Witchin' Sugar

by Lissa Matthews

  I stepped forward once and then again, pushing against him. Touching him wasn’t what I’d wanted to do because his warmth, his dark scent… It felt good and I wanted to melt, but I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t give in.

  He didn’t unfold his arms, but he softened, though he still didn’t move.

  After a few futile minutes, I glanced up into his face. The smirk of his lips and the light in his eyes was almost my undoing, but I held resolute.

  “How do I get you to move?”

  “Meet me after your meeting with Bethilda at the gazebo.”

  “Fine. I’ll be there.”

  His narrowed gaze told me he didn’t believe me and I wasn’t sure I’d keep my word, but for now, it was the best I could do. I’d cross the meeting him bridge when I got to it.

  He bent his head and kissed the top of mine, much the same way I’d done to Ky earlier, then he stepped easily to the side, letting me pass.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, love.”

  I wouldn’t examine how that one word made me feel as it rolled off his tongue. At least not right then. Later, maybe.

  “Kaydence! What a lovely surprise,” Bethilda exclaimed when I entered the inn. Merrick stayed on the porch, watching me, unnerving me. I closed the door and felt the as though a cord had been cut. It was an odd sensation, but one that I was sure wasn’t lasting.

  “Hi, Bethilda. I was wondering if you had a few minutes to talk.”

  “Sure do. Let’s go into the dining room. Would you like some lemonade? I just made a pitcher of lavender lemonade and I’m dying to try it.”

  “Lavender? Sounds delicious. I’d love some.”

  “Excellent. I’ll go get it.”

  The dining room was completely empty. There were no guests. No wait staff. It didn’t look as though anyone had been in it all day.

  I settled at a table in the corner away from the window. I didn’t know if Merrick was still hanging out on the porch and I didn’t want to find out. I didn’t want anyone hearing my conversation with Bethilda until I was ready.

  “Oh, this is a good spot,” Bethilda said, returning from the kitchen with a tray which she set down in the center of the small table. “We’ll be away from prying ears and eyes.”

  It was always a little disconcerting that Bethilda could read minds.

  She poured two glasses of lemonade and slipped a sprig of lavender into each one. A small plate of scones accompanied our drinks.

  “Now, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

  “Don’t you already know?”

  “No. I’m going to wait for you to tell me.”

  “Okay, well…” I took a sip of my lemonade, and then another one. It was sweet and tart and mild and perfect. “Do you…” I picked up a scone and began picking small pieces off it to give my hands something to do. And I hadn’t had anything to eat yet. “Do you remember anyone named Gertie?”

  “Gertie?” Bethilda’s brow scrunched and she looked off to the side for a moment before focusing on me again. “I haven’t heard that name in a really long time.”

  “So, there was someone by that name around here?”

  “For a time. She was your aunt Gracie’s twin. They were your father’s sisters.”

  “Gertie was my aunt?”

  “Yes.”

  “What happened to her?” It was the second time I had to prompt someone to talk more about Gertie. First the ghosts, now Bethilda, and Bethilda was never hesitant to talk about anyone.

  “She went a little crazy.”

  “How so? And why didn’t anyone ever tell us about her? No one in our family ever mentioned her. Not even Aunt Gracie.” I was stunned, but obviously not speechless.

  “Why don’t you tell me how you found out about her?”

  “Ghosts.”

  “Come again?”

  “Ghosts. Three of them. I found a cookie recipe in a trunk in the attic this week and decided to try it. I tried to clean what I thought was dust off it and three ghosts swirled to life in my kitchen. Life being…” I didn’t know what else to say. They weren’t alive, but they weren’t exactly dead either. They could talk and think and try to leave, though their memories were shiz.

  “Three ghosts were trapped in a cookie recipe?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh my goodness.” Bethilda stood and paced around the dining room. Chairs moved themselves out of the way as she meandered around the floor.

  She muttered to herself, things I couldn’t quite make out. Her hands gestured from left to right to up and down.

  “Did they say how they got into the recipe and when?”

  “A long time ago, but they couldn’t remember the year. They were cursed into the recipe by Gertie when she caught them trying to steal it two nights before Christmas.”

  “It was in the fifties. She never made those cookies again after that. She never made any cookies after that. She had been the sweetest soul and baking made her happy. Cursing them must’ve done more damage to her mind than what we all realized. Then again, none of us knew what had driven her crazy.”

  “What happened to her?”

  Bethilda settled across from me again and took a healthy swallow of lemonade. “She up and disappeared in February following that Christmas.”

  “Aunt Gracie never mentioned her. Neither did Daddy. Why wouldn’t anyone tell us we had another aunt?”

  “It was hard on Gracie. She tried to find Gertie for months, but there was no trace of her. No one knew where she’d gone, and no one knew why. We didn’t know what haunted her and broke her spirit. Now we do. At least I do.”

  “Cursing people isn’t something that usually drives anyone to just up and disappear.”

  “What was the curse, exactly? Do you know?”

  “That the three were to exist inside the recipe. They said that their life forces drained over time until they were nothing more than ghosts.”

  “For someone as tender and kind as Gertie, something like that would cause her mental and emotional anguish. It’s essentially a death sentence.”

  “Then why wouldn’t she try to undo it? It was just a recipe.”

  “It had been passed down for generations in your family.”

  “They said it was award winning and worth a lot, but still… It shouldn’t have been worth their lives.”

  “They’re right. Those cookies became Gertie’s purpose.”

  “Were they magical or something? The ghosts sort of hinted that they were.”

  “They could bring back memories. Nostalgia. Allow someone to tap into their own innocence and pure happiness. They could transform lives. Baking them and giving them to people who were hurting or sad became what she did.”

  “I had no idea.” But it was similar to what I did with cookies and what my sisters did with candy and cakes.

  “When Gertie disappeared and Gracie couldn’t find her… Well, when she came back, she never spoke of Gertie again. She packed away all Gertie’s belongings and closed up the house.”

  “The one I live in now?”

  “Yes. She willed it to you because you reminded her so much of Gertie, especially with your love of baking cookies and with your long red hair. You look an awful lot like her.”

  “The ghosts mistook me for her. How do I get rid of them?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t know. That would be a question for —”

  “Don’t say it.”

  “But darlin’ girl, you’re going to need help with this.”

  Chapter Three

  When I left the inn, it was to pop out the back. I cut around the corner, opposite where the gazebo was, and dashed down a back street until I was far enough that Merrick wouldn’t be able to see me. I should have kept my word and met him, but I didn’t know how many more ways I could say no to the demon.

  Of course, Kandy’s capitulation to Morgan didn’t make it easy to convince Merrick that I had no intention of giving in or changing my mind.

&nb
sp; I slipped between buildings and stood at the far end of Leon’s Shooting Range to wait for Kandy. “You know, she may already be gone,” I muttered to myself, but seconds later she and Kyla emerged. “Psst. Over here.”

  Kandy’s head swiveled toward me. “What are you doing over there?”

  I motioned her over. “Keep your voice down.”

  “Are we in the spy business now?”

  “No. Why?”

  “Because you’re hiding and whispering.”

  “I’m just trying to keep what’s going on quiet.”

  “Because you don’t want Baba Yaga to find out,” Ky said, loud as could be.

  I rolled my eyes. She’s always been the troublemaker. “What did you find out from Leon?”

  “Well, it seems Gertie was our aunt and…”

  I listened to Kandy relate a very similar story to the one Bethilda shared with me without a lot of the personal family history. “I can’t believe we had an aunt that no one had told us about.”

  “I wouldn’t want to forget you guys,” Ky said.

  “I wouldn’t want to forget you guys, either,” Kandy and I said at the same time. The three of us linked hands and I found comfort in the physical contact and connection I felt with my sisters. We were always closer to each other than we were with our parents. Not that we all didn’t love each other because we did, fiercely, but the bond between Kandy, Kyla, and I was one of those unbreakable, unyielding bonds.

  Then again, maybe Gracie and Gertie had had one, too, but Gertie’s guilt or shame or whatever it was she’d felt after cursing the thieves had broken it.

  “So, what do we do now?”

  “I don’t know.” And I didn’t. I had information I wasn’t sure what to do with or if it was even helpful. I was glad to know who Gertie was, but I didn’t know what to do now that I did. It wasn’t going to help me get rid of the ghosts in my kitchen.

  “Have either of you heard of the town Grayville. It’s in West Virginia.”

  “No. Is it a magical town like ours?”

  “I don’t know, but the ghosts said that’s where they were when they were cursed.” Maybe I needed to go back to Bethilda’s and ask her how that could be if Gertie and Gracie lived in Blue Balls Falls.

  I was confused. And I wanted a cookie.

  “I think I’ll go through the trunk in the attic to see if there are any clues about what may have happened after because I’m beginning to think the trunk was Gertie’s and not Gracie’s.”

  “Want us to come help?”

  “No, I’ve got this.”

  “Are you sure? You said you left Shari the Cat in charge of the ghosts. I mean… Just sayin’…” Ky was always just sayin’…

  “I know, but at least she’s the responsible, level headed one of the three cats.”

  “Okay, but if you need us…”

  I nodded and set off for home, my mind on everything that had taken place over the last few hours. Three thieving ghosts. A determined demon suitor. And Christmas in July with zero cookies to show for it.

  But as I walked up to the small cottage I called home, I couldn’t help but smile at the twinkling lights strung up and gentle snowfall spell over the roof.

  My smile turned upside down as soon as I stepped toward the front door. “What are you doing here?”

  “You thwarted me.”

  “I avoided you.”

  “Same thing. You said you’d meet me.”

  “I lied.”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “Because I can only say no so many times.”

  “Why must you say no?”

  “I’m not going into this with you again, so please go and let me inside my house.”

  “You could invite me in.”

  “I could, but I’m not going to.”

  “Why not?”

  “Have you ever not gotten what you wanted?”

  “I’m a demon,” he said as though that answered everything. And maybe it did. Demons weren’t known for giving up and going on their merry way. They were known for their underhanded and manipulative ways.

  “That you are. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” I climbed the steps to stand toe to toe with him.

  “Do you plan on trying to push me out of the way again? That didn’t work so well for you earlier.”

  “No. I’m asking you nicely to please step aside.”

  I tried to keep from looking into his eyes, but I couldn’t manage it. Physically, I was drawn to his dark beauty and his magnetic gaze.

  He regarded me with little expression save for the flare of heat and interest, but he slid away and allowed me to pass.

  He also followed me inside the door.

  “Really?” He shrugged and didn’t look the least bit apologetic. “Please leave.”

  “Why?”

  Because I don’t want you anywhere near my other unwanted guests or near Shari the Cat. “I don’t know, I just don’t need this today.” Good, diplomatic answer.

  “Hmm.”

  And that was it. He didn’t move. He didn’t leave.

  I threw up my hands in exasperation. “Fine.”

  The grin on his face was a thing of beauty. Goddess, why couldn’t I stay mad at him?

  “Believe it or not, love, I’m not so bad.”

  “Why do you call me love?”

  “Love? There’s love?”

  “Who’s that?” he asked, gazing beyond me, over my head, toward the direction of my kitchen.

  Crapola.

  “Yoo-hoo,” came a high pitched call from down the hall. Ms. Unremarkable? Definitely didn’t sound like Cane Lady or Bowler Hat. Please don’t let it be a fourth ghost. I don’t think I could handle anything else today.

  I turned around and one by one, the three ghosts popped their heads around the corner. Merrick snickered behind me. “Ghosts? You have ghosts in your house?”

  Hanging my head, I sighed. “Yes. Three, unwanted ghosts.”

  “I didn’t know your house was haunted,” he said. I saw his shoes as he moved around me, presumably to go inspect the corporeal beings taking up residence in my kitchen. Maybe if I left now, I could forget it all. Maybe I could move in with Kyla. Maybe I could just start over in a new magical town.

  “You can’t do any of that,” Merrick called back toward me.

  How did he… Right. He and his brothers could tap into thoughts. Awesome.

  I can whisper in your mind, too.

  Great.

  I trudged after him. “Where’s Shari the Cat?” I asked when I arrived in my less than sparkling kitchen. “And the last you three could’ve done was clean up the mess you helped to make.”

  “How were we supposed to know you were going to free us?”

  “Freed them? You freed them? From where?”

  “The cookie recipe,” Bowler Hat answered with reverence.

  “What cookie recipe?”

  “Please, Merrick… Don’t encourage them. Just nod your head and leave.”

  “Oh, no. Don’t leave,” Ms. Unremarkable cooed. “I’d like to get to know you better. You look to be just my type.”

  “You never had a type,” Cane Lady remarked.

  “Not that you ever knew of.”

  “Look, never mind the handsome warlock, just —”

  “Demon,” I corrected.

  “What, dear?”

  “Demon. He’s a demon not a warlock.”

  “You mean, as in from…” Cane Lady thumped the end of her cane on the floor and glanced down, then back up.

  “Yes. That sort of demon.”

  “He doesn’t look like a demon.”

  “I don’t care what he looks like, I like him.”

  “Can he help us?”

  “Help you what?”

  “Escape.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, for one, I’m not sure you should be out roaming around and two, I don’t want you causing trouble for my mate. I’m struggling enough as it is
getting her to like me, I don’t need you three complicating matters.”

  “Mate? She’s your mate?” Bowler Hat pointed in my direction with a faded look of disbelief.

  “Why her? I’d be much more suitable for you?”

  “Oh, you would? Why is that?”

  “Because I’m a ghost and I can be wicked and naughty, and well, she’s just too goody two shoes for a demon.”

  “Ah… Perhaps that’s why I like her.”

  The back and forth exchange between Merrick and the ghosts was fascinating, especially the way Ms. Unremarkable perked up each time she looked at him. I could see that she wasn’t unremarkable at all. It was a facade. She was quite beautiful.

  Was it a trick of being a ghost or was it a power she’d possessed in life? The ability to become ordinary and perhaps overlooked at will. That would make her an excellent criminal.

  Cane Lady seemed frail, but I would bet that was also a facade.

  Bowler Hat… I couldn’t put my finger on what his skill set was. He wasn’t overly handsome, and he came across as though he could’ve once been a pompous ass, but was that right?

  “Where’s my cat?” I asked again, giving up on trying to figure out my three unwanted guests. I didn’t really care about their stories or pasts or what made them good at what they were ultimately caught trying to do. I just wanted them out of my house and out of my life. I wanted to bake cookies and spread cheer and goodwill, dammit That was the whole point of Christmas in July. At least for me.

  “Um…”

  “Told you she’d notice.”

  “Notice that Shari isn’t here in the kitchen where I left her? Yeah…”

  “Oh, she’s still in the kitchen.”

  “Where?”

  “We were just playing a game,” Bowler Hat said, defensive and more than a little wary.

  “Where’s my cat?” Goddess, if Shari heard me say that, I’d never live it down.

  “She’s um…”

  “You might want to just spill it,” Merrick added as I began opening and closing cabinets and drawers. I was halfway through the right side of the room before I found her, stiff as a board, eyes opened in fear, mouth frozen in a hiss…”

  “What did you three do?” I asked, gently lifting Shari from the bottom cabinet where I kept my cast iron skillets. “Why was she in there?”