Cupcakes, Trinkets, and Other Deadly Magic

by Meghan Ciana Doidge

  “But … I … it was working!” I reached out to grab Kandy and Desmond’s bare forearms, to grab their magic, to focus the spell.

  It was a bad idea. All my senses were wide open, and there was a reason I was very careful not to touch on the dance floor, or to bring magical people home to my bed for skin-to-skin contact. Magic, almost like electricity, ran through each of my palms and up my arms. The hand touching Kandy felt warm and tingly, but the hand touching Desmond practically seared me.

  I stifled a scream and yanked my hands away. The rest of the magic in the room dissipated. Desmond, looking rather amused, inspected the pink burn mark on his forearm.

  “I’m sorry. I thought I might be able to bolster the spell. I just … I suck.”

  “This isn’t your sort of magic,” Kett said, his gaze on me steady. “Maybe with other practitioners here, you could anchor the magic and manifest the spell, but you’re working against your strengths. You shouldn’t be pushing the magic away. That isn’t what you do when you make trinkets, is it?”

  I didn’t want to hear his stupid theories about my magic. I’d trained under my Gran for years. If I was capable of more, certainly she would have known, certainly she would have directed me … But what about the trinkets? And the knife? Why would the vampire lie? What would he have to gain?

  I realized that I’d woven my fingers through the rings of my necklace. No one else had moved. They sat patiently holding their candles and watching me.

  I looked down at the ring charms now on my fingers. I looked at the items laid around the circle. I thought about how I made the trinkets, how I let my fingers surf the tiny drops of residual or natural magic in the items I collected. How I brought that magic together, unified it.

  I pulled my fingers from the rings. I felt calm, centered. I ran my fingers along the necklace until I hit a large man’s gold ring. I’d found it in a pawnshop last year, on its own, not as a pair like I’d found the ones in the antique shops. There was something inherently sad in a man pawning his wedding ring. It raised so many questions, but now the drop of magic within this ring felt right … somehow.

  “Can you break the solder?” I asked Desmond. “Not the chain, just this connection point?”

  Desmond leaned into me. I noticed his forearm was now unmarked, the magical burn completely healed. He delicately grasped the ring I held out to him between his thumb and forefinger, and gave it a slight twist. The ring came off in his fingers. He dropped it into my open palm.

  “I’ll need the hair brush as well,” I murmured, trying to surf the calm from before and to not panic about my necklace being ruined. I could solder the ring back on in minutes, no worries.

  Desmond passed me the hairbrush and I pulled off a clump of hair. Sienna’s straight, dark hair. I smoothed it and twisted it into a string. Then I sank further down into my soft focus, my meditative state. I shut everything else out — every worry, every fear — as I wound the twisted hair around the ring. I smoothed the residual magic of hair and ring with my own. I could actually see how I did this now … like my magic was mortar or solder. When I added bits to the trinkets or rings to my necklace, I must have instinctively done the same thing — mortaring the residual magic with my own, and therefore making a new object altogether. I pushed these revelations aside as I focused on knotting the ends of the twisted hair together. There was just enough to manage this. Then I slipped the ring onto my left index finger.

  It just fit.

  I looked up to find the vampire smirking at me, but I ignored him. I closed the spellbook, unaware that I’d held it open on my lap this entire time. Clutching it to my chest, I stood. Then, awkwardly, I stuffed the sweater and other things in my bag. It wasn’t a good idea to leave personal items lying around in a witches’ circle.

  I crossed to the stairs, looking back to the others who’d risen but not yet followed. “What are you waiting for?” I asked. “We have a killer to catch, don’t we?”

  “Oh, now you get cocky, dowser?” Desmond said. “Wait until you find her, then we’ll bow to your magic prowess.” He snorted, and then twisted his lips into a begrudging smile. Somehow, with this look of approval on his face, he was suddenly damn sexy. No, I chided myself — scary monster men are not sexy. I tore my eyes away from him, running my thumb over the ring and thinking of Sienna instead.

  The ring grew warm on my finger, then cooled just as suddenly. It was up for a game of hotter/colder. I’d always been a stellar player.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  After all the terrifying buildup of fear and anticipation, it was a painfully short ride.

  Hazarding a guess based on the warehouse-looking buildings I’d seen in the circle, I had Kandy turn east on West Fourth Avenue. The ring agreed with this direction, and I didn’t feel the need to turn off Fourth until we’d passed Cambie Street about seven minutes later.

  Desmond and Kett had climbed into the backseat of Kandy’s car. I was surprised McGrowly fit back there, despite the overall size of the SUV. But then, it was a giant SUV. I imagined the others followed in the second vehicle, but I didn’t pay much attention. I tried to just focus on the tiny pulse of magic I wore on my finger. It felt fragile, as if the wrong thought or emotion would unbalance it. I kept my mind as clear as possible. It was a struggle. I just tried to imagine myself baking or making a trinket, and the peace those activities usually brought … except I wasn’t actually doing either of those things.

  “You think the trinkets, the baking, are simply my way of … distracting my magic?” I directing the murmured thought to Kett, but didn’t bother to turn around.

  “Manifestations, maybe,” he answered.

  “It was my Gran who always directed me toward those sorts of things … sewing … knitting …”

  “Ah.” The vampire got it without me elaborating. My Gran had been distracting me, focusing me on mundane tasks so that I worked my magic on a tiny scale — so tiny I didn’t even know I was doing it. The question now was why?

  We passed Quebec Street on our way to Main and the ring suddenly cooled … though perhaps it had been cooling before but I’d only just felt it. “Stop, stop! We’ve gone too far.”

  Kandy turned right at the next street and then right again to head back west for a couple of blocks. I refocused, pushing thoughts of Gran’s possible duplicity out of my head and thinking only of finding my sister.

  I hoped that the fact the ring worked meant Sienna was still alive.

  This area of Vancouver was undergoing a construction boom, and not many warehouse-type buildings existed anymore. They’d all been replaced by glass and steel towers that occupied the bulk of the city’s skyline on the other side of the inlet. This tower development, triggered by the 2010 Winter Olympics, had spread across False Creek. It now almost completely filled the north edge of the area between lower Main and Cambie Street.

  There had been some holdouts to this development, though, and I was grateful we hadn’t needed to go further east or into Richmond. That was assuming the ring was actually leading us somewhere, however, and that I wasn’t just making everything up in my magic-addled mind.

  “Slow down … please,” I said. The ring was the warmest it had been since I put it on, but began to cool slightly. “Loop back a block, please.”

  Kandy took a left and then another left, but when she turned left the second time the ring cooled further.

  “Stop. We’re near, but I think I need to walk.” Kandy pulled the SUV to the curb and we piled out.

  The street was dark, though a block north, the new towers were ablaze with light. A block uphill and south, the few homes left in the area promised a warm meal and a soft pillow, but we weren’t looking for either. I walked west on the south side of the street. The others trailed behind me. Lara and Jeremy had parked right behind Kandy and were following us up the sidewalk.

  A low row of warehouses — as best as I could see between the streetlights — occupied both sides of the bl
ock. Most of the buildings had signs declaring their occupants — tile, carpet and marble dealers; some sort of woodworkers’ co-op; and a small deli/caterer that didn’t bother opening evenings.

  One two-storey building, its blue paint in need of a refresher coat, ran half the south side of the block but didn’t have any immediately obvious business signs. I paused at the edge of the small, two-lane parking lot that fronted the building. There were no lights on, either inside or out. The warehouse had a flat roof and lots of dark windows, some covered.

  “For lease,” Kett said, pointing to a sign I hadn’t seen in the dark. “It was on my list to check, but then I found you at the bakery.” The lease was being offered by Godfrey Properties.

  “Gran,” I whispered. “Gran owns this.”

  Desmond suddenly reached down into my satchel and pulled out Sienna’s sweater. I quashed the impulse to slap his hand, though I doubt I could have reacted quickly enough to hit him.

  He held the sweater out to Lara and Jeremy. They, as if on cue, began stripping off their clothes. I looked back at the warehouse, twisting the ring on my finger and hoping no one was working late in any of the nearby buildings.

  “It’s a big building. Do you have a plan?” I said.

  “We’ll split up,” Desmond answered. “You and Kett with the ring and me with my wolves.” That didn’t sound like a great idea to me — or for Rusty and Sienna. However, I was pretty sure any argument would be ignored, if not punished. Yeah, I still didn’t trust a single one of the people I was with.

  A pulse of magic hit me from the side. The wolves had transformed. Not into the half-beast creature Desmond had become to fight Kett, but into actual, though rather large, wolves … big, gray, green-eyed wolves. One was slightly smaller than the other — I guessed it was Lara. Jeremy was a little leggy, like he hadn’t reached his full size yet. I made sure to not meet their gaze as Desmond held the sweater out for them to smell.

  With a yip, the wolves sprang forward into the parking lot, noses to the ground. They sniffed around in a zigzag sort of pattern, dividing the asphalt between them.

  We followed, crossing the bit of grass between the sidewalk and the parking lot. Desmond and Kett were practically glued to my sides, Kandy behind us. As we approached the building, I felt a tinge of that sickly magic from the morgue.

  “Wait,” I called to the wolves … too late. They caught some scent at the same moment, springing forward toward the east side door only to run smack into an invisible ward. The wolves collapsed like they’d hit a brick wall. One of them didn’t get up … the leggy one, Jeremy. Lara stumbled to her feet and staggered a few steps back.

  I sprinted past her, the ring burning on my finger. I held my hand up to the ward, not touching — just trying to sense it. Kandy knelt before Lara as Desmond reached down to haul Jeremy away. At the touch of his alpha’s hand, Jeremy twitched, then struggled to his feet. Both wolves seemed dazed. That was some nasty magic.

  Kett stood beside me and mimicked my movement, holding his hand palm forward to the magic shield barring us from approaching the building. “Can you break it?” I asked the vampire, hoping that was within his power. I didn’t want to wait for Gran, who was the only person I knew who was powerful enough to break wards.

  “It’s nowhere near as strong as the wards on your apartment,” he replied.

  “Of course not,” I scoffed. “Those are Gran’s wards. These are thinner, and different magic. They’re rooted away from the building, unlike personal wards, the ones you find on residences like my apartment and Gran’s house. This isn’t a home. It doesn’t have the strength inherent in that concept.” I shut up, realizing the vampire looked far too interested in what I was saying … was I blabbing witch secrets? Was any of this a secret?

  That was a concept I hadn’t thought of before. The tenor of the Compendium had made it pretty clear that the Adept didn’t interact often or willingly —

  “Similar construction,” Kett said, calling my attention back to the wards.

  “Are we going to break through or not?” Desmond interrupted, his voice edged with anger — and maybe just a bit of the beast within him.

  Kett smiled, and gestured toward the building, “Have at them, lord alpha.”

  Desmond took a couple of steps back and pulled his T-shirt off. He’d changed into a green shirt some time between the morgue and Rusty’s apartment. Apparently, he didn’t want to ruin it like he had with the last one. Kandy started to do the same, but I didn’t really notice the green-haired werewolf as the sight of Desmond’s chest momentarily blinded me. Even in the low light, it was magnificently muscled. Too bad he was such an asshole. Why did assholes have the best chests? Kandy had started to pull off her sports bra as I came to my senses.

  “Wait!” I cried. “Are you just going to bulldoze through it?”

  “The four of us should be able to crack it. I could probably do so myself,” Desmond answered as he undid his belt buckle. My mounting frustration made it easier to tear my eyes away from wanting to see what lie behind his zipper.

  “Not without a huge backlash,” I said. “And it might kill you.”

  “It won’t give me more than a headache,” Desmond snarled back. Kandy averted her eyes from us both, and I had a feeling that I was about to cross some line if I pushed or questioned Desmond further. I yanked my own eyes away from McGrowly’s lightly furred pectorals. Yes, he was suddenly close enough that his broad, gorgeous chest was pretty much the only thing I could see. I turned to glare at Kett, who smiled.

  “You’re baiting them,” I said, more stating the obvious than accusing him. Kett shrugged. I shifted my focus up to Desmond’s chin. The shifter was directing his scowl to the vampire, who didn’t have a problem with meeting his gaze. “Plus,” I added, “if they break through like that, they alert the caster for sure.”

  “More ideas and less critique, dowser,” Desmond said. He hadn’t pulled his shirt back on, and neither had Kandy. The color of her sports bra perfectly matched the werewolf’s green hair. She smiled when she caught me noticing.

  I turned back to the ward and raised the hand wearing the ring. I pressed this hand against the ward’s magic and watched it react — swirling toward the ring, not away from it.

  “The ring?” Kett said quietly. By his own admission, he couldn’t see magic like me, but he must be able to sense it to some extent.

  “Maybe,” I answered. “You’d all need to be in contact with me if I’m to pull you through with it.”

  Kett immediately curled his fingers around my right hand, as if this was some invitation he’d been eagerly awaiting. Desmond stepped up on my left — he’d put his shirt back on, thank God — and placed his hand around my waist. Kandy curled her fingers around my belt at the small of my back, while the two wolves pushed inside Kett and Desmond’s legs to press their shoulders against my thighs.

  I shuddered as all their magic welled around me. There was another reason I avoided contact with the Adept — it was too easy to get lost in the wave. Five powerful magical beings were a lot of wave.

  I felt my focus splinter, and gasped as the ring burned hotter. I struggled to pull my attention back. Desmond’s arm was delightfully warm cupped around my waist … I hadn’t realized the night was quite cool. In contrast, Kett’s skin was almost icy against my right hand, his fingers individually defined where they touched my skin. I shuddered again, then rather embarrassingly felt my nipples harden against my tank top — the silk tunic I wore over it would leave nothing to the imagination. I moaned, lightly but still more than audible.

  “All right, dowser?” Desmond asked. “We’ll move with you.”

  Move with you. My mind exploded with the possibilities. Oh, sweet Jesus. My unintentional abstinence was really not helping —

  “Breathe,” Kett suggested. His cool voice actually felt like it was moving over my shoulder, along my collarbone and dipping down —

  I clenched my teet
h. I could see Kett’s and Desmond’s profiles in my peripheral vision. Thank God no one was looking at me.

  I exhaled all the air in my lungs, as I pressed my hand against the ward. The magic of the shield danced against my skin, resisting me. It hurt. That helped. I concentrated on the way the magic reacted to the ring, and specifically to Sienna’s hair twined there. I felt the pressure ease, then imagined that ease moving down my hand, my arm, coasting over me and falling over the others. Then I pushed through the wards.

  It hurt like hell. The wards seemed to know they should keep us out, but they couldn’t quite grasp onto our magic to block us. A pure human wouldn’t have even noticed the barrier.

  I ground my teeth and tried to ignore the pain. The others got hit worse. Desmond snarled. Kandy stifled a moan. Jeremy, still in wolf form, stumbled and fell away from my leg, panting in pain. Desmond grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, and then we were on the other side of the ward.

  I immediately stepped away from the others. They let me go. Desmond knelt on one knee by the hurt wolf.

  I resisted pulling my tunic and tank top away from my erect nipples. To calm my racing heart, I kept my back to the rest of the group under the guise of surveying the building.

  “The wards were keyed to allow your sister to pass through them,” Kett said. He’d stepped next to me and was speaking in a hushed tone, but by the way the shifters stiffened, I had no doubt that they hear him. They didn’t look or interrupt us, though.

  “I did consider that … or he’s used her magic.” My voice broke and I snapped my mouth shut. I shoved my right hand in my jeans pocket, letting the ring on the left guide me toward the door that had drawn the wolves’ attention earlier. This attempt to act normal, and my worry for Sienna, helped my pent-up arousal abate further.

  The others followed. Kandy stepped in front of me to snap the lock on the outer door before I could stop her. No magic sparked at the werewolf’s contact, so the door wasn’t spelled. Whoever had set up the outer ward had banked on it being enough of a deterrent. Or maybe they hadn’t wanted to waste too much magic on defensive spells when there were werewolves to drain and corpses to raise. What a delightful thought.