by Lola Dodge
“I will.” I gave a weak wave as she headed out.
I dozed until cool, silvery magic feathered my skin. Sylvia stood at my bedside, and her energy soothed the sting of the weariness that had dug into my bones. Peggy and Agatha stood at her shoulders.
“Welcome back,” Agatha said, flipping her long hair over her shoulders. “We’ve been busy while you were out.”
Peggy gave a curt nod. “The warlock’s spirit fragmented, but I’m taking his body into my care and will regather his energy so we can dispose of it the proper way.”
Relief washed over me—or maybe that was just Sylvia’s power, cleansing away the badness. Either way, I felt lighter than angel food.
“We’ll handle the rest from here.” Agatha clomped a huge corked bottle on my bedside table, making murky liquid slosh inside. “This is your job now. Twice a day until you’re back to normal.”
“Great.” My throat tightened with dread, but if another cabbage water healing brew would make feel less like I’d flipped a car, then I’d choke it down.
There was one more question I needed to ask, but first I had to clasp my hands together to stop them shaking. “Hayley?”
The women traded sad looks, broadcasting the awful truth.
Sylvia patted Agatha’s shoulder, voice gentle. “She’d been buried in the desert. The warlock’s last wards died when he did.”
“We’ll see her sent to rest,” Peggy said. “Along with the recovered Hands.”
A weight settled on my chest. “It’s so much death.”
“Yes.” Peggy leaned over the bed to touch my wrist. Sylvia backed away, and her cool magic was replaced with Peggy’s spectral fingers. I shivered as the magic feathered my soul. When she pulled away, she gave the subtlest head shake to Agatha.
“What?” I wasn’t letting that go. My heart already thumped, sensing they were hiding something bad.
Agatha let out a breath. “We’re not out of the woods yet, cupcake.”
Dread oozed through my veins. What now?
“You’ve almost crossed the veil twice now.” Peggy leaned lightly against the bedrail. “If your powers leaned toward necromancy, you might not feel any effects, but as is, there may be consequences.”
“What consequences?” My voice rasped out with a note of panic.
“We won’t know until we know,” Peggy said, disturbingly enigmatic. But it didn’t sound like she meant consequences from the Syndicate?
So…
Would I see ghosts now? I hadn’t yet, but being touched by necromancy could only end in creepiness.
I shut down the questioning before my imagination stretched too far. Just be grateful you’re alive.
For now, that was enough.
“We’ll worry when we have to worry,” Agatha said, all practicality. “For now, you focus on healing.”
Sylvia patted my shoulder. “I sensed your mother’s energy. We’ll keep scarce and let her take care of you until you’re ready to come home.”
The idea of home was a little fuzzy right now, but when I closed my eyes and thought of where I wanted to be, all I could picture was the bakery cases jammed with treats.
For better or worse, Agatha’s Bakeshop was home now.
The women said their goodbyes before leaving me to rest. I dozed until the lunch cart arrived, delivering a tray full of limp linguine and chicken parm. My stomach churned and I hadn’t even touched the brew yet. Retreating from the smell, I grabbed a blanket and the carton of chocolate milk before hobbling to the other side of the room with my IV stand. I plopped into the chair at Wynn’s bedside.
His blanket and bandages mostly covered his ribs, but a few dark bruises peeked around the edges. New cuts and scrapes crisscrossed the lines of his old scars. None of the scars were huge or that horrific, but there were so many lines on his arms. From practicing with swords? Had he been some kind of prizefighter in his homeworld?
Maybe someday I’d have the guts to ask. Whatever Wynn was and however much he annoyed me most days, I could only be grateful.
Now I’d given him my power and he’d given me his. Thanks to the exchange, his presence filled its own corner of my mind. I closed my eyes to test the connection and felt the subtle vibration of his energy.
I hoped that meant good things. Maybe we could get along better for the rest of the time his contract forced us together. If nothing else, he wouldn’t be able to sneak up on me.
After I sat staring too long, condensation from my milk dripped through my hospital gown. I shifted to open the carton, but my fingers were clumsy and the pull of the IV tube made me wince.
“Give it.” Wynn’s hand flopped to the side of the bed. His hazel eyes were half-lidded, and he stared at me with some emotion I couldn’t read because for once it wasn’t pure scorn.
I doubted he could open the carton any easier than I could, but I set the box on his palm. “How long have you been awake?”
“A while.” He didn’t flinch at the motion of his IV. A quick pinch and pull and he handed the opened milk back to me.
Showoff. But I smiled around the lip of the carton as I took a sip. “Thank you.”
“It’s my job.”
My nose scrunched. Was he still stuck on that? I set the milk on his side table and forced myself to meet his gaze. A stray barb of guilt slipped between my ribs at the sight of him all bandaged up. If I wasn’t so dumb, this wouldn’t have happened. But I could learn, and I wouldn’t make the same mistakes twice. “Thank you.” I wasn’t talking about milk this time.
“Like I said.” He shifted, giving a bed-ridden shrug.
If he didn’t want a big, emotional thanks, that was fine by me. There were better ways to express gratitude. “What’s your favorite kind of pie?”
“What?” Wynn’s brows drew down in confusion.
“Pie. What’s your favorite flavor? Apple?” As long as he didn’t say key lime, I could definitely deliver. Those teensy limes were little bastards to zest.
His lips snapped tight together like he knew the answer but didn’t want to share. Was I asking something so personal? Or did he still dislike me that much?
“Can you just let me bake something for you so we can pretend we’re square?” A pie wouldn’t make up for cracked bones, but I needed to do something.
“Cherry.” He bit out the word like he was giving away a state secret.
Was it really so hard?
The nurses came in before I could promise a delivery date. I slipped back to my side of the room, brainstorming recipes. I was going to bake a mountain of pies—one for every person who’d helped me. Or who I’d inconvenienced. With the Spellwork Syndicate in the mix, I was pushing twenty pies.
I downed a shot of the nasty brew—which tasted like fermented cabbage instead of plain cabbage—and chased it with a swig of chocolate milk. The sooner I recovered, the sooner I’d be back in the kitchen, baking all kinds of humble pie.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Three days later, I finally hobbled back through the doorway of Agatha’s Bakeshop. Glorious cakes packed the display cases and the store was just as jammed with customers.
I inhaled the scents of chocolate and warm bread. Cinnamon frosting, tantalizing vanilla, and hints of coffee. My heart lifted so high I practically levitated.
This really is home. It felt like years since I’d been back, but my aches reminded me how little time had passed.
“You want to go inside or stay in the doorway all day?” Wynn asked from behind me.
I would’ve stayed to spite him, but his jaw clenched with pain every time he took a step. Even with a ton of magic and medicine, ribs couldn’t heal fast. I hurried inside so he could find himself the vertical surface of his choice.
Waving to Sam, I made my way through to the kitchen. After spending so much time doing nothing but watching bad TV at the hospital, my fingers were itching to work some dough.
Stef Oates stood dusting a tray of mille-feuille with powdered sugar. She sneered
at the sight of me. “Back so soon?”
I almost kept walking, but the hate in her tone made me pull up short. This time, I couldn’t let her attitude slide. She’d drive me crazy before she ever drove me away from the shop. “I am back. Permanently.”
“We’ll see.” She sprinkled sugar, even though her words were sour.
I’d asked Mom about Stef before she flew home to New York. Her face had tightened with guilt. “Stef and I never got along and she was one of the people hurt when I broke the rules. I’ll own that. But don’t you let her take our feud out on you.”
Now that I was staring at her, it seemed crazy she’d hold such old mistakes against me. “My mom told me she knew you a long time ago.”
Stef barked a laugh. “That she knew me? That’s rich.”
“I don’t care what happened.” I was curious, but Mom hadn’t wanted to go into details, and I definitely wanted her side of the story before I heard Stef’s. For now, it didn’t matter. “All I want is a chance to learn. If you’re not willing to teach me, then ignore me or hate me from afar. I don’t care. Just don’t stop me from working.”
“You look like her.” Stef’s eyes narrowed, making it clear that was another strike.
“So they say. Is that a problem?”
“Again. We’ll see.”
I heaved out a breath. Why was she the one acting like the teenager? I wasn’t wasting my time arguing with her anymore.
Wynn followed me into the pantry. I grabbed the rolling bin of pastry flour and stacked a few supplies on the lid, including a rack of spice jars and a huge basket of apples, berries, and cherries.
I overdid, especially considering my muscles were still weak. The fully-loaded bin was so heavy I could barely push it. Wynn didn’t move to help me with the hauling—he wasn’t allowed to lift anything until he healed anyway—but he reopened the pantry door to let me through.
I ducked my head as I passed, resisting the urge to grin with victory. Wynn was totally tolerating me now.
I dragged my ingredients into the house kitchen. Fondant sat curled on the kitchen table. Her ears flicked as I passed, but I must’ve won her over, too, because she stretched and rolled onto her side instead of hoping up to make mischief. All good.
Wynn flipped a chair around and sat by the back door. He swung his arms over the chair back and rested his head before closing his eyes. He looked like he was he sleeping, but I was getting wise to the truth. He wasn’t exactly pretending, but he’d know the second something needed his attention.
I didn’t need that attention and wasn’t going to for a long time. With nothing to distract me, I set to work on my mountain of pies. Laser-focused, I whipped out enough dough for seventeen pie crusts—top, bottom, and decorations.
And the fillings. Apple cinnamon. Chocolate cream. Lemon meringue.
With one special cherry pie.
Sylvia had pronounced my magic my own again, with Seth’s taint faded—thankfully—but my reserves would take a while to fill back up so I wasn’t supposed to cast for a while yet. That was fine by me. Rolling out crusts, filling pies, and staggering their oven times was plenty to start healing the tears to my soul.
The ritual of it calmed me. Whether or not power was involved, baking was magic of its own.
I timed my three most important pies to come out of the oven first. Cherry, strawberry rhubarb, and banana cream. While the hot pies cooled, I decorated the banana cream with stars of whipped cream, chunks of banana, and slivers of almond.
When they were ready to serve, I tucked a few utensils in my apron pockets and steeled myself to make the deliveries.
Easiest one first.
I set the cherry pie on the counter next to Wynn, not wanting to put it near Fondant on the table. She seemed less hostile, but I wasn’t testing the theory with a precious pie.
Wynn cracked an eye open.
I offered him a fork. “For you. Thank you.”
He moved a little too slow as he reached for the fork. Like he still wasn’t sure if he trusted me. I sliced a piece and passed it to him on a plate. We’d have to work a lot harder if we were ever going to understand each other, but for now, my cherry pie could do the talking.
Still oozing suspicion, he lifted the first bite to his mouth. Then froze. His eyes widened.
Nerves tingling, I leaned forward. “Is it okay?”
“It’s…” He chewed, closing his eyes again.
“Good?” I wanted a word.
“Delicious.” He took a second bite and I grinned as sunny joy bubbled through my veins. He made the face I always wanted to see, slipping a smile as he started to shovel bite after bite. Finally.
My lattice was a little crooked and it wasn’t as brown as I would’ve liked, but I wasn’t being judged today. All that mattered was that I could make Wynn smile for a fraction of a second.
High on that confidence, I carried the banana cream into the kitchen. Wynn was so engrossed in his pie, he forgot to follow me.
Total victory.
Stef looked up as the door swung. “What now?”
“For you.” I set the pie on the central island. “I hope you’ll try it.” I didn’t wait around to see if she would or not. The pie was my gesture and it was up to her if she took it.
I carried the strawberry rhubarb up to Agatha’s office.
She stood clearing the mess of maps and charms off her desk.
“Agatha?” I knocked the doorframe with an elbow to get her attention.
Her gaze zeroed in on the pie. “What do you have there?”
“A thank you. For giving me a chance.” My palms sweat as I set it down in front of her and offered a plate and fork.
“Hmm.” She spun the pie dish in a circle. “You did well with the crust. Let’s see how it tastes.” I’d rolled out a top crust instead of a lattice for this one and it wasn’t ruler-even, but it was toasted the perfect golden brown. My best effort.
Agatha cut herself a slice and dug in.
One bite.
Two bites.
Three bites.
At four, my heart sprouted wings. Agatha wasn’t just tasting. She was eating.
When she set down the empty plate, I had to cover my mouth to keep from grinning.
“Beautiful.” She licked her fork one last time. “Do you know why?”
“No magic?” Maybe that was what had been tripping me up until now.
“Nothing to do with it. This is you, Anise.” She held up the dish. “You weren’t trying to impress anyone. You baked with a clear heart and clear intentions and magic or no magic, you can taste that in every bite. This is what I want from you.”
My throat closed up. It was the first real compliment she’d given me, and after everything, it meant the world. “I wasn’t sure you’d let me stay, after…”
“Who hasn’t been tricked by a man now and again?” She set the pie back down. “Be sad if you need be sad or mad if anger will help you get over it. We move forward. You’re my apprentice and you’ll rule this town by the time I’m done with you.”
“Rule the town?” Why would I want that? But I smiled even though my throat burned and my eyes were glassy. “All I want is to bake a layer cake good enough to sit in your case.”
Agatha grabbed the apron that was balled up on her desk. “You’ll get there, cupcake. For now, how about I help you finish off those pies? I’ll teach you everything you need to know about meringue.”
“Really?” I hopped up, my heart puffing with giddy happiness.
I had so much work ahead of me in the next days, weeks, and—if I was that lucky—years. It would take that long to shape myself into a witch like Agatha.
I hurried down the stairs at her side, more than ready to take on the challenge.
Craving more of Anise’s story?
SUGAR SPELLS (The Spellwork Syndicate, Book Two)
Releases October 30, 2018!
Click here to preorder
After her run-in with a jealous warlock,
apprentice baker Anise Wise can’t wait to get back the kitchen where she belongs. But thanks to her brush with death, the land of the living isn’t all cupcakes and marshmallows.
Anise’s magical mojo is way out of whack and her evolving powers are stirring up trouble. As the town buzzes with news that Anise can bake deathly spells, unsavory characters start lining up for a taste. They’ll stop at nothing for the chance to use Anise and her witchcraft to further their own plots.
She plans to hole up researching magic recipes until the attention dies down, but then she discovers the horrifying terms of her bodyguard’s contract. Wynn has saved her life so many times, she can’t leave him trapped. But doing the right thing will mean risking death or worse—being cast out of her dream job.
For this witch, justice might not be as sweet as advertised.
Bitten by the paranormal bug?
Check out BECOMING ALPHA (The Alpha Girl Series, Book One)
by USA Today Bestselling Author, Aileen Erin
START READING NOW!
http://bit.ly/AlphaGirlSample
One stupid party. One stupid boy. One stupid kiss. And my life was virtually over.
Tessa McCaide has a unique talent for getting into trouble. Then again, it isn’t easy for a girl with psychic visions to ignore what she sees. Luckily Tessa and her family are leaving California and moving halfway across the country, giving her the perfect opportunity to leave her reputation as “Freaky Tessa” behind.
But Tessa doesn’t realize that kissing the wrong guy in her new Texas town could land her in far more trouble than she ever imagined. Like being forced to attend St. Ailbe’s Academy, a secret boarding school for werewolves.
Even if the wrong guy did accidentally turn her into a shapeshifter and doom her to attending the weirdest high school ever, Tessa can’t help her growing attraction to the mysterious Dastien Laurent.
When vampires attack St. Ailbe’s and her visions pinpoint an enemy in their midst, Tessa realizes that boy drama and her newfound canine tendencies might just be the least of her problems.
