by Zoe Arden
"It would be nice to have a stone and gem shop in town again," Rachel said, ignoring my concerns. Maybe she was right. Maybe they were silly. "Can we hurry this along? I'm meeting Mayor Thomas in a half hour."
I finished Lottie and Rachel's orders and had just enough time to check my phone. I'd hoped to hear from Colt this morning, but there wasn't so much as a "hey." I bit my bottom lip, hoping I hadn't blown things by ending our date so abruptly. Why had I let that shadow get to me? It was probably just Melbourne. I'm sure he was waiting for the right time to finish telling me what he was up to.
"Ava, can you get some more calming caramel from the back, please?" Eleanor called to me from the register.
"Sure." I sent Colt a quick text, Sorry things ended so early last night. I had fun, and grabbed the caramel. When I came back out front, my dad was just walking through the front door.
"Now he shows up," Eleanor chided playfully. "Just late enough to miss the morning rush."
There were still several people milling about the shop, but we had some breathing room.
Eli looked at Eleanor apologetically.
"Sorry, I know I'm running a little late."
"A little?" Eleanor said, screwing her face up into a tight little pinch of skin.
My dad looked at her with exaggerated confusion. "What's the matter? Swallow a newt?"
Eleanor's jaw dropped open, and Trixie started laughing. "You do look like you swallowed a newt," Trixie said. Eleanor shot her a look, and Trixie had the good sense to look chastened.
My father got to work in back, rolling out dough and filling the ovens. I went to help him. We rolled out cinnamon rolls in silence for a while, then he remembered my date with Colt.
"So, how'd it go?" he asked. Like my Aunt Trixie and Eleanor, he had really warmed up to Colt when he'd stayed with us during the Polly Peacock fiasco.
"Okay," I said. "I mean, I think it went okay."
I sprinkled some happiness extract in the middle of the cinnamon and rolled the dough tighter.
"You think?" my dad asked.
"I don't know. I ended things a little abruptly."
Suddenly my dad's face turned red. "Why? Did he make a move on you? I'll turn him into a goat, just give me the word."
I laughed, "No, Dad. I just... I don't know."
My father nodded knowingly. "It's Damon, isn't it? It's hard getting over your first love."
"It's not Damon," I said, snapping at him. "Why does everyone think that?" I slapped the dough on the counter now instead of rolling it. It was therapeutic.
"Sorry, don't take it out on the dough."
I forced myself to relax and changed the subject. "What about you? Why were you late this morning?"
My father's face turned slightly pale. "I was just... I thought I saw someone I knew."
I scrunched my brow together. "Saw someone? Like who?"
He shook his head. "It's impossible. I know that, but for just a second, I thought I saw Melbourne."
My heart froze. "You did?"
He laughed it off. "I was daydreaming, of course, but still... it was strange."
"What happened?"
My father's cheeks turned pink. "I called out to him, and he disappeared."
I decided to play it off like it was nothing. "You're right. You were probably imagining things."
"Yeah, I know." But his brow was still furrowed.
"Is there something else?" I asked.
He shook his head. I put the dough down for a minute. "Dad, you can't fool me."
He looked up. "It's just that on the way here... I could swear I was being followed. Just my imagination again, I know, but there was this shadow..." His eyes drifted off.
"Was it Melbourne?" I gasped.
He shrugged. "It was no one. Just a shadow."
* * *
CHAPTER
THREE
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The bakery shut its doors promptly at nine p.m., much to the regret of those looking for an after-hours cookie or two. Several of our customers had suggested we offer a twenty-four-hour emergency service, for those late-night cravings that just couldn't go unabated. Eleanor and Trixie had agreed that was taking things a little too far. Yes, midnight cookies fresh from the oven were delicious, but so was a good night's sleep.
I opened the back door that led to the alley where the dumpsters were. Even in the witching world, there was no way of getting around trash, though there had been some talk lately of a new type of service truck. Something that sort of sucked up the garbage we created and turned it into fresh oxygen, but the idea was still in the works. The last time the garbage collectors had tried something like that, their trucks had ended up spitting out fireballs the size of RVs.
The alley was dark. A small, fuzzy figure came jolting past me into the bakery. It was followed by a second, slightly larger but equally fuzzy, figure.
"Snowball? Tootsie? What are you two doing here?"
Snowball looked up at me with her soft, wide eyes framed by snow-white fur. "Tootsie is 'it.' Snowball is running from Tootsie."
Tootsie shot me a look as if to let me know that he was simply humoring Snowball by playing tag with her, but as Snowball made her getaway, Tootsie's eyes got a gleam in them that I was pretty sure was more than just good humor. Tootsie had a competitive streak. He ran after Snowball, who made her way out front. I heard a crash followed by a scream from either Eleanor or Trixie.
"This is a bakery! Not a jungle gym!" Eleanor cried.
This was followed by another crash and then Tootsie and Snowball zipped back past me, escaping to the outside before Eleanor could catch them. I heard Tootsie whisper to Snowball, "Next time, Snowball is it." Snowball concurred so long as it did not affect her tuna intake.
A man's voice sounded from beside my right ear. "I wish I was as carefree as those familiars."
I turned to see Melbourne. He was standing against the brick wall that was the back of the shop, half-in, half-out of the shadows.
I gasped when I saw him. His face was smeared with red paint. Or was that blood? I shuddered at the idea.
"Melbourne. Where have you been? What's going on? You can't just show up in my room and leave things like you did. I had no idea where you were or what to tell people."
Melbourne stepped quickly forward. "You haven't told anyone about me, have you?" His dark eyes narrowed, and his pale skin seemed to shimmer in the streetlight.
I shook my head.
His shoulders relaxed. "Good."
My throat was dry. I tried licking my lips but had no saliva to moisten them with. "Melbourne, what's going on? Is that blood on your face?"
Melbourne looked confused for a minute then lifted his hand to his face. He brought away fresh droplets of red on his fingertips. "I was attacked," he said.
"Attacked? By who? Are you all right?"
"I'm fine. We don't have much time."
"I need to know something. Two somethings, actually. Have you been breaking into shops around town?"
"Breaking in? No. I did borrow some food from Dale the other day, but I have every intention of paying him for it later."
"You need to stop. If you need food, tell me and I'll get it for you."
Melbourne shrugged.
I sighed. At least that explained that. "You said before that whatever's going on has to do with Colt's father. What did you mean?"
"I can't get into that now."
"Yes, but I need to know—"
"Ava, I need your help. Someone is trying to kill me."
"Who?" I asked, hardly breathing.
"Vlaski Ambrose."
The name hung in the air between us. "Vlaski? The man—er, vampire—I met at your house that time? I thought you two were friends."
"We are acquaintances, not friends. Not for some time."
My mind raced as I tried to fill in the gaps. "From what I've heard, Vlaski is
dangerous."
Melbourne nodded. "Precisely. That's why I need you to go to my house for me. I'm certain Vlaski is watching it."
"Your house?" I squealed.
"Ssh!" Melbourne said. He was acting very jumpy. I shut the back door to the bakery and took a step closer to him.
"Your house?" I said again, quieter this time.
"Yes, I have something there that I need you to get for me. Vlaski won't be expecting you, and even if he sees you, you're of little consequence to him. It's me he wants."
"What is it you need?"
His eyes darted back and forth across the alley, searching for anything out of place. Any sign of someone listening in. "There is a book, The Last Vampire. I need it. As soon as possible."
"The Last Vampire?" I asked uncertainly. "What's it about?"
"That's not important. The important thing is that I get it before Vlaski does."
I stared at Melbourne in the dark. "Have you been following me?"
Melbourne's eyes never moved from my face. "I keep tabs on everyone who is important to me."
"So, you have been following me." It was irritating, but at least I knew it had only been Melbourne I'd seen lurking in the shadows. "And my dad, too?"
"Your father?"
"He said he saw you."
Melbourne's face turned sour. "I had hoped he'd missed me. I was careless. But I wasn't following him. It was an accident. You're important to Trixie; therefore, you're important to me. Therefore, I want to keep you safe."
The mention of Trixie got me upset. "She thinks you're dead. Let me at least tell her that you're okay." His lips turned down, and he shook his head. "Look, if you want me to help you, you're gonna have to give me some answers."
"Answers to what?"
I lifted my hands in the air, exasperated. "Like what's going on? Why is Vlaski trying to kill you?"
"I... know things about him. Things he doesn't want getting out."
"Like what?"
On this, though, Melbourne refused to answer.
"Okay, fine. Tell me this, then. Why was Vlaski at your house the first time I met him?"
I could see Melbourne thinking. He finally answered, "After Pennyweather died, I was distraught. Before your Aunt Trixie began helping me through the grieving process, I sent a letter to Vlaski asking for his help."
"Help with what?" But I thought I already knew the answer. Trixie had confided it to me weeks ago, but I wanted to hear it from him.
"Rumors persist that Vlaski can raise the dead. I now know that to be false, a cover for what he's really able to do, but at the time, I thought he could bring Pennyweather back to me."
I felt sorry for Melbourne. "Even if he could do that, would you want to? Would that be fair to her?"
"No, of course not. I know that now."
We stood in silence, both lost in our thoughts. I was still trying to process everything Melbourne was telling me. "I need to know what this all has to do with Colt's father." I wracked my brain for his name. Something with an 'R.' Rory... Rick... "Russell!" I finally said.
Melbourne nodded gravely at me.
"So? What does this have to do with Russell Hudson?" When Melbourne said nothing, I kept talking nervously. "I know his dad was murdered. You don't think it was Vlaski who murdered him, do you?"
Melbourne opened his mouth, shut it, opened it again. He looked like a fish out of water. "Ava, there's something you need to understand about Russell Hudson."
The back door swung open just then and Trixie stepped outside. "There you are!" she said. "Taking your time with the trash, aren't you?"
She looked around the empty alley. "Were you talking to someone? I thought I heard a voice."
"Just myself," I lied. Melbourne could move fast when he had to. Maybe he was right. Maybe it was best not to tell her anything just yet. I didn't want her to get hurt.
She nodded and swung a trash bag over the side of the dumpster. It clinked in the can, sounding of broken glass.
"When you see Snowball and Tootsie later, you tell them no tuna for a month."
"What did they break?" I asked her.
"Let's just say that tomorrow your Aunt Eleanor is shopping for a new cupcake tray. Or three."
I tried not to smile. There was no way I could bear to keep Snowball away from her tuna, but I would let her know to pretend for a while.
"Come on," Trixie said. "Let's go."
* * *
CHAPTER
FOUR
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I woke up the next morning to Snowball licking my face.
"Morning, Mama," she purred, nuzzling her head against my chin. I scratched behind her ears. She got a sly look on her face. "Snowball wonders if tuna is available?" Her eyes were lit up.
"Did Snowball apologize to Aunt Trixie and Aunt Eleanor?"
"If Snowball says sorry, Snowball gets tuna?"
I nodded, and Snowball jumped off my chest. I heard her calling out to Eleanor and Trixie as she ran down the stairs. "So sorry, Aunties. Snowball is so sorry!"
The bakery was packed again, maybe even more so than usual. Apparently, Tazzie Singer was having some sort of rally today in Mistmoor and some of Sweetland had decided to go check it out. But first, they wanted pastries to take with them.
Lottie Mudget was in line behind Natalie Vargas and her two children. "I really think they should keep Tazzie as their mayor," Natalie was saying. "Herbert would have wanted it that way. Plus, she's got great fashion sense. Did you see that dress she wore to his funeral?"
"Oh, I know," Lottie said. "Still, she has no political experience."
"How much experience do you need? This isn't Washington. It's Heavenly Haven."
I could tell Trixie was getting irritated by the way they were talking. She had liked Mayor Singer, who always came to Mystic's Christmas parties and had worked hard to bridge the gap between our two sides of the island.
Natalie's kids ran from display case to display case, eyeing the cupcakes and cookies. When their turn finally came, the eight-year-old, Billy, pointed to a coconut cream laughter cake and said, "I want that!"
Trixie looked at him. "You mean a slice?"
"No, I want the whole cake." His younger sister, Mary, tugged on his arm and whispered something to him. He nodded. "Mary wants one, too. One for each of us."
Trixie looked exasperatedly at their mother, but Natalie just laughed and said, "Whatever they want." Trixie looked at her, dumbfounded. I whispered to her to go in the back and check the brownies while I finished up with Natalie and her kids. In the end, I was able to talk them into splitting one cake and getting one cookie each for their own.
I told Eleanor I was going in back to check on Trixie. "Good. Tell her to get hurry up and get back out here before the afternoon rush hits us. I'm seeing Zane tonight, and I don't want to be all frazzled."
I rather thought that was impossible. Their wedding was less than a month away now. Eleanor was in her full-on bridezilla mode. I'd heard her on the phone yelling at the dressmaker about the sequins on her gown not being spaced out evenly. When she'd gotten off with them, she'd burned two trays of brownies and added peppy powder to sleep extract. She was well beyond frazzled.
In the back room, Trixie was still fuming. She looked up when I came in.
"Did I tell you I had a new idea the other day for blood-curdled java cakes?" She looked so excited by the idea that I just nodded. Eleanor would tell her no later, and she could get mad then.
I wondered if part of the reason Trixie was so touchy lately had to do with the reception her bizarre cakes and frostings had gotten lately. Ever since Melbourne died—well, since she thought he'd died—Trixie had been making things like blood sausage pudding and vanilla blood cupcakes with pistachios and powdered sugar. They hadn't gone over well with the customers, and Trixie had been forced to pull them from the shelves.
"I'm sure if Me
lbourne were here, he'd love them," I told her. She glowed at the compliment. "Speaking of Melbourne," I said, not quite sure how to begin.
I had a bizillion questions and if Melbourne wasn't going to answer them, I was hoping that Trixie would. She might not realize she had any answers to give, but that was why I wanted to talk to her alone. A fishing expedition was easiest when it was one on one.
Trixie was looking at me expectantly. "I just wondered if, when he was around, I mean, Melbourne ever mentioned a book of his to you? I think it's called The Last Vampire?"
She scrunched her brow, thinking. "I don't think so. Why?"
I shrugged. "Lucy mentioned it the other day, and I thought Melbourne might have had a copy."
Trixie grabbed a pound of powdered sugar and dumped it into a giant mixing bowl.
"What about other stuff?" I said, hoping I sounded casual. "Like... Vlaski Ambrose?"
Trixie stopped mixing her sugar and looked at me. "I don't want to talk about that man."
"Why not? Did you ever meet him?"
"No, and I don't want to. I told Melbourne not to contact him. I still can't believe you actually saw him at Melbourne's house that time."
"Yeah, well... did Melbourne ever say anything to you about something he had over Vlaski?"
Trixie frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Nothing. It's just, you know, Melbourne disappeared so mysteriously—"
"He didn't disappear, Ava. He turned to ash." Her eyes began to tear. "He was s-s-staked." She let out a low wail that sounded like a bullfrog sending out a mating call.
"Right, I know that. By a vampire hunter, right?"
"That's what Sheriff Knoxx and Detective Hudson said."
"Right, and I'm sure that's true, but I just wondered if maybe you know of any reason why Vlaski might have wanted to stake Melbourne?"
Trixie looked like the idea had never crossed her mind. I wished Colt was here. I wished he knew what was going on so he could ask Aunt Trixie these questions instead of me. He was so much better at this stuff. I pulled my phone from my pocket and shot a quick glance at my messages. No texts. No emails. Not from him, at least. Lucy wanted me to drop by Coffee Cove later, but that was it.