by Zoe Chant
Sylvie nodded, her eyes still damp, but Gale could see in them that she trusted him. “Where should I wait for you?” she asked.
“Maybe it’d be best for you to wait for me at Eula’s diner,” Gale said. “That’s far enough away that I don’t think anyone at Johnson’s would spot you waiting for me.”
“Yeah.” Sylvie nodded. “And we can debrief over chili dogs.”
“Sounds great,” Gale said, smiling. Already, some of Sylvie’s humor was returning. It heartened him to see. “All right, I’ll meet you there. Give me half an hour or so.”
Sylvie nodded again, then stood up on tip-toes to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Good luck,” she whispered, her breath warm against his ear, making him shiver.
Gale watched her back for a moment as she made her way down the street, until a bend in the road carried her out of sight. Part of him still couldn’t quite believe she was his.
But she is. And we are hers, his unicorn said, raising its head proudly. And we must prove we are worthy of that honor.
Gale nodded in agreement as he walked the rest of the way down the street to Johnson’s Pies and Bakery. The door was made of wood, and Gale had had enough problems with that recently that he still hesitated before touching it.
Are you over that now? he asked his unicorn, which only indignantly tossed its head in response.
We have found our mate.
Gale decided to take that as a yes, and, thankfully, the door didn’t burst into bloom when he touched it. He pushed it open, stepping into the bakery.
Looking around, Gale had to admit it was a perfectly nice place – not cozy like Sylvie’s was, but bright and airy, with a white Laminex counter and fluorescently lit display bench. The tables were white and didn’t have flowers or tablecloths on them.
It looked… well, it looked pretty boring, Gale thought, despite the fact it was clearly a professional operation. The kind of place where, unlike a lot of truck stops or other places you might stop during a road trip, you knew you wouldn’t get food poisoning. But on the other hand, it was totally devoid of charm, warmth or humor. It was the complete opposite of Sylvie’s bakery.
“Good morning, sir!” chirped a young woman as she emerged from the back room. “Are you interested in trying one of our pies or baked goods?”
Gale cocked his head, regarding her, but he didn’t get any sense that she was a shifter. She was probably just employed here, and probably didn’t even know the recipes she was selling were stolen.
“I definitely am,” he said with a smile. “I saw you might have honey cake here?”
“Oh, I’m sorry sir,” the girl said apologetically. “We’re not selling those until next week. But this week we have an apple pie special! Perhaps you’d like to try that instead?”
“Okay, sure,” Gale said, nodding. “I’ll get one of those. It comes with ice cream, I guess?”
“It sure does.” The girl nodded. “Let me just heat one up in the oven for you – that’ll be about five minutes, if that’s okay?”
“No problem at all,” Gale said, taking a seat at one of the tables.
His pie came out five minutes later, served with a smile from the waitress and a big scoop of vanilla ice cream. It smelled great, Gale thought – but that wasn’t surprising, if this bakery was using Sylvie’s recipes. But the first bite revealed the difference: although Gale could taste the thyme, the cinnamon and sugar sprinkled over the crust, even the hint of bay leaf that should have given the pie a little something extra, the flavor was just… flat. It couldn’t compare with either of the tarts Gale had eaten at Sylvie’s bakery, or the honey cake they’d eaten together.
Maybe it’s just because Sylvie is my mate, Gale thought… but he didn’t think so. It was just that Sylvie had poured her heart and soul into her cooking like a true artist, while this bakery seemed to be only making the color-by-numbers version of her product. It was fine, but it couldn’t compare to the real thing.
Still, he finished up the apple pie and ice cream, not wanting his next words to seem too suspicious – though he realized he’d have to stop eating sweet pies and tarts at some stage!
“That was amazing,” he said, when the waitress appeared to take his plate. “Is the chef around? I’d really like to tell him myself how much I enjoyed that.”
The waitress shook her head apologetically. “I’m sorry, sir – the baker isn’t in at the moment. But the owner is here, if you’d like to speak to him? I’m sure he’d be very happy to know!”
So the baker isn’t the owner, Gale thought, as he told the waitress that he’d love to do just that. Interesting.
It didn’t take long for the owner to appear – he emerged from the back room, a tall, surprisingly young man with light hair, who blinked as he looked at Gale, his eyes narrowing.
Ah, Gale thought, working hard to keep his own reaction off his face. He could feel the little tingling sensation at the back of his neck that told him he was looking at another shifter.
He couldn’t tell what this guy shifted into, of course – only that he could shift.
I suppose that’s enough to confirm my suspicions, however, he thought, feeling disappointed. Sure, it gave them an answer to their puzzle, but Gale was always saddened when shifters used their powers for the wrong reasons.
“So… I heard you enjoyed the apple pie,” the man said, still looking at Gale a little shiftily.
“I definitely did,” Gale said with a smile and a nod. He didn’t feel great about being deceptive, but he knew that he couldn’t exactly accuse him out of nowhere – he and Sylvie needed a little more information first. “It was delicious. I just wanted to let you know myself.”
“Well, if you liked it that much, you can leave us a review online,” the man said, the suspicion leaving his face just a little. After all, Gale thought, he must have run into other shifters at random before. It didn’t necessarily mean anything. “You can go into as much detail as you like – definitely say how much you liked everything about the shop.”
“Uh, sure,” Gale said, nodding. “I can do that.”
“You can do it right now if you want to,” the man said. “You got a phone with you?”
“Oh – I do, but I’m kind of in a hurry just now,” Gale said. “I just wanted to let you know in person. But I’ll definitely leave a review later today, once I get to where I’m going.”
“You definitely should.” The man – Johnson, assuming that wasn’t just what he’d decided to call his shop – leaned forward, and for the first time, Gale realized how much he was sweating. “You should definitely also say how unique and different our goods are – how original and special.”
Gale resisted the urge to grind his teeth. “So… you come up with all of them yourself, do you?”
“Oh, yes,” Johnson said confidently. “It’s all me. I aim to be the best – the only – baker in this town – and I think with our products, we can do it.”
Is it time yet for us to destroy this… being? Gale’s unicorn demanded, its flanks shivering with rage.
“Mm. Well. Good luck,” Gale said, forcing a smile onto his face.
This man is dishonorable! his unicorn raged as Gale paid for his pie, then, as politely as he could, took his leave, Johnson’s voice calling Don’t forget to leave that review! following him out the door. We should tell him he is a disgrace to shifters! He has used his gifts to harm our mate!
Back outside in the clear, clean air, Gale took a deep breath, telling himself to calm down. Yes, Johnson had been infuriating. But he couldn’t do anything just yet.
First, he thought, as he started off down the street, I have to tell Sylvie.
Chapter 8
“He said what?!” Sylvie said, staring at Gale in outrage. “He said it was all him?! Why, that – that –”
For the first time in her life, Sylvie wished she was better at swearing. As it was, though, anything more than a damn or an asshole made her blush, and neither of those exactly came e
asily to her either!
“I know,” Gale said, nodding and looking frustrated. “He didn’t really say anything, well, incriminating, for lack of a better word. But he’d have to be pretty bad at stealing things if he just went around announcing it to anyone who showed an interest.”
“No, of course not,” Sylvie replied, subdued. She dipped one of her fries in ketchup. “He’s not exactly going to be like Thanks, I’m glad you like my cake, it’s totally stolen by the way.”
Gale laughed, the sound rich and deep, and despite herself, Sylvie felt her mood improving. She was still angry, but the sound of Gale’s laugh at least took the sting out of her fury.
“So what should we do now?” Sylvie asked, after she’d eaten a few more fries. Eula’s food was as good as it always was, and she had to admit, eating always cheered her up at least a little bit too. “Since we can’t exactly expect him to just admit anything.”
“No, we can’t,” Gale admitted. “But I’ve gotten a decent look at him now, and I know he’s a shifter. So that’s a start, I suppose.”
“Mmm.” Sylvie took a sip of her root beer. “But if we could, I dunno, somehow catch him in the act or something like that…”
“I guess we don’t know how he’s doing it, though,” Gale said. “You said he’s never come into your shop?”
“No, never.” Sylvie shook her head. “But I guess perhaps he could be sending someone else over to buy my products and somehow figure out my recipes from eating them. Maybe he’s a shifter type with a very refined palate, or something.”
“That’s a good point,” Gale said. “He could have an accomplice.”
“It’s possible.” Sylvie said, mulling it over. “Though they’d have to be a regular, and I’d probably notice someone coming back repeatedly. And it wouldn’t explain how he knows about stuff I haven’t even started selling yet.”
“True,” Gale admitted. “But since there’s no way he could be getting inside information, since like you said, you completely trust Emily, then it’s something we should consider.”
Sylvie nodded. “All right. So let’s say you’re right, and he has an accomplice who’s coming in and buying things and ferreting them back to him. How do we trick them into revealing themselves?”
“Well, I had an idea about that,” Gale said, leaning forward and lowering his voice. “It might be a little bit of work, but if you don’t mind, I think it has a shot of working.”
Intrigued, Sylvie leaned forward, a smile tugging at her lips.
“Do go on,” she said.
Gale grinned. “Well, it seems to me like we have two possibilities for how he’s going about this: one, he’s some kind of shifter who’s sneaking into your bakery. Two, he has an accomplice – or maybe several accomplices – who come in to scope out your shop. I think we should prepare for both possibilities.”
“Okay. Makes sense.” Sylvie nodded.
Gale leaned forward slightly. “So I guess my next question is – does Girdwood Springs have any kind of decent hardware store?”
Blinking, Sylvie nodded, not certain where Gale was going with this – until, suddenly it hit her. She grinned. “Yeah – Big Al’s has just about everything we’d need. Come on. Let’s go shopping.”
Forty-five minutes later and they were back at Sylvie’s bakery, loaded down with all the no-kill pest control traps they could buy at Big Al’s Hardware.
“Do you really think this’ll work?” Sylvie asked, as she laid out some sticky strips on her counter. “I mean, if they’re a shifter…”
“It depends,” Gale said. “Some shifters find their animal instincts take over once they’re in animal form, especially shifters who turn into regular things like cats, dogs, raccoons, mice, that kind of thing. So if we make the bait tempting enough, it may temporarily be enough to make them forget to watch out for things like this.” He ducked under some of the fly strips that Sylvie had hung up trying to catch the fly that had been buzzing around her shop a few days ago. “I guess you already have any aerial attacks taken care of!”
Sylvie laughed. “Well, I’ve been catching gnats in those things and throwing them away – uh, you don’t think he’s a gnat shifter, do you?”
“Well, once they’re caught, I assume whoever it is would shift back into human form in order to free themselves,” Gale said, joining her laughter. “I doubt they’d let themselves get tossed in the trash. So then we’ll have our answer about their identity.”
Sylvie nodded, as she put some delicious pieces of dried fruit down next to the sticky strips. “Well, they’ll definitely be easier to spot then.”
“Let’s hope so,” Gale laughed, before he became serious once more. “But I really have to say, this is still a long shot, Sylvie.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Sylvie said, turning to him. “But it’s better than nothing, right? And we still have our other plan, right?”
“I guess so.” Gale stepped toward her, slipping his arms around her sides. “I’m not sure if anything will come of it, though.”
“We can only try.” Leaning forward, Sylvie rested her head on Gale’s chest, listening to his heartbeat.
“And if it doesn’t, we’ll find another way,” Gale said, a warm edge entering his voice. “I swear, Sylvie, I won’t let him steal any more of your recipes – and especially not your grandmother’s honey cake recipe. That’s yours. She gave it to you. I won’t let him steal it.”
Sylvie closed her eyes, letting herself be enveloped by the warmth of Gale’s arms around her, listening to the beat of his heart by her ear.
“I know you won’t, Gale. I know.”
The next morning, Sylvie was ready.
She was opening, so she was up bright and early, back on her usual schedule, preparing the day’s goods. She’d been grumpy about that for the first time in her life, since it had meant she hadn’t been able to stay up all night with Gale – but even so, they hadn’t been able to hold themselves back from indulging just a little, she thought with a tiny, slightly wicked smile, as she recalled the evening before.
But a baker’s work is never done. Sylvie covered her mouth as she yawned, her breath puffing out in white clouds in the chilly fall morning air.
All right. Let’s get started. First, I lay out the bait.
Despite Gale not seeming too confident about it yesterday, she still thought Gale’s idea was a good one – or at least, the best they had. She definitely couldn’t march into the local police station and tell them that some guy was turning into a mouse – or whatever – and stealing her recipes, so they would just have to figure this out for themselves. She still felt the cold clutch of anger in her gut at the thought that he might have stolen her grandmother’s honey cake recipe.
She forced herself to tamp down on it, though. There’d be time for anger later. Right now, she had work to do.
Right now, she had to reel Johnson in, and try to tempt him to expose himself.
She opened up her simple sandwich board sign, crouching down to write across it in chalk in as large lettering as it would accommodate: Special coming soon – a mystery! Come in for a sneak preview.
Sylvie couldn’t say she necessarily would be tempted by the idea of mystery cake, but the idea of it was fun, and she could see how appealing it might be for kids.
She had something ready for it, but it was an older recipe she hadn’t had in rotation for a few months now, from before Johnson had opened up: custard tarts with sugared violets. Ordinarily, it’d be very hard to get violets at short notice in the middle of fall, but…
But ordinarily I wouldn’t have a unicorn on call.
Sylvie couldn’t hold back her smile as she recalled the way Gale had brought some violets that were only just clinging on to life in the cold weather back from the grave, coaxing them into full bloom with nothing but a touch of his fingers.
Taking a deep breath, she put the sandwich board out as far as she could on the sidewalk, where it was sure to be visible from Johnson’s Pie
s and Bakery.
And then, trying to look as casual as possible, she sauntered back into her bakery.
Now, she thought, let’s see who drops by.
For the rest of the day, Sylvie made sure she took a careful note of all the customers who came through her store.
As she suspected, it wasn’t exactly difficult – most people went straight past her relatively inconspicuous shop to Johnson’s Pies and Bakery. But she did get a reasonable amount of foot traffic, mainly from parents with children who were intrigued by the promise of a mystery.
“Would you like to take a guess at what it is?” Sylvie asked one boy playfully, after he’d tugged his mother into the bakery by the hand, saying he wanted to try the mystery cake.
“Um. Is it chocolate?” the boy asked, eyes huge.
“It can be – we have three flavors available,” Sylvie said. She glanced at the mother, who smiled at her and nodded. She had glasses and long blonde hair pulled back in a bun, looking exactly like a parent on vacation.
I think they’re innocent, Sylvie thought as she selected a chocolate custard tart, with a sugared violet placed in its center. Johnson might be unscrupulous, but she couldn’t suspect a mother with her child of being in on his schemes!
She mainly noted the people who came in by themselves down in her memory: Guy, 30s, bike shorts, dark hair. Lady, red hair cut short, green skirt. Distinguished gentleman, looks like he drinks wine in his spare time, nice shoes. White-haired grandma with a knitted cardigan….
She was pretty sure she’d never seen any of these people before, but naturally, she couldn’t possibly remember every person who’d ever set foot in her shop, even with business being so slow for the past little while.
Toward closing time, Sylvie heard her phone buzz, and since there were no customers, she picked it up to read the message that had just arrived.
Johnson hasn’t been here all day, but he’s just pulled up outside now, in a VERY expensive car, she read. Of course it was from Gale – he’d been checking Johnson’s place out from a sensible distance.