Deadly Sweet

by Lola Dodge

  I was last to finish. My cuts ended up perfect—I made sure they would—but turtle-pace wouldn’t cut it in a professional kitchen. It made me that much more confident I was doing the right thing by not hiding out at the Wu mansion. This was where I needed to be, learning what I needed to learn. And if the Servants didn’t mind swinging by the grocery store again, I’d drain the last of my debit card balance on practice carrots.

  First, I had one more stop on campus. After clearing my station, I headed up to Stef Oates’ office. One of the Servants carried my cake box while Wynn made his usual angry babysitter face.

  Agatha hadn’t been at the shop and wasn’t responding to my texts, so I couldn’t share my concerns. I figured I’d give Stef one more chance to prove she wasn’t out to get me. I’d left her nothing to complain about with this cake.

  Her office was at the end of long, narrow hallway on one of the upper floors. Going by the nameplate on the door, Stef shared the two-desk closet with three other instructors. So many books and file folders were piled up, I almost thought I’d missed her office hours, but then the top of her head peeked above a filing cabinet.

  “Hello?” I called.

  She craned her neck to see who’d arrived and scowled at the sight of me. “What?” Already off to a great start.

  “My make-up cake?” I took the box from the Servant and side-stepped around a chair to squeeze into the room.

  “Give it here.” She waved to her cluttered desk and shook her head like she was the one doing me a favor. I set the box on top of a textbook and slid out my masterpiece.

  “The assignment was to practice mixing methods. Not decorations.”

  Why do I even try? I’d piled the top of the cake with white buttercream roses, and I’d made so many thousands of them at my grocery store jobs, I was confident they’d meet even Agatha’s ridiculous standards. Yet Stef complained? “I used the two-step method for the cake, but I wanted to take the chance to practice my decorating.”

  “Just cut it.” Her snippy tone made it sound like I was inconveniencing her.

  One of the Servants handed me my baking toolkit. I pulled out a cutting knife and obediently made her a slice. She broke off a hunk with her fingers before I could dig out a fork.

  Stef swallowed the bite, but her nose wrinkled like she’d tasted fermented fish. “You had help with this?”

  Huh? How could she know?

  There wasn’t any point denying it. “An upperclassman offered to help. Since my hands and everything.” The enchanted ointment from the Syndicate’s healer was doing wonders, but I flashed her my palms with their last few Band-Aids just in case she’d forgotten about my near-death experience.

  “It’s terrible.” She pushed her paper plate away and grabbed for her water bottle.

  While she chugged, I gaped. Terrible?

  I cut a sliver to taste-test. The crumb was perfect. The texture was perfect.

  And the taste?

  Chocolate cake, vanilla frosting. Classic.

  And also perfect. “I don’t understand What’s wrong with it?”

  “Are you screwing with me?” Stef worked her tongue against her palette, still making a strangled expression.

  “That’s what I want to know.” She was going all-out with this act. For what? To get Agatha to fire me? What kind of teacher stooped to that?

  “Just go.”

  I reached for the cake, intending to try it myself, but Stef grabbed the box before I could.

  “Leave it.”

  I stood staring until one of the Servants patted my shoulder.

  “Mistress?”

  “Coming.” I whirled. My footsteps smacked the floor as I stomped away.

  What the hell was her problem? Jealousy? Spite?

  My fingers bunched into fists, but the sting forced me to relax them.

  Stef Oates and I definitely had a problem.

  But was it a big enough problem that she’d want me dead?

  Chapter Twenty

  With the shop still on break for repairs, the weekend saved me having to deal with Oates again. She and the other shop ladies weren’t invited to the ward redrawing Saturday morning. I only got to join in on Syndicate business because I was Agatha’s apprentice.

  Agatha had messaged me to be ready by six so we could finish casting before the tourists woke up. Not too long ago, I would’ve groaned, but compared to my shift in the kitchen, six was sleeping in. I was already wide-awake when Peggy waved Wynn and me toward the waiting van.

  She wore a dark robe that flowed down to her toes, and her hair hung long. With the softness in her face and a hint of power dancing around her, Peggy’s energy had shifted from business as usual to ritual mode. It was going to be an interesting casting. Just seeing a full circle of thirteen cast together would be a treat, let alone a circle as powerful as the Syndicate.

  When we arrived at Agatha’s, Wynn was first out of the van, but Peggy called him back. “You’ll stay with the Servants. None of you are to come near during the casting or you’ll interfere.”

  The Servants nodded. Wynn glared but thankfully didn’t try to argue.

  Peggy and I crossed the lawn in the pre-dawn darkness, heading for the activity in front of the shop. The women gathered in little groups, moving foot to foot in the grass. While I shrugged into my jacket, they were barefoot in silky robes.

  Not one of them shivered.

  I kept moving while Peggy toed her shoes into the pile on the walkway. Agatha stood in the doorway, waving her hands in conversation with Jane. I needed to talk to her, but I wasn’t interrupting whatever had her clenching her jaw like that.

  I rejoined Peggy. She pulled two fistfuls of black taper candles from under her robe and called to her magic until spiritual energy hung so thick around her it made the morning foggy.

  Necromancy wasn’t fundamentally bad or anything, but the way it feathered against me like spectral fingernails dragging up and down my skin…

  I’d rather not. I stepped away.

  Sylvia slipped from her group and took my shoulders. “Your energy is clouded.” She hovered hands over me and tongues of silver magic glittered around her fingertips.

  Her power made me shiver, too, but in a good way. Like she’d just handed me a cup of hot cocoa and I was shaking off the cold.

  “There’s a touch of the spirit world clinging. And other powers.” Sylvia worked her energy over my arms. “Why would that be?”

  “Blair Wu?” It was the only energy I could think of that would’ve stuck. “She was showing me a trick.” Sylvia probably didn’t need to know about the puppeteering.

  “Be careful with necromancy, Anise. The spiritual world isn’t for playing.”

  Tell that to Blair. “I understand.”

  She flowed away to the other women, but I was happy to stand alone. And that I got to wear sneakers.

  “All right.” Agatha’s voice lifted above the low hum of chatter. “Everyone here? Everyone ready?” Her gaze scanned the crowd and she jerked her head at me. “There you are, cupcake. Get over here and start us off.”

  Me? First?

  But…why?

  Peggy nudged me forward. “It’s your shop too, Anise. The more Wise magic in the ward, the stronger it will hold.”

  It made more sense if I was here for the symbolism rather than my actual power. Cracking one of my wards was about as hard as punching through a sheet of tissue paper. Still. The idea that my blood and magic were connected to the shop warmed my heart. I do belong here. Putting my touch in the wards would be like declaring that to the world.

  I pulled out the plastic baggie of leftover brownies I’d jammed in my pocket. Agatha hadn’t given me the heads up I’d be involved in the casting, but I’d come prepared. Good thing.

  Agatha steered me by the shoulders until my toes touched the line of masking tape smack in the middle of the shop’s entranceway. It held down a white string that continued into the grass and circled around the corner of the house.
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br />   “Cast your blessing and follow the circle,” Agatha said, voice heavier than usual.

  I hesitated before calling my power.

  Agatha’s eyelids drooped and if she let go of the doorframe, I suspected she’d drop. Had she slept at all the past few days? She gave me a push before I could ask.

  My foot hit the string and it was time to focus. Someone had obviously cleansed the ground already and the silvery notes of the energy in the air said Sylvia had been busy this morning. The sensation of treading on hallowed ground quieted the chatter in my brain.

  In the silence, the vortex’s roar ticked up a notch.

  Shh.

  It wasn’t time for that.

  When my head was fully my own, my magic bubbled. I paced forward in even steps, dropping crumbs of brownie. My power slipped inside them, leaving a trail of orangey crumbs glowing like embers in the grass.

  The other witches would probably call to their spirits or guardians to strengthen the ward, but that wasn’t my style. I had my intention and my willpower, and I kept them both crystal-focused.

  Let this be a barrier against all those who would seek to do harm.

  Let those inside be protected.

  Let it be a space for safety and joy.

  I’d never forget the sight of all that shattered glass in the storefront. That couldn’t happen again and my will to prevent it was iron strong. The more my intention aligned with my heart, the brighter my trail of crumbs glowed.

  When I’d followed the guiding string all the way around the building, I lifted Nana’s pentagram ring to my lips and kissed it in blessing. My protective circle whole and complete, I stepped to the side.

  A woman with a fancy church hat and a heavy gold cross stepped to the circle next. When she called her power, it knocked me back. A glowing gold line bloomed behind her, burning away the grass.

  Then the next woman. And the next.

  One poured a circle of salt. Another scattered herbs. Some chanted and some were silent. Peggy placed candles that flickered an eerie green before burning down to the earth. Each woman left a bright trail of power, building up the ward. I couldn’t tell if my embers had faded or were flat-out overwhelmed, but I couldn’t spot them after a few women had walked the circle. By the time it was Agatha’s turn, the line glittered a dozen different colors and the faint outline of a dome hovered over all three stories of the house and shop.

  Agatha crackled purple and black and Fondant slipped out of the bushes to trail at her heels. “Protect this land from those warlock bastards.”

  Sylvia let out a put-upon breath at Agatha’s “incantation.” It wasn’t poetic, but going by the anger crackling in her magic, the sentiment was heartfelt, so it would be stronger than it would if she’d used a stock spell or a cute rhyme.

  After she closed her circle, Agatha lifted the goblet she’d stashed behind the doorframe. She took a deep sip, then lifted it to the sky. “Let our powers join in strength and sisterhood.”

  She passed the goblet and the next woman sipped, then repeated the blessing. One after the other they passed it around until someone slipped the warm metal into my palms.

  The acidy smell made me wrinkle my nose. Red wine? For breakfast?

  The goblet vibrated with so much energy my hands shook when I lifted it. And the taste…

  It was liquid power. A little bitter, a little sweet. Like toasted almonds and ten shots of espresso.

  I swallowed down the glob of magic then hiccupped and at least one of the women chuckled.

  Oops?

  Agatha took the cup and had one last swig before splashing the rest across the doorway to the shop. “Blessed be, witches.”

  “Blessed be,” I echoed with the rest of the women.

  I thought I heard a roar, but the sound faded to a soft hum and our combined power started to disappear. With the sun up, I could barely make out the domed outline of the ward, and what little was visible blurred away by the second.

  I could still feel it, though.

  Curious, I moved closer to the circle of singed grass. The string was gone, either disappeared or charred. I lifted a finger over the line.

  Pins and needles numbed my entire arm in a split-second, but the sensation evaporated before it turned to pain. Maybe because I was allowed inside the ward?

  I almost pitied whoever tried to break in. However good this warlock was at breaking wards, the Syndicate’s combined magic wouldn’t make it easy for her or her Hands to push through.

  Morning’s work done, the members of the Spellwork Syndicate flowed toward the parking lot. A line of shoes and jackets stood waiting at the edge of the pavement.

  I probably should’ve headed straight back to Wynn and the van, but when Agatha ducked into the shop, I followed. The pins and needles scrambled my brain for a hot second before clearing. Now the shop was the safest spot in town.

  The new display cases gleamed. Shiny glass tinkled from every corner and new candy dishes were clustered on the countertop, waiting to be filled. There was an empty, echoing quality with no treats out and no customers here to buy them, but other than that, there’d be no way of knowing about the attack.

  Agatha slumped into the stray chair that Lonnie had sat in yesterday and picked her travel mug of coffee from the floor. After a good long sip, she turned her attention to me. “What’s cooking, cupcake?”

  As many questions as I had, one was most important. “Is there any news?”

  “Nothing worth telling.” She took another long swig as if the coffee was giving her life. “This warlock has us spinning in circles, but she can’t hide forever.”

  I would hope not but forever was a long time. Another week would be a long time. I’d been doing pretty well ignoring the threat, but if it kept stretching out… There’d be another attack eventually. Maybe against me, maybe against one of the other Syndicate witches. Neither of those would fly. “How can I help?”

  “You? You can stay buttoned up and avoid making yourself a target.”

  “Isn’t that boring?” Boring was Agatha’s nemesis.

  Agatha’s lip twitched, but she smoothed her features instead of cracking. “I’d rather you be boring than dead, cupcake.”

  Fair. I’d rather be alive too. “There is something else.”

  “Do tell.”

  “Does Stef Oates really not have a reason to hate me? She’s acting like I did something to her.”

  “That woman.” Agatha palmed a hand down her face. “What’d she do now?”

  “She’s threatening to fail me for no reason.” I gulped down nerves before throwing out the accusation. “Are you sure she isn’t the warlock? She was in the shop the day of the attack.”

  “If Stef is the warlock, I’ll dance naked on the roof. As for giving you a hard time…” Agatha heaved out a breath as she sank back in the chair. “I’ll speak with her.”

  “Why are you so sure it’s not her?” I trusted Agatha’s judgment but not blindly. I needed to know her reasons. Because if she was wrong, I wouldn’t be around to see that naked roof dance.

  “The woman’s prickly but she’s not malicious.” Agatha’s eyes narrowed. “And don’t you go around accusing her to her face. I’m already bleeding staff. We need Stef’s powers if we want a Monday open.”

  I ignored my spark of irritation, focusing on the Monday. That was so much sooner than I’d expected.

  And even though it sucked that people were quitting, I couldn’t miss this opportunity. “Are you looking to hire new staff?”

  “You have someone in mind?” She gave a thoughtful look over her coffee.

  “Someone really good.” And someone I’d love to see at work every morning. “His name is Seth. He’s—”

  “Hold that thought. He?”

  “Yeah. He’s—”

  “No. No men in my shop.” Agatha set down her cup to fold her arms. “As much as I like a little testosterone after hours, it throws off the energy in the kitchen. Not happening.”

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nbsp; “So, it doesn’t matter how good he is?” My spine straightened. She’d be lucky to have someone so talented.

  “Not a fig. What’d you say his name was?”

  “Seth Young.”

  She made a psssh sound that lifted my hackles even more. “Sounds familiar and it’s still a no, but I’m pleased to hear you’re meeting men at school.”

  “I’m not—” My voice choked off. Could I just avoid this whole conversation? Yeah. That was a better plan. “If we’re opening on Monday, when should I come back?”

  “Come tomorrow afternoon. We’ll have another ceremony to redraw the interior wards and then start cracking to refill our cases. But I want you staying with Peggy until we catch this bastard.”

  “With all the Shields around, I thought…” Not that I minded the Wus. The opposite. Peggy and Blair were taking me in like I belonged with them, and I wasn’t sure how to tell them how much I appreciated that, but no matter how comfortable they made me, their house wasn’t my home.

  “The Shields will bankrupt us if I have to keep them on as personal security. Servants are free and rechargeable.”

  Rechargeable? I let that one slide to focus on the other weird thing. “Bankrupt you? You’re paying the Shields?” Maybe it wasn’t so surprising, but I’d thought the bodyguards—even Wynn—were more about protecting witches for honor than for money. How much was Wynn paid to glare at me?

  “Oh, cupcake. Wait until you take over the accounting.”

  “Excuse me?” I baked cakes. I didn’t…math.

  “I have a lot of employees, Anise. Only one apprentice. If you really want to inherit this beauty—” She made a grand gesture, sweeping her arm at the shop. “You have to learn to do it all.”

  “I… That’s… Wow.” Articulate as always. The bakery was my dream job, but I’d always thought of it as a job. Not an inheritance. It seemed too easy that she’d just hand it to me.

  Although I had almost been killed three times now. So, maybe not that easy?

  If I took over Agatha’s role, then I’d be a member of the Syndicate someday and that was mega complicated. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be that powerful. Or confident enough to handle the problems that came with the responsibility.