by Dodge, Lola
“We should be careful anyway.” Gabi tugged her sleeve over her charm bracelet and rotated one of her rings to hide a pentagram.
“I’m not trying to get us in trouble, but we shouldn’t have to live in fear. We’re the ones with the power.”
Were we? When those guys cornered me, I hadn’t felt like the one in power. If Mom hadn’t been waiting to pick me up… I didn’t want to think about what would’ve happened, and it wasn’t the first or last time I’d been cornered. “People are scary.”
But I relaxed a little at the sight of our table.
I wasn’t alone. Blair and Gabi wouldn’t freeze in a crisis, and Wynn and the Servants were literally here to make sure that nothing bad happened. Wynn leaned against the front window glaring, while a Servant sat at either end of our table, not even pretending to flip through their menus.
“What’s good here?” I asked, trying to ignore the weirdness.
“Their huevos rancheros are the best,” Gabi said.
“With the Christmas sauce,” Blair added.
“What’s that?”
“Half red sauce, half green.” Blair folded her menu flat, choice already made.
I followed their advice on the meal but stuck with water instead of one of the fancy drinks. I’d be mortified if I overspent my budget. Thankfully, Wynn ignored the waitress when she asked for his order because I hadn’t budgeted for him eating.
The food was so good it made me forgot about all the evil in the world. I ate every bite of my eggs, then had to resist the urge to lick the sauce off my plate, even though the chilis made my eyes water and my lips sting.
Gabi ordered us a basket of sopapillas as promised. I would’ve said I was too stuffed for dessert, but they smelled like clouds of deep-fried goodness. When the waitress set down a squeeze bottle of honey, willpower wasn’t an option. I watched Gabi and Blair drizzle their sopapillas before copying their motions.
I was licking a stray blob of honey from my thumb when shattering glass killed the buzz of conversation. Everyone at our table reflexively turned to the source of the noise.
Them, because everyone turned when someone broke a dish.
Me, because I’d never stopped expecting trouble.
An old man with tufts of white hair around his ears stood transfixed in a puddle of hot coffee. A waitress buzzed around him, trying to pick up the pieces of his mug, but the man stared straight ahead.
Straight at our table. My lungs seized up in pre-emptive fear. Something was wrong. Wynn moved to my shoulder, tense as a spring.
“What have you done?” The old man muttered.
I tried to connect his gaze to our table. Who was he asking?
Me? Gabi? Blair?
He waded through the spilled coffee, plodding straight toward us. “What have you done?” He shouted so loud that all conversation cut off.
What had we done? Definitely nothing wrong.
I pushed back my chair, rising to my feet. Ready to run. Because we’d have to run. Using magic on civilians always led to more trouble.
The man took another step and I could finally see where his gaze was fixated.
He glared at Blair’s end of the table—straight at one of her Servants. The younger one with the dark glossy ponytail.
“Shit,” Blair muttered under her breath.
The Servant stood, face as blank as if she was staring at a wall. “You have to calm down, sir.”
“Sir?” The man spluttered. “Sir? Beth. What have they done to you, Beth?”
Holy…
A name? He recognized Blair’s Servant?
If I stumbled onto the reanimated body of someone I’d thought was dead, I’d freak and I knew magic. The closest this guy had ever gotten to the supernatural was probably a rerun of Ghost Hunters.
We needed to get out of here.
The man took another step, reaching like he was going to grasp Beth’s shoulders.
She moved back, avoiding his touch, but her eyebrows furrowed. “Carl?” The name popped out like she’d dredged it from the depths of her memory and remembering didn’t make her happy. She pointed to the door. “You need to leave.”
“Baby. How are you here? Forty years… You!” Carl snarled at Blair. “You stole her from me?”
“I didn’t steal anyone.” Blair slapped a pile of cash down on the table. “We’re going now.”
“Like hell you are.” Carl sidestepped to block the front door. “You’re not taking my Beth again.”
Blair’s fists bunched at her sides, but she kept her voice even. “Sir. I know this must be a shock, but we shouldn’t talk about it here. If you’ll come—”
“I’m not going anywhere with you witches.” He spat the last word like a hex and a collective gasp echoed through the restaurant. I jammed shaking fingers into my pockets, willing my magic not to spill out, but I’d been through this enough times to recognize that the can was open and worms were already wriggling all over our shoes.
“Witches and demons.” Carl whirled to face the other tables. “They stole Beth from her grave.”
Mutters broke out along with a slick of cold sweat on my neck. Wynn had shouldered in front of me, forming a one-man wall.
I tugged his shirt. “We have to split.” Wynn gave a tight nod, but unless he body-slammed the guy, we couldn’t make a move yet.
A few men jumped to their feet and moved in front of their families like we were the ones who were dangerous.
“Give me back my wife!” Carl bellowed.
His wife?
My jaw officially hit the linoleum.
Beth had taken a defensive stance, but beyond that, her expression was flat. Zero recognition or excitement to reunite with her long-lost husband.
Did she even remember him?
“Sir.” Blair spoke through her teeth, fighting to keep cool. “This isn’t the place to—”
“Demons!” His eyes were glassy. Bloodshot. Crazed.
Demons didn’t exist, but when people started hysterically calling you one, it wasn’t the time to explain the finer points of spirits and magical creatures. We had to get this guy away from our exit before someone pulled a gun.
Fire burned in my fingertips, but I forced myself to breathe evenly, keeping the magic from leaking. No fires this time. If I burned down the building, I’d just be enforcing why everyone in the restaurant was gaping at us in knee-shaking terror.
Carl lunged for Beth.
She caught him by the wrists and hurled him away from the rest of us. He banged into the closest table, shaking plates and glasses, but he was beyond noticing if it hurt.
“Carl.” Her voice was calm as a preschool school teacher talking down a toddler mid-tantrum. “I’m dead. I died a long time ago. You need to stop acting like this.”
“Beth!” He lunged again, this time almost tipping her over.
Beth caught her balance, but she was done being gentle. She did a weird judo move and levered the man over her hip. I should’ve bolted for the door, but I was transfixed as he sailed in an arc to land flat on his back in the seeping edge of his spilled coffee.
A crack echoed in the silence.
“Let’s go,” Blair whispered, hustling for the door.
Beth and the other Servant peeled off without a second thought. Wynn grabbed my wrist, trying to yank me away.
I needed to run with them, but…
Carl groaned. His eyes were unfocused and no one was coming to help. Maybe someone would help after we left?
But if they didn’t, we couldn’t leave him concussed or worse.
I couldn’t let him die.
I pulled away from Wynn. “I know first aid.” Maybe I hadn’t used it much, but I could at least check his pulse and call 911.
“Anise?” Gabi hovered half out the door, glancing between me and Blair, who’d already bolted with her Servants.
“I’m coming. Have them bring the car.” Then I could flee the scene as soon as I made sure this guy survived.
&nbs
p; Gabi darted off, leaving Wynn and me alone with the mob. People started grumbling and one of the ladies at the edge of the room had her cell phone out, taking a video.
Fear flowed down my spine like a feathered cloak.
I knew how this worked. People would get bolder now that the rest of the group was gone.
“We called the police,” a waitress said from behind the menu she was holding up as a shield. “Don’t you dare run.”
I was so going to run. But not yet.
I hurried to Carl’s side and crouched to feel his pulse. It took me a second to find it, but the thumping was strong—maybe too strong? No blood pooled around him. No cracked head, I hoped. His eyes were half lidded.
Was he conscious? I leaned closer to lift up his eyelid.
Both of his eyes popped open.
I jerked in response, almost tipping backward. His arms lifted. For a split-second, I thought he was reaching out to steady me.
Instead, he grabbed my neck so hard I choked on my own throat.
Wynn flashed into motion at my side, but I couldn’t make out what he was doing. All I felt were the fingers digging into my airway. All I saw were Carl’s bloodshot eyes, still glassy, still glaring with deepest hatred.
I clawed at his hands. And Wynn—
Wynn pressed a gun to his temple.
No!
The word came out as a gurgle.
He couldn’t. Not here. Not because of me.
My vision narrowed, smaller and smaller until the tip of Carl’s bulby, pore-spotted nose was the center of my universe.
I wasn’t going to die.
My magic roared, aching to come out. I was beyond the will or ability to hold it back.
I gripped the man’s hands as the first flames flared around my fingertips. Orangey-red like hearth flames.
His grip released. I sucked in a gulp of air. I had to stop before I burned—
The red flames were gone.
Green and black wisps of spectral power oozed from my hands.
Carl had let go, but my power wouldn’t. I tried to pull back. To stop it. My inner flames obeyed the command to dampen, but the death magic kept doing what it wanted.
Straining forward. Yearning. Aching to kill.
Wynn hauled me to my feet, but I couldn’t break the connection to Carl. Death magic crept closer to him in reaching cords of smoke that bled from my hands. The urge to see this man dead wouldn’t let my feet budge.
I had to send him to the other side.
Had to watch the light fade from his eyes.
I wasn’t stuck so deep that I couldn’t sense how insane that was, but even knowing, I couldn’t pull myself back from the edge.
“Let him go.” Wynn tried to haul me toward the door, but it was like hands rose from the floor to hold my ankles steady. He ducked down and tried to throw me over his shoulder, but my feet wouldn’t lift. I was cemented in place.
Now Carl was the one choking.
His eyes rolled back into his head. He clawed at the smoky cords that twined his neck, but his fingers passed through the magic like air.
Stop! I torqued my whole body, trying to pull away from him, but I couldn’t break the connection.
Something screeched. A car flew onto the sidewalk, breaks squealing. Its door flew open.
“Move!” Blair dove into the restaurant.
She tackled me to the floor. As soon as her arms wrapped around me, the cords of death magic vanished. We clattered into a table, but I couldn’t feel a thing except relief.
“Come on.” Blair grabbed my arm, hauling me to my feet.
Wynn grabbed the other arm, and together they dragged me through the door, practically tossing me into the car.
I hugged my knees to my chest and closed my eyes, but I couldn’t stop myself from shaking.
My magic wasn’t broken.
It worked fine.
The real problem?
It wasn’t my magic anymore.
Four
We broke the speed limit the whole way back to Taos. I managed to sit up an hour into the ride, but all I could do was press my forehead against the cold window glass.
I’d lost control.
Or not lost. I had zero control to begin with. I couldn’t control death. I wasn’t a necromancer. The power was just riding along with me. I rubbed the goose bumps that still pebbled my arms
“Well that was a trip,” Blair said when we pulled back into town. “Do you want to come over and talk to my mom?”
“I don’t think that’ll help.” Peggy had told me I needed to live my life to let the hitchhiking death magic fade. After that clusterfudge, waiting wasn’t going to pan out.
I needed to find an outlet and drain this power like pus from a wound.
Even though my brain was only firing at fifty percent. I had a pretty good idea what that outlet had to be—if Agatha would agree to let me do some test baking.
When I stumbled out of the car in the bakeshop’s driveway, it finally hit me that I’d almost killed a guy and just walked away. “Was that man okay?”
“He was stunned,” Blair said, “but in no danger of crossing over. The ambulance was right behind us.”
Thank goodness. I let out a huge breath. I couldn’t deal with a death on my conscience.
“You sure you’re okay?” Gabi rolled down her window to ask.
“I don’t know.” But I didn’t want to talk about it anymore. I just wanted to be alone, preferably under a thick blanket with a giant chocolate chip cookie. “I’ll talk to you later.”
“Be careful.” Gabi leaned farther out the window.
“I’ll keep an eye on your energy but call if you need me.” Blair’s voice crept closer to concern.
“Thanks.” I waved back and headed up the driveway. Wynn stalked behind me. He’d been seething the whole drive, but I’d ignored him and I didn’t need him letting loose now. It wasn’t like I could feel worse about what happened. I already knew I shouldn’t have gone back to check Carl’s pulse.
Too late.
And I really did want something sweet to ease away the day before I talked to Agatha. It felt I was carrying a pizza oven on my shoulders.
I beelined for the shop door and skipped straight to the front of the line of people waiting for their turn to get in. Samira stood posted at the purple velvet rope, controlling the flow of customers.
“Hi, Anise, what’s— Whoa. What happened?” Her bright smile rounded into a look of horror.
I glanced down. My shirt was stained with coffee and my knees were all scraped from rolling into tables and chairs. And the way my neck ached, I wouldn’t be surprised if I had finger-shaped bruises. “Rough morning.”
“Get a box of the optimism eclairs.” Sam waved me through the door, wards tingling over my scalp and shoulders. “Looks like you need them.”
Eclairs weren’t going to do it.
I needed serious chocolate. Maybe a whole brick.
In the center of the shop, I stood and took a huge breath. My aches and tiredness faded away as I inhaled the scent of buttery pastry. I smelled hints of strawberry jam, a dozen types of chocolate, and the pure sugar deliciousness of fresh buttercream. Cakes and donuts and pastries were lined behind the glittering glass cases like tiny packages of temptation.
I already knew exactly what I wanted.
Jasmine stood behind the register, and her arm in its cast was the only reminder how recently this whole shop had been destroyed. “Can I have one of the double-chocolate contentment cookies?”
“Of course.” Jasmine eyed me up and down but didn’t ask any questions. She grabbed my cookie with a piece of purple tissue and slipped it into a black paper bag with an Agatha’s Bakeshop logo stamped on the front. “This one’s on me.”
“Thanks.” I took the bag and headed for the house, cutting through the kitchen. I shouldn’t have risked coming this way and hurting anyone, but I was so drained, I didn’t think I was a threat.
Wynn grabbed my
shoulder, yanking me around so fast I almost dropped my cookie. I shot him a glare as I grabbed the bundle to my chest. “What?”
“We need to talk.” Lightning crackled in his eyes, but I was too floored to worry about his anger.
Talk?
With Wynn? “About what?”
“You should’ve run.”
My shoulders tensed. “I couldn’t let him die.”
“You should’ve.”
My nose wrinkled. That was cold, even for him.
“Who almost died?” Agatha’s cheery voice echoed through the kitchen.
I spun. Up to her elbows in dough in the corner, she’d paused kneading to listen to us.
I hadn’t even noticed she was there.
“Don’t mind me.” Agatha patted her dough into a big ball. “Continue the conversation.”
I gripped my cookie, crinkling the paper. “We had…trouble in Santa Fe.”
“Doesn’t sound like the fun kind.” She brushed the flour off her hands and tossed her apron onto a stainless steel work table. “Do tell.”
“A man recognized one of Blair’s Servants. It was almost a mob scene.”
“And she,” Wynn’s voice dripped contempt, “went back to save a crazy man.”
“And he,” I echoed his tone, “wanted to leave the poor man there to die.”
“Poor man?” Thunder rumbled in Wynn’s voice. “He had his hands around your throat.”
“What else happened?” Agatha lifted my hand to examine my palm. She smelled like flour and cinnamon, but it wasn’t comforting when she stared at my skin with such intense focus, feeling her way into my energy.
I drew my fingers back as soon as she’d let me and curled them back around my cookie.
Agatha took in the coffee stains and scrapes and her eyebrows lifted, but this time her gaze swept to Wynn. “What else happened?”
“Necromancy.”
His one-word answer sparked a wave of shivers that curled my toes. “I couldn’t control it. At all. Blair stopped me before I could…”
I didn’t want to finish the thought.
“No surprise there, cupcake. You’re not a necromancer.”
I squeezed my cookie tight, hoping I could count on Agatha’s help. “I wanted to wait this death magic out, but I can’t if it’s this dangerous. I need an outlet. I was wondering if you had a death recipe I could test…”