by Erin Johnson
Cookie Dough, Snow And Wands Aglow
A Cozy Witch Mystery
Erin Johnson
For the family I consider friends, and the friends I consider family. Thank you guys—I couldn’t have done this (or much of anything) without you. Love you!
Contents
1. A One-Horse Open Sleigh
2. Black and White and Red All Over
3. The Road Less Traveled
4. Wee Ferngroveshire
5. The Inn
6. Ice Skating
7. Receiving Line
8. Bruma Eve Party
9. Uncle Bruma
10. Fireworks
11. Baking at Midnight
12. Back Alley
13. The Heart Witch
14. When the Smoke Clears
15. Torches and Pitchforks
16. Vampires
17. The Mob
18. A Confession
19. Mirror Mirror
20. The Dress Shop
21. Governor's Mansion
22. Records
23. Back at the Inn
24. Dylan
25. The Heritage Society
26. The Hidden Graveyard
27. Family History
28. Survivors
29. The Monster Vine
30. Barn
31. Family
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A note from the author
About the Author
1
A One-Horse Open Sleigh
Amelia spun in her seat and cupped her hands to her mouth. Her white gloves matched her close-cropped hair. She called something back to us.
"Huh?" Wiley half turned to Hank and me. "You guys catch that?"
I shook my head. Her words had been drowned out by the jingle of the horses' bells, the soft crunch of the snow under their hooves, and their soft grunts and snorts. With banks piled high on either side of the wintry road and the boughs of the tall pines hanging heavy with snow, the world seemed muffled and every little noise much louder. Every noise but Amelia's voice, apparently.
Her irritation was evident even with the distance between our sleighs. Amelia's shoulders hunched up, burying her face in her collar of white fur, and her gray eyes narrowed.
Wiley chuckled. "She's pissed."
Amelia lifted her brows high and tapped her earpiece.
"Oh yeah." In the front seat, Maple handed the horse's reins over to Wiley and fished a little white gumball-sized magical device out of her coat pocket and awkwardly pressed it into her ear with her mittened hand. "Uh, hi, Amelia?" She jerked, and even from the back seat of the sleigh I could hear Amelia's voice come in loud and clear.
"I gave you the communicator so I didn't have to yell!"
Hank and I exchanged bemused glances and he edged a little closer to me, finding my hand under the thick flannel blanket draped across our laps. Between that, the thermos of hot cocoa tucked against my left hip, and the warming spell Hank had cast over the sleigh, I felt pleasantly toasty. Which made the cold air chilling my face all the more fun.
"Have I told you I've always wanted to ride in a horse-drawn sleigh?"
Hank grinned, his blue eyes sparkling. "You may have mentioned it a few times."
"I think I'm going to be sick."
I let out a heavy sigh. Iggy, my trusty cooking flame, burned in a lantern resting on a little shelf behind our blue velvet-upholstered seat. I shot him a "not amused" glance and he stuck out his tongue in return.
"Okay, so we're not stopping at this next town, Wider Renwood." Maple plucked the gumball out of her ear and returned it to her pocket. She held up her mittened hands, offering to take the reins, but Wiley shook his head.
"I'll drive for a bit."
She nodded and spun around in the front seat to talk to me and Hank, one arm over the back. Her pale cheeks and nose glowed bright red with the cold. "Apparently the town's had an outbreak of bedbugs."
I scrunched up my nose. "Ew."
She grimaced and nodded.
"Isn't there a spell for that?"
Hank tilted his head side to side. "Sure. But you have to target them individually, and they're"—he lifted his thick brows—"tricky buggers. Eh, see what I did there?"
I rolled my eyes.
"You used to be tolerable." Iggy half closed his lids. "Happiness has made you unbearable."
A huge grin spread across Hank's face and I had to admit, this was a very different prince from the surly lone wolf I'd met during the baking competition. I had to bite back a smile at the thought I was at least partly responsible for this new light in his eyes.
Wiley cleared his throat, sending out a puff of white. "Well, at least we'll get to London sooner." He flicked the reins and urged the horse on.
Maple nodded and turned to face forward again, pressing her mittens against her stomach. "And I don't think I can take any more hospitality without bursting."
The royal family had gone ahead by airship to London to spend Bruma, the kingdoms' winter holiday, with the Earth Kingdom royalty—a tradition, apparently. Hank had organized a holiday bake-off on Bruma between the Water and Earth Kingdoms' royal bakers, with all of our goodies being donated to the less fortunate. And with it already being Bruma Eve day, we had a lot of snowy forest road to cover to get to London and its stone alleyways and hidden tunnels brimming with magic folk. But Hank's parents had balked at the idea of us commoners traveling with them by royal airship, so Hank had made the best of it by organizing a little “road” trip for us, first by ferry, and now that we were in England, by horse-drawn sleigh. We hadn’t planned on the sleighs, but a freak snowstorm had made it possible and I wasn’t complaining.
We'd spent all morning passing through rural magical towns to raise awareness of our baking prowess and to spread friendship between the kingdoms. Each village and town and hamlet we'd passed through had showered us with hot cider, boxes of handmade chocolates, bread, and tins of cookies.
I turned around and glanced at Annie and Yann driving the sledge that held our luggage and supplies—and now a mountain of gifts. Yann lifted a hand in greeting, his strawberry-blond beard frosted white. I waved back. Behind him rode a pair of guards, each holding a golden lance. In front of us rode our vampire, the only guard we really needed as far as I was concerned. Francis sat beside Rhonda in the front seat of the first sleigh, with Sam and Amelia behind, and another pair of guards leading with bows and arrows slung across their backs.
Maple pressed her mittens to her pink cheeks. "I just keep feeling like I've forgotten something."
I reached forward and put a hand on her shoulder. "You've literally thought of everything—at least eight times. And if by some incredible miracle we've forgotten something, I'm sure the Earth bakers will loan it to us."
Her blond brows scrunched together as she turned to look at me. "Did we remember the copper mixing bowls?"
I pulled her knitted beanie with the giant pom-pom down over her eyes.
"Hey!"
I giggled, then lurched back as Cat, Maple's disturbing pet, rose up from under the blanket across her lap and snapped at me. I pressed up against Hank and eyed Cat, hardly daring to breathe.
"Maple… he's staring at me."
Maple pushed her hat back on her head and glared over her shoulder. "You deserve it."
Hank cleared his throat and reached forward to pet Cat's head. "Oh come on now, he's just a little— Sea snakes!"
Hank lurched back and lifted his large hand
in front of his face. Cat snickered—actually snickered—and chewed the bit of leather he'd ripped from the fingertip of Hank's glove.
Behind us Iggy recoiled, his heat pulling away from my neck. "Ugh."
"See."
Hank shot me a wide-eyed look.
The little black creature flashed a sharp-toothed, Cheshire cat smile at us, its bat ears twitching and tail swishing from side to side. I gulped, and Maple laughed and patted Cat's back, avoiding the leathery wings tucked to his sides. "Oh leave them alone, wittle guy. They didn't hurt Mama."
I narrowed my eyes at Hank and whispered, "Is she calling herself Mama?"
"I heard you, and I'll sic him on you if you're not nice to me."
I folded my arms. "What have you done with my sweet Maple?"
She giggled and Wiley chuckled beside them. Cat curled up at his side.
"So who's got custody this week?"
Maple and Wiley had been sharing the duties of caring for Cat—though he seemed plenty self-sufficient to me. Wiley tilted his head to the right. "She does."
The mischievous (the kindest term I could think of) little creature bit at the ends of Maple's ruby-red scarf, gnawing on the tassels and tugging it with his little squirrel-like hands. I cocked my head to the side. "Is that new? It's so pretty." I pulled my glove off and leaned forward to rub the scarf between two fingers. "Oh wow, and soft! Can I live in that?"
Her cheeks flushed and she tugged the scarf away from Cat, tucking the end into the neck of her coat. "It was a present."
"A Bruma present? From who? It looks fancy." I turned to Hank. "Did you get this for your favorite Royal Head Baker? She better not be your favorite baker period, because—"
"It's from Wool."
Only Iggy's crackling flames and the jingling of the horses’ bells filled the silence. Awkward.
"Oh well…." I struggled to think what to say as I eyed Wiley's tight shoulders. "That was nice of him." She and I were so talking later. How could she not have told me that Wool, the handsome Fire Kingdom baker she had a crush on, had sent her an expensive present? K’ree, who was visiting her family in the Fire Kingdom for the holidays, had even teased her about passing along a message to Wool, and Maple hadn’t said a word about the scarf. At the moment, I was sure it had something to do with the other guy she had a crush on sitting right beside her.
A little zing of wet cold bit at my cheek. Then another. I looked up to the low, foggy gray sky that seemed to hang just above the tall treetops that lined our path like the sides of a deep valley. "I think it's snowing." A bit of an obvious comment, but I was grateful for something to break the ice. Ah… pun. Hank and his dad jokes were rubbing off on me.
My prince boyfriend looked up and winked as a snowflake got him in the eye. "Looks like it's going to be a heavy one." He turned and waved a hand, magically lifting the leather convertible top of the sleigh over to form a roof. I hefted up Iggy's lantern and hung him from a hook at the top, since the roof now covered the little shelf behind our seat. His golden light played left and right as he swayed with the horse's gait.
"So, this competition in London… you're hoping it'll generate interest in our baking, right?”
Hank nodded. "That's the idea. And hopefully show off to my father how talented you all are, and that it could be a mark of distinction for the Water Kingdom if he allowed me to open a baking school."
Maple turned in her seat again. "That's right! How did the booth we ran at the Summer Sea Carnival do? Did we raise a lot of funds for it?"
Hank grinned and my stomach got all fluttery. "It was a huge success! Obviously, we still need quite a bit to build a whole school, but just the exposure alone was worth it. Though you all did sell quite a lot of baked goods."
Maple and I smiled at each other. "A team effort." She gave the seat back a little pat and spun around again to face the forest path with its deep snowbanks piled up on either side. We curved gently to the left, the lead guards hidden behind the turn and the shadows deepening.
"Are we going to make it to London in time for the Bruma Eve party?"
Hank gave me a little smile and pulled his glove off, using his thumb to smear away a fleck of snow. "We just have to make it to Donloddin. It'll be a few hours ahead, but they've got an airship there that'll take us the rest of the way. We just have a few more villages I wanted to pass through on our way there."
I grinned. "As long as we make it in time to go ice skating." I pointed a gloved finger at him. "You promised."
He caught my finger and brought it slowly to his lips, and my breathing grew shallower. He kissed my fingertip. "And I will never break a promise to you."
It would have been cheesy if he wasn't so handsome and serious and wonderful. I leaned closer, lifting my chin, and he gazed down at me with his sparkling blue eyes. His large nose brushed my cheek as my lips parted for a kiss.
"I'm going to be sick." Iggy's low English accent drawled from above us.
I pulled slightly away and sighed loudly through my nose, while Hank pressed his eyes shut.
"You've already said that one, Iggy."
"No." His voice came out slightly strangled. "No… I'm going to be—"
I lurched away from Hank as a shower of ash rained down. I dusted some out of my hair, the gray specks looking like massive flakes of dandruff against my bright red waves. "Iggy?"
Hank reached up and slowly lowered the lantern down, turning Iggy to face me.
"You okay, buddy? I thought you were joking that we were making you queasy."
I didn't think this was possible for a flame, but Iggy flickered a pale green. He gagged, and more ash poured out his wide mouth. "Motion sick," came his choked reply.
I grimaced at Hank, whose thick brows drew together. "Sorry, Ig. You want a linden stick?" I lifted the gray stick up and he pressed his flame mouth shut, his cheeks puffing out and his flames turning an even paler shade of green. I dropped the stick. "Guess not." I leaned close to the lantern. "What can we do for you?"
Iggy sprouted a flame arm and pointed forward. "Fresh—erp—air."
Hank and I, each holding a side, handed the lantern up to Maple, who cradled him in her lap. I crossed my arms over the seat back and peeked over her shoulder. "Any better, buddy?"
A moment passed, filled only with the horse's grunts and the soft crunch of snow under hooves. Iggy let out a little sigh. "The motion sickness is better. Though you two still make me sick."
The corner of my mouth tugged up. If he was back to his usual biting remarks, he'd be fine. "So sorry to offend you. I'll leave you up front with Maple then." I grinned as I slid back into the seat beside Hank. "And Cat."
The little creature popped his head up and peered out from under the blanket at Iggy, just as the flame started protesting that he felt much better and wanted to ride in back. Ha. Iggy was almost as freaked out by Cat as I was. Hank, a little frown creasing his brow, looked from me to Iggy.
I waved a hand. "He's fine."
"I'm not fine!"
Maple had lifted the lantern and was handing Iggy back, when alarmed shouts barely reached us from around the next curve, the noises dampened by the snow. Maple turned forward and sat up straighter, while Wiley squared his shoulders. Hank's breath caught beside me. My first thought was of Horace, the leader of the mysterious Badlands Army. He'd nearly kidnapped me to join him and his cause a few months ago, and a day didn't go by without me looking over my shoulder for him. It didn't help that as a Swallow, like Hank and me, he could use his magic to convincingly disguise himself as anyone. Wiley cast a glance back at Hank.
"What'll it be, Prince?"
Hank let out a soft breath and answered in a low voice. "Hurry on. They may need our assistance."
I clutched Hank's hand as Wiley flicked the reins and coaxed, "Ha!" Our horse sped forward, rounding the curve in time to see the front guards and Francis's sleigh stopped short before a fork in the road. To the right stretched a dark path, the filtered sunlight blotted out by a
canopy of trees.
But to the left, the broad, bright path was blocked by a single figure. A man clad all in black, whose face I'd first known in wanted posters and later been terrified of in person—Horace.
2
Black and White and Red All Over
My heart shuddered in my chest and my breath caught. My thoughts seemed to slow down. Horace—was here. In the road. Staring with his cold blue eyes. I felt as if heavy chains were draped all over my body, weighing me down, rooting me to the spot. A cold sweat chilled me. Though I was frozen, Hank leapt to his feet and had bounded out of the sleigh before I could process it. He yelled something at Maple, or maybe Wiley, about protecting me, and then shouted, "Fire!"
Arrows rattled in their quivers as the front guards notched them to their bows before I could even blink. My stomach clenched so hard I thought I might be sick.
Twin slick whirs, and the arrows flew, straight at Horace's chest. It wouldn't take much skill to hit him, as he stood, legs wide, merely thirty feet before them. I closed my eyes, bracing for a sickening sound as the arrows buried themselves in Horace's heart, but instead came shouts and more whirs of arrows. I peeled an eye open to see Horace still staring—straight at me, a dark grin twisting his full lips to the side.
"Hi, Imogen!" he called to me over the thud of hooves in the snow as the rear guards raced to the front. His low voice came out dry and scratchy, his lip curling with some odd mix of disdain and delight. Arrows lay broken at his booted feet. His knee-length black coat made him look like a crow, the fur at his collar dusted white with snow. We'd passed several noisy flocks of them today. Horace the crow, my giddy brain thought—it seemed to fit. In a black swirl of energy, Francis took flight as a huge bat, flapping his leathery wings skyward as Rhonda looked up after him.