A Pinch of Kitchen Magic

by Sandra Sookoo

  He sighed. No wonder the position of skills assessor had such a high rate of turnover. Mixing with the general public presented too many complications.

  Chapter Five

  Low and slow

  I hate magic.

  That wasn’t strictly true. She wished her genetic propensity for the art would weaken. At the very least, she wished her powers had become diluted from generations of marrying into the mortal bloodstream. Of course, that sort of luck didn’t visit her. Maybe I don’t want to know how to do magic anymore.

  Aidan frowned at the enameled, floral teapot resting on the tabletop before her. Thirty seconds later, the liquid within was once again piping hot. Why couldn’t cooking be as easy as re-heating tea? Why couldn’t real magic be as simple as telling the tea pot to warm? A completely wicked thought grabbed her attention. Why can’t I use magic to make Matteus interested in me beyond an instructor?

  Yeah right. He’s a pain in my butt.

  She yawned. Staring into the amber depths of her teacup, she wondered what the few tea leaves at the bottom would say about her. That I’m boring and just too bizarre to find a guy who’ll like me despite my flaws? She turned a page of a food magazine and let her fingers drift over the smooth, glossy pages. Deep in her heart, she knew she would never grasp a working knowledge of cooking no matter how much she loved it.

  Or magic for that matter. I guess I do want to keep my magic. Maybe it was possible she couldn’t have both. If that were the case, which talent did she want more?

  The thought brought on a new cloud of depression. Cooking was the only thing she really enjoyed. Magic had been a burden, especially when Matteus was involved or even nearby. She stirred a teaspoon of honey into her tea, watching her imagined dreams collapse beneath the swirling amber depths. If she were honest with herself, she did enjoy magic, she just didn’t understand it.

  What to choose, and why do I need to?

  “Have you made peace with the possession of your magic?”

  Aidan rolled her eyes as Matteus materialized into the empty space near the sink. She attempted to ignore how her pulse galloped every time she looked at him. “Does it matter?”

  His shrug tightened his t-shirt over his chest. “It does, unless you want to give up your powers.”

  She stared at him as his words tumbled about in her mind. “I don’t know if I want to ditch them altogether.” She took a sip of the apple-scented tea, refusing to entertain thoughts of the embrace she shared with him a day ago. That would only cause more confusion, and cause her magic to destroy other things.

  “Then let’s work on your acceptance.” He moved to the table, briefcase in hand, and dropped into the chair next to her. “Turn your chair toward me.”

  Aidan did as he asked, darting a glance his way when he turned his toward hers. When her knee accidentally brushed his, she straightened. “What do I need to do?”

  “Patience.” He dug inside the soft-sided black briefcase then drew out a clipboard. “I’ll walk you through the Acceptance Exercise. If at the end you decide you don’t want the powers, I’ll start the Draining Ritual. You’ll sign off on the release form and we’ll be done here. You’ll go back to your life of fumbling through cooking and I’ll return to my job whenever the wind—and magic—take me.”

  Anxiety sat like a rock in her stomach. Would he forget about her while he popped in and out of some other student’s life? “I’m ready.”

  “Give me your hands.”

  Aidan asked as she slipped her hands into his upturned palms, swallowing hard when the familiar tingles started upon contact. “Now what?”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Close your eyes. Try to clear your mind of everything but your magic.”

  Taking a deep breath, she listened to the pleasant timbre of his voice. Her eyes drifted closed. She felt the gentle pressure of his fingers grasping hers, smelled the faint scent of basil and thought of nothing in general.

  “Now, tell me about the first time you realized you were different from other people—different with your magic.”

  “I was twenty-five.” She smiled. “Aunt Hettie gave me a bouquet of daisies for my birthday. I’m allergic to daisies—which she knew—and I sneezed. Not only did I blow off every single petal from the flower stems, I cracked the plaster on one of the walls.” His chuckle reverberated with something deep inside her. “Needless to say, Aunt Hettie never gave me flowers again, but she sure did keep a sharp eye on me after that. I have to wonder if she did that on purpose just to see what would happen.”

  “Perhaps.” The pressure on her fingers tightened. “No other incidents occurred between that time and your thirtieth birthday?”

  “No, but I was very careful. I did my best to make sure my emotions were under control at all times.” She began to relax while a cloud of peace enveloped her mind. “Which is why it’s so strange now.”

  “You limited your outside relationships as well? No best friends, no boyfriends?”

  She shifted on the chair, suddenly uncomfortable. “I don’t have any friends. It’s easier than having to explain away the weird quirky side of my personality. I’d much rather limit friendships than try to always control my emotions every second of the day.”

  “And the boyfriend?” Matteus prompted.

  The pressure on her fingers tightened further. “I haven’t had a boyfriend for about a year, and after that disastrous episode, I don’t know if I want to take on that responsibility again.”

  “Was magic the reason for your parting?” He removed his hands from hers.

  Aidan didn’t answer immediately. She squirmed in her chair. “Not at first.”

  “Would possession of your magic come into play in the future and color further decisions?”

  She opened her eyes and nearly fell into his intense silver gaze. “We dated for several months before I got really angry with him one evening. I levitated a punch bowl over his head. When he looked up, I dropped it.” She tried to see what Matteus wrote on his clipboard but he leaned away from her. “He deserved the dousing.”

  “Further explanation won’t be necessary.” He arched an eyebrow. “What about future relationships?”

  “I have no idea.” She opened her mouth and closed it again with a snap, biting off her unformed thought. “I haven’t tried.” Her muscles tensed and she pushed halfway off her chair.

  “We’re not finished.”

  With an annoyed sigh, she sat and closed her eyes, waiting.

  “If you needed to choose between a man and your magic, what would you do?”

  Cold fingers of apprehension marched down her spine. “It would depend on the man.” She frowned. “Although, my luck with men hasn’t been good, so I suppose I’d choose magic.”

  “Let’s say the man in question desired nothing more than to shower you with love and affection, but his only request was that you give up your powers, what would you choose?”

  The apprehension vanished under a wash of peace. “Magic. A man should love all of me, not love me in pieces.”

  Matteus grunted, the sound ambiguous. “What if you loved a man with every particle of your being but he couldn’t stand your magical tendencies? What then?”

  What would I do and why does he keep harping on this subject? Aidan’s mind reeled over the question. His knee jostled hers as he shifted in his chair. Tingles shot through her leg and she tried to ignore them. “I’d have to dump him. My magic is a defining part of me, I suppose. That’s like asking me to remove my nose because it turns up slightly at the end.” When would the assessment would be over?

  He scribbled a few notations on his clipboard. “If your magic were taken away, would your life be better or worse?”

  She let the question soak into her brain before answering. “Worse. I’d have no friends, no boyfriend but neither would I have the added flair that makes me unique.” She heard the scratch of his pen on the paper and wondered anew at what he was writing. “Life would be pretty boring if I didn’t have
anything special.”

  “Would there be a point in your life, years into the future, when you might be drawn into the darker lure of your power?”

  “Absolutely not.” Aidan shook her head. “If there’s a choice between controlling my magic or letting it control me, I’d rather you just take it from me. I don’t want that kind of stress.” When he cleared his throat, her eyes flew open in surprise. “Are we finished?”

  His gaze was unfathomable. “With the questions, yes.” He abandoned the clipboard to the tabletop then held out his hands. “Now for the Acceptance Seal.”

  “The what?” Lazy heat flowed into her fingertips as she reached to accept his hand.

  Matteus lifted an eyebrow. “It’s the verbal acceptance of your promise to keep your magic. From your answers it’s obvious you consider the magic a part of you.” A tiny smile curled his lips. “If you don’t do this, I’ll have no choice but to drain your powers.”

  She nodded. “All right.” The urge to brush a fallen lock of chestnut hair from his forehead was strong but she tamped it. She could barely handle being this close to him. “I have stuff to do this afternoon, you know.”

  “Have you learned nothing from the cooking process? Sometimes it’s best to leave a dish simmering, low, and slow.” He gave her a full grin this time. “The end result is the most wonderful meal you’ve ever known. Everything melds together perfectly, no mistakes, and you’re left with a huge dose of satisfaction.”

  “Oh.” Aidan shivered at the double meaning in his statement. “Give me your left hand and raise your right in the air.”

  She did as he asked. “Now what?”

  “Repeat after me: I solemnly swear to uphold and abide by the laws of magic to the best of my ability.”

  She parroted back the statement but touching him, being so close to him distracted her. She pushed her attraction for him to the back of her mind. I’m being silly. He’s not into me that way.

  “I will respect the lives around me and strive to leave the world a better place than I found it.”

  Her cheeks warmed as he squeezed her fingers, prompting her to say the passage. When he didn’t respond with a new sentence, she frowned. “What’s wrong? Did I jumble the words?”

  “No.” He swallowed then released her hand. “I just realized something and was trying to commit it to memory.” He leaned over and scribbled on the clipboard. “Last part. If I should fail in my mission to use my energies for the betterment of the world around me, I hereby authorize the Skills Assessor in charge to drain my power and revoke my license. Thus I will return to humanity an ordinary mortal with no knowledge of events pertaining to magic.”

  “Oh, wow.” Aidan dropped her hand as awareness of the pledge took hold. “If I mess up and you have to come back to drain my magic, I’ll forget you, won’t I?” Panic fluttered in her chest and she bolted from her chair so quickly it tumbled back to clatter against the tiles. Her breath came in short gasps as she stared at him.

  “It’s true.” Matteus looked up at her. “If you don’t say the final words to the pledge, I can’t give you the license.”

  “And if I don’t get the license?” Her voice was little more than a scratchy whisper.

  “I’ll have to drain your powers anyway.” He fiddled with his pen. “You’re not allowed to use magical energy without a valid license or permit.” He glanced away. “I’m sorry. It’s my job.”

  She drew a shuddering breath, quickly said the last of the oath, and then retreated to the stove. “How long?” She busied herself with filling the teakettle with water. She needed a distraction from him.

  “Until you get your license? Maybe a week. The Institute has a quick turnaround time.”

  In frustration, she slammed the teakettle down on a burner then whirled to face him. “No, how long will you be staying? I mean, your job’s done. Why would you stick around?” Her body tensed as she waited for his answer. She wanted him to say he would stay if she asked him. She wanted to throw herself at him. The words danced on her tongue to ask him to linger, but she didn’t do any of it. She had her pride, after all, and he hadn’t indicated his interest in her extended to anything beyond magic.

  Matteus cleared his throat, and then stood. “My job here is essentially over. I’ll be back for periodic visits to check on your progress. Until then, call me at the Institute if you should need me—for anything. I’ve already given you my card.”

  Did his eyes hold an unspoken plea or was it dreaming on her part? She stifled the sob that clogged in her throat. Why couldn’t she say anything? Why couldn’t she forget about her shortcomings and admit she needed someone in her life? “I wish you well then.” Please just say you’ll stay for me!

  “It’s been a pleasure working with you.”

  When he faded from view, she crumpled against the counter, her shoulders shaking with the force of her tears. Why couldn’t I have just asked him?

  * * * *

  Matteus cursed under his breath when he realized he forgot to take his clipboard with him. He wanted to make a clean break. He wanted to leave her and never look back. She hadn’t asked him to stay. She didn’t say anything. Just let him go without a word. Of course I didn’t say anything either. She didn’t understand why he couldn’t tell her he’d die for her if she asked. Have I made my magic more important than everything else—anyone else—in my life? He stumbled over an upended empty bucket on her back doorstep. It reminded him of what his chest felt like. Hollow and discarded. The downside to having magical powers sucked.

  It was a foolish waste of time to agonize over a female who didn’t know her own mind. Sure, he had no doubts she’d do well with her magic, but everything else in her life was chaos. He’d retrieve his clipboard and return to the Institute then forget all about Aidan. It was the only way to move forward. He tried the doorknob. Damn. She must have magically enforced the locks. Determined to get his mission over with, he attempted to enter the house by zapping himself inside. What he got for his effort was a smart smack on the head from the wall.

  The woman had put up a force field.

  Not bad. Annoyed her burgeoning skill had impressed him, he banged a fist on the back door. “Aidan, let me in!”

  When the door slammed open, he blinked with confusion. She stood at the opposite end of the kitchen, right where he left her. Apparently, her emotions made her magic so much more powerful than he’d originally thought. If she practiced, she’d be a force in the magical realm very quickly.

  “What do you want?” Her eyes flashed. “I thought you made it perfectly clear you were finished here.”

  He flinched at the hurt in her voice as he stepped into the kitchen. When the door slammed shut behind him, he jumped. “You used magic for something other than cooking.”

  A ghost of a smile curled her lips. “I guess I’m capable of much more than you give me credit for.” Her eyes were red as if she’d been crying.

  Does she know how powerful she can be or how beautiful she is at this moment? Matteus hesitated. His chest clenched with sadness.

  “Aidan, I never doubted your abilities. You know that.” He eyed the clipboard resting on the table not three feet away. With a crook of his forefinger, he commanded it to come to him. When the only thing it did was clatter about on the tabletop, he frowned. A blanket of energy prevented him from completing the request. Aidan’s energy signature kept him from retrieving the paperwork.

  His smile was one of begrudging admiration. “Nice work.” A jagged flash of frustration tore through him when she met his gaze, sadness and anger clouding the chocolate brown depths. Why can’t I—for once—do what I want regardless of my position in this community? “Aidan… I…” He broke off, not sure what to say to her. She wouldn’t understand and he couldn’t change who he was.

  She drew the clipboard to her with the slightest wrinkle of her nose.

  “Please don’t read that. It’s confidential information.” When her eyes widened, he sighed with defeat. Damn.
This will be messy.

  “What’s this? I thought you were taking notes for my skills assessment.”

  “I was, but I, uh, got a bit sidetracked and distracted.” His cheeks grew warm when she stared at him, surprise etched across her face. “I did say I needed to write something down before I forgot it. This was something I didn’t want to ever forget.”

  “No boyfriend—excellent. Magical skill level—beginner bordering on intermediate but will increase exponentially once she realizes her confidence. Sense of humor. Kissable lips. Curves a man would kill for. Strong sense of self-worth once she finds a subject she’s passionate about. Frustrating to argue with. Relationship possibility—hopeless. Passed test for license.”

  His humiliation was complete. “I can explain.” He moved toward her a few steps before his feet became stuck to the floor. “Aidan…” His voice held a sharp warning. When he couldn’t move his feet at all, he glared at her. “Release me from the spell. Your magic is not for people manipulation.”

  She shook her head. “No, I’m tired of you disappearing before we can resolve things between us.”

  “This isn’t funny.”

  “It’s not intended to be. I’m quite serious.”

  When she tossed the clipboard onto the table then advanced on him, a slow, sexy grin lighting her face, he swallowed hard. “Before you get all hot and bothered, I need to explain something to you.” His mouth went dry as she drifted to a halt in front of him, twelve inches of space separating them.

  “I have one question.” She traced a finger along his jaw. “If you feel so strongly for me, why did you leave and keep leaving? Don’t I deserve a chance—don’t we?”

  He stiffened, knowing once he told her the reason, she’d hate him. “It was the only way. I had to.”

  “That’s not good enough. Why?” She undid the first two buttons on his shirt. His skin blazed when she pressed her lips to his bare chest. “I can feel your response, Matteus. Why do you run?”