Cupcakes, Trinkets, and Other Deadly Magic (Dowser Series) (7 page)

I had to bake delicious, sexy cupcakes on less than three hours sleep, and my body felt like it had been rolled over repeatedly by a dump truck. Why the hell did I feel like …? Right. The vampire.

I curled my fingers around the hilt of my knife. I’d apparently slept with it on the desk underneath my right hand.

I tried to stand up. My weary legs held, though barely. I felt utterly hungover, even though I hadn’t drunk a drop all evening … except for the magic high. It was probably important to count the magic of four werewolves.

I had a magic hangover. I should have just drunk myself silly instead; I’d feel much better than this. In fact, since it was only six in the morning, there was actually a good chance I’d still be drunk and feeling fine. But no, I’d been responsible because I had to bake in the morning. I was a professional businesswoman. If only I’d remembered that before all the wolves with all their magic had shown up. I’d feel a hell of a lot better.

I tucked the
Compendium
to my hip, really wishing I could get it in ebook form — maybe I should ask Sienna about that — but left the family chronicle on the desk. I’d apparently also pulled it out of Gran’s library last night, probably to see if any of my ancestors had direct experiences with vampires. Or werewolves for that matter. I wasn’t stupid enough to take it through the wards, though; for all I knew, removing it from the house would destroy it. Witches were rather protective with their knowledge.

The
Compendium
was basic and honestly excruciatingly boring, but the handwritten, meticulously kept family ‘diary’ was where the real information was to be found. I’d have to come back for it tonight. Again, it would be nicer to have it in a searchable PDF.

I thought about borrowing a car from Gran, because I wasn’t sure the vampire’s ‘safe passage’ clause was still in effect or if the confrontation on the bridge voided it. But I really wasn’t functional enough to drive. The
Compendium
mentioned that vampires hated the early morning, even if they could stand the afternoon sunlight. However, this reasoning was based on some religious hokum about Christ rising on the morning of the third day, so I wasn’t sure I should bank on it. Of course, who was I to question the accumulated knowledge of witches passed down through the ages?

The fifteen-minute walk took me twenty. The neighborhood was dead quiet. Even the dogs and their bladders were smart enough to still be inside sleeping. Isn’t that what Sunday morning was for? This was exactly why I’d had Bryn take over the Sunday baking shift. Though some customers claimed the cupcakes weren’t as tasty, they couldn’t tell me specifically what was missing. They tasted the same to me. I’d thought about just closing on Sundays, but it remained a profitable day even if Bryn was baking.

I cut through the alley behind West Fourth Avenue, preferring the back door and the immediate comfort of the wards rather than taking the front stairs.

A wolf — well, a werewolf — was curled up by my back door. The young woman from the dance club, with the green hair.

I thought about leaving. However, I was pretty sure that even though she looked to be sleeping, she’d already heard and possibly scented me a block away. I remembered that much at least from my reading last night. And running from a wolf would be a bad idea. Her predator instincts could kick in.

“Um, hi,” I said. I shifted the book to my left hand, freeing my right for the knife in case everything went rapidly wrong. Why I’d been stupid enough to walk with a book in my right hand for twenty minutes, I didn’t even want to think about. I’d miscalculated about what predator I was attempting to avoid.

The werewolf cracked her eyes, and the green of her hair rolled across them for a blink. She was triggering her magic somehow; I could feel that with my ‘other’ senses. Then she smiled without revealing any of her teeth. “You didn’t come home last night,” she murmured. “And you didn’t spend the evening with Hudson, though I know he asked.”

A question was hidden in there somewhere, but I ignored it. Perhaps it was just plain disbelief. Perhaps Hudson never got turned down.

“How did you know I lived here?”

The wolf shrugged. “Smells like you.”

“It smells like me?” I echoed. Because, when surprised, I tended to sound like an idiot.

“Yes. Your magic is tasty.” This time the wolf did show her teeth when she smiled. I thought that might indicate the conversation was moving in the wrong direction … the woman-eating direction, and not the good kind.

“I have to bake.”

“More cupcakes?” The wolf asked hopefully, but how she’d tasted my cupcakes before, I didn’t want to ask. She shouldn’t have been able to get past the wards and into the bakery.

“Yes.”

She stood without pushing off her hands or knees, just simply straightened out of her slump against the concrete foundation. Graceful, strong … intimidating.

“The vampire left you alone, then.”
 

It wasn’t a question, but I nodded in answer anyway. I wanted — desperately — to ask her what she knew of the vampire and the murders and me. But I also really wanted to be behind the safety of my wards and within the peacefulness of my bakery.
 

She shifted away from the door but stood nearby. I belatedly realized I wasn’t supposed to be looking her in the eye, but when I shifted my gaze, she laughed and said, “I won’t play dominance games with you, not unless you ask. You’re not a wolf, and I’m not ranked high enough to make you an exception.”

I nodded and steeled myself to step by her. She leaned in just a little, to smell me as I passed. I turned the door handle in my hand.

“No key. Nice,” she said. “I’ll be back. I need food. Don’t go anywhere without me.”

Then she was gone. Just to prove to myself she hadn’t vanished into thin air, I leaned back to peer around the dumpster. She was at the mouth of the alley. Fast, but not impossibly so … if you measured everything in magical scale, as I was apparently having to do now. I was beginning to wonder at my own willful ignorance. Why had I never bothered to learn all the things now bouncing around in my head? The information of
Compendium
had always been readily available. I knew Gran sheltered me in a way, but I’d always thought it was because of my mother’s long periods of absence. And because I was mostly a magical dud except for the dowsing ability.
 

∞

I didn’t bother showering as I was late enough already. I did text Sienna as soon as I’d gotten my hair tied up and my apron on. My sister wouldn’t be at all happy with a six in the morning text if it woke her, but, seeing as how I was being stalked by werewolves and vampires, I needed some familial circling of the wagons. If Gran was out of town, and I didn’t want to call my mother —
 
who would think it was all fun and games anyway — then Sienna was third best. Not that I suspected her binding magic worked well enough to even slow down a werewolf or a vamp, I just preferred to have her near.

I didn’t get an immediate response from the text, but I didn’t expect one.

I checked the stock list, cursed when I noted we were pretty much out of everything from yesterday, and then set up to bake the minimum amounts necessary. While I waited for the eggs and butter to reach room temperature, or at least warm a bit, I melted chocolate and measured flour and buttermilk. I decided that today’s customers could do without one of my more complicated cupcakes,
Sin in a Cup
 — a spice cake topped with mocha butter icing. But then, found some leftover batter in the fridge and decided to give them a go with that.

I quickly fell into the peaceful rhythm of baking, my hands moving and mixing while my mind and eyes were on the next ingredient. I was a particular fan of icing, sometimes piling it high enough to double the height of the cupcake. My grandmother often dropped in when I was baking — as I still did five out of seven days a week. She said watching me bake was like watching an adept witch work a spell. Flattery will get you treats from me every time.

By the time Todd arrived to prep for opening, I had three-quarters of the list completed and the other quarter in the oven. I was efficient under time pressure. Todd’s curly dark hair was flattened on one side and his neck sported at least three shaving cuts. He looked as if he’d had as little sleep as I had — that’s college life for you — as he immediately started brewing coffee. Normally I’d caution him from making it too early, but by the shadows underneath his blurry eyes, I figured he’d go through the first pot before opening. I’d been debating investing in one of those single-cup brew machines, maybe a gently-used Clover brewing system, but didn’t think I could float it until next month. I sourced the beans from a local roaster.

Seeing as I had extra egg whites sitting at room temperature, I decided to bake my gluten-free chewy chocolate cookies. They were easy to make, though it had taken me weeks to identify and source just the right chocolate — a 75 percent single origin from Tanzania. I had to charge five dollars a cookie just to break even, so they weren’t a regular menu item.

The trinkets by the front door tinkled — Todd had left the pass through to the kitchen open — and I looked up to realize it was already eleven o’clock. By the sounds of Todd’s greetings, there was a line up at the door. I should have been out front myself, but I suddenly felt utterly weary. Thoughts of red eyes and sharp teeth — not that I’d laid my eyes on any actual sharp teeth yet — filtered into the peaceful place I’d cocooned myself in for the last five hours. I felt a curl of fear settle back into my belly.

I glanced at my phone even though I knew Sienna hadn’t returned my text yet — she probably wouldn’t until after two in the afternoon or later. Then I smoothed my hair to shake off the fear and weariness, and stepped into the bakery to help Todd with the opening rush.

∞

Tima, the perky high school student who only worked Sunday afternoons, showed up for her shift fifteen minutes early. Which, according to her grumbling, was the only way she could score a ride from her big brother. She lived all of ten minutes away and had forgotten her lip gloss. She had to borrow one of mine, but who was I to complain?

I raced up to the apartment, executed a wickedly quick change of clothing, and was heading a block down the street with my yoga mat underneath one arm, five minutes before class. I made it to the studio without vampire intervention. I’d kept an eye out for him all morning. Either the vampire was engaged elsewhere or the
Compendium
had been correct about their dislike of the early morning.
 

The green-haired werewolf joined me in the change room, tossing flip-flops into the cubby next to mine. I wondered if she’d stolen the new-looking mat she was carrying, though it was practically the color of her hair, which might have required some forethought, so maybe not.
 
She was wearing short, tight Lycra shorts and a tank top. The diameter of her waist matched that of my upper thigh. I wasn’t the only one who noticed — the change room was co-ed.

Beyond noticing that she didn’t make any noise while walking alongside me, I attempted to ignore her, as I crossed to the far side of the large classroom. I rolled my mat out over the one the yoga studio provided, then wandered over to the equipment area to grab a belt and a foam block. The wolf didn’t follow, choosing instead to fold her toned, trim frame into a perfect lotus position on the mat next to mine.

I settled down onto my foam block as the teacher entered the classroom. About thirty or so people filled out the class. The green-haired wolf had eyed them all as they filtered in. Unsurprisingly, no one had chosen to sit next to either of us.

I closed my eyes and tried to pull my hyper-awareness of everything in the room deep into myself. I was going to stretch, and move, and refresh my body. The werewolf wasn’t going to rip my throat open in the middle of a hatha class. A power class might have been touch and go, though …

The door, which the teacher had closed as she’d joined the class, opened as someone entered. I heard nothing except some odd murmurs that sounded like involuntary appreciation as whoever this was crossed the classroom and settled in beside me.

I didn’t open my eyes until I felt his magic hit me. It was softer, tamer than last night, but unmistakable. Hudson.

I twisted my head toward him in disbelief. He flashed me a grin, and as the teacher called us to our feet to begin the first sequence, I caught sight of the reason for all the appreciative murmurs. Hudson, who’d chosen to wear thankfully loose jersey shorts and no shirt to class, was the most perfect male specimen I’d ever seen outside of a magazine. Broad shoulders, tapered waist, well muscled … you name it, he had it.

We moved forward into a front bend at the teacher’s cue, which forced me to tear my eyes from Hudson’s impressive chest. Out of the corner of my eye, as I hung my head upside down, I watched him spread his long fingers palm down on the mat by his feet. He reached easily ten inches across — with each hand — and I desperately tried to block the image of those hands across twenty inches of my body. I tore my eyes away a second time — I shouldn’t have been cranking my head at that angle anyway — and carefully studied my prettily pedicured toenails. The polish, Chocolate Moose by OPI, matched that on my fingernails, though they were French manicured.

The teacher cued us to move through and into our downward dog position and “just breathe.” I tried … really … but doing yoga was already a challenging practice of patience for me. Being stuck between two werewolves was seriously distracting.

They moved smoothly, effortlessly from pose to pose. They didn’t slowly move deeper into any one position; they simply articulated the most advanced version of each position perfectly at first try. As I ‘walked’ to the front of my mat to restart the sequence, they leaped. Their footfalls made no sound. Forward bends for me turned into handstands for them. They executed their side planks on one leg; I had a hard time lifting off my knee.

My shoulders and wrists screamed at me, as they always did by this point. Why did I do this to myself? It was a question I asked every class, but the werewolves’ presence made this session intensely worse.