Cookie Dough, Snow & Wands Aglow

by Erin Johnson

  After the elderly police has been roused from their beds and finally showed up, the death was ruled an accident—someone must have knocked the tray into the cauldron in the mad rush to see the fireworks. And we were all let go without having to give statements. Half of me wanted to chide the police for being lazy, while the other part of me wanted to shake their hands and shower them with blessings for letting me get back to the inn and my soft bed.

  Only now, I couldn't sleep. Oh, the irony.

  With a heavy sigh, I sat up and swung my legs to the edge of the bed. I shot a semiresentful glance at Maple in the bed beside mine, sleeping like the dead. The most annoying thing about sleeping people, when you couldn't sleep yourself, was how they didn't even know how annoying they were. I thought of waking her up to tell her so, but quelled my evil thoughts. This was my best friend, after all. I could tell her in the morning.

  I slid my feet into my fuzzy white unicorn slippers with the horn on the front. They'd been a joke gift from Maple, and she'd special ordered them from the human world with Rhonda's help. Rhonda, of all of my new friends, certainly seemed to be the most familiar with human phrases and the workings of the world I'd grown up in. Anyway, she thought it was funny that a one-horned white horse was what I pictured when I thought of a unicorn. She laughed every time she saw my slippers—and not just her, Hank and Wiley and the others, too. They'd promised to show me a real unicorn someday.

  As I stood and moved around the bed to the door, Iggy, burning in his lantern on my beside table, cleared his throat. "Take me with you."

  I yawned wide, showing off my molars, and scrubbed at my eyes. I lifted him up and tiptoed out. "Can't sleep either?" I whispered.

  "Psh. With the snore monster going? Could anyone sleep?"

  I glanced back at Maple as I closed the door, her snores nearly rattling the pictures on the walls. I grinned. "I don't know how she doesn't wake herself up."

  Iggy and I snuck down the carpeted stairs of the inn, past the lobby, and through to the kitchen. I hoped the innkeeper's offer to use it had been genuine, because I was about to take her up on it. I shuffled through the dark, cavernous space, finding my way by Iggy's light. I held him aloft, and looked around. His light barely reached the tall, peaked roof with its exposed wood beams. A stone counter wound around the perimeter in an L shape, with a butcher-block-topped island in the center. I set Iggy beside the porcelain farmhouse sink and pulled the curtains to the sides on the tall windows above it. Goose bumps prickled my arms from the chillier temperature near the window as I looked out on snowy white fields and the dark forest beyond, with a black, starry night above. It occurred to me that, being past midnight, it wasn't night anymore.

  "Happy Bruma, Iggy."

  "Happy Bruma, Imogen." He yawned, spitting flames.

  With my little flame's help, I soon had the big stove, set into the stone wall, burning hot. The kitchen was quiet, except for the sounds of my cooking, spoons scraping, bowls clinking against the countertop, Iggy crackling away. Soon the kitchen heated up, nice and cozy, and I hummed "Good King Wenceslas," my favorite Christmas carol, as I whipped up gingerbread cupcakes with cream cheese frosting. I hoped the innkeeper didn't mind me raiding her pantry—I planned to pay for the ingredients, I just hoped she didn't need them for meals tomorrow.

  I imagined the snow outside, deep and crisp and even, just like in the carol, and pulled energy from it using my swallow powers. I closed my eyes and concentrated on the wooden spoon in the mixing bowl. When I opened my eyes, I grinned. The spoon moved around the bowl in strong, smooth movements, blending the baking soda, salt, and flour. It stirred up little puffs of white powder.

  "Dang, girl. You're getting good." Iggy winked from the oven and I gave a mock bow. But seriously, I was so happy with my magical progress. Getting a spoon going was something the average magical five-year-old could do, but for me, that was a big deal!

  Next, I tossed a handful of green cardamom pods into a cast iron skillet and toasted them over the warm stove for a few minutes, shaking the pan now and then. Then I poured them into a marble mortar and ground them with a pestle. I did the same for a few teaspoons of cloves, cinnamon, bitter orange peel, and freshly grated ginger (minus the stovetop step). The spicy, woody aromas filled the kitchen and I took a deep breath, feeling more relaxed and in my element. I poured the spices into the big mixing bowl and the spoon did its job, blending the ingredients in, which turned the flour mixture a pleasant brown.

  Next, I beat two coop-fresh eggs with sparkling brown sugar, and added a spoonful of clear cane syrup. In a saucepan over the stove, I melted a couple of sticks of butter, heavy cream, and milk together. I bet they came from the farms we'd passed on our way into town. I grinned. This was going to be delicious—not in the least healthy, but delicious. I then mixed the butter, flour, and egg mixtures together and let the wooden spoon do its thing to combine them. I fished around in the cupboards, wincing when some bake pans crashed together, until I found a couple of cupcake pans. I poured the batter in and slid them in the oven.

  "Cupcakes?" Iggy yawned.

  I nodded and yawned, too—it really was contagious.

  "Hm. You've probably got about thirty minutes, then."

  I grinned. "Thanks, friend."

  That'd be perfect, because I'd decided to top the cupcakes with sugared cranberries, and they needed about half an hour to dry. I found a few cartons of the berries in the pantry and brought them out to the kitchen. I took another deep breath. The gingerbread spices smelled like heaven. I busied myself with dipping the cranberries in egg white and then set them on a rack to drip dry a little. After a few minutes I rolled them in white sugar and set them back on the cooling rack to dry.

  "How much time do I have?"

  Iggy crawled to the front of the oven and peeked out. "About fifteen minutes."

  I nodded. "Perfect."

  As I beat more butter (again, delicious, not healthy) for the frosting, I looked toward the stove. "So… Etna, huh? I see she shares your sense of humor."

  "Sophisticated, you mean?"

  I grinned, even as my arm muscles burned from working the butter. "I was going to say juvenile, but sure."

  "Yeah. She's pretty great."

  I grinned even wider. How cute. "So… you want to try to see her again before we leave?"

  I squinted at the butter—it looked pale enough. I added an overflowing cup of powdered sugar and switched to my left arm as I worked it into the smooth butter.

  "Nah. I mean, if I see her great, if not, no biggie."

  My brows pulled together as I continued to work the sugar and butter into a fluffy mix. "Really? Not very romantic of you." I pulled cream cheese from the ice box and mashed it into the frosting mixture. Then I plucked the spelled wooden spoon from the empty mixing bowl and stuck it in the frosting bowl. It could do my work for a bit—my arms were burning!

  Iggy peeked his head out of the oven. "Nearly done."

  I rinsed my hands and jumped at the ice-cold sink water, then dried them and fished some oven mitts off a shelf near the stove. As I bent down to pull the trays out, Iggy crawled to the opening, his heat warming my face to the point of almost stinging.

  "You know, Imogen, I just know how to balance romance with practicality." He opened his eyes wide at me. "She may be the hottest flame in all the kingdoms, but I live in Bijou Mer and she lives here—there's no way it would work. And if it's not going to work, and I know it, it'd just be foolish to pursue, right?"

  His words hung heavy with double meaning and I knew he intended me to learn a lesson about this to apply to me and Hank. I bit my tongue and pulled the cupcake tins from the oven, willing myself not to say anything until the burn of annoyance died down. It wasn't like Hank and I had just met at a party and hit it off for a few hours, and now I was pining over someone completely unavailable. No, we'd been through a lot together and had a deep connection. I opened my mouth to tell him off, forgetting about holding my tongue, when a loud creak
on the wooden floor outside made me pause and look up.

  The door to the kitchen swung open and my stomach tightened. Had my banging around woken someone up? Was the innkeeper about to look horrified at the mess I'd made—I'd clean it up! But it was Rhonda who shuffled in, in a purple silk robe and matching wrap around her black braids.

  "Rhonda?" I straightened up. "Did I wake you up?"

  She yawned and padded over, pulling up a stool at the island where I stood. "Kinda."

  "I'm sorry."

  She waved a hand and folded her arms over the butcher block. "Don't get sorry. Get even."

  "What?"

  She rolled her eyes. "I want one—correction, two—of those cupcakes." She gave me grabby hands.

  I held up a finger. "They need to cool." I slapped her hand away as she reached for one, and she scowled. "Seriously. You'll burn your mouth."

  "Fine." She tapped one finger against her forehead, the nail a deep purple tipped in glittering silver. "I had a vision about you."

  "It woke you up?"

  She nodded and spoke flatly. "You're going to find something you didn't know was missing, and it'll change your whole life."

  I paused in pulling the cupcakes from the pan and placing them on the cooling racks bedside the cranberries. "Wow. That's pretty intense. Did you a get sense for what it'd be?"

  She shrugged and reached again for a cupcake. "I dunno. A button maybe? Or an earring?"

  I gave her a sharp look. "And you think that will change my whole life, huh?"

  Rhonda lifted her palms. "Sorry if the weight of my crushing depression and sleep deprivation isn't helping to illuminate your ponderings."

  I frowned and plucked a cupcake from her that she'd managed to steal.

  "Uh! Crushing depression, Imogen."

  "At least let me frost it." I closed my eyes and cast the quick cooling spell Maple had taught me. When I opened my eyes and the muffins no longer steamed, I grinned, feeling proud of myself. I used a small spatula and smeared on the tangy, buttery frosting, then topped it with a few sugared cranberries. It looked adorable. I carefully handed my special creation back to Rhonda who barely glanced at it before shoving the entire thing in her mouth.

  "Rhonda!" I gasped, horrified.

  "Rhonda!" Iggy grinned, nodding with appreciation.

  "You're going to choke!"

  She glared at me and spoke through a full mouth. "Goog." White and brown flecks sprayed from her mouth.

  "Geez. What's going on?"

  She plunked her head in her hands and stared at the countertop as she worked through her mouthful. "Whem I woge up, Francis wun in beg."

  "Hm." I frosted the next cupcake. "Doesn't he sometimes go flying at night? He is nocturnal, right?"

  She scoffed, more bits of cake flying out. "He only has one wing, Imogen. One. Where could he have gone? You think he's just out there, flying in circles?"

  I dipped my chin to hide my smile at the funny imagery. I couldn't even glance toward Iggy; I knew I'd laugh if I did. "Well, maybe he's just out walking around, then."

  Rhonda growled. "Did you see the way he was looking at that Lady Cordelia, with her fancy red hair? I bet this has something to do with her."

  Yeah, he was looking at her like you're looking at my cupcakes, I thought wryly. But I handed her another one and squeezed her hand. "I did notice something odd. Did he explain it to you?"

  She shook her head and kept her eyes down. Her voice softened. "No. And that's why I'm worried. He brushed it off as nothing, but I know it wasn't. And you noticed, too." She sighed. "He's never lied to me before."

  I came around the island and threw my arms around her in a tight hug. "It'll be all right. Just talk to him tomorrow."

  She nodded and dipped her finger into the icing. "Imogen?"

  "Yeah?"

  "These are really good."

  I grinned. "Thanks. Iggy helped too, you know."

  I pretended not to see when she snuck another one. I mean, who I was baking them for anyway, if not for a friend in emotional turmoil? I carried some dirty bowls to the sink and looked out over the frozen fields. A faint glow at the forest's edge caught my eye. I leaned forward, squinting to see better. Way out in the wilderness, in the middle of the night, the old witch, Junie Kingston, held a lantern aloft, and then disappeared among the trees. The hair at the back of my neck rose.

  12

  Back Alley

  After a late breakfast the next morning in the inn's dining room, Maple, Iggy, and I checked on Sam. Amelia answered the door, just opening it a crack. Her bloodshot eyes were still heavy with sleep.

  She twisted and her back let out a loud pop.

  "That was a good one." Iggy looked impressed.

  Amelia scratched at her short, white hair. "I slept in the armchair." She winced. "It was not ideal."

  "How's Sam doing?" I whispered. The curtains were still drawn and the room dark behind her.

  "Sleeping—let's keep it that way for now, he's had a tough night."

  I nodded and she carefully closed the door. As we padded back downstairs to wander the town, we ran into Rhonda. Her dark cheeks were flushed and her chest heaved. She waved a piece of paper at me. "He came back after I fell back asleep. He left a note."

  She shoved it in my face and I leaned back to be able to read it.

  Darling,

  I've gone out again for an errand, and didn't want to wake you. I'll see you later.

  Francis

  "And he's still gone?"

  She nodded tersely, her eyes wide.

  "Well, it's not so bad, is it?" Maple blinked at Rhonda. "He called you darling—that's sweet."

  Rhonda huffed, but seemed to relax a little. At least her chest stopped heaving. "But where could he be?"

  "Listen, Rhonda, a little relationship advice—don't be a stalker."

  I glared at Iggy. "Thank you. So helpful."

  He snickered.

  "Why don't you join us? I bet some fresh air will feel nice?" Maple offered Rhonda her arm. The seer let out a sigh, shook herself, and took it.

  "You're probably right—I'm probably getting all worked up for nothing." We entered the lobby, passed by the roaring hot fire, and stepped out into the brisk, late morning air. I felt like hissing like a vampire. Way too bright for someone like me, functioning on a few hours of sleep. I didn't know how I was even up, honestly, except that my growling stomach had roused me and three cups of coffee seemed to be fueling me now.

  "In fact, I bet he's out buying me something nice. Like a diamond bracelet, or a helper monkey." Rhonda smiled and nodded happily to herself.

  I swallowed, hoping she was right. Well, not about the monkey part. Speaking of which….

  "Hey, where's Cat?"

  Maple nodded back toward the inn. "Wiley's got him."

  "Ah." I frowned. "They allow pets at the inn?"

  Maple's eyes twinkled. "What they don't know, won't hurt them."

  Except in Cat's case, he might very well hurt someone. We didn't know what he was capable of. We walked around the town square, passing the warmly decorated shops, most of them with closed signs in the window in observance of Bruma. A few kids skated on the frozen pond, and two old men sat on a park bench, feeding squirrels, but other than that, the whole town had apparently slept in. We rounded a cobblestone corner and spotted Pandora and Beau. They walked toward us, Beau's bright smile gleaming against his dark skin while Pandora talked wildly with her hands, and acted out some joke by crossing her eyes. Beau folded over in hysterics. At least some people were having luck in love. As we approached, our boots clipping on the slippery stones, Beau straightened and stepped forward to greet us.

  "Happy Bruma!"

  "Happy Bruma!" we chorused back.

  "Thanks again for the party last night," I said to Pandora. "But I'm sorry it ended so badly. Are you okay?"

  She nodded, her thin brows drawing together. "It was tragic." She cocked her head to the side. "But, on the upside, I think it'
ll inspire me to write some really creepy music. And the conservatory loves creepy."

  Beau nodded. "They think it's a sign of a tortured artist."

  Maple lifted her brows. "And tortured is… good?"

  "Oh." Pandora nodded, emphatically. "The best."

  "And how's your mother?" Rhonda added, not too casually. "Did she do any, I don't know, sneaking out last night? See her hanging out with our vampire friend, perhaps?"

  Oh geez. Here we go.

  Pandora grew serious. "Oh no. Not last night. She was up till the wee hours, directing the servants about how to clean up the parlor." She lifted her index fingers. "She was very particular about them not spilling dead body punch all over."

  Rhonda nodded, her face relaxing.

  "But she is talking to your vampire right now." Pandora thumbed over her shoulder. "We spotted them down an alleyway, just past the cobbler's."

  Rhonda's eyes flashed murder and she took off. Maple and I exchanged worried glances, while Beau and Pandora raised their brows in surprise.

  "Great to see you. Got to go!" I took off after Rhonda, Maple right on my heels. "Rhonda! Rhonda, wait!" I caught sight of Ria Kapoor, wrapped in an ice-blue cloak trimmed in fur. She stood behind a tree, bare of leaves, with her arms folded, glaring at Pandora and Beau. Somebody was jealous… well, somebody else, besides Rhonda.

  The seer skidded to a stop, then made a sharp right, dashing behind a shop. Maple and I ran after her, my panting breaths coming out as white mist in the cold air. We caught up to her just as she turned left into the alley. There, in front of us, stood Francis and Lady Cordelia, their heads bent close together in low conversation.

  Rhonda gasped, a shape intake of air.

  Lady Cordelia and Francis snapped their heads up and jumped apart, startled.