Bake or Die

by January Daphne

  I sighed. “That’s troubling. Apparently, she’s still thinking about hurting me, or herself.” I went inside and grabbed a chair from the kitchen table. I lugged it out to the porch and set it up right outside the door. “Connor, will you handcuff her to the chair? She’ll be fine out here for a few minutes.”

  “No,” Connor said, his eyes moving down Willa’s bare legs. “It’s in the thirties out here. She’ll freeze. She won’t be able to conjure up any witch fire to warm herself either as long as the handcuffs are on her. They’re made with enchanted obsidian. It will block her magic as long as they’re on.”

  Wes’ forehead was wrinkled up in confusion. “Magic? Have you guys all completely lost it? What the heck did they put in those fancy party drinks?”

  I chewed my lip. “Just put her in the chair for now. We can move her to the guest cabin in a few minutes. I need to show you something with the wifi.”

  Connor looked unsure for a moment. Then he lowered her into the chair and adjusted the handcuffs so they went through part of the seat back. “Five minutes,” he said, sliding off his coat and laying it over Willa’s chest and legs. “One of you, get a blanket from inside.”

  Wes was still standing there with his mouth hanging open, so I headed in and tugged the knitted afghan off the couch.

  I waited in the doorway while Connor arranged the blanket over my sister.

  “She’s not made of glass, you know,” I commented.

  “I don’t like seeing her like this.” Connor straightened up. “But we’ll fix this—whatever spell she’s under.”

  “Absolutely,” I said.

  Though, the only way I knew to break an unbreakable Craven witch spell was to kill the spellcaster with witch fire. I could try to do that to whoever was controlling Willa, but that didn’t solve the issue of Connor being under the very same spell. The only difference with Connor’s situation was that Willa wasn’t commanding him to pick fights and commit acts of violence.

  As I watched Connor smooth a lock of hair from Willa’s face, it was obvious his knot spell was still in effect. He felt something for her.

  Maybe, just maybe, some of those feelings were real.

  I set up my laptop on the kitchen counter and made Connor go through all the information he got from Rosie and the doctor after Rosie’s bizarre episode in the hotel bathroom.

  Logan Graves had medical staff living on property, so it didn’t take long for a doctor to arrive. Logan had also been quick to call Connor once he suspected that Rosie’s medical emergency was supernatural.

  Connor paced back and forth in the kitchen. “The doctor said he’s never seen anything like it. Rosie filled the sink with water and submerged her nose and mouth in the water until she lost consciousness. That was what saved her. Her legs gave out and she fell onto the floor. Misty happened to walk in and found Rosie on the bathroom floor in front of the sink. Misty said Rosie was just regaining consciousness and coughing up water when she found her. She said that Rosie seemed terrified of the sink. She was struggling to drag herself out of the bathroom. Rosie barely remembers a thing, and she has no explanation for why she did what she did.”

  “Basically, Rosie tried to drown herself,” I said, waiting for the slow internet to connect to my laptop.

  Wes dragged a stool to the other side of the counter and sat down. “A woman tried to drown herself in a bathroom sink?”

  Connor stopped pacing and gave Wes a hard look. “You need to leave. This is police work.”

  “If it’s police work, why are you here consulting a bakery owner?” Wes asked.

  Connor leaned over the counter, resting his forearms on the granite countertop. “I’m talking to Samantha because her mother was a victim in the case I’m working on. Now, you need to leave the room. I’m not asking.”

  Wes straightened up. “How do I know you're not the one off-ing people?”

  I glanced up from my laptop. “He’s not the one doing this, Wes.”

  “How do you know that?” Wes kept his eyes on Connor.

  “Are you serious?” Connor said. “You’re lucky I don’t have you arrested for lying your way into your bakery job. I got your background check back—five years in prison, grand theft.”

  “Yeah, well, I didn’t have a good lawyer.” Wes’ hand curled into a fist. “And anyway, what does that have to do with any of this?”

  “I don’t like you,” Connor said. “I don’t trust you around these girls, and I don’t trust you in this town.”

  “Right back at you,” Wes said. “I’ve been doing some digging of my own. There seems to be an awful lot of murder committed in a small town like this. You, Sheriff, always seem to be in the middle of it.”

  “That’s my job,” Connor growled.

  “Wes,” I said, cutting in before this alpha male posturing went too far. “Can you please step out of the room for a minute?”

  “Samantha,” Wes’ eyes traveled from me to Connor, “I’m not leaving you alone with this guy.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek, engaging in a silent debate. “Fine. Fair warning: I’m going to be talking about some very strange things, and I don’t have time to stop and explain everything.” I watched Wes’ face for his reaction.

  “What kind of strange things?” Wes asked.

  “Monsters,” I said.

  “Is this, like, a dungeons and dragons thing? Role playing stuff?” Wes wiped his hand over his mouth, his eyes searching my face.

  “Not really.” My smile was apologetic.

  “Are you messing with me?” Wes asked quietly.

  “No, she’s not.” Connor answered. “Now if you’re not going to leave, shut up.”

  “OK.” Wes folded his hands on the counter. “Let’s talk about monsters.”

  Once I had Willa’s blog pulled up, I typed “water creatures” in the search bar. “I think we’re dealing with some kind of creature who is somehow associated with the element of water. Mom drowned. Rosie almost drowned. Willa also mentioned the creature being able to access people’s memories. That means the creature is inherently magical, or they know how to perform witchcraft.”

  Connor hunched over my shoulder. “You use this site, too?”

  “You know it?” I glanced up.

  “I’m on it all the time when I’m working supernatural cases,” he said. “It’s the most reliable source I’ve found.”

  “I’ve never read through it, but I’ve been aware of it for a few years now. It’s Willa’s site. She’s spent the last decade documenting the different creatures she’s come up against.”

  Connor frowned. “She never mentioned anything about it to me.”

  “That’s because she’s a paranoid weirdo—I say that with love.” I pulled out the stool next to me, inviting him to sit down. “The only reason I know about it is because she needed to borrow money to buy the domain. I gave her my credit card info, and then I checked my bank statement and found the site.”

  Conner tugged his pant legs up as he took a seat beside me. “Can you pull up the post about sirens?”

  Wes flattened his hands on the counter. “Sirens?”

  I scrolled down until I found a blog post titled, “How to Protect Yourself From a Siren.”

  I sat back, giving Connor room to read over the article.

  He nodded. “It makes the most sense. Sirens have their own form of magic. All they need is water to draw power. There were no signs of struggle with Rosie or Rebecca—that would have required powerful magic. Plus, there were no footprints at the lake. A siren could have used their influence over water to create waves to wash away any trace that they were there.”

  I scanned the article. “It says here that a siren can control their victims as long as the victim is in physical contact with water. Rosie was probably washing her hands when the siren got in her head.”

  “Unless the siren already had access to the knot spell,” Connor pointed out.

  “That’s the part that doesn’t make sense.” I
tapped my finger on my chin. “Why would a siren want the knot spell? If they can control people through water magic, it seems redundant to go through all this trouble to get that spell.”

  Connor shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe there are limitations to what they can do.”

  I shifted on the stool. “So if the monster we’re looking for is a siren, who would it be?”

  Wes fidgeted with the hem of his t-shirt. “Sam, you can't be serious with all this.”

  I ignored him. What else could I do? It wasn’t like I could make him start believing in paranormal creatures.

  “Logan Graves?” Connor offered.

  “But aren’t sirens female?” I asked.

  “Not necessarily,” Connor said.

  “You think it’s him? Willa’s convinced he’s some kind of supernatural creature.”

  “I’m sure he’s supernatural,” Connor confirmed. “Rebecca knew what he was, but she wouldn’t tell me.”

  “Do sirens age?” I wondered aloud. “They’ve been around since ancient Greece. Are we looking for someone who hasn’t aged?”

  Connor shook his head. “As far as I know, vampires are one of the few creatures who don’t age. That’s because they’re dead. They don’t grow. They don’t change. They’re stuck at whatever age they turn. Sirens age like humans, but they live for many lifetimes.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “They come back after they die. They are reborn to new parents the instant their previous form dies. The siren we’re looking for could be any one of our neighbors or friends. They can blend in like witches or shifters,” Connor explained.

  “I think it’s Logan. If he’s a siren, he could have easily pulled off the murder and Rosie’s attack. Everyone had drinks in their hands tonight, and he also made everyone wear lanyards around our necks. It’s genius. Any of those lanyards could be used to perform that knot spell.”

  Connor’s jaw tensed. “You’re going to have to explain this knot spell to me. How is it so powerful? How can it control someone like Willa? She’s a Craven witch.”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know how it’s so powerful.”

  “Hold on,” Wes said. “You think that pompous haircut who came by the bakery yesterday is a siren?”

  I stood up. “The other possibility is George Huber. Maybe he’s not just a swan shifter. Maybe he’s a siren, too.”

  Connor shook his head. “That’s more far-fetched. He also seemed genuinely distressed about what happened to Rosie.”

  I grabbed Connor’s arm. “You know, Rosie and George could also be under the knot spell. We have no way of knowing until we notice some kind of uncharacteristic behavior from them.”

  Connor took another look at the blog post before standing up. “Rosie should be fine for tonight. She’s sedated at the clinic. George might be in danger. I’ll give him a call and see what I can find out.” Connor headed for the door. “I’ll do that once I get Willa down to the guest cabin. Then how about you and I check on Mr. Graves. I’ve got another set of handcuffs in the truck. Oh, and this.” Connor pulled a small bag of white powder out of his pocket and pressed it into the palm of my hand. “I always keep some on me for times like these.”

  I pinched the ziplock bag with my fingers. It was about the same consistency as powdered sugar. “Is this…?” I didn’t want to say any more in front of Wes. We’d already put him through too much.

  “Memory dust,” Connor said quietly. “You know how to use it?”

  I nodded. I’d never done it before, but it was something my mom made sure I learned once my magic started manifesting.

  The sheriff tipped his head towards Wes who stared blankly out the kitchen window. “Are you good taking care of that yourself?”

  “Sure,” I said. “I’ll meet you outside.” Then I turned to Wes. “Can I talk to you for a second in the living room?”

  20

  “What did he just hand you? White powder?” Wes asked. “So much for you not doing anything illegal.”

  I looked around the room, trying to figure out where to do this memory dust spell. Ideally, Wes would be laying down otherwise he’d collapse once the magic took effect. There was no way I’d be able to lift two hundred pounds of rock solid man off the floor.

  But how could I get him to lay down when he was all amped up from everything he’d just witnessed?

  “It’s not what you think.” I walked to the other side of the counter and treated Wes to my sweetest smile. “I’ll explain everything. Let’s sit down on the couch.”

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” Wes asked, slowly standing up.

  “Like what?” I looped my arm around Wes and led him into the living room. I sat down, making space for him on the couch. All the while, I clutched the bag of memory dust in my fist.

  “You’re looking at me like you’re either going to seduce me or murder me.”

  “Do you have a preference?” I teased.

  “This isn’t funny, Samantha.” Wes settled in beside me, angling himself towards me. “What am I supposed to think after all of that? What happened at that party? Is Willa on something? Are you?”

  “No,” I said. “She just gets like that sometimes.”

  “I don’t believe that.” He shook his head as if trying to clear it. “This whole night feels like a bad trip. Did I take something?” He closed his eyes, a muscle pulsing in his jaw. “Samantha, I’ve been clean for nine years. If you gave me something…” He shoved his fingers into his hair.

  This was escalating a lot faster than I’d wanted it to. I scooted closer and turned his face so he was looking at me. “Wes, stop. No one drugged you.”

  Yet, I thought as the guilt twisted my insides.

  Memory dust wasn’t exactly like drugs. It wasn’t addictive. There was no high. Most of the time, a person had no idea it had been used on them at all.

  Still, I hated doing this to Wes.

  “Just focus on me, OK?” I said.

  His broad shoulders shook as he took a deep breath. “The only reason I haven’t walked out that door is because I trust you. I don’t know what weird stuff you and your sister and Sheriff Lumberjack are into, but I don’t get bad vibes from you.”

  “Thanks for trusting me,” I said.

  Wes seemed to relax a little then, resting his elbow on the back of the couch. “So what’s really in the bag—and don’t say powdered sugar?”

  “It’s, uh, something of my mom’s that was just released from evidence. She’s into herbal remedies and stuff. I guess she had it on her when she died,” I said, hoping that maybe I wouldn’t have to dust Wes after all. Maybe I could talk my way out of this.

  “And Sheriff Lumberjack decided to bring it over in the middle of the night?” Wes asked, skeptical.

  “His name is Connor.”

  Wes rolled his eyes. “I know what his name is.”

  “So call him that.”

  “No,” Wes said stubbornly. “And quit changing the subject. Someone tried to drown herself at this party. Willa’s handcuffed to a chair on the porch. You’re in here googling sirens and having a completely serious conversation about it with the sheriff.”

  I bit my lip. “I want to tell you the truth, but I can’t.”

  Wes pinched the bridge of his nose. “Samantha, that answer is not good enough anymore. Not after what I saw.”

  Well, it was worth a try, I thought.

  I dipped my fingers into the plastic bag behind my back. I only had one chance at this.

  I had to do this now.

  The only reason I hadn’t dusted him yet was because I was being soft with Wes. Willa wouldn’t have thought twice. Neither would my mom.

  I’m not cut out for this life, I thought. But I have a duty.

  I was a Craven witch, and it was time to stop running from that.

  I lifted my open palm and held it level with Wes’ face. With one swift moment, I blew the white powder at him like I was extinguishing candles on a birthday cak
e.

  Wes’ body went limp, his eyes sliding shut. I caught his head with my hand and lowered him onto the couch.

  OK, it worked, I thought, feeling palpable relief.

  Now I had to isolate the memory I wanted deleted from Wes’ mind and replace it with a new story.

  I brushed the rest of the dust off on the couch cushion and knelt on the floor beside Wes so I had access to his head.

  Thank goodness, we don’t have HR, I thought. This would for sure be a lawsuit.

  I gently pressed my hands into either side of his head. “Can you hear me, Wes,” I whispered.

  His lips moved but his eyes stayed closed. “Samantha,” he breathed.

  “Listen to me,” I said. “My sister and I woke you up with our yelling. We were fighting over…” I paused, thinking of a decent cover story, “over who’s turn it was to open the bakery tomorrow. You opened the door and saw that both of us were a little tipsy after the party. Willa stormed off and slept in the guest cabin. I stayed up here. We talked on the couch for a few minutes because I wasn’t ready to go to bed. There was no Connor, no white powder, and no blue witch fire. Just a fight between two sisters and an uneventful late night convo with your new bakery boss.”

  “Oh…” Wes murmured, his eyes still closed. “You were fighting.”

  “Exactly.” I patted his cheek.

  “You shouldn’t fight with your sister,” he said dreamily.

  I rolled my eyes. “Tell her that.”

  Wes’ hand lifted to touch mine, and I noticed a slight redness on his inner forearms. Willa had burned him after all. Not bad, but enough that he’d notice in the morning when he wasn’t running on adrenaline.

  “You sit tight, OK?” I whispered.

  Wes’ fingers tightened on my wrist. “Mmm… don’t go. Stay.”

  I bit back a smile. “I’ll be right back.”

  “OK.” He let go, his arm falling back to the couch. “You’re so pretty, Samantha,” he slurred. “Your dress is pretty. Your face is pretty. Your rack… so pretty.”

  My rack? Who calls it that? I looked down and yanked the neckline of my dress up another inch.