Burnt Sugar

by Lish McBride

  Dolly looked a lot like the guy. Exercise gear, skin kissed with health, too-white teeth. Like she’d popped out of an infomercial for exercise equipment.

  “Reggie,” she shrieked. “What’s going on?”

  Reggie left the cauldron, his expression one of calm and ease, taking the basting brush from her hand. “These were the three I found snooping earlier, dearest.” He dipped the brush into the bowl of glaze.

  “I’m going to be honest,” I said. “I was expecting some sort of hag situation.”

  “That’s the problem with these houses. They have a reputation,” he said, continuing to brush the glaze lightly onto Julian’s skin. “People get them to bring in power, to bring in extended life, and then what do they do? They let themselves go.” He stabbed the air with his glaze brush, getting into his speech. “But you can’t do that. You have to take care of yourself. Eat right. Exercise. Plenty of sleep.” Dolly’s attention was fixed on him while he talked, her eyes aglow.

  I wanted to point out that the problem with gingerbread houses wasn’t that the owners got a spare tire and forgot to brush their hair. It was that the houses drove you barking mad. But apparently this guy was already barking mad, so there wasn’t much point. “Yes, well, clean living is great, but I’m afraid we’re going to have to put the ol’ kibosh on your current lifestyle.”

  Dolly hissed at me. She actually hissed, then curled her lip derisively. I wasn’t super fond of Dolly’s attitude, to be honest.

  “You think you can?” She flicked her fingers at us in shooing gesture. “You are in our house. We have the power here.” Another finger flick and the flames in the oven roared. “And don’t get any ideas about shoving us in the oven. We read the pamphlets that came with the house, and we’ve no intention of going anywhere near there.” The wood creaked as the boards warped, allowing the roots to snake up through the floor. I’d really hoped that the roots couldn’t come up this far.

  Cold fear at the sight aside, I couldn’t help laughing. I mean, really. The oven. We may be young, and yeah, she managed to capture us, but we weren’t new. The oven. As if! I just couldn’t help it. I kept laughing at the very idea. The roots stopped at Dolly’s feet as she studied me, confused by my reaction.

  “Lady,” I said, “I hate to tell you this, but you’re in deep—”

  Lock coughed “language” at me to remind me of the little ears in the room. He’s kind of adorable—Julian had been terrorized, almost eaten, and were now in a standoff with two crazy witches, not to mention that Ezra was still naked, and Lock was worried about language.

  “Well, you’re in deep. Let’s just say that. You’ve missed a few payments to Venus. Maybe they slipped your mind?”

  Dolly blinked at us. “You’re the collection team?” Now it was her turn to laugh. “You? You’re children.” She cackled. She legitimately cackled. Finally, a witch stereotype coming true. I just wish it hadn’t been aimed at me.

  “Have you seen what happens to children in this house? You’re not a threat, you’re a side dish.” She cackled again as the roots snaked along the walls. “All these years kowtowing to Venus and you were the threat we feared?” Her eyes shone, the gleam of madness apparent. The house had gotten to her good. “Besides, she can’t touch me. Not here. Not in my lovely home.” A root snaked around her in a caress and she petted it fondly. Like it was an adorable puppy.

  See? Absolutely bonkers. Reggie just kept covering Julian in wasabi sauce, totally unconcerned.

  “I would have you pass on the message to Venus that we don’t need her ‘protection’ anymore, but you won’t be seeing her again.” Her hands curled like claws as she called on the power of the house—cupboards rattled, a window broke. The floor rippled.

  “On three,” I said. “Three! The boys sprang into action—they knew I always skipped one and two. Ezra dodged the twining roots as they started to move again, then tackled Reggie. Lock did his best to redirect the roots, tying them into knots while making his way to Julian. And I did what I did best. I burned. There’s nothing more terrifying than having someone walking at you while they’re wreathed in fire. Dolly screamed. I shot a volley of fist-sized fireballs at her feet.

  “See, here’s the thing, Dolly. If Venus sent us, that means we’ve got her seal of scary approval. That even she will admit that we’re something to be feared. You of all people should know that in our world, looks can never be trusted.” I heard Reggie yelp as Ezra tossed him into the wall. Dolly didn’t notice as Lock snatched up the slippery Julian and went for the windows. Dolly’s mental grip on the house would keep the front door shut, but a well-placed elbow could open up a new exit.

  I threw another blast of fire her way. Dolly’s eyes were wide, her body trembled. She’d finally figured out she was in trouble.

  “Venus wants her money? I’ll give it to you! All of it!” She backed up until she hit the wall. I noticed she was right by the giant oven she had said she’d avoid and smirked to myself.

  I shook my head. “Oh, no. We’re past that now. You’ve become a liability. A danger. Venus doesn’t like hiccups.” I paused as Reggie flew into the cabinets, sliding down with a whimper. “And the thing is, while your little operation wouldn’t bother our boss, it sure as hell bothers us. And you’ve just given us plenty of leeway to put you down and your little house, too.”

  I could tell Dolly had thought of something, because she calmed and straightened. She squared her shoulders. “You’re all talk. If you could take on a gingerbread house, you would have done so earlier. You had plenty of time.”

  Ezra came up beside me, tying Reggie’s blood-spattered Kiss the Cook apron around his waist. It didn’t quite cover everything, but it helped. “Because there were children inside before.” He grinned, and for that brief moment, let his predator side show. Dolly shrank back. Reggie remained an unconscious pile on the floor.

  I jerked my head in his direction. “Better check on your friend.” She scuttled over to Reggie, crooning over his injuries, and turning her back to us. Maybe she thought it was all over. That we were taking her into custody or something. Laughable. Ezra covered me as I started to back toward the door. The gingerbread house wasn’t going to burn like a normal house, but I could manage, especially with the oven roaring like it was. I pushed the fire there out and up—crawling on the walls and the floor. Then we backed out of the house. Dolly was too preoccupied to hold the door. We retreated out onto the lawn, but I didn’t take my eyes off the house as I burned it.

  “Ovens,” I said with a scoff. “We don’t need no stinkin’ ovens.”

  The smell of burnt sugar filled the air. I could hear the screams over the hiss and pop of melting sugar and chocolate, but they didn’t go on for long. In the end, the roots shot up, waving like drunken tentacles, before pulling the last of the mass of sugar into the ground. By the time it was finished, all that remained of the house was a heap of churned earth and far too many tiny white bones jutting up like flowers. How long had Venus been ignoring them, giving Dolly and Reggie time to feed the house? I shuddered. Ezra put an arm around me and led me further into the field where Lock had gathered the kids.

  All of them were dirty, thin, and tired looking. It was going to be a long walk back to the car. And cell service. We needed to call in a cleaning crew. I didn’t want another gingerbread house growing out of this mess, and Venus wouldn’t want anyone stumbling across the impromptu graveyard. Not that she cared about the victims or the sanctity of a burial, even one such as this, but she wouldn’t want attention drawn to our world. Venus hated complications unless she was making them.

  “So many tiny bones,” Lock whispered. The little girl was back in his arms, and Julian had a firm grip on his leg.

  Ezra pried him free. “You’re with me. Us naked guys have got to stick together.” Julian took his hand. “You know, I think I saw a creek a while back. You could probably rinse off if you want. Though you might consider leaving it on—that wasabi glaze could double as a cologn
e. Who knows, you could be a trend setter.” Julian looked up at him and smiled. The other kids followed Ezra as we went back into the woods. Birds tweeted. The air was warm and fresh if you were upwind of the house. In a few weeks, this part of the forest would be back to normal. It would be like nothing had ever happened.

  Lock waited for me as I caught up. I couldn’t tell who was more tired, me or him. We were both pretty drained and I’d lost any resources to recharge when they took my jacket. It was hard to walk in one boot, so I took it off and left it. I would have to step carefully.

  He offered me a hand to help me over a downed log. “I was thinking,” I said, twisting to avoid some nettles, “that maybe ice cream might not be the best thing right now. I’m kind of off sweets for a while.”

  Lock squeezed my hand. “Can’t say I blame you.” He cast a look back the way we’d come. I knew where his mind was going.

  “Evil, Lock. Eating children.” We were all uncomfortable when our roles dipped into the judge, jury, and executioner zone, though better us than Venus. But as I watched the trail of bedraggled kids ahead of us, I didn’t feel bad this time. Later, in my nightmares, I might have regrets. But not right now. Out of the three of us, though, Lock always took this stuff the hardest. At some point down the line Ezra and I had become too pragmatic.

  “Thanks,” he said. “I needed the reminder.” He cleared his throat. “So, lobster roll? A burger? A nice, cold, soda? Condensation dripping down the side …”

  I groaned, my stomach rumbling and my throat parched. “You keep that up, it’s going to be a long walk to the car.” But Lock kept listing food, and the kids got in on the game, some of them talking for the first time since we’d rescued them.

  It didn’t take nearly as long to get back as I thought it would.

  Copyright © 2014 by Lish McBride

  Art copyright © 2014 by Junyi Wu

  eISBN: 978-1-4668-8585-1

  eBooks may be purchased for business or promotional use. For information on bulk purchases, please contact Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department by writing to MacmillanSpecialMarkets@macmillan.com.