Deadly Sweet

by Lola Dodge

  None of this was what I’d been expecting. It’s wasn’t bad. Not yet, at least. But definitely not what I’d been expecting.

  “Agatha? Anise is here.” Lonnie tapped the desk.

  Agatha gestured for me to come closer. Not removing her earbuds, she offered her palms across the desk. That wasn’t traditional, either. You were supposed to give the person you were greeting your full attention.

  But her house, her rules.

  Left palm up, right palm down, and lungs tight as seized-up caramel, I reached out to meet Agatha. Power crackled against my skin with the force of a million tiny lightning strikes. Agatha’s energy was hearth warm but wild. It licked my skin at random, changing colors, bursting, and kicking up sparks. It felt solid and strong, but adventurous. Mischievous.

  A contradiction.

  But when it wasn’t rainbow shades, Agatha’s magic was mostly purple and black. She’d matched the color palette of her whole house and business to her magic. Which I actually admired.

  Agatha shook her head as she pulled away, giving the distinct impression that I’d disappointed her. I snatched back my hands. I hoped that wasn’t it. Because if she was disappointed, it wasn’t something I’d done.

  It was me as a person who didn’t measure up.

  At least she took out an earbud. “Well, you’re here. Go bake me something.”

  Bake? Now? I was itching to get into that kitchen, but right away?

  “Take as long as you want. Let’s see if you can impress me.”

  “Agatha. Let the girl unpack before you start testing her.”

  I knew I liked that Lonnie.

  Agatha gave her chin a thoughtful tap. “You’re saying you’re too tired to bake? After one flight? Are you sure you’ll be able to keep up with the workload here?”

  I hadn’t said anything, but I definitely wasn’t backing off after that. I wouldn’t let Agatha run me out before I showed her what I could do. “No. I’d be happy to bake for you. What would you like?”

  “You tell me.” She jammed her earbud back in. Lonnie spread open her hands as if to say it’s up to you now. But I wasn’t feeling defeated. The opposite.

  I had a chance.

  That was all I’d ever asked for.

  Chapter Six

  Agatha had said to take my time. Before I decided what to bake, I needed to know what ingredients I had to work with.

  Opening the pantry door felt like stepping through the wardrobe to Narnia, but instead of a goat man, I found baking heaven.

  The walk-in cooler had every fruit imaginable from pomegranates to durians to a few spiky pink ones that looked like alien eggs. Agatha stocked every specialty ingredient imaginable. Khorasan wheat flour. Red saffron. Macadamia nuts. Slabs of butter from Ireland and New Zealand. Coconut cream. Twenty kinds of cinnamons. Potions for every enchantment.

  Rice pudding definitely wasn’t on the menu. But what would actually impress Agatha? I usually picked recipes based on the ingredients I had on hand, but with everything imaginable in the pantry…

  Could anything impress her?

  I set my backpack on an empty stainless-steel table in the corner and started digging out my supplies. An apron and my spellbooks. The window seat would’ve been the best place to set up, but it was still occupied.

  Wynn hadn’t stirred. I was still hoping I’d misheard Lonnie because no one needed a bodyguard less than I did.

  But Wynn and the rest faded from my mind as I paged through my list of never-fail spells and recipes. Did I go simple? My favorite lemon buttermilk cake? Or complex? Multiple layers? I settled on a candy cake—chocolate upon chocolate with layers of puffed cereal, crispy meringue, chocolate mousse, and chopped chocolate bars.

  The problem was the spell.

  I usually baked in enchantments for joy and happiness, because baked treats naturally made people happy, and that was how I wanted them to feel when they tasted my cakes. But it was easy to amp up people’s joy with a dash of magic. In Agatha’s shop, the enchantments were so much more complicated.

  Lavender tea cookies to calm. Crusty, zero calorie baguettes. Even cupcakes to help overcome a broken heart.

  Happiness was cute, but I had to rise to Agatha’s level if I wanted her to recognize my skills.

  I flicked through my books a bit longer, my heart fluttering like the pages, but I’d already made my decision. A four-layer candy cake with a confidence enchantment. Then at least when I licked my spoon, some confidence might stick. I was going to need it.

  First, I gathered enough courage to say hi to the women cutting and weighing blobs of dough on a stainless-steel work table.

  “Hi.” I tried not to be the human embodiment of awkward, taking my hands out of my pockets. “I’m Anise. Agatha’s new apprentice?”

  “Welcome.” One of them stepped forward. “I’m Jaya. This is my sister, Kamala.” They looked sibling-similar, but not exactly the same. Jaya had a longer nose and black hair. Kamala’s skin was a shade lighter and her hair—at least the parts that weren’t tucked into a cap—had a red wash to it. They both wore the same chef whites with purple aprons and Agatha’s Bakeshop embroidered on the pocket.

  When they offered their palms, their energies were twins—deep blue flames, like a science class Bunsen burner. A methodical kind of fire. The perfect energy for a baker.

  “Give us a shout if you need help finding anything.” Jaya bent back to her scale and added an extra chunk of dough. Kamala only offered a tight smile—one that said good luck louder than a four-leaf clover. They’d probably seen who knew how many apprentices over the years.

  In my usual way, I walked counter-clockwise around the kitchen, prepping my magic. The ritual should’ve cleared my head, but now it boosted the call of the vortex. Power crawled around my fingertips. My hands shook and my lip sweat trying to hold it in. I definitely needed to test my power before I started baking.

  Two shelves of equipment wrapped the kitchen’s walls above the work tables. The top shelf held more pans and tins than I’d had time to look at yet, and the bottom row held plastic boxes jammed with smaller tools. I found a crate of basic candles and took one to use as a test.

  My power ran to enchanting, so other than casting panicked bursts of flame, live spells weren’t my thing. I was much better at putting the spell in something, like a cake, a potion, or even jewelry. But any witch could light a candle. All it took was a little flick of power, as easy as turning on a light switch.

  Squinting at the wick, I felt for my well of inner power—the red glow that made me a witch. I pulled the tiniest flame away from the core and sent it toward my test candle. “Light.”

  Power whooshed out of me so fast I had to grab the table to stay balanced. Flames bloomed. And bloomed. And bloomed…

  I covered my face and backed away from the bonfire-hot tower of flame. “Stop.” The fire winked out as easy as anything. Only a teensy smudge of wax was left on the table.

  Tipping my head back, I winced at the scorch marks on the ceiling. But now that I was looking, the whole ceiling was splotchy with old ash. Having too much power had never been my problem before, but here, maybe it was everyone’s?

  “Can you keep it down?” Kamala called across the kitchen. “You’re leaking magic into our pastries.”

  Sure enough, power flowed out of me, oozing across the kitchen like a spilled bucket of sweetened condensed milk. “Sorry.” I sucked my energy back in and pictured a solid box of light around me. Not the most complicated ward, but it would keep my magic out of their way and theirs out of mine.

  There was no excuse for getting so excited that I lost control, but if no one had said anything, I probably wouldn’t have noticed the power loss. In New York, I’d felt my power draining when I cast the teeniest spark. Now I’d summoned a tower of flames and I wasn’t breathing hard or shaky or any of the usual things that happened when I drew on my magic.

  The vortex was wild.

  Focus.

  Later, I cou
ld think deep thoughts about magic.

  Right now, I had to bake the most important cake of my life.

  Prepping took ten times as long in Agatha’s kitchen. Not knowing which utensils were for which type of spellwork, I didn’t want to risk cross-contaminating energies, so I stuck to the spoons I’d brought along. Pans hadn’t fit in my carry-on, so those I had to borrow.

  Pawing through the selection of springform circles, I bumped a stack of muffin tins, sending them clattering to the ground. Jaya and Kamala muttered, so obviously talking about my hopelessness that I thought about covering my head with a dish towel and crawling under the table.

  Wynn hadn’t twitched. His even breaths sounded double-loud in the silence after my pan-clanging faux pas.

  This might be the strangest kitchen I’d been in, but I needed to stop acting like a total newbie.

  How many times have you made this cake?

  Only a million and one. So even if I knocked over every pan and had to spend fifteen minutes looking for the cream of tartar, I knew what I was doing. I had every reason to be confident, and so did my cake.

  Warding off my workspace helped to numb out the call of the vortex. Now its roar was more of a purr, soft and seductive.

  Or wait. Was that an actual purr?

  A pure white cat slipped between my ankles and hopped onto my table. It bent its head to sniff my greased springform mold.

  “Shoo.” I tried to wave it away. Cat hair in the cake would not impress Agatha.

  It calmly lifted a paw and pushed my hand away. Tail twitching, the cat stared me down with wide, amethyst purple eyes. It couldn’t raise its eyebrows, but something in the tilt of its head told me exactly what it was thinking. Who the hell are you?

  “Come on, cat.” I tried to shoo it again, but someone pulled my apron, yanking me back by the ties.

  “What are you doing?” Jaya’s low, urgent voice hit my ear and she tugged my apron so hard I couldn’t squeeze in a full breath.

  “There’s a cat.” Violating all the health codes. I tugged against her grip.

  “Not a cat.” She yanked me back another step. “That’s Fondant. Agatha’s familiar.”

  Oh, shit. Her familiar?

  Now I jumped, pulling Jaya with me until we both bumped into the center island. My throat contracted while Fondant stared us down. Her jewel-purple eyes stood out that much brighter against the marshmallow-whiteness of her fur. It was the softest-looking fur I’d ever seen, but that was the kind of temptation that could get a witch killed.

  Fondant might be cat shaped now, but she would’ve started out as something else. A spirit. A creature from another world. A fallen god. I didn’t know which flavor of power Fondant had, but you never wanted to piss off an entity that might’ve had its own religion once.

  Fondant hopped off the counter and slunk across the kitchen. She sniffed at Wynn, her tail lifting, but she must have gotten bored when he didn’t wake. I stayed rigid, clutching Jaya and trying not to breathe too loud. Finally, Fondant slipped through the swinging door to the house, leaving us alone and lucky not to be scratched to hell or worse.

  I collapsed against the counter.

  Jaya rubbed her knuckles against her lips. “That thing…”

  Kamala slipped an arm around her sister’s shoulder and shot me a glare as if it was my fault the furball had invaded our kitchen. No one had told me Agatha had a familiar. Maybe I was dumb for not figuring it out right away, but I’d never seen one in real life. Familiars were rare and only a crazy powerful witch could earn the respect it took to form that kind of contract.

  Fondant probably obeyed Agatha, but if I’d rubbed her the wrong way… I wouldn’t have to worry about baking if she turned me into a human puddle of Jell-O.

  Luckily, Fondant didn’t make a second appearance and I managed to mix my batters without any more interference. Today’s incantation was simple: confidence, confidence, confidence.

  If the vortex puffed up my power the same way as my flame, the cake should be phenomenal. A quick taste had me grinning with confidence of my own. The sugar balanced perfectly with the dark chocolate.

  It took hours to bake off the cakes and make the crispy layers. After Jaya and Kamala scrubbed their tables down and clocked out, I was alone. Mostly alone, but I wasn’t sure Wynn counted. He hadn’t changed positions since he grabbed me. All he did was lie there motionless.

  Either way, I zoned out. After pulling the cooled-down layers from the blast chiller, it took all my focus to perfect the decorations. Once the dark chocolate buttercream was leveled off, I crusted the edges of the cake with candy bar pieces. The top and bottom got a dot border, and instead of choking the top with a big gaudy display, I piped on Confidence in my best looping script.

  I double-checked the cake from every angle and pressed a few more pieces of chocolate into the sides to fill in the gaps. When there was nothing left to smooth out, it was ready for Agatha. I hardly dared to breathe as I lifted the heavy cake off the table. My arms shook.

  It would’ve been a nice gesture if Wynn opened the door—maybe even carried the cake for me—but he was still zonked out. I pushed through the door, repeating the same chant over and over as I neared the steps.

  Don’t drop the cake.

  One step at a time, arms wobbly as fresh noodles, I headed up the steps to Agatha’s office.

  Do not drop the cake.

  Three steps from the top, I wobbled. My heart fell like a popped soufflé.

  Do. Not. Drop. The cake.

  Agatha sat typing, but she actually looked up, her gaze flying straight for the cake. More carefully than I’d done anything in my life, I eased my stand down. Thank the Gods and Goddess.

  Be confident. I pulled a plate, cake knife, fork, and napkin from my apron pocket, and arranged them in front of Agatha. My fingers trembled a teeny bit, but she wasn’t looking at me. Agatha’s gaze flicked over the cake, and I could tell she was devouring it, feeling out its enchantment and weighing my decorations. I stuck my arms behind my back, but couldn’t help fiddling with my apron tie.

  “You’ll do the slicing.” She handed over the knife handle.

  I scrubbed my palms on my apron before taking the knife. This was the last part of my spell. Letting magic seep from my hand into the blade, I repeated my wishes and tried to will them into being. Let Agatha enjoy this cake. Let her be impressed. Let her recognize my talent.

  It took some muscle to slice through all four layers, but I carved out a long, thin slice and slipped it onto Agatha’s plate without mangling it. She tilted her head to the side, pushed into the cake with her thumb, and smushed the icing with the back of her fork.

  It was all I could do not to hyperventilate. At last, she lifted a bite to her mouth.

  Leaning forward, I gripped my hands to my chest. This is it.

  Agatha smacked her lips as she chewed, but her cheeks didn’t glow with pleasure. She gazed at the ceiling, obviously analyzing. Deciding if she’ll kick me out.

  She built a second forkful, using the knife to make a bite that had a little bit of each layer. I let myself hope. Two bites meant it wasn’t inedible. And she wasn’t gagging or spitting it out…

  No. Scraping by wasn’t good enough. I wanted her to love my cake. To lick the fork with eyes rolled back, letting slip one of those muffled this-is-the-best-thing-I’ve-ever-tasted moans.

  Instead, Agatha carefully set down the fork and leaned back in her chair. She folded her arms, and dread dripped down my shoulders like she’d cracked an egg on my skull.

  “Hmm.” Agatha tapped her chin.

  Was my cake that bad? My toes wiggled in my shoes. It couldn’t be that bad.

  Could it? Really?

  “You’ll need more lessons. I can work with you on the magic end, but as far as the mechanics… It’s too homemade for what I do here. Better have you start relearning the basics.”

  She may as well have force-fed me a disappointment potion. My shoulders drooped. “Please don�
�t make me go home. I can learn. I can—”

  “No, no. It’s too hard to find a new apprentice. At least you’re better than the alternative.”

  And that wasn’t a compliment.

  Embarrassment ran hot through my veins. How could a cake I thought was perfect make her think I needed to relearn the basics? Was the enchantment not strong enough? Was the cake too dry? The layers weren’t perfectly even and neither were the dots I’d piped, but homemade? Her words crushed my pride with a meat tenderizer.

  “You’ll have to enroll at TCC. You can help with prep in the mornings here, but until you’re up to the level, I can’t have you mucking with my bakes.” Agatha’s low voice was almost lecturing, but more than anything I could hear her disappointment. The hard set of her lips hammered it home. She’d expected more of me.

  But…

  Community college. Letting Agatha down was giving me exactly what I’d always wanted. I just couldn’t be happy about it now.

  “Deal?” She pushed the cake plate away.

  “I… Yeah.” I couldn’t say no. If I had to earn her respect, then I’d earn it.

  I just wished I could’ve earned it now instead of flunking my first test.

  “Smashing. Now go rest up. I’ll need you three to seven tomorrow, then you can do whatever you want.” Agatha dismissed me with a wave.

  I stumbled out of her office. Too late, I wondered if I should’ve taken the cake away with me, but I’d definitely drop it down the stairs this time, and I didn’t want to spend all night scraping buttercream from the carpet.

  Three to seven. In the morning? What happened to starting Monday? But I shouldn’t complain. Agatha was keeping me, and I got to go to school. That had been my dream forever.

  So why did I feel like the world’s biggest failure?

  It took another hour to wash all the dishes I’d dirtied with my disaster of a cake. Wynn was probably in a coma because he didn’t twitch no matter how hard I threw the pans into the sink. I scrubbed until my knuckles were raw.

  For once, the ritual cleaning didn’t quiet my brain. When Lonnie brought the leftover cake downstairs to be tossed, I cut a slice and wracked my brain trying to find the flaws. The layers of cake and filling were slightly asymmetrical and even though the taste was right, I didn’t feel a rush of confidence after a few bites. Either my mood was overpowering the enchantment or I’d miscalculated with my spell.