“What? Like death?” Daisy said, shocked.
“No, that’s Mina.” Shar pulled the pictures out of iPhoto and resized them to line up all seven of them on the screen. “I think each priestess represented basic attributes of human existence. Like the two teenagers, Bun and Gen. The first one’s ancestor was Fertility, so she probably took care of people who wanted children. The other one—”
“Bun,” Abby said. “Gen is the taller one and Bun is the rounder one.”
“Bun’s ancestress was Birth, so pregnant women who prayed to Kammani would go to her. Then there’s our three, Hunger and Chaos and Finishing, whatever that meant, and the next one, Iltani, is Life, so sick people would go to her.”
“Vera,” Daisy muttered. “Hawking vitamins since the dawn of time.”
“And the dying, god help them, went through Mina’s predecessor.”
“Always go to the expert,” Abby said, and took a cookie.
Shar nodded. “I think this is why Kammani called us all to the dog obedience class; she wants priestesses again—”
Somebody knocked on the door, and Abby looked up, frowning at the line outside, which had grown considerably since Shar had last looked. Abby picked up the plate of cookies and headed for the door.
“So we just say no,” Daisy said.
Shar looked at her, exasperated. “I don’t think it’s going to be that easy. She’s already changing us. Can you tell me that nothing weird has happened in your life in the last twenty-four hours?”
“Aside from the talking dogs?” Daisy asked. “Does a magic clicky pen count?”
Shar raised her eyebrows. “A what?”
“Hang on,” Daisy said, and went to get her purse.
At the door, Abby was passing out cookies to the crowd, saying, “One, you get one, and you go away and tell everybody in town how good they are, and then you come back when we open in an hour and buy a lot more. Go away now.”
Daisy came back with a red pen that said: Summerville College—Magic Happens Here and clicked it.
Nothing happened.
Daisy clicked it a few more times.
Abby came in from the outside and put the empty plate on the counter. “What is she doing?”
“Clicking her magic pen,” Shar said.
“Why does that sound dirty?” Abby asked.
“The clicky-pen thing might have been my imagination.” Daisy sat down at the table by the counter, got out her notepad, and clicked her pen again. “Let’s focus on the facts. What does Kammani want from us? You said we’re Hunger, Chaos, and Finishing.” She wrote that down and then looked at it, tilting her head. “You know, that could also be Lust, Sex, and Orgasm. So we’re … what? Ancient sex counselors? Abby in charge of lust, helping people with foreplay, and me sex, doing the mechanics, and you …” She grinned at Shar. “You’d be telling people how to come.”
“That can’t be right.” Shar sat down beside her.
“There’s a pattern.” Daisy pointed at Abby behind the counter. “Abby just started baking and people are clawing at the door because they’re hungry for her work. I met Noah, things got chaotic and he gave me a piggyback ride, and …” Her voice trailed off and they watched her for a moment as she clicked her pen. “Never mind.” She leaned over the table to Shar. “So tell me about this god that rose in your bedroom, Shar. Did he … finish you?”
“No,” Shar said. “I’ve never had an orgasm.”
“Well, that sucks,” Daisy said.
Shar shook her head. “I think it’s got something to do with this whole Kammani thing. Abby’s underweight, not eating, you’re trying to control Bailey, control chaos, and I don’t … finish. That can’t be a coincidence.”
“So you’ve never? Ever tried a—” Daisy held up her pen and clicked it fast, several times. A small breeze blew through the room.
“Yes.” Shar pulled Daisy’s hand down. “The ones with four D batteries and the ones that plug in and the ones from Japan with the rabbit ears. No joy. Ever tried chaos?”
Daisy drew back. “Are we talking euphemistically? Because, yes, I’ve had sex. Everyone’s had sex.”
“I haven’t,” Abby said.
Daisy turned to her, stunned, and Abby said, “I’ve just never wanted to,” but Shar’s eye was caught by movement outside the window. The woman in the frumpy gray sweater and the man in the sport coat with leather patches were staring intently at each other, cookies in hands; a man in a business suit was pulling at his tie as if it was strangling him; and a boy in a football jersey was standing too close to the boy in the baseball cap, glaring down at him.
“Never?” Daisy said, and clicked her pen again, and Elbow-Patches Guy grabbed Gray Cardigan and planted a kiss on her just as the businessman tugged his tie open and the football jersey boy pushed the kid in the baseball cap.
“Daisy, stop that,” Shar said, standing up.
Daisy looked around, clicking her pen. “What?”
The boy in the baseball cap hit the kid in the football jersey as the businessman ripped off his tie and Elbow Patches plastered Gray Cardigan up against the window.
“Give me that pen!” Shar grabbed for it, but it was too late; chaos erupted outside, sweeping down the line, people tearing clothes off as if they’d been dying to do it for years, people bursting into song, people breaking into arguments, people sweeping other people into lip-locks as the wind whipped around them—
“What the hell?” Daisy said as Wolfie came running out of the back room.
“What?” he barked.
“Kammani.” Shar watched as the people in line acted on their desires. “She’s reawakened some genetic memory in the two of you, and now Abby and her cookies make people realize what they want, what they’re hungry for, and you and your pen make them act to get it.”
“I didn’t do that,” Abby said. “I have no clicky pen.”
“You have cookies,” Shar said as Wolfie barked on. “And now I have to finish this. Except I don’t know how.”
“No, it’s okay; you don’t have to. Look.” Abby pointed out the window.
“What?” Shar said, and then she saw the two boys who’d been fighting, bruised and bleeding but no longer swinging, looking up into the face of the god who held them apart by their necks, his black hair like little commas across his furrowed forehead, his hooded eyes dark with displeasure.
Oh, Shar thought.
He spoke and the rest of the crowd melted back into line.
I bet he’s using his god voice, Shar thought as Wolfie barked, “Sam’s here!”
Sam looked through the store window and saw Shar, all that power looking right into her, and her heart stopped, and she thought, That’s a god, and gave up pretending she didn’t believe and, much worse, that she didn’t care.
Sam dropped the boys and headed for the door, and Shar remembered that she’d eaten Abby’s cookies. Several of them. She looked at Daisy. “You click that pen, I’ll break your arm.”
Daisy put the pen in her back pocket.
Sam came in, scooping up Wolfie, and Shar told herself that he was just a god, nothing to get excited about, as her heart pounded and her breath went.
“Thanks a lot for breaking up that fight,” Abby said to him. “Want a cookie?”
“No,” Shar said, and turned to Sam. “This is Daisy and Abby. They’re my friends.” She turned to Daisy and Abby. “This is Sam. He’s a god.”
Abby looked at her. “Your luck’s about to change, Shar.”
“Oh, funny,” Shar said as Sam put an ecstatic Wolfie back on the floor. “So. You’re back.”
“Kammani is here, in this town,” he said to her sternly. He looked great stern.
“Yes, she is,” Shar said. “But until I know what you’re up to, I’m not helping you find her.” So there.
He looked down at her, exasperated, and for the first time, he looked human. “If Kammani is here, she was called back by the people.”
“I sincerely doubt that,” Shar said.
“It is not your place to decide. She has called me to lead them, and she called you, all of you, her priestesses, to serve her. We must obey.”
“Serve her?” Daisy said. “Back up there, god guy. I don’t serve anybody.”
“You have no choice,” Sam said, looking sterner by the moment. “You are called.”
Shar looked at Daisy and Abby. Daisy looked back, shaking her head, and Abby’s eyes were narrow with anger.
“I’m not a dog,” Daisy said. “Nobody calls me, okay?”
“Well, I’m not answering,” Abby said, and stalked back into the kitchen.
“Now you’ve upset Abby,” Daisy said. “Called. Please. Haven’t you heard of free will?”
“No,” Shar said. “He hasn’t. It wasn’t something the Mesopotamians went in for.”
“Mesopotamians?” Sam said.
“We need to talk,” Shar said, and dragged him off to a table in the corner.
Abby stomped around the kitchen, thoroughly annoyed. Just her luck. She’d found out she was descended from a Mesopotamian priestess and instead of it being cool, she was supposed to wait on Kammani, who didn’t strike her as the epitome of benevolence. Really, she wasn’t in the mood to serve anyone at all, unless it meant wonderful food.
She looked at the tray of cookies. If eating them showed you your heart’s desire, then it was worth testing. She’d been resisting them since breakfast, but she picked one up and popped it in her mouth. Waiting for her handsome prince to arrive.
Shar and Sam were still talking—their low voices carried to the back—and Abby grabbed her iPod, turning it on as loud as it could go. Right then her heart’s desire was a little Otis Redding. She’d spent her life trying to avoid serving anyone—she wasn’t about to start now.
It was Otis singing “Try a Little Tenderness,” and there was no way she could stand still with that. She ate another cookie, and then she began to move, sliding and shuffling and wiggling her hips in the most deliciously naughty way, doing a 360 spin like James Brown, only to come smack up against Christopher Mackenzie, who was looking at her as if she’d lost her mind.
Not that she wanted to choose him over Otis, but she yanked the earphones out and stared at him. Clearly the magic cookies didn’t work—they were supposed to bring her what she really wanted. “Aren’t you a little early?”
“I was in the neighborhood,” he said abruptly. He looked uneasy, probably because he’d caught her dancing around like a maniac. “Do you know there’s practically a riot outside your door?”
“I know,” she said evenly. “It’s being taken care of.” She jerked her head toward the pile of boxes on the counter. “There they are.” Now go, she thought.
Before she could stop him he pulled the amber ribbon off one box, took a honey cookie, and popped it in his mouth. And then he closed his eyes as a look of pure, sensual pleasure washed over his face.
He opened his eyes and took another cookie.
“Hey, I only baked eight dozen,” she protested. “Don’t you think you ought to leave some for your guests?”
“I’ll need more,” he said abruptly. “At least another two dozen, just to be on the safe side.”
“I don’t have another two dozen—I’ve got a line of people outside, remember? Besides, you don’t need cookies.”
“I need cookies,” he said, his voice low and oddly sensual.
She stared at him, fascinated. He looked the same, though a little more rumpled, but for some reason she wanted to jump his bones. Maybe it was the cookies after all. Because right now, if she had to choose between world peace and Christopher Mackenzie, world peace would lose.
This was crazy. All right, she accepted the fact that she had a ridiculous case of the hots for him. The question was, did it work the same way with him?
Nothing like trying a little scientific experiment. She grabbed a fresh cookie off the parchment sheet and popped it into her mouth, letting the rich flavor dance across her tongue, and suddenly she was feeling very wicked. Hungry. Wanting. Lustful. And Christopher Mackenzie was standing right there, waiting.
Hell, she was a priestess to an ancient goddess. She ought to have some privileges. “Don’t you think you’ve had enough cookies, Christopher?” she said in a low, seductive voice.
He flushed. He looked like a little boy who’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Almost literally. “I need more,” he said, stubborn.
She was almost touching him. She reached up and pushed the wire-rimmed glasses off his face, so she could look into his clear blue eyes. “Why?” she whispered.
“You have a crumb on your mouth,” he said, trying to sound cold, but there was just the faintest tremor in his voice.
Maybe the cookies worked on whoever was closest. Because she could feel the heat, the longing in his body, even as she could see his clockwork mind trying to refuse it.
“You can have it if you want.” She expected he would touch her lips, take the crumb away, and the thought was deliciously enticing.
“Yes,” he said. And took it with his mouth.
He didn’t kiss like a math professor. He kissed her like she was a dark chocolate and he was a sugar junkie. His mouth caught hers, his tongue stealing the lingering crumb. He tasted of honey cookies, and so did she, and the taste exploded in their mouths so that she was trembling, clinging to his arms to hold herself upright. A moment later he’d picked her up and planted her on the wooden counter, moving between her legs, kissing her with such force that she wanted to lie back on the butcher-block counter and pull him over her, wrap her legs around him, make him as crazy as he was making her….
“We got any more honey cookies … ? Oh, hey. Doesn’t matter.” Daisy whirled around and was out of the kitchen in a shot, but the damage was done.
Christopher jumped away from her, knocking into the stainless-steel cart behind him, his head hitting the pots hanging overhead and making them clang like tuneless bells. He wiped his hand across his mouth, the son of a bitch, looking horrified.
“I have to go,” he said.
Well, if she was his heart’s desire, he was doing a damned good job resisting. “Of course you do,” she said, scrambling off the counter, pulling a parchment sheet of cookies with her so that they landed on the floor.
He froze, staring at her, and for a moment he looked as if he were going to reach for her again, going to kiss her….
“I can’t do this,” he said in a strangled voice. And then he grabbed his boxes of cookies and stormed out of the kitchen like the devil was after him.
“Sorry about that,” Daisy said, poking her head back in a few moments later. “I thought you guys would come to blows before you …” She motioned her hand toward the counter where they’d been. “Although, if you bend your definition of ‘blows’ …”
“These cookies are defective,” Abby said. “Either that or my supposed superpowers are on the blink. I’m not interested in Professor Mackenzie.”
“Good thing,” Daisy said. “Because Christopher Mackenzie … Well. Do you know anything about him? Other than the fact that you want to jump his bones?”
“I do not!”
“He’s maybe not the best boyfriend material.” Daisy moved in closer, lowering her voice. “You know he’s a genius, right?”
“What’s wrong with being a genius? I like smart men and smart dogs.”
“Smart is fine, but Christopher Mackenzie is a whole new category of smart, and I’m not sure it did him any favors socially. He’s like a cross between Good Will Hunting and A Beautiful Mind. I don’t know, Abby. Tell me it’s none of my business, because it really isn’t, but I’m just not sure he’s the one you want devirginizing you.”
“I’m really not interested,” Abby said, almost believing it. “It was probably you messing around with your stupid pen that brought him back.”
Daisy stood up straight. “No passing the buck, babe; the magic clicky pen is in my purse. So if you’re done blaming me,
maybe now’s a good time to think about why you called him to you in the first place.”
“I didn’t …”
“Look, you’re the lust goddess—if you eat the cookies, what you want is going to come for you.”
“I told you, the cookies are defective. All they produce is ill-advised lust. Maybe you better card people before you sell these.” She picked up the undamaged sheets of cookies and slid them onto a serving tray. “Here you go. I’ll have more ready in a minute.” She took a breath, pulling herself together.
“If you say so,” Daisy said, heading back to the front room.
For a long, thoughtful moment Abby looked at the counter where Christopher had planted her. Not just an ordinary math professor, which was bad enough, but a certified genius. And her brain had exploded when she’d tried trigonometry. She turned to Bowser, snoozing on the overstuffed dog bed. “Don’t pretend you’re asleep,” she said sternly. “I know you were awake the entire time.”
Bowser didn’t move his massive head, but he opened his dark eyes and looked at her.
“Don’t deny it,” she said.
“Denying nothing,” he said in a sleepy voice.
“I’ve got a treat for you. Come here and eat these cookies off the floor. I can’t waste time sweeping.”
“No cookies,” Bowser said. “They’re wasted on me. I’ve been fixed.”
“They’re wasted on me as well. If he’s my heart’s desire, I’m just shit out of luck.” She turned and headed out into the main room, pausing at the edge of it. It was jammed with people—the front room must have filled up while she was busy rolling around on the wooden counter with a math wizard. Maybe the cookies were a simple aphrodisiac and they worked on anyone. Which would make her regrettable moments with Christopher more understandable.
Shar was at a table in front of the cash register, in deep conversation with Sam, and Daisy stood behind the register, staring adoringly at the stage while Noah played bluesy guitar riffs. People were animated, smiling, some of them draped on each other, and Abby wanted to call out a warning. Watch out for the Spanish fly cookies!
She turned back to the kitchen. If this was her superpower, she could do without it. Though it did have a certain ironic twist to it—a virgin priestess inducing lust in those around her.
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