

  If I had to hide out, hiding out with friends was the best way to survive. And with snacks.

  Blair sat with me until she ran out of food. When she headed back for a second slice of pizza—two Servants in tow—I snuck my phone out of my backpack.

  Seth had sent me his own contact card. Seth Young.

  Maybe the karma cupcakes really had kicked in because the Wheel of Fortune was finally turning in my favor.

  Chapter Eighteen

  With Blair egging me on, I baked a pan of Nutella peanut butter brownies. Then I threw together a batch of marshmallow rice treats because she said they were Gabi’s favorite. We had one bag of every possible chip flavor and two bags of barbecue chips. Not to mention dips.

  All the dips.

  It took three Servants to help us carry all the snacks upstairs. Stepping into Blair’s room was like entering fairyland—doubly shocking now that I’d adjusted to the monotone white of the rest of the house. A rainbow carpet, sponge-painted pastel walls, and glittery gauze over the black-out curtains on the massive four-post bed. It couldn’t be any less necromancer.

  The Servants dropped off the food in the sitting area next to the bed where a cushy patchwork sofa and two matching armchairs clustered around a coffee table. Blair had just flopped into one of the armchairs when the bell rang downstairs.

  “That would be Gabi,” she said, making no motion to get up.

  The Servants would answer it, but I wanted to head back down anyway. We still needed drinks brought upstairs.

  Gabi sat on the staircase in the foyer, untying her shoes. She grinned when she saw me coming down. “Mom! Come meet her.”

  A woman who could only be Vanessa stepped in from the living room. She wore purple veterinary scrubs and her dark hair bounced in its twist out as she hurried to meet me at the bottom of the stairs. Before I could say a thing, she swept me into a huge hug, squeezing me like I was her own daughter. “Anise. You look so much like her.”

  When she let go, I was a little breathless. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “I should’ve come sooner. We’ve been swamped at the clinic.” She took two steps back. “Let me look at you.”

  Should I twirl, or…? I wasn’t much to look at dressed for a sleepover in just sweats and a T-shirt.

  Vanessa clasped her hands in front of her chest. “I can’t believe you’re grown. I always picture you dressed as a p
umpkin for Halloween.”

  “When I was three?” That was a throwback. Nana must’ve shown her the picture because Mom couldn’t have sent it herself.

  “You’re just as cute now.” She pinched my cheek.

  And I was speechless. What did they put in their coffee at the cryptid clinic?

  “Go on. I won’t hold up your sleepover. I’m just here for a word with Peggy.” She pressed a kiss to Gabi’s forehead, then gave me a wave. “Come visit when this all blows over. We have French toast every Saturday morning.”

  “I love French toast.” And I never said no to it.

  “The sweet tooth runs in the family.” With a last warm smile, Vanessa headed for the kitchen.

  Gabi hopped up after stashing her shoes in the cabinet. “She was dying to meet you.”

  “She’s nice.” Just like Gabi. And really all the witches who’d known my mom. Whatever she’d done to get cast out of town, she hadn’t burned her ties to everyone or they wouldn’t be so kind to me.

  A Servant moved past us, carrying two bottles of soda and a stack of cups up the stairs. Another one grabbed Gabi’s duffel bag from the foyer.

  Gabi shrugged. “Shall we?”

  Upstairs, Blair had only budged enough to grab a brownie, which rested half-eaten on the napkin on her chest.

  “Treats!” Gabi plopped down in front of the tray of marshmallowy goodness.

  I scooped a handful of barbecue chips with a smile. These two really were my people.

  We snacked for a while, chatting about nothing in particular, and for a little while nothing else mattered. When I couldn’t choke down another chip, the folded map that had gotten pushed under a tray of cookies demanded attention. I held it out. “I hope you’re better at scrying than I am.”

  They exchanged a guilty look. So apparently not.

  “If by scry you mean ask the spirits, then I’ll do what I can,” Blair said. “But straight finding isn’t my thing.”

  “Me either.” Gabi set down her half-eaten treat. “But if you tell me what to look for, I can ask the local birds to help us search.”

  That was better than I’d hoped. And when they saw my scrying method…

  Well, I was a baking witch.

  There were too many snacks on the table to smooth out the map, so we moved to the floor and used a few empty chip tubes to weigh down the corners. With Taos spread in front of us, I reached for a brownie.

  “Are we scrying or snacking?” Blair asked.

  “Scrying.” I broke a piece off the brownie and crumbled it over the map. “It’s a weird method, but it works sometimes.” I’d found my lost phone with crumbs from a pound cake once, but I wouldn’t put money on my skills. I let out a breath and felt for my magic. I’d fully recovered after lending my power to Wynn, so it was easy enough to ground myself. The next part was the icky bit.

  I had to channel the warlock’s energy.

  The scent of burnt hair was strongest in my mind. That black and red magic that felt like skittering cockroaches. The angry wasp noise of it that hummed in your bones. When a shiver rippled down my neck, I knew I had the sensation locked.

  I offered my palm to Blair and Gabi. “Feel it?” They both touched a fingertip to my hand, then shuddered in unison.

  “Gross.” Blair rubbed her hand against her sleeve. As long as they understood the energy.

  I focused on the map and the brownie crumbles. “Show me where to find the warlock.”

  My fingertips glowed orange gold, and I held them outspread, trying to stay focused on the feel of the warlock’s power. Where?

  Power flowed out of me. Slowly, the crumbs wobbled.

  Then they started to line up. Gabi and Blair leaned forward as the crumbs formed a circle over Warwick Street.

  “That’s Agatha’s.” Blair sat back on her heels, voice leaking disappointment.

  I scooped the crumbs into my palm and sprinkled them again. “Show me where to find the warlock.” A hit of power and a new circle formed not far from the first.

  “That’s…” Gabi squinted. “Outside the soap shop?”

  “Where the crossbow Hand attacked.” I took the crumbs again. Third time, maybe? “Where’s the warlock?”

  My magic made another circle—so it wasn’t totally failing—but it landed straight on Agatha’s again. This time, the hairs on the back of my neck lifted. Agatha hadn’t redrawn the shop wards, so it was possible the warlock magic had sunk into the bakery. But… “Do you guys know Stef Oates?”

  Blair pressed her thumb to her lip. “Doesn’t sound familiar. Why?”

  “She works at the bakery and has been pissed at me since I came to town. Agatha said she couldn’t be the warlock, but I’m not so sure…” Even today, she’d gone out of her way to make me miserable.

  “Was she there the day of the attack?” Gabi leaned down, squinting at the ominous circle of crumbs. “The warlock would’ve been nearby controlling that Hand.”

  “No, she—Wait, yes! She gave me a make-up lesson and was hanging around the shop after.” And she’d glared even more than usual. Not with dilated pupils, but her unnaturally green eyes were for sure contact lenses. “It could be her.” I scooped my scrying crumbs into a napkin, vibrating with the possibility. But the reality made me settle back down. “I already asked Agatha, though. She said no way was it Stef.”

  “If they’ve worked together for years, Agatha would know. Let me try before Blair makes this creepy.” Gabi scooted closer to the map.

  Creepy how? I didn’t get to ask before Gabi’s energy shifted. She undid the clasp of her bracelet and let its charms dangle at the end of the gold chain. As green light spread from her fingertips, it felt like sitting under a tree in the middle of a wide, sunny meadow.

  “Where is the source of this magic?” Gabi asked. The bundle of charms wiggled back and forth. I held my breath, waiting for it to pick a spot on the map, but the charms kept swinging. Finally, Gabi pulled it back. She redid her bracelet and moved to the window. “I’ll do better with the birds.” She cracked the window and trilled a whistle. A little brown bird flittered to land on the windowsill and she talked to it short chirps. It hopped back and forth, responding with chips of its own.

  I would’ve kept watching, but Blair cracked her knuckles. “My turn.”

  What did that mean, exactly?

  Blair grabbed a heavy silver jewelry box from her dresser and set it on the floor next to the map, but it didn’t hold her mothers’ pearls. She lifted out lengths of bone.

  I wasn’t taking anatomy, but they looked like human fingers.

  “Don’t worry. They’re my great grandmother.”

  I shivered. “That’s supposed to make it better?”

  Blair didn’t answer, busy arranging the bones along some pattern I couldn’t fathom. There was a lot I couldn’t fathom.

  “Zŭmŭ.” Blair spread her fingers and her fudgy dark magic oozed through the room. “Help me out here. Where’s the warlock?” Blair lifted her hands like a puppeteer and the finger bones lifted off the map, hovering over the town and mirroring her motions.

  “Yikes,” Gabi said, sitting back down.

  “We can’t all chat with little birdies.” Blair swept her hands—and the spirit hands—back and forth over the map. Whenever they swung close to me, the hairs on my arms lifted. Creepy for sure.

  Finally, Blair let out a breath. Her energy cut out and the bones fell to the floor, just bones instead of spectral hands. “No dice. Thanks anyway, Zŭmŭ.” She started placing the bones back inside their velvet-lined box.

  “Is there anything else we could try?” I didn’t want to give up so easily, but even the little bit of casting outside my comfort zone had me sagging where I sat. I grabbed a fresh piece of brownie to start replenishing my energy.

  Blair shook her head, still removing the bones from the map. “This warlock’s either warded to the hilt or way out of town.”

  “Warded,” Gabi said. “I can’t believe she’d just leave.
”

  “How can her wards be that strong?” I didn’t doubt they could hide from my scrying, but if Agatha was doing the magic? Or Peggy or Sylvia? They should’ve found this warlock yesterday.

  And Hayley…

  “Do you think Hayley’s caught up in this? Or did she really run away?” I’d been trying to avoid thinking what could’ve happened to her.

  Gabi rubbed her arms. “I hope she ran.”

  “The Syndicate definitely went looking for the guy she was dating.” Blair tapped her chin. “They’re both gone. Apparently, he was married, but he wasn’t magic.”

  “What else do we know about him?” I asked.

  “He owned Moretti’s.” Gabi gripped her collar with both hands. “It’s the best Italian place in town. I can’t imagine what his family’s going through.”

  A respected restaurant owner who abandoned his wife and kids to run away with a nineteen-year-old?

  Something still didn’t add up. I took another bite of my leftover scrying brownie. “I wish there was something else we could do.”

  “I’m fine leaving it to the Syndicate.” Blair climbed back onto the couch.

  Gabi fiddled with her bracelet. “As much as I want to help, there’s nothing we could do that they couldn’t do twice as well.”

  Too bad she was right. I didn’t have anything special to offer yet and if even I was seeing the gaps in this story, then the women of the Spellwork Syndicate were probably out there filling them. It didn’t make feel any less useless, though.

  “Stop looking like someone kicked your puppy,” Blair said. “It’s a sleepover, not a funeral procession.”

  I ignored the funeral bit. “I’ve never been to a sleepover before.”

  “What?” Gabi straightened in surprise. “Never?”

  I played with the hem of my sweatpants. “With who? Anyone who found out I was a witch wanted nothing to do with me.”

  “We’ve got to stop talking about the depressing stuff.” Blair slid back to the floor to grab the map and fold it away. “What about your date with Seth?”

  “Date?” Gabi’s voice perked up.

  “It’s not a date, date…” I chewed my lip, embarrassed by the whole topic. “He’s helping me with an assignment.”