Hedgewitchin' in the Kitchen

by Sarina Dorie

  “Mom, Lucifer will be fine,” Clarissa said. “He’ll turn up.”

  “It’s a big school here. He might be lost.” She had gotten lost herself.

  Abigail tried to remember what kind of spell Jeb had performed, but her brain clouded over again. Something had obviously gone wrong. She couldn’t remember what had happened or why Lucifer had reacted poorly to the spell.

  Abigail wanted to believe Lucifer was intelligent enough to stay out of trouble, but she knew he wasn’t. Whether it was the frustration of being trapped in an animal body or that he was turning feral, Lucifer had been behaving strangely from the moment of their arrival. He had been trying to tell her something. He was growing more wild with each day.

  He always picked fights with larger animals. He was ornery enough to win against a domesticated dog, but this was the Unseen Realm. He wouldn’t win against a wolf—or a werewolf. The students at the school were juvenile-delinquent witches. They might set his tail on fire for no reason. They might torture him with magic.

  It was Abigail’s responsibility to protect him.

  “Who at this school is good at divination?” Abigail could hardly believe the words coming out of her mouth. She hated divination. “Who can help me find him?”

  Josie bit her lip. “Pro Ro is our divination teacher.”

  Clarissa choked on her stew. “I don’t think he’ll be willing to help. He hates me.”

  “Have you tried Jeb?” Josie asked.

  Abigail pinched the bridge of her nose, the pressure building toward a headache. “I think Lucifer might have worn out our welcome on that front.” She dreaded telling her daughter about her encounter with the principal. She didn’t want her daughter to take on a burden of stress that would hinder her recovery.

  Josie set her bowl of stew aside and selected a seven-layer bar from a plate on the dresser. “Mr. Thatch boasts he can divine the future, but I suspect he just says he can do any kind of magic whether he can or not.”

  Clarissa stirred her curry around in its bowl. “Mr. Khaba might be able to find someone lost, but you’ll have to rub his lamp.”

  “That Fae?” Abigail gasped. “What will he ask for in return?”

  Clarissa rolled her eyes. “Mom, you say that word like he’s a demon. Mr. Khaba is my friend. He isn’t like the Fae you’ve met.”

  “He’s cool. I can vouch for him,” Josie said.

  Abigail doubted either young woman had enough experience with Fae to know how backstabbing and manipulative they could be. If Abigail were to get a wish out of a djinn, she needed to entrap him, not the other way around.

  “Does he like pie?” If Abigail could figure out his weakness, she would be able to trade that for his assistance—instead of her immortal soul.

  “That isn’t going to work. He’s all about the lamp.” Clarissa lay back down, looking weary.

  “Also, he won’t grant wishes unless it’s related to school stuff,” Josie said, rolling her eyes. “Believe me, I have tried to get him to make my wishes come true. He’s all about the rules.”

  Abigail considered who she had made friends with. “What about Grandmother Bluehorse or Sam? Can either of them help?”

  “Maybe. You can ask, but both of them are better at plant magic like you than animals.” Josie selected another bar for herself and brought one to Clarissa.

  Clarissa set her bowl aside. “Why don’t you just wait until Mr. Thatch is back from errands?”

  The idea of waiting was torment. Abigail needed to look for him now. “Something might happen to Lucifer. Isn’t there anyone else?”

  “Well, there’s one other person.” Clarissa sighed. “Vega Bloodmire.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Playing Cat and Mouse

  Abigail found Vega Bloodmire in her classroom grading papers. “Excuse me, I was wondering if you could tell me whether you—”

  “There isn’t any more room in Advanced Wards.” Vega didn’t look up from the “F” she was writing on an essay. “You can ask Mr. Puck to add you to the wait list.”

  Abigail placed the plate of leftover brownies and seven-layer bars on Vega’s desk, hoping to catch the other woman’s attention. “I’m not here about wards. Or any other class. I wanted to see if you could find something—someone—for me. It’s urgent.”

  Vega snorted, her eyes still glued on the papers before her. “Maybe if you did a better job studying, you could use a spell for dowsing or scrying yourself.”

  “I am not a student.” She hated admitting her weaknesses, but she didn’t see any other way around it. “I was drained of magic years ago. I have very little left, and what I do have is only related to plants.”

  “Got it. You’re a parent.” Vega scanned a paper a student had hand-written, scribbling a note in the margin. “It isn’t my job to keep track of the students here. Mr. Khaba is in charge of attendance, truancy, and missing students—whether they’ve been snatched by wicked Fae or anyone else.”

  “My daughter isn’t a student, nor is she the one who has gone missing. I’m looking for my cat.” She pushed the plate under the teacher’s nose.

  Vega finally looked up at Abigail. Her eyes momentarily widened in recognition before returning to lazy indifference. “Oh, it’s you. Clarissa’s fairy godmother. I don’t suppose you’ve brought good news that your daughter died or quit since I saw you last. No? Well, then, I’m not interested.” Her gaze flickered to the brownies.

  Abigail pretended she hadn’t heard the snide remark. “I thought you might be hungry. I didn’t see you eat dinner.” She nodded to the plate.

  Vega shoved them away. “If you’re going to bribe me, you could at least go to the trouble of finding out what I like.”

  A knowing smile turned Abigail’s lips upward. “They’re vegetarian.”

  Vega pointed to the plate with her quill. “Those are probably full of refined sugar, butter, and toxins imported from the Morty Realm. All your ingredients came in plastic bags. Am I right?”

  She was correct. “The packages said organic.”

  “Sure they did. But we both know these brownies are going to make a small part of my magic shrivel up and die if I eat them. Not a lot, but enough.” She waved her hand in disgust at the plate. “Take your little squares of death and let your daughter choke them down.”

  Abigail stared at the plate in astonishment. No one had ever refused her cooking. True, most of the people who ate her food were Morties and had no idea her gastronomical success included a taste of magic as well, but her baking was delicious. Her late husband and her children—and complete strangers—had told her so. Lucifer had once called her baking brilliant.

  Never had food let Abigail down before.

  “All right,” Abigail said. “What do you like?”

  Vega folded her slender fingers in front of her. Each nail was painted the crimson of fresh blood. “What do I like? How about a dorm room to myself so I could have some privacy? I don’t suppose you can bake Jeb some brownies and convince him to give me a room to myself for the remainder of the semester, do you?”

  Abigail doubted Principal Bumblebub would be willing to do anything nice for her. Ever.

  Vega Bloodmire turned back to the papers she was correcting. “Well then, stop wasting my time. Some of us have students to fail.”

  * * *

  Abigail found Sam outside. She asked him if he had seen her familiar.

  “I haven’t seen him myself, but the trees told me about a cat attacking two students out in the forest who were attempting to sneak out after dinner. The students were pretty scratched up.”

  “In the forest! Oh dear!” Abigail said, looking out to the darkening shadows. “I have to look for him.”

  What if Baba Nata found him and chopped off his toes or tail for one of her spells? If it wasn’t their old mentor, it would be another witch who might do the same.

  “Not now. It’s late. You should be inside where it’s
safe.” Sam pointed to the looming silhouette of the school against the darkening sky.

  Abigail tried to enter the forest anyway. As she attempted to do so, the trees at the edge of the forest barred her entrance. Their voices were made of rustling leaves and twigs scratching together, the sound ominous. At one time, Abigail, would have been able to understand the voices of the forest, but not without magic. She suspected the trees were a security measure to keep students from sneaking out.

  “I’m not a student,” she said. “I’m a mother. My daughter works here. I need entry into the forest to look for my cat.”

  One of the trees lashed out at her with a vine. She leapt back in time to avoid being struck. If Lucifer had been there with her, he would have drawn out more of her magic, and she might have been able to make the trees listen to her, but that was the problem. He wasn’t there.

  Abigail slept fitfully that night. When she approached Mr. Thatch before school, he explained he was busy preparing for class.

  “If your cat hasn’t showed up by lunch, I’ll send Priscilla out to look for him. Will that make you feel better?” He poked his finger into the birdcage. “You’re a good girl, aren’t you, Priscilla? You’ll help out.” The raven pecked at his flesh, drawing blood. He swore under his breath.

  Abigail didn’t feel better. She couldn’t wait until lunch. Lucifer was probably lost and frightened in the forest. Abigail approached Mr. Khaba at breakfast while he patrolled the cafeteria, but he told her what Clarissa and Josie had already told her—he only granted wishes related to school business. He didn’t seem that broken up about the idea of Abigail losing her familiar.

  He smoothed his hand over his pink leopard-print track suit unzipped far more than she thought appropriate for a staff member at a boarding school. “You could try one of the other teachers and see who might know a spell for herding cats, though I suspect that will take a true feat of magic.”

  Abigail glanced at the other teachers foraging breakfast from the adult table. They milled aimlessly like zombies. The breakfast crowd of students was quieter than the lunch and dinner group, but not by much.

  Mr. Khaba gestured to Vega Bloodmire. “Have you asked Ms. Bloodmire? She is an adept witch.”

  Vega’s voice rose from the teacher table. “Why are we out of fresh fruit again? What pig gobbled it up before I got here?”

  Josie laughed. “You snooze, you lose. I guess someone should have arrived for her breakfast duty on time.”

  Vega jabbed a finger at Josie’s plate. “I see you hogging up all those strawberries. I bet you aren’t even going to eat them all.”

  “Stop looking at my food like that.” Josie spit on her own plate of fruit. “There. Now you aren’t going to steal any, are you?”

  Mr. Khaba rubbed at his bald head. “Excuse me, Mrs. Lawrence. I need to break up a fight before it starts. If it isn’t the students, it’s the teachers.”

  Abigail watched the teachers forage. Vega only selected fresh fruits and a plain bagel. She spread a small dollop of something on her bagel that looked like butter, but Abigail suspected it was something else if she was vegan. After Vega had left, Abigail spooned a small amount of the spread onto her own bagel—which was stale. The spread turned out to be coconut oil.

  Abigail smiled in victory. She knew what to make to tempt a vegan.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Vegan for Vega

  Abigail sought out Sam—first to ask if he’d seen Lucifer again, and when that turned out to be negative—she asked him to direct her to the nearest witch-owned grocery store so she could acquire completely organic ingredients that hadn’t been packaged in any plastics. He was so eager to help, he walked her through the forest to Lachlan Falls and back and helped her carry her groceries.

  “I don’t suppose I could taste test any of this for you.” He grinned in his good-natured way. “I’m not above taking ugly corners from brownies that people might normally throw away, just so you know.”

  “I’m not making brownies, but I’m sure something can be arranged.”

  The young man flirted with her, though she suspected she was old enough to be his mother. She wasn’t used to so much attention. She hadn’t dated since her husband died—nor did she have any intention of doing so. She had Lucifer, and he was enough.

  Assuming she found him.

  “It’s good to know my daughter has friends at the school like you and Grandmother Bluehorse,” Abigail said. “She needs someone to look out for her when I leave.”

  “Oh, uh, yeah.” Sam rubbed the back of his neck and looked away. “I don’t know if I’d go that far—about us being friends. I hardly know her. I spend all my time outside.”

  Apparently, brownies could buy forgiveness, but they couldn’t inspire loyalty or friendship. Abigail hoped she would have better luck with Vega Bloodmire.

  * * *

  Abigail knew the perfect recipe for a person who was not only vegan and didn’t eat sugar, but also was completely uncooperative in any way. She’d never made the dessert without Lucifer present, and she didn’t know if her affinity would be strong enough to draw out the properties of the plants, but she had to try.

  Vegan Dark Chocolate Mousse

  1 avocado (this represents femininity)

  1 can coconut milk with the water drained and omitted—not light or low fat

  1 banana

  ¼ cup of cocoa powder

  ¼ cup of honey

  1 tsp. vanilla extract

  ¼ tsp. cinnamon

  * ¼ tsp. salty tears added while pining for what one needs

  The mashing of ingredients was when the majority of the magic occurred. It wouldn’t do to have angry thoughts about how inconvenient it was that Lucifer had run off or how irritating Vega Bloodmire happened to be.

  Abigail cleared all thoughts from her mind as she ground the avocado, banana, and coconut fat in the mortar with the pestle. She set her mind to a place of calm, visualizing Vega with a friendly smile on her face. She imagined Lucifer in her arms, unharmed. The cinnamon always helped with prosperity and good luck. The honey assisted with sweet outcomes. The coconut was good for pure intentions. Tears were always the hardest for Abigail to muster at will. If she hadn’t been so worried about Lucifer, she might not have managed.

  It had been so long since she’d made this chocolate mousse that she almost forgot which direction to stir and almost spoiled it all by mixing widdershins, which would have brought her bad luck.

  Abigail infused as much magic as she had into the pudding, willing her wish to come true. For a witch as stubborn as Vega, she expected it would take more power.

  Magic didn’t work without a sacrifice. That was what Baba Nata had taught her. Abigail knew just the ingredient she needed. She borrowed Clarissa’s key to her dorm room and appropriated five black hairs from Vega’s hairbrush while the other teacher was in class.

  While in the dorm room, Abigail noticed the plant hanging from the ceiling and the empty birdcage. She had encountered Venus man traps previously. Fae used giant versions of these plants to swallow up humans and dissolve them in bellies of digestive juices. It was a despicable practice. She couldn’t imagine the plant was her daughter’s. Probably it belonged to Vega Bloodmire.

  Abigail burned Vega’s hair in one of Mr. Thatch’s extra classroom cauldrons, blowing the fumes into the bowl as she willed her intentions into the pudding. Her mousse potion took hours to set in the icebox, but it was ready to serve at dinner.

  Lucifer still hadn’t turned up by that time, and Priscilla, Mr. Thatch’s familiar, hadn’t spotted any cats prowling the school grounds or the forest. Abigail brought the chocolate mousse to Vega in her classroom.

  Vega groaned the moment Abigail stepped through the door. “Not again. Have you ever heard of the term ‘askhole’? That’s you, in case you’re wondering.”

  Abigail fixed a smile on her face. “Good evening, Ms. Bloodmire. So nice to see you again.
I brought you something. It’s completely organic, vegan, and made from locally grown products. I purchased the ingredients from Ye Green Grocery in Lachlan Falls.”

  Vega snorted. “I don’t do sugar.”

  Abigail had observed as much. “I used honey.”

  Vega leaned forward, giving the pudding a sniff. Her silence was a good sign; she wasn’t complaining. Vega waved her wand at the pudding. Purple light glittered around the bowl.

  “It isn’t poison, but that doesn’t mean much.” Despite the frown on Vega’s face, her eyes gleamed with interest.

  Abigail waited, doing her best to hide her anxiousness.

  “I will have you know, I’m a Merlin-class Celestor. I can tell you attempted to enchant this food with what’s left of your paltry Amni Plandai magic.” Vega snorted. “I should report you to the principal. Better yet, the dean.”

  Abigail lifted her chin. “If you’re a Merlin-class Celestor, as you claim, my paltry spell will have no effect on you.” She waited for Vega’s pride to get the better of her. “That means you can enjoy the chocolate mousse without experiencing any influence of magic.”

  Vega skewered her with her gaze. “I’m the most skilled witch at this school. I am immune to your little complacency spell.” Vega picked up the spoon Abigail had brought, scowling as she took a bite. Her vexation faded away, and she froze, her eyes growing wide, first with pleasure, then with surprise. “This is my grandma’s recipe. How did you know?”

  Abigail hadn’t. She lifted her chin. “I am a witch.” A very weak witch without the powers or skills to do tracking or divination. “My talent is cooking and plant magic.”

  Vega looked her up and down, her expression doubtful. “Fine. What do you want?”

  “I need you to find my familiar.”

  Vega licked the mousse from the spoon. “Is this the black cat that escaped into the forest yesterday?”

  Abigail blinked. “How did you know?”

  “I’m a witch. Duh.” Vega smiled. “Make me some more pudding, and I’ll bring your cat at breakfast tomorrow.”