by J. M. Briggs
But the familiarity sometimes threw him off. Time slipped away from Bran while he was here doing the job he’d been doing for years. Sometimes he found himself reaching for his cane after finishing a task or panicking when he started to walk and realized that his brace wasn’t on. He still leaned against the counters more than most people to help support his weight after forgetting that he didn’t need to. Having his injury healed was a positive of course, but sometimes there was a strange echo that almost made Bran nostalgic.
Today there was a small trio of people finishing up their coffee and doughnuts at a corner table. Their phones were out and they were discussing their schedules for the day. They’d be gone soon, and a quick clean of the front would be in order. Most of the baked goods were gone from the display cases except for the cakes that were waiting for pickup. Peaceful and predictable.
Bran knew he should enjoy it. School holidays had become messy and crazy times. When he’d started college away from home, he’d been sure that he’d visit often. That had fallen apart. Even when he did come home, part of his focus remained in Ravenslake. It was too easy to worry about the others even when he was home with his mother. Even though his mother knew he was distracted, it wasn’t something they talked about.
Part of that was his fault. He hadn’t explained the real scope of things to his mother. She knew about magic, knew he could use it and enjoyed watching him use his power around the house. Cleaning was much more fun when you could move the objects with magic. Not easier. It still took energy to move things around and left him tired, but it was satisfying to focus on what he wanted to happen and snap his fingers.
Right now, that wasn’t possible. Bran used his hands to pull some of the plates and trays out of the displays and stacked them on top of each other. The other employee on duty right now smiled at him and picked up the cleaning cloth as the last customers filed out. Her long dark hair was tied up in a bun, and her smile reached her brown eyes.
“I’ll do the cleanup,” she said. “Be back in a moment to do the dishes”
“Thanks, Kayla,” he replied. “I’ve got some things to take care of in the back.”
“Hope your mom comes back soon,” Kayla said. “We’re almost out of stuff.”
“Afternoons aren’t as busy.”
“True, but I’d hate to disappoint people coming in for their afternoon sugar boost.”
Taking the trays and plates into the back, Bran stacked them next to the large industrial sink. He noticed with a frown that the floor was a touch sticky and made a note to himself to clean that next. A glance at the bulletin board and then the clock told him what he needed to know.
At this point, baking bread didn’t take much of Bran’s concentration. He had no real memory of the first time he’d been in the bakery or made bread. It had always been a part of his life, something solid. His hands found the right measuring cups and poured all the dry ingredients together. Then the wet were mixed before being blended with the dry. Familiar and safe. His lips quirked as he considered using his magic as he carried the bowl to the industrial mixer. That seemed lazy; even for him in the summertime.
Glancing into the front, he kept an eye on Kayla. She seemed at ease with cleaning everything up and moving the remaining baked goods onto smaller plates. Everything was running smoothly. That left too much time to think. Bran reviewed his schedule for the upcoming semester. With all the magical threats school wasn’t the highest priority anymore, and he’d accepted that the days of straight As were behind him. Still, he did want to graduate on time. It was too expensive to drag his feet on that issue.
Bran quickly sprinkled more flour across the large worktable by the mixer as he waited. When the mixer finished and Bran pulled out the bowl, taking it back to one of the counters. Picking up the large ball of dough, Bran lightly slapped it down on the floured table. Reaching into the box of flour, he dusted his hands and sprinkled some more over the dough for good measure. He started kneading it, his hands moving on their own through the familiar motion.
“Thank you, Bran,” his mom said. Looking up, Bran found his mother in the back doorway. She set a large cardboard box on the counter and reached to a nearby hook for her apron. “I’m sorry you and Kayla were stuck alone. I can’t believe that I forgot to restock on cocoa powder!” Shaking her head, she busied herself putting everything away. “I have cake orders to bake, and I forget something so vital. Honestly, I don’t know why you put up with me.”
“Don’t worry about it, Mom,” he said. “I’m happy to help. You know that.”
His short mother beamed at him, her eyes glowing at the sight of him standing in the kitchen. Every time she was away from him for more than an hour she always reacted happily to the sight of him without his old leg brace. At this point he was starting to doubt that she’d ever not react that way.
“And I’m grateful for that, but I know that you aren’t interested in working in the bakery.”
“Well, not forever at least,” Bran said.
“I’ll take over, Kayla should be leaving soon.”
Nodding, Bran moved away from the dough and went to the sink to wash his hands. His mother started humming and checked the dough before nodding to herself. At least he hadn’t messed it up. His apron was covered in flour, and Bran hung it up on a hook to grab a clean one. Walking to the front, he found Kayla looking at her phone.
“Mom’s back,” he said. She jumped a little and smiled sheepishly at him. “You can head out.”
“Right, sounds good,” Kayla said. She smiled at him, almost batting her eyelashes at him. Smiling tightly, Bran nodded to her. Was she being friendly or trying to flirt? It was difficult to tell sometimes. Those signals seemed lost on him. “Have a nice day, Bran.” Straightening up, she called back. “Bye, Jinsung!”
“Goodbye, Kayla!” his mother called from the back.
“Have a good afternoon,” Bran said. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Bright and early.”
“The joys of a bakery,” Bran replied. “Have to be up early to be ready for opening.”
The words were true. His mother’s day had always started at 3 or 4 in the morning when he was growing up. Bran had been used to an alarm clock when he was seven. He remembered very clearly waking up, showering, and dressing before walking across the yard to the bakery and eating fresh baked goods and fruit for breakfast. Cereal hadn’t been a part of his life until he was in high school. The memory made him smile. Kayla gave him a curious look but didn’t ask before she collected her things and headed out.
“She’s a nice girl.”
Holding back a sigh, Bran looked back at his mother who was watching him with flour-covered hands. “Mom, please don’t.” Bran shook his head. “I do not have the time or patience for dating right now.”
“You’re a junior now,” his mom said. She was frowning, and her brown eyes were sad. “I know that studying magic is important to you, but-”
“It is,” Bran said. He grimaced as his mother’s eyes flashed at being interrupted. “But I’m also busy with my friends and projects.” Shaking his head, he smiled at his mother. “Besides, if I did start dating, I’d want it to be a local relationship. I don’t think I could start dating anyone, even someone as nice as Kayla, only to go back to school next week.”
“I suppose.” She looked downcast at the news that he still wasn’t going to date. Holding back a chuckle, Bran glanced around.
“Did you need something, Mom?”
“What?” She blinked. “Oh yes, I need to run into the house for a moment. I’ll be back in a few minutes. Everything is in the oven and should be fine.
“Alright.” Bran nodded as he held back a chuckle. In some ways, it was impressive that the bakery did as well as it did with his mother’s memory. Then again, most of their supplies were delivered, and they lived across the yard. It limited the area in which she could lose track of things. “I’ll hold down the fort.”
“Should be quiet, but the
re might be a pickup,” she called back.
Bran doubted it. They were in the doldrums of the day when it came to a bakery. He heard the back door open and close. Bran wasn’t sure that his mother had ever used the front door of the bakery herself. Honestly, part of him had always lamented that there wasn’t just a second level to the bakery for them to live in. He’d hated shoveling the path between the shop and house and the front of the shop as a kid.
His thoughts were nostalgic today, and Bran wasn’t sure what to make of it. Perhaps being home after the chaos and danger of being a mage in Ravenslake, he was trying to fit back into this life. Maybe Jenny and Lance were struggling as well. He wondered if it was like this for Nicki and Aiden. They had grown up in Ravenslake, and surely the events there had altered how they felt about their hometown. He wasn’t sure. They never talked about it. There was a lot that they never talked about.
Sliding open the case door, Bran bent over to pull out the empty cookie tray and started reloading it. His mother’s fresh chocolate chip cookies always sold well in the early afternoon as people came looking for a jolt of sugar. Outside the hum of traffic echoed softly in the front room. He could hear the ovens and hoped that his mother did indeed finish whatever chore she’d forgotten about before he had to worry about both the front and keeping the bread from burning.
The bell jangled, alerting Bran that someone had come in. Looking up, he saw a man in a baseball cap and a light jacket walk in. Unlike most customers, he didn’t even glance at the fridge cake display or up at the prices. The man’s brown eyes were dull, almost vacant as he moved forward. Whatever he was on, Bran wanted to stay far from it. Shifting over, Bran smiled pleasantly and leaned against the register counter.
“Hi there, what can I get for you?”
Without a word, the man reached into his jacket. Bran thought he was reaching for a wallet and while frustrated that the man had yet to say or point at anything, told himself to be patient. But the man didn’t pull out a wallet, cash wad or credit card. It was a gun. With a smooth motion, he pointed the gun right at Bran. His eyes flicked up to the man’s eyes. There was nothing there, no fear or worry. Nothing.
Panic clawed at him, overwhelming his shock and confusion. Yet, the training that his adventures had given him kicked into place. Without thinking about it, Bran pulled sharply on his magic. The spark of energy in his lower chest flared to life.
Yellow magic snapped forward at Bran’s command. Bran dropped low to avoid any gunfire. His knees hit the tile of the floor and he exhaled. Closing his eyes, he tried to see the gun in his mind. Tried to grab it. There was a push against his magic and he shuddered. Focusing the magic was hard. It was pulling and sparking in the air, but then the gun next to him and the man across the room. It helped; the wild tugging eased into a controlled flow, but he didn’t dare move.
His eyes opened as there was a grunt of pain. A moment later a swirl of yellow magic deposited the handgun on the mat beside him. Then there was a solid thump. The store went quiet. Slowly, Bran climbed to his feet and peeked over the counter. The man was slumped by the door. Bran’s legs quivered beneath him, but he didn’t fall. Grabbing the cleaning cloth, Bran knelt and picked up the gun carefully. Wrapping it up in the cloth, he gently put it behind the counter. Then he turned his attention to the stranger.
The man’s eyes were clearer now. The vacant haze was gone, and he blinked in confusion. Sitting up, he looked around the bakery and then at Bran.
“What? Where am I?”
“…You came in and collapsed against the wall,” Bran said. “Are you feeling okay? Should I call an ambulance?” His mouth was dry, but he tried to sound calm. “Do you remember anything?”
The man pulled himself to his feet, grimacing as he stretched. Bran didn’t envy him the pain in his back. Shaking his head, the man looked outside, and his eyes widened.
“It’s daytime… last thing I remember…” Groaning, he held his head. “Shit, how much did I have to drink last night?”
“Sit down,” Bran said. “And I’ll get you some coffee.”
“Thanks,” the man said. “Sorry if I freaked you out when I collapsed. Guess I can’t drink like I used to.”
Nodding, Bran couldn’t think of anything to say. Worry would be too false; his own heart was still beating fast. The image of the man pulling a gun of him was too sharp, too clear for him to muster real sympathy. He had enough empathy to know that it wasn’t the man’s fault. Swallowing back a rush of bile, Bran made his way behind the counter again. He leaned on it, letting the wood take his weight until the shaking in his legs finally stopped.
Arthur had controlled the man. That had to be it. No one robbed a bakery. Bran looked down at the gun, now tucked beneath the register. He’d have to hide it and take it back to Ravenslake with him. Hopefully Merlin and Morgana would have a better idea of how to get rid of it safely. His heart was still pounding. Fae couldn’t come into town; at least, not this close to his house.
This was how Arthur had killed Alex’s parents. Bran shuddered at that realization. He’d never given much thought to the truck driver who had hit the Adams. The man had died in the impact, and they’d just accepted Alex’s statement that Arthur had been behind it. Yet he hadn’t given it much thought. Normally he wanted to understand the how, but in his worry for Alex, he’d focused on her rather than what had happened. That had been an oversight on his part. It should have been obvious. If Merlin and Morgana could change or erase memories by messing with people’s heads, then of course there were ways to do much worse.
That man was lucky to be alive. Bran handed him the cup of coffee and received a grateful smile that he didn’t manage to return. His stomach twisted, but he walked behind the counter again. A wave of gratitude that his mother had been in the house, that it had been just him in the shop hit him all at once. How could he explain this without scaring her?
His unusual guest was still confused but seemed to have calmed down. After a few gulps of coffee and a refill, he pulled out his phone and began texting people. He didn’t seem suspicious and didn’t seem to remember anything. Bran took that as a good sign. Either Arthur’s control had ensured that he wouldn’t remember or his brain was suppressing it all. At the moment Bran didn’t care which it was. The sound of his mom coming in from the back was just audible over the ovens. She came out with her apron on and smiled at the sight of the customer.
“Mom, I need to make a call,” Bran said. He nodded to the man who was nursing his coffee and looking at his phone with a confused expression. “Man in the corner is… dealing with hangover aftermath.”
“Okay, sweetie,” his mother said. “Don’t take too long. I want to make some cupcakes for after lunch.”
Grabbing the gun, still wrapped up, Bran nodded to her and rushed for the back door. He was already pulling out his phone as he went. If Arthur was coming after him, then Lance and Jenny might also be in danger. He sent a quick text to Jenny and Lance, hoping that they’d stay home. Crowded areas wouldn’t mean anything to someone under Arthur’s control. And who knew what he might try against Alex. Bran’s chest tightened at the idea as he brought the phone up to his ear, hoping that Alex would pick up soon. If Arthur was taking over minds, then none of them were safe.
5
New and Lost Connections
The house was full of subtle noises that indicated she wasn’t alone. They were the sort of sounds that Alex had grown up with given she had two brothers and a dog. Something had almost always been on somewhere in the house, whether a TV, radio or computer game. Yet it wasn’t the overwhelming noise of the university dorms. Lived in, but not packed. Alex found herself smiling as she came down the stairs of their new house.
Doing a mental check, she remembered that Aiden was helping at the bookstore today, so it was just her and Nicki. Though when she reached the main floor, she recognized the faint music of one of Aiden’s games drifting up from downstairs. He’d probably just left it on pause. Shaking her head,
she turned her attention to Nicki’s voice that she could hear from their dining room. It took her only a moment to find her friend sitting at the table with her tablet set up in front of her. She was talking to someone with an easy-going smile.
“Why are you in here?” Alex asked.
“Wi-Fi is better in here,” Nicki said. She shrugged, looking up from the screen. “We may want to get an extender or something. One thing you can say about the dorms is that they had excellent high-speed internet.”
“It’s how they kept the masses from rebelling,” Alex said. She walked around the table, coming into view of the screen and blinking in surprise when she saw who it was. “Oh, hello, Avani,” Alex greeted. She found herself smiling over Nicki’s shoulder at the pretty Indian girl and wondered what the pair had been talking about.
“Hello, Alex,” Avani returned. “How are you?”
“So-so,” Alex said. “Did you hear about what happened to Bran?”