Cupcakes, Trinkets, and Other Deadly Magic

by Meghan Ciana Doidge

  CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Introduction

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Book covers

  Copyright

  Cupcakes, Trinkets, and Other Deadly Magic

  - Dowser #1 -

  Meghan Ciana Doidge

  Published by Old Man in the CrossWalk Productions

  Vancouver, BC, Canada

  www.oldmaninthecrosswalk.com

  If you’d asked me a week ago, I would have told you that the best cupcakes were dark chocolate with chocolate cream cheese icing, that dancing in a crowd of magic wielders — the Adept — was better than sex, and that my life was peaceful and uneventful. Just the way I liked it. That’s what twenty-three years in the magical backwater of Vancouver will get you — a completely skewed sense of reality. Because when the dead werewolves started showing up, it all unraveled … except for the cupcake part. That’s a universal truth.

  CHAPTER ONE

  The vampire stood at the door to my bakery.

  My heart skipped a beat. The sun hadn’t even fully set — damn daylight saving time — and the vampire wasn’t even wearing sunglasses or a hat. He was old, then. Or maybe young? I never could remember whether their skin got more or less sensitive with age. But then, I’d never seen a vampire before, so there’d been no reason to remember my vampire lore lessons.

  I was a magical dowser of sorts. I found and attracted magical things, so it wasn’t completely weird that a vampire wound up at my door — except the wards protecting my bakery should have safeguarded me from magical detection. If vampires were even capable of detecting magic on that level. Again I had no idea. I lowered my eyes to nestle a sixth cupcake into the box I was currently packing. Maybe if I ignored him, he’d go away. Because that always worked, right?

  The bakery’s seating area was standing room only. The line of customers at the counter stretched almost to the door, as it always did in the hours after work and before dinner. Three of us regularly worked the counter for the final two hours of any week day. I moved along behind the display case parallel with my very human customer, dodged my employees Bryn and Todd, and added another cupcake to the box. Dark chocolate cake with strawberry butter icing — one of my favorites. I called it Love in a Cup. I made up cute names for all my cupcakes, and the occasional cookie I decided to bake. My bakery was aptly, though perhaps unimaginatively, named “Cake in a Cup”. I certainly never pretended to be a wordsmith or anything. Not all my customers were fully human, but even the magically lacking seemed to believe there was something extra special about my baking. A magical ingredient. There wasn’t.

  I glanced up to check on the vampire. He was still on the sidewalk but had moved farther along the window to peer through the paned glass. He seemed to be watching a little blond girl, who was maybe four and dressed in the prettiest pink ballerina outfit. The child had climbed off her stool and was straining her cake-crusted chubby fingers to reach for one of the trinkets hanging in the storefront window.

  I placed an eighth cupcake in the box — a peanut butter-iced fudge cake I called Bliss in a Cup — without taking my attention off the vampire. He narrowed his ice-blue eyes at the child. With his short-cropped, almost-white hair, broad forehead, and lanky frame, all he needed was an uber chic ski jacket to look even more Scandinavian. He was probably sexy — in that angular, chiseled way — to anyone who didn’t know his love bites were deadly. I bristled and reassuringly brushed my fingers over the invisible knife I wore underneath my apron. No one was going to be snacking on any children in my bakery.

  “Sex in a Cup,” the customer across the display counter requested. His voice was laced with as much innuendo as he could muster.

  I reached for and automatically boxed this ninth cupcake — more chocolate butter icing with a wallop of cinnamon and cocoa in the batter. I ignored the come-on — with a smile that indicated my delight over his exuberance for my cupcakes, but which thwarted his attempt to start something other than buying them. The customer looked familiar, like maybe he’d been in the bakery a few times before. The vampire, however, was new. What the hell was a full-blood vampire doing in Vancouver anyway?

  The vampire wasn’t interested in the child, whose mother had lifted her back onto her stool and directed her attention to the remainder of her cupcake. No one else seemed to notice the striking bloodsucker at the window, but then again, most people couldn’t see magic as well as I could. That was my little bit of talent. Well, that and the trinkets I made from magical bits I happened upon, but they weren’t powerful or useful. Just pretty bits to hang in a window and chime in the breeze.

  One Rapture in a Cup, a yellow/chocolate swirl cake with cream cheese chocolate icing; a Buzz in a Cup, a mocha fudge cake with mocha butter icing; and an Ecstasy in a Cup, a double chocolate cake with lemon butter icing, rounded out the customer’s order. He liked chocolate almost as much as I did. Or he had a thing for anything provocatively named.

  I crossed to the till, weaving for a second time around Bryn and Todd, who were moving a hell of a lot faster than me to fulfill customer orders. But then, being human, they weren’t distracted by the vampire examining my trinkets through the window.

  I didn’t know vampires were attracted by shiny things, or I wouldn’t have hung so many in the front window. I really should pay more attention to Gran’s lessons. Too bad my grandmother was currently surfing in Tofino — yes, at sixty. The vampire might not be so bold confronted by a full-blood witch. I was only half, through my mother. I also had my mother’s eyes, medium blue or indigo, depending on whether a part-time, guitar-playing poet was immortalizing them or not. I didn’t know any guitar players. I also didn’t inherit the Godfrey petite stature, pert nose, or magical prowess.

  My father was some Australian backpacker, whom my mother left — at sixteen — before she even knew she was pregnant. So all I’d inherited from him was my golden locks and sun-kissed skin. It didn’t bother me much, not even knowing my father’s last name or whereabouts. But then, I had Gran, and Gran was better than any other family in the world.

  I took the customer’s credit card and rang through the order. Customers could run their own cards, but I thought it was better service to do so myself. He was talking to me again. I pulled my gaze from the vampire, who was moving back to the front door, to acknowledge him.

  “Sorry? My mind was elsewhere.”

  “I said that I own the law firm up the street. We just renovated.”

  Oh. Nice. He was the reason I’d been woken before eight in the morning for the entire week. I always attempted to nap after I baked in the mornings.

  “Great,” I replied as I handed him his card. “I hope you enjoy the cupcakes.”

  His smile faltered. Perhaps I, a lowly baker, was supposed to be more impressed with his lawyer status. Then I felt bad for being uncharitable … it was just that the vampire currently testing the wards on my front door was starting to freak me out.

  “Oh. Okay then,” the lawyer guy said. “Till next time.” He grinned, and I took a brief moment to notice he was rather cute. It wasn’t like the vampire was currently slaughtering my customers. I could pause for a moment to exchange smiles with a cute
, potentially rich guy — leases on West Fourth Avenue weren’t cheap — who had nice straight teeth and an adorable dimple.

  “Till then,” I called after him.

  The lawyer didn’t even notice the vampire as he exited the bakery. But then, he was looking back at me. I was accustomed to men — even some women — staring. This time, I was pleased it meant the lawyer didn’t inadvertently make eye contact with the alpha predator in the doorway. The vampire was all but blocking the entrance.

  He caught my gaze. I flinched. I couldn’t help it. His magic coated his pale skin with an icy aura. He lifted his hand to press against the invisible ward guarding the door, which stood open despite it being early spring. It had been unseasonably warm all day, but the weather could be temperamental in Vancouver. The runes etched in the doorframe glowed in response to the vampire’s touch. Runes were how Gran anchored her magic, though not every witch used them. I wondered if the vampire could see such things, or if he simply felt the magic blocking him from entering uninvited. I felt the ward magic shiver in response, but the vampire wasn’t trying to break through. He was simply … tasting.

  The idea scared the shit out of me.

  I let my eyes drift over him like he wasn’t the absolute focus of my attention as I crossed around the baking display case. I murmured greetings to some of my regulars, and, as unhurried as possible, wandered over to the bistro table where my foster sister Sienna sat sipping a latte and nibbling on a mocha butter-iced white cake Thrill in a Cup. I hated it when she paired similar flavors like that, but my sister did what my sister wanted. We both did. We were as similar in that attitude as we were dissimilar in looks.

  I cleared my throat as I came around from behind to the front of the table. Sienna didn’t lift her dark eyes from the book of spells she was reading on her Kindle. I was momentarily distracted that such an ebook existed, and wondered where it could be purchased. Sienna seemed to be reading up on binding spells, which made sense given that was her specialty.

  A breeze from the door — the unusual heat the day had provided was fading as the sun set — stirred a few of my trinkets and recalled my attention to the vampire.

  “Sienna,” I hissed.

  “What?” My sister glanced at me over the rim of her coffee. She’d skimmed off all the foam and was left with the creamy espresso underneath; her bored eyes almost matched the color of the liquid. “The coffee beans are burned.”

  “The coffee is not burned.”

  “Is too.”

  “Sienna, there’s a vampire at the door.”

  “What?” Sienna laughed and looked over my shoulder toward the door. “Where?”

  “Right there! Tall, blond, and fangy.”

  “You can’t actually see their fangs, you know. Ahead of time, I mean.”

  “Sienna!”

  “There is no vampire at the door, Jade.”

  I looked over my shoulder. Indeed, the doorway was empty, and closed. The last customer to leave must have politely shut it behind them.

  “Imagining things?” Sienna murmured, but her attention had returned to her book of spells. Spells that were above both our magic grades as far as I had seen with a glance. Which is why I rarely bothered to practice magic — it was mostly out of my reach. Sienna always liked to know, however, even if she couldn’t do.

  “Right,” I murmured, tracking my eyes from the door along the French-paned windows. I’d had them especially built for the bakery when I opened last year. The mullions were painted white, as was the paneled wooden front door. I had been going for a French provincial look, but with the addition of the slat wood floor and the hodgepodge of trinkets hanging everywhere, I’d achieved more farmhouse than sleek old country.

  The vampire was gone.

  I was nowhere stupid enough to step out onto the sidewalk to look for him … okay, maybe just a quick peek. The sidewalk and street were empty of vampires, though. The sun was fully set, the last vestiges of reddish orange still tinting the sky to the west. It was suddenly chilly enough to see a puff of my breath. I folded my arms over my T-shirt-clad breasts, and a light breeze lifted my blond curls from my neck. At least it wasn’t raining.

  I dropped my hands and smoothed them over my spotless apron. The sidewalk was teeming with after-work shoppers. Strollers competed with teacup pets, the dogs even pricier than the kids. But then, my customers could afford the price tags of both. I held the door open for one mother fresh from yoga and decided that I needed a class before dinner myself.

  What the hell was a vampire doing in Vancouver? And why the hell had he wound up at my door?

  ∞

  I locked up and sent Bryn off with the day-olds for the Kitsilano Neighborhood House. The kids in daycare loved my baking, and they didn’t need to know the rather provocative names. That was just marketing.

  I didn’t worry about the vampire bothering Bryn or Todd on their way home. Vampires had their own code about that sort of thing, at least from what I remembered. I needed to drop by Gran’s house and pick up her Magical Compendium, which was a witches’ encyclopedia of sorts. I wondered if I could get an edition of it for my iPhone. I’d have to ask Sienna.

  When did Gran say she’d be back? Tomorrow? Monday? Though I wasn’t exactly sure my grandmother could stop a vampire unprepared. I also wasn’t sure the wards on the bakery were much of a deterrent, not with the way they’d glowed in response to the vampire’s touch.

  “Still lost in thought about your sexy vamp?” Sienna’s voice yanked me out of my head.

  “There was nothing sexy about him,” I snapped in response. I hadn’t heard Sienna come into the office, and it always threw me to be caught off guard. The more magical the person, the less likely they could sneak up on me. My Gran had a terrible time masking her magic enough to play hide-and-seek or catch me sneaking back into the house after hours when I’d been younger and still living full-time under her roof.

  I locked the deposit in the store safe in my small back office. I’d take it to the bank in the morning, after I baked. Most of our daily take was card generated anyway.

  Sienna’s magic was softer, and almost as familiar as my own. In fact … I looked closer to see that my sister was wearing three of my trinkets like necklaces.

  “What’s that? Hobo chic?” I crossed by Sienna to leave the tiny back room. Most of the store’s square footage was taken up by the massive kitchen, which was my refuge and my ball and chain. Not that I hadn’t chosen to settle down and take on the responsibility to run the bakery. I always strove to be the exact opposite of my mother, who at best guess was currently somewhere in Vegas or San Francisco. Scarlett Godfrey was a free spirit. Not even a child at sixteen could tie her down.

  Sienna shrugged at my sarcastic take on her necklace, turning to follow me as I crossed through the kitchen. I ran my hand along one of the two long, steel tables that occupied the middle of the room. Spotless. The ovens filled the south side of the kitchen; the walk-in fridge and dishwasher station took up the opposite wall beside the exit to the alley. Nothing was out of place.

  “I thought the extra protection, you know, from the vampire, would be a good idea.” Sienna said, referencing her trinket necklace. She almost purred when she was being sarcastic. She never had mastered the dry part of wit.

  Ignoring Sienna, I smiled, as I always did as I crossed through the heart of my bakery. It would be waiting for me in the early morning, ready, willing, and swathed in stainless steel. It was heaven.

  “The trinkets aren’t for protection,” I said, turning away from my sanctuary to deal with my sister. “And I wish you’d stop selling them under that guise.”

  Sienna shrugged again. “A girl needs pocket money, and even the normals know there’s something special about your creations.”

  I sighed and dropped the subject. I was as tired of complaining about Sienna’s joblessness as I was of her insistence that the trinkets were some sort of protective magic. I could feel mag
ic. I collected pieces of things — buttons, pins, tie clips, and whatnot that had been in contact with enough magic to retain an imprint. But stringing such things together didn’t make them any more useful than they were on their own. It was just something I’d done — almost compulsively — since I was young.

  “Are you showering before dinner? Maybe I should just meet up with Rusty first.”

  Dinner, I groaned in my head. It had been my sister’s boyfriend’s birthday yesterday, but I’d all but forgotten the promise of dinner and dancing. I’d even baked a cake for Rusty yesterday.

  “You’re not canceling!” Sienna picked up on my thoughts — or, rather, my body language. She wasn’t a reader, capable of actually delving into others’ minds.

  “I’m not. It’s just I’m on the schedule to bake tomorrow morning.”

  “So bake before you go to bed,” Sienna said, and then rewarded me with a crooked smile. “It’s never as fun without you. You attract all the right sorts.”

  “Fine.” Yes, not only did I have an affinity for magical things, but things of magic — people specifically — were also drawn to me. It wasn’t as fun as it sounded coming from Sienna. If it wasn’t for the wards separating me from the vampire earlier, I would have assumed that was why he’d shown up at my door. “I’ll shower,” I said.

  Sienna clapped her hands together like she used to when she was younger, before her mother abandoned her after her father’s death. That was when Gran had taken her in full time. It was difficult for the magically lacking — normals, as Sienna called them — to raise those with magic, even if only a half-blood like Sienna. I wondered how long it had been since Sienna had heard from her mother, but I didn’t bring the sore subject up. No matter how free-spirited she might be, at least my mother always showed up on the important dates.

  “The trinkets don’t really match the goth look, you know.”