Black Arts, Tarts & Gypsy Carts

by Erin Johnson

  Black Arts, Tarts & Gypsy Carts

  Spells & Caramels Book 2

  Erin Johnson

  For my dogs, Maggie and Henry.

  Maggie, for being my sweet puppy soul mate. And Henry, for inspiring Cat.

  Contents

  1. The Royal Bakery

  2. The Tent

  3. Swallows

  4. Rhonda vs. Zerna

  5. Learning Magic

  6. Carnival at Night

  7. Sam

  8. A Dire Prediction

  9. The Saw

  10. Prison

  11. Madame Zerna's Caravan

  12. The Rusted Wreck

  13. The Necklace

  14. Scullivan

  15. Riga

  16. Carclaustra

  17. Cat

  18. Potion Maker

  19. Cold Hands

  20. Frennie

  21. The Diary

  22. The Airship

  23. Graveyard

  24. Bound

  25. The Big Show

  26. Rip

  27. Closing Time

  28. Reveal

  29. A Cryptic Message

  30. Working Together

  Did you enjoy Black Arts, Tarts & Gypsy Carts? If so, you can make a huge difference.

  Book 3 Sneak Peek

  Mermaid Fins, Winds & Rolling Pins

  Check out the other books in The Spells & Caramels Series

  Stay up-to-date by signing up for the Erin Johnson Writes Newsletter

  A note from the author

  About the Author

  1

  The Royal Bakery

  I leaned my hip against the butcher block counter, one arm folded across my apron, the other holding my latest borrow from the royal library. I skimmed my finger along the text.

  “To mix the ingredients thoroughly, one must simply draw on the unity within you and transfer that to the ingredients.”

  I’d gone through hundreds of books in the last week since starting work in the royal bakery. Not that I’d read them cover to cover. That’d be nuts. Maple helped me cast a spell that located any books mentioning swallows and the pages to read, so I’d skimmed them. Most were about as helpful as the one I held in my hands.

  “Of course, swallows will do things differently.” I skimmed the rest of the page and flipped it over, finding no more mentions of swallows.

  Seriously? That’s it? Swallows will do things differently? I growled and flipped the book over, glaring at its embossed gold lettering.

  “Thanks for nothing, Magical Makings.” I huffed. I had stacks more back in my room to comb through that evening, though I didn’t have much hope. I’d been trying to learn to harness my powers on my own. Apparently, just about all other witches and wizards pulled their powers from within. But I was different.

  As a swallow, I pulled power from other people, living things, and even nature and emotions to create magic. So no one’s advice helped me learn to use my powers, and the only other person I knew who was a swallow and could help, was not an option. Sigh.

  I glanced at the enchanted hourglass on the flour-covered worktable. A couple more minutes on my cinnamon rolls and then I’d check the oven. They smelled heavenly, of cinnamon and sugar. Plus, I knew Iggy, my magical flame and baking partner, would let me know when they were done.

  Without any expectations, I’d opened the book to the next marked page to see if I could glean any more information that might help me learn about using magic, when a shriek startled me and I dropped the book onto the table.

  “Oh no, oh no, oh no!” Maple rushed to one of the arched brick ovens that dotted the walls all around the royal bakery. Black smoke billowed from around the wooden cover we always left partially open to keep the fires burning. Smoke drifted up to the white stuccoed ceiling three stories above.

  “I’ll get the windowsss!” Sam dashed forward, his heels clipping the white marble floors. He pulled a wooden rolling ladder in front of the teal shelves that held the copper pots and pans. He scurried up and used a long stick with a hook on the end to pull the windows, tall as doors, open.

  I grabbed my red oven mitts and sprinted over to Maple who’d already tossed the cover off. I slid one of the burning pans from the oven. We shoved them onto the nearest long work station. I backed away, burying my nose in the crook of my elbow, and coughed, my lungs burning.

  Annie, the plump older baker from the Earth Kingdom, adjusted her headband, pulling her gray hair back from her face. She grabbed another metal tray and fanned it across the table, dispersing the smoke and cooling the two trays of charred cherry-crisp coffee cakes.

  “Wiley, these are yours.” Annie turned her head to cough and kept fanning. Yann dropped his pestle into the bowl of lavender he’d been crushing, and stomped over.

  “Oh.” Yann’s face fell and the giant bear of a man shook his head slowly. “Oh, and dey are da queen’s favorite.”

  “They may turn out yet.” Annie raised her thin brows at Yann, who plucked up a nearby tray and waved it back and forth over the cherry coffee cake. With arms as thick as my torso, Yann moved quite a bit more air than Annie. I winced as a gust blew my bangs back from my face and my apron nearly over my head.

  I smoothed it down in time to see Maple eyeing Wiley like she might take one of the trays to his head. Bright red streaks glowed on her fair cheeks, and she held her arms stiff at her sides. Wiley ignored her, popped a piece of the dough he was rolling into his mouth, and talked through it to K’ree.

  “Yeah, it gets pretty wild on Main Street. I found this great little club off the canal, you should come out this weekend.” The guy was probably in his late twenties like me, but acted like a frat boy. He towered over K’ree, whose dark eyes darted between him and Maple as she played with the edges of the black-and-gold scarf she wore wrapped round her head.

  Since Maple, Sam, and I had started at the royal bakery a week ago, Wiley had given Maple nothing but trouble, from bigmouthed retorts to purposely ruining bakes. I’d talked to her about showing more authority—she was the new head baker after all, and deserved respect. Though as the youngest, sweetest, and most soft-spoken person on the staff, that wasn’t proving easy for her. I guessed those power poses we’d practiced were paying off, though. I half expected lasers to shoot out of Maple’s bright blue eyes and explode Wiley on the spot. That would mean a lot of cleanup for the rest of us, though. I waved a hand and tried to catch her eye as she advanced on him.

  “Maple? Uh, royal baker head boss? A word?”

  She ignored me and stalked over to the tall oaf. A voice behind me made me jump.

  “This is going to be good,” Iggy drawled in his deep English voice.

  I glanced over my shoulder and gave the little flame in the brick oven behind me a leveling look. Rows of the small ovens lined two of the walls of the bakery, stacked two high. My flame’s heat warmed my back as he warmed the oven.

  He grinned back. “My bet’s on Maple.”

  I followed his gaze. Oh geez. Maple’s face glowed bright red and she stood directly in front of Wiley, who completely ignored her.

  “Wiley.” My friend could be a ventriloquist. She’d somehow ground the word out without unclenching her jaw.

  K’ree whimpered and scampered down the long table that spanned most of the huge room. Wiley set down his rolling pin, wiped his hands on his apron, found something interesting on his nails to pick at, and then finally turned to Maple. The guy had to be at least six foot five, and looked down at the top of her head. He gave Maple a lazy blink, and raised his brows. “Yes?”

  Maple’s arm shot out, a trembling finger pointing at the charred cherry coffee cake that Yann and Annie still fanne
d. “Care to explain that?”

  Wiley lifted his brows and leaned to the side, as if glancing around Maple, despite the fact that he could clearly see over her head. He turned back to Maple. “Looks like a burned coffee cake to me.” He winced, scrunching up his nose. “Queen’s favorite, she’s not going to like having to eat something else for breakfast. Maybe we could see if the kitchen will whip her up some porridge?” He shook his head and leaned in, pretending to lower his voice. “You should really manage your employees better.”

  All the color drained from Maple’s face, and her eyes blazed. I tried to jump in before she unloaded on him. I leapt forward, ducking under the pans Annie and Yann waved over the cake.

  “Hey, this isn’t so bad. Mostly just burnt around the edges.” I plucked up a knife and began slicing the black crumbly bits off. “See, we can drizzle with some frosting, give the queen the middle pieces, she’ll never know. And hey, you guys can probably do something with magic, right?” I inhaled deeply, wafting the curling plumes of smoke toward me. “Hmm, the smoke actually adds kind of a nice dimension to the coffee.”

  At the mention of smoke, Maple, who’d looked like she was softening slightly, shrieked and whirled back on Wiley. She had to stretch up onto her toes to poke him in the chest.

  “You did that on purpose!”

  “Wish I could say I did, but I had no idea the smoke would actually complement the flavor.” Wiley widened his stance and crossed his arms over the apron at his chest. His lips pulled to the side in a bratty grin.

  “You’ve been sabotaging bakes since I started. If you don’t stop, I’ll—”

  Wiley raised his brows and widened his blue eyes. “You’ll what?”

  Maple drew herself up to full height, which still had her eye level with his ribs. She sucked in a deep breath through her nose, held the breath as they glared at each other, and then let it all out in a rush. “I’ll fire you and hire someone who’ll actually do their job.”

  Oh shoot! I darted a wide-eyed look at Iggy, who’d frozen with his little flame mouth agape. About the harshest words I’d ever heard out of Maple’s mouth up to this point had been the time she gently chided a seagull for pooping on her shoulder.

  Wiley paled. Then he licked his lips and scoffed. “Good luck. You’re not going to find anyone else to work here with him.” He lifted his chin toward Sam, and my stomach dropped. “You already lost half the staff when you brought the shifter in.”

  I still couldn’t understand the magic community’s discriminating attitude toward shifters. It hadn’t just been kindness that’d prompted Maple into hiring Sam. He was a good baker. I glanced at the gentle guy. He stood by the ladder with his head hanging, his arms limp at his sides. As a snake that had the ability to shift into human form, Sam often didn’t quite know what to do with his arms when he wasn’t using them. My heart went out to him.

  I lifted my chin. “We’re lucky to have Sam.”

  Sam lifted his head, and his lips twitched toward a sad smile. I nodded at him.

  Wiley turned to me and pressed his hands to his chest. “Listen, Red, you don’t have to tell me. I stayed, didn’t I? I’m down with shifters.” He tilted his head toward Maple. “But boss lady here’s trying to tell me how easily replaceable I am, and I’m simply reminding her of her current staffing shortage.”

  Five experienced bakers had quit because of Sam.

  “You may not like it, but I am the new royal baker.” Maple jutted her chin in the air.

  “Yeah, ’cause Nan was murdered and you won a contest in a tent—sorry, my bad. You came in second, and by default got the position.” Wiley slow clapped. “Very impressive.”

  “Look, we—” Maple took a deep breath and nodded. “We all just need to show each other some respect.” She looked at Sam, Annie, Yann, me, K’ree, and Wiley towering above her. “Especially, you need to show me some respect.” She gestured between Wiley and herself. “I don’t know if this is how you—”

  She stopped short when Wiley suddenly dropped into a low bow, his eyes on the marble floor. I frowned and looked behind Maple. Prince Harry stood in the arched doorway at the top of the eight steps that led down into the bakery. I dropped into a curtsy, as did all the others.

  With her back to the prince, Maple shoved her hands onto her hips, her elbows jutting out wide. “Very funny, Wiley, very funny. A normal amount of respect will do, thank you very—”

  “Maple!”

  She stopped midsentence and glanced my way, a question on her face. I widened my eyes and jerked my head toward the prince. She frowned and turned, then let out a little squeak and dropped into a curtsy herself.

  “Oh come on, how many times do I have to tell you.” Prince Harry, or Hank, as I knew him, bounded down the steps in two long strides. I rose as the others did.

  “Annie, did you ever curtsy when Nan was royal baker?” Hank drew the older woman into a one-armed hug at his side. She wrapped her arms around his middle. My stomach clenched a little, and I frowned at myself. Did I really just get jealous of Annie? More evidence to support my current plan of action. I started inching along the wall toward the storeroom in the back.

  “Hiding again?” Iggy laughed at me.

  I gave him a look and hissed, “Quiet.”

  “I’ve been coming down here since I was old enough to walk.” Hank released Annie and clapped Yann on the back. The big guy flushed and grinned.

  I sidestepped closer to the storeroom, willing myself to be invisible. Hank tried for a light, teasing tone, but I could hear the strain underneath. He’d told me that he’d secretly entered the baking competition to test his mettle as a baker, since as a prince everyone treated him differently. The bakery was the one place he could be a normal guy. He’d been sneaking down here since he was a kid, though his father, the king, had no idea he still did. And that hadn’t stopped since Nan, the last royal baker, was killed and Maple, Sam, and I joined the bakery.

  In fact, Annie had hinted to me that his visits had gotten more frequent. She seemed to think that had something to do with me. Though, as I made sure to either hide in the storeroom or run to the market for ingredients or basically be anywhere but the bakery whenever he came by, I didn’t see how that could be.

  “Don’t let me interrupt, but Maple, can I have a word?”

  I paused my retreat and glanced over my shoulder. Maybe Hank hadn’t come by to see me.

  Annie and Yann worked on saving the cherry coffee cake, and K’ree, Sam, and Wiley busied themselves with other pastries. I eavesdropped as Maple and Hank moved into one of the shelf-lined alcoves tucked into the wall.

  “What can I do for you, Prince Harry?” Maple nodded and curtsied. Then bowed for good measure.

  I grinned. So awkward.

  “Again, you can call me Hank.” He cleared his throat and ran a hand through his dark, wavy hair. “You know the Summer Sea Carnival is in town? Starting tomorrow?”

  Maple nodded. “Of course, Prince Harry.”

  Hank pressed his lips together and then let out an exhale. I felt for the guy. But as an outsider, I’d only ever known him as Hank. Maple, on the other hand, had grown up in Bijou Mer, always thinking of him as the prince. It’d be a hard habit to change.

  “What do you think about setting up a baking booth?”

  “A booth?” Maple blinked at him.

  “I know, I know.” Hank lifted his large hands. “I’m sure you’re incredibly busy, just getting settled in, learning the ropes, bonding with your team.”

  Right. Lots of bonding.

  “It might not be convenient to be away from the bakery right now, but I thought it’d be such a great opportunity to promote baking in the Water Kingdom. The Earth and Fire Kingdoms are renowned for it, but I want to raise awareness of all the talent we have right here in Bijou Mer. I have a special project in mind, and thought you could sell pastries to raise money for it.”

  Special project?

  Maple glanced at Wiley, then back at Hank. “
I’ll do it. Absolutely. How long do you need me at the booth for? A few weeks? Months?”

  Hank chuckled. “The carnival only lasts a week, and if that’s too long to be out of the bakery, you can always rotate shifts with the others.”

  “Nope.” Maple shook her head vehemently. “No, this is a special project for the prince, and as royal baker, I should definitely oversee it. Definitely. At the carnival, far away from the bakery.” She glanced at Wiley again.

  I groaned. This was not the time for her to be out. She needed to establish her presence as our leader, let everyone get to know her and see how wonderful she was. I walked over and joined them in the alcove. Hank straightened and blinked at me.

  “Sorry, couldn’t help but overhear.” ’Cause I was lurking. “Maple, remember what we talked about?” I referred to our nightly pep talks where I encouraged her to speak up more and show the others how knowledgeable and experienced she was, despite her age. “You should probably be here, don’t you think?”

  She bit her lip, her blue eyes bright and wide. She gave me a broad grin, then smiled up at Hank. “Nope. I like Hank’s plan. I’ll be at the booth.”

  I clicked my tongue at her.

  Hank looked down at me with his intelligent blue eyes. “With Maple out, you’ll be even more needed, Imogen, and I’m sure knowing some magic would be a big help.”

  Here it came. I cringed inwardly.

  “Why don’t we pick a time and we can work on it together?”