Witchin' Sugar

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Witchin' Sugar Page 4

by Lissa Matthews


  “She was being mean. She wasn’t helping us.”

  “She’s a cat.”

  “She’s a familiar. She has powers.”

  “To protect me. Not to help you.”

  “I petrified her,” Ms. Remarkable boasted.

  “How?”

  “I’m not sure. It’s something I used to be able to do, but didn’t think as a ghost that I still could. It’s quite impressive if you think about it.”

  I was not impressed. “No. No, it’s not. It’s freaky and scary and you need to undo it.” I laid Shari on the small kitchen table and pet her sleek, black fur. “Is it a spell?”

  “No, not really.”

  “A chant?”

  “No.”

  “A nose twitch? An eye wink? An ear wiggle? What?”

  “I don’t know. It’s like, I can think it and it happens.”

  “Then think about undoing it.”

  “I tried that. It doesn’t work that way.”

  “I’m beginning to see why Gertie cursed you lot.”

  “They were cursed?” Merrick asked, coming to stand beside me. He placed his hand on my shoulder and warmth seeped down into my bones and calm immediately spread from my head to my toes.

  Before I realized what I was doing, I’d leaned against him.

  “We were.”

  “And for no reason at all.”

  “Well, stealing Gertie’s prize winning, famous recipe was a good reason.”

  “We didn’t actually steal it.”

  “How do I fix my cat? How do I get rid of them?” I mumbled softly to myself. This was so not the way I imagined my day going. Was the entire month of July going to be like this? One disaster after another? Christmas in July was supposed to be merry and bright and full of fun and lightness. But all I wanted to do was murder them all.

  “I’ll fix it,” Merrick whispered.

  I glanced up and his smile sent delighted shivers down my spine. “You will?”

  “Yes, of course, love.”

  “Okay, thank you.”

  “But…”

  Warning bells clanged inside my head, softly at first, and I tried to ignore them, but they became louder, until I pushed away from him. “Don’t you try your demon magic on me.”

  He shrugged. “It was nice while it lasted.”

  “Can you fix her or not?”

  “Yes, I can. But…”

  “Jeebus, I hate you.”

  “The name’s Merrick, and no you don’t.”

  “What’s your condition?”

  “A date.”

  “A date? One?”

  “Yep. Just one.”

  “And you’ll fix Shari?”

  “Good as new.”

  “Fine,” I agreed grudgingly. “One date.”

  “Excellent.”

  “Wow. That was kind of interesting to witness. Can you fix us, too?” Bowler Hat asked.

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “There’s nothing in it for me.”

  “Oh, I really do like him” Ms. Remarkable purred, sliding closer and closer to Merrick. At this rate, I was willing to let her have him.

  Cane Lady snorted. “You like any man on two legs.”

  “She didn’t like me.”

  “We worked together. I couldn’t like you in that way.”

  “We don’t work together anymore.”

  “No, but you’ve gotten old and see through.”

  “You’re no spring chicken, either, but I’d still give it a go.”

  “Can you at least help us leave?” Cane Lady asked. “There seems to be a spell or something that keeps us trapped here.”

  “There is a spell. Of protection.”

  “You put a spell on my house?”

  “Of protection,” he said again, as though that made it alright. “And aren’t you glad I did? You’d have had these three running, or rather floating around town, had I not.”

  He was right about that and I had to be grateful for it, but at the same time, he’d put a spell around my house. “I thought protection spells were supposed to keep bad things out.”

  “Well, yes. However, I had no way of knowing that I needed to let something bad out, or keep something bad in.”

  “Hey, we’re not bad.”

  “But you’re not good either,” I countered.

  “What you’re saying, Demon, is that we’re trapped here?”

  “Oh no… No, you’re not trapped here. I’m going to get rid of you. I’m going to figure out how to undo you being here.”

  “Baba —”

  “Don’t say it,” I warned, shaking a finger at Merrick.

  “Ya —”

  “Don’t.”

  “Ga.”

  “Son of a biscuit eater,” I ground out. Merrick burst into a laughter, shaking his head. “Please just fix my cat.” I felt defeat setting in and that was something this situation couldn’t warrant.

  “For a date, remember?”

  I nodded miserably. “I remember.” He smiled so gently that I wanted to cry, then placed his hand on Shari’s side, stroking her fur, whispering words I couldn’t hear. When he leaned down and blew breath toward her open mouth, I couldn’t look away.

  Before long, Merrick stood to his full height again, his hand still stroking Shari’s side, and that’s when I saw it… The gentle rise and fall. She was breathing.

  She closed her mouth, licked her lips, blinked her eyes a few times, then scrambled up and away from Merrick.

  She let out a hiss in the direction of the ghosts.

  She slowly approached Merrick again, and licked his hand.

  She looked up at me with narrowed eyes. “I told you not to leave me here with them.”

  Chapter Four

  “It’s rather odd to be sitting here in the warmth of the sun and watching snow drift down over your roof,” Merrick said, reclining on an elbow on the quilt my grandmother had made using her very own magic.

  I smiled. “It is.” Then, I glared. “Can we get on with this?”

  “You don’t seem to understand the concept of a date, love.”

  “You don’t seem to understand the concept of get lost, Demon. Yet, here we are. So, we’re even.”

  “We’re far from even. A date is meant to be enjoyable time spent together, getting to know one another.”

  “If you like the other person.”

  “I happen to like you very much. I even gave in to your request to have our date here within sight of the house and with a chaperone.”

  I gave Shari a long-suffering sideways glance. She was passed out in the sunshine next to Merrick. “I’d hardly call her a chaperone.”

  Once he revived her, Shari had talked about him nonstop, praising him as her hero and savior, and letting me know in no uncertain terms that I could do far worse than a demon.

  “You’re just jealous.”

  “I’m not jealous at all.”

  “Oh, you are. A little bit, at the very least.”

  “Why would I be jealous? You saved my cat exactly as I asked you to do. I agreed to your conditions, as well.”

  “Because she prefers me over you at the moment.”

  I rolled my eyes and lifted the lid of the picnic basket. I needed to do something with my hands before I set about strangling him with them.

  Like Kandy, I wasn’t a very powerful witch. I could do simple spells and tricks, but my real skill lay in what could happen to people who ate my cookies. They were my magic.

  I didn’t, however, believe they would work on a demon, so I hadn’t made any. What I did make, though, made my mouth water.

  A delicious, brown sugar baked ham.

  A warm, mustard-based potato salad.

  Homemade yeast rolls with honey butter or for making sandwiches with the ham.

  Slices of several different cheeses, pickles, and fresh fruit.

  Some of Bethilda’s lavender lemonade.

  And I’d procured some of the Blue Balls
from Kandy. Luckily, I didn’t have to divulge the reason I wanted them. I’d simply avoided her altogether and asked Larry the Cat, Shari’s brother, to get me a handful.

  It was a simple, summer picnic.

  It was meant to… Holy crap on a cracker… It was meant to impress the demon.

  I hadn’t even realized it as I hummed my way through making everything. He’d offered to supply the food himself, but I’d told him no, that I wanted to do it.

  What the frack was I doing? I shouldn’t be encouraging him. I shouldn’t be acting as though I liked him because I didn’t.

  Just because he’d saved my cat.

  Just because he’d been pursuing me for a while.

  Just because he’d never done anything but be kind and nice to me, even if a little persistent.

  Just because he was handsome as sin.

  I still didn’t like him.

  “Why do you call me love? I asked you before, but you were distracted by the ghosts in my house.”

  “To be honest, I don’t know,” he said, plucking up a strawberry and popping it in his mouth. The pure joy on his face as he chewed was something I’d never thought to associate with a demon.

  Then again, I wasn’t sure why as I’d seen joy on Morgan’s face from time to time when it came to Kandy.

  “Do you call other women love?”

  “No. Only you. Maybe it’s because we’re destined.”

  “How do you know that? I don’t feel what you do.”

  “You deny it, but that doesn’t mean you don’t feel it.” He picked up a couple of grapes this time, and popped them into his mouth one by one.

  “You’re a demon. I’m a witch. We’re not supposed to be together.”

  “That was the same argument your sister used with my brother. It didn’t work, then, either.”

  “You’re also evil.”

  “Have you ever seen me do anything evil?”

  “No, but you’re a demon and it goes with the territory. Morgan tempts people. Don’t you do something similar? Or do you have another skill?”

  “I do some tempting from time to time, but wreaking havoc isn’t always a bad thing.”

  “The devil made me do it,” I said, a small smile on my lips.

  “The devil nor the demons make anyone do anything. It’s called free will.”

  “But you’re there to help push free will toward things that are untoward.”

  “I can’t touch anyone’s will. I can only put what they want most in their path from time to time. We all have jobs to do. If it wasn’t for mine, there would be no one who needed saving.”

  What was my job? My sisters and I had a magical event planning business we wanted to get off the ground, but none of us had earth shattering magic skills.

  “Life, even for a witch, or demon, is what you make it, Kay. Whatever you want to do with your brand of magic, is up to you. That’s my particular skill set.”

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

  “Maybe not, but if it does, so be it.”

  “There are witches who are in charge of healing other beings, who are shifters, who can open portals and travel through space and time.”

  “Do you want to be able to do those things?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think I want to be insignificant, though.”

  “You’re many things, Kaydence, but insignificant isn’t one of them.”

  I tried not to be moved by his words, but no one had ever said anything like that to me before. He was worldly and probably older than dirt, and I was a small town cookie witch who didn’t like drama. He —

  How old do you think dirt is?

  He was in my head again. And across from me, or next to me, or way too close for comfort. “I’m sitting here.”

  “Yes, but when you’re thinking about me, you get this faraway look in your pretty green eyes.”

  “I’m not always thinking about you when I look like that.”

  “Ah, but you do admit you think about me.”

  “I…” There was nothing I could say to deny it. He had me dead to rights. Yes, I did think about him. More than I should. More than I wanted to. But trust me, if you saw him, you’d get a little dreamy about him, too, just like me.

  I set about pulling the food out of the basket and Merrick fixed himself and me a couple of sandwiches and dished potato salad out of the container onto the small plates I’d brought along. To anyone watching, we probably looked like two normal people having a picnic in a field, instead of a demon and a witch and a talking cat and a cottage with snow falling on the roof and three ghosts staring out the windows.

  “Why don’t you want her help?”

  “Whose?” I asked around a mouthful of ham and bread.

  “The one you don’t want me to name.”

  “Oh.” I swallowed and took a sip of lemonade. “Because she’s had to come to the rescue of Broo and my sister and I just want to try and fix this on my own.”

  “But you don’t have a clue how to do it.”

  “No, I don’t, but I’m hoping that there will be a clue in the trunk where I found the recipe.”

  “And what if you don’t?”

  “I don’t know. Between my sisters and me and maybe some of the people in town like Bethilda, we should be able to come up with something.”

  “Why not us?”

  Us, meaning him and his brothers. “It’s not your problem.”

  “Doesn’t have to be in order for me to help you. Shari the Cat wasn’t my problem, either, but I helped. It’s what mates do.”

  “I…” I had nothing for him. I had no argument to offer. He was right. Again. And it was the most annoying thing.

  “Look, say you can fix this, what do you plan to do? Curse them back into the recipe?”

  I shrugged and took another bite of my sandwich. I really had no idea what I was doing or what the answer was, but there had to be one. Not all witches or shifters or warlocks or wizards or ghosts needed her help to figure shit out all the time. So, surely, there were enough magicals around Blue Balls Falls who could help me figure out how to get rid of three thieving ghosts.

  “You’re going to make an even bigger mess of this before it’s all over.”

  “Geez… Way to bring a witch down.”

  “Don’t shoot the messenger.”

  “Can I zap you in the ass instead?”

  “Sure. Might actually be pleasurable.”

  “Promise me you won’t tell her or send her a message or whatever it is you do to communicate with her. Please.”

  “More pleases from you. I could get used to this.”

  “Merrick, I’m serious. Let me try to get this sorted on my own.”

  “Okay. On one condition…”

  “Again with the conditions.”

  He gave a casual lift of his shoulders. “Demon.”

  “Fine. What’s the condition?”

  “Another date.”

  “First my cat, then her… Very well. Another date.”

  His grin put the sun to shame. Brilliant white teeth against the backdrop of his dark skin. I could so easily be a puddle, all melted on the ground around him if I let myself get lost in the gloriousness that was Merrick, the Demon.

  *

  I wiped the dust off the trunk in the attic with an old shirt I’d found stuffed inside a box. I’d learned my lesson when it came to blowing dust away and I wouldn’t be making that mistake again. No way, no how.

  The trunk had been in a corner the first time I saw it, buried under boxes and old clothing. Aunt Gracie had apparently never thrown anything out. The attic could use a good spring cleaning, along with summer, fall, and winter cleanings tossed in for good measure. The place was nothing but cobwebs and dust bunnies.

  But the trunk… It was a beautiful and I planned to clean it and polish it up and empty it out, then put it on display in the living room. Trees were carved into the dark wood panels and it opened with an old, heavy scroll key.
<
br />   I’m not sure what had prompted me to seek out a new cookie recipe this year, but it was like something calling me, something urging me to look. I kind of wish now I’d ignored the feeling and stuck with my tried and true one.

  Finding the recipe had felt almost surreal, like I was holding a treasure in my hand.

  Of course, if it were as famous and award winning and valuable as the ghosts and Bethilda had said, then I suppose it was something of a treasure.

  I inserted the key into the ancient lock and turned it, listening for the latch to pop loose inside. Once it did, I carefully lifted the heavy lid all the way. Everything was exactly as I’d left it before, but it was all different somehow and I couldn’t put my finger on why.

  Inside, there were yellowed papers with faded ink, but as I removed one stack, I found ribbons. First place ribbons. Cookie baking contest ribbons.

  There were receipts for things I couldn’t make out, three different aprons, and baking pans. There were also measuring cups, measuring spoons, and a red mixing bowl that looked at once brand new and older than me.

  This was Gertie’s baking trunk. She must have carried all her things in it and traveled around to different places, entering baking contests. Not only was her recipe famous, but she must have been well known, too.

  Were there baking contests just for witches or did she participate with non-magicals, too?

  I started to lift the bowl from where it was nested inside a tea towel, but the second I touched it, it lifted itself out and settled on the floor beside me.

  “Well, there’s something you don’t see every day.”

  I couldn’t keep from looking around to see if anyone had joined me in the attic and used a bit of magic to move the bowl. But there was only me.

  “Could’ve been a fluke.”

  I reached back into the trunk to pick up the measuring cup and spoons, but like the bowl, at my touch, they lifted themselves out.

  Okay, so Gertie had enchanted her baking things, too. And the enchantment had lasted all these years?

  It seemed odd to me that the only thing I’d found that had been written on that still could be read was the cookie recipe. The ribbons, too, but that was different. None of the papers had ink that could be read and if there was ink to be seen, it was so faded that making out any words or numbers was literally impossible.

 

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