by Zoe Chant
Sylvie bit her lip. Did that mean Johnson had come to find out what exactly her mystery cakes were all about? Was he meeting up with someone who’d been in here today – or was it something else?
Ok, she texted back quickly. It’s only fifteen mins till close, and there’s no one here. I can come meet u.
Sure thing, Gale texted back after a moment. You know where I am.
Ordinarily, it would take Sylvie quite some time to do a full close by herself – there were leftovers to be packed away, equipment to be cleaned, benches to be wiped, chairs to be stacked, and a till to be reconciled. But right now, she knew she had to hurry – who knew what Johnson was up to right now? She could take care of all the bits and bobs of closing later, once she’d gone to meet up with Gale!
Hurrying, she yanked off her apron and flung her jacket over her shoulders, only just remembering to turn off the lights as she hurried out the back door.
It didn’t take much time of scurrying through Girdwood Springs’ quiet residential backways for Sylvie to get to where Gale was waiting for her. She’d spent her entire childhood here, after all, and there was no part of the town she didn’t know like the back of her hand.
She could see why Gale had chosen this spot – it was in a park a little down the road from Johnson’s Pies and Bakery, but there was enough cover that he could duck behind something if he thought someone might have clocked him. But most importantly, you could see almost everything and everyone in the bakery itself through its huge front windows, as well as the parking lot.
Sylvie whistled quietly through her teeth when she saw a swanky-looking black car parked by the building – that had to be Johnson’s, she realized, and Gale hadn’t been joking about it being expensive.
“You haven’t been cold standing out here all day?” Sylvie asked Gale when she reached him where he was standing by a large oak tree. “I was a little worried, and you’re not even that warmly dressed!”
Gale shook his head with a smile. “No – thankfully cold doesn’t really bother me. It’s a shifter thing, I think. I could be out here in shirtsleeves and it wouldn’t be a problem, but it’s better to at least try to blend in.”
Sylvie decided that, at some later time, she was going to have to quiz Gale more fully about the extent of his shifter powers and abilities. So he can grow flowers with a single touch, he can turn into a unicorn, he doesn’t feel the cold… and I’m pretty sure I can add ‘massively increased strength and stamina’ to that list as well, she thought, feeling her cheeks pinken a little as she recalled the last couple of nights they’d spent together.
Time for that later, Sylvie! Mind on the job!
Blinking, she focused her attention on Johnson’s Pies and Bakery. “So, see anything suspicious?”
Gale shook his head. “No – I think he must be closing. All his staff have left for the day. He’s the only one there now, unless one of his staff walks to work. But I haven’t seen anyone else in there for a while.”
“So I guess we didn’t succeed in luring him after all,” Sylvie said, disappointed. “Maybe he’s not that interested in mystery cake, or he thinks he has enough for now.”
“Maybe so,” Gale said, frowning. “But still, I want to give it a few more minutes. It could be he’s waiting for someone.”
But it seemed that wasn’t the case. A minute later, and Johnson himself came strolling out of his shop, locking the door behind him. Sylvie felt new disappointment swell up inside her – at least until she noticed that Johnson wasn’t going to his car.
“Do you think he might be going somewhere else for his meeting?” Sylvie asked as Johnson strolled off down the road, the early fall twilight already darkening around him.
“Could be,” Gale said. “But you know most of the shop owners around here, don’t you? Knowing the problems you’ve been having, they would have told you if he was meeting with someone, wouldn’t they?”
“Yeah, definitely,” Sylvie said, nodding. “So maybe he’s off to… a secret location?”
Part of her had to admit she was just a little bit excited. This reminded her of all the Nancy Drew books she used to read when she was a kid – all this sneaking around, trying to solve a mystery.
Which is great, but it’s my livelihood and everything I’ve worked for on the line here!
“Should we… follow him?” she whispered, glancing at Gale.
“Can’t hurt, I suppose.” Gale turned his head to look at her. “Are you actually having fun with this?”
“I’m trying not to!” Sylvie said with a soft laugh. “This is serious!”
Gale let out his own little laugh. “Come on,” he said, taking her hand in his large, warm one. “Let’s go.”
Together, they snuck out of the park. The residential road ran parallel to the main street, and she and Gale hurried along it until they got to one of the small connecting streets that ran between the businesses. Sylvie peeped out around the side of a building, and saw Johnson’s broad back as he continued to amble his way along the street. At this time of night there weren’t many people out and about, and the street was pretty much clear. There was no one for them to blend in with if Johnson happened to turn around.
“He’s still there,” Sylvie whispered. “Let’s go. Maybe we can cross to the other side of the street. Maybe we can keep him in sight from over there.”
They crossed the road, dawdling along as if they were looking at shop displays while keeping one eye on Johnson. At least until he suddenly veered off the street and into the line of trees at the end of the main group of shops.
“Uh-oh – we lost him,” Sylvie said. “I think he went into the trees.”
“Quick, we can find him again if we hurry,” Gale said, tugging her hand.
But it seemed they couldn’t – despite the fact that there was no path through the trees and it couldn’t have been more than two minutes later, there was absolutely no sign of Johnson whatsoever.
“I guess we really did lose him,” Sylvie said, grimacing. “And I was kind of having fun, too. But I guess like you said, he’s a shifter. Maybe he turned into… whatever he is. Maybe he’s a bird, and he flew away.”
“It’s possible,” Gale said, nodding. “If you’re a bird or a forest creature, I guess that kind of thing is just normal for you. I tend to forget sometimes – I have to be so careful when I shift. I could never do it so close to humans. Your backyard excepted, I suppose.”
Sylvie laughed, though it was a little sadly. “Yeah – I’ll bet. A bird where there wasn’t one a moment before, I guess you can say maybe your eyes tricked you. But a whole unicorn? That’s a bit more difficult to explain away.”
“I’m sorry, Sylvie,” Gale said, shaking his head. “But I promise we’ll find a way to stop this – if it didn’t work this time, we can do it another time. This was just our opening gambit.”
“It’s okay.” Sylvie looked up at him, smiling despite her disappointment. She squeezed his hand. “Please don’t worry about it. Like you said, there’ll be other chances.” She sighed. After all this excitement, she wasn’t really looking forward to returning to her mundane task of closing up her bakery. “But I should go get some stuff sorted out back at the shop. Would you like to come with me? I could use some company!”
“Of course,” Gale said warmly, and together, they began making their way back down the street toward the bakery.
As they walked, Sylvie’s disappointment began to dissipate. It was hard to feel too downhearted with Gale by her side, even if they still hadn’t managed to find a way to trick Johnson into revealing how he was finding out about her recipes.
“If he’s a bird, I suppose he could… hover outside my bakery window or something,” Sylvie said meditatively, following the train of her own thoughts. “Maybe that’s how he’s doing it.”
“I suppose he could,” Gale said. “But do you think you’d notice a bird staring directly through your window? Or flying into your shop?”
“I probab
ly would,” Sylvie admitted. “But you said there are mice shifters… though I’m sure I’d notice a mouse, too! I keep a very clean shop, I’d never let mice in.”
“Not normal mice, no,” Gale said. “I’m sure of that. But this mouse would have had slightly different goals to your average mouse.”
Sylvie laughed, getting her keys out of her pocket as they made their way between the shops to the back of her bakery. “True. Hmmm. Still, I wonder what he could be, though. You really can’t tell just by looking at him?”
“Unfortunately not,” Gale said, shaking his head. “He could be literally anything.” Sylvie unlocked the door, and together they entered the back room of the bakery. “A mouse, a dog, a griffin, a –”
Gale’s words cut off abruptly. Sylvie glanced up at him, then turned to follow his wide-eyed, somewhat horrified gaze, in time to see –
A – wait, what is that?!
Whatever it was, it was changing shape fast – it had started as a weird, strangely lumpy black shape hovering in mid-air. But as she watched, it started to look distinctly more – well, more man-shaped.
A man who, when her heart-pounding shock had worn off, she recognized.
“Johnson?” Gale blurted out, confirming her own thought.
Sylvie’s mouth dropped open, and her eyes felt like they were bugging out of her head as she stared at Johnson, crouched on the floor of her bakery in front of them, his expression half-sheepish, half-panicked… and with a piece of fly paper stuck fast to his shoulder.
Wait, Sylvie thought, her mind whirring. Wait, does this mean Johnson is a –
“You’re a fly shifter?!” Gale said, once again completing her thought so she didn’t have to. Which was probably for the best, since she wasn’t sure she could have brought herself to think the words fly shifter.
Johnson’s eyes moved to Gale’s face, and immediately his expression changed from one of panic and embarrassment to, unbelievably, indignation.
“Hey, I remember you,” he cried, lifting a hand to jab his finger accusingly in Gale’s direction. “You came into my shop earlier! You said you were going to write a review – were you just spying on me?”
“Who the hell are you to get angry about someone spying on you!” Sylvie burst out, her outrage momentarily overcoming both her sense of how strange this situation was and her decorum. “You’ve just been caught red-handed in the middle of breaking into my shop! To spy! Is this what you’ve been doing the whole time?! Sneaking in here and looking at my notes and recipes?!”
Sylvie would have stridden across the room to shake her finger in Johnson’s face if Gale’s hand hadn’t come gently down on her shoulder, restraining her.
Johnson at least immediately became more subdued, looking down, with what might have been some actual shame crossing his face.
“It’s not like that,” he said petulantly after a moment. “You don’t know what kind of pressure I’m under.”
Sylvie stared at him, still furious. What kind of pressure?! What the hell is he talking about?!
“I think you’d better explain yourself properly, starting from the beginning,” Gale said, his voice low and dangerous. “You know it’s illegal for shifters to use their powers to commit crimes. And you know we have our own penalties for that kind of thing.”
Sylvie glanced at him, pricked by curiosity despite the fact she was still almost out of her mind with anger at Johnson. Does he mean… shifter law? With their own shifter police? Shifter lawyers? Shifter jails?!
She supposed that made sense. A human jail would be useless against someone like Johnson: he’d just shift and fly out the door the moment he had a chance.
Shaking her head, Sylvie decided these were questions for another time. Right now, she couldn’t wait to hear exactly what Johnson was going to say to try to justify himself.
“Can I get up off the floor?” Johnson asked, his tone still petulant. “It’s cold down here.”
Gale glanced across at Sylvie, clearly waiting for her lead. Sylvie frowned, but finally she decided there was no sense in them all hanging around in the back room.
“Fine,” she said through gritted teeth. “We can go sit down out there. But then, you’re telling me everything.”
Johnson nodded, pulling himself up off the floor. Thankfully, it seemed like Gale wasn’t the only one who kept his clothes when he shifted. One day, she’d have to ask him how that worked – though she’d have to ask him about how pretty much everything worked, she supposed.
She pointed to one of the chairs in her dining area. “Sit,” she commanded Johnson. “And then talk. Why have you been stealing all my recipes? And how many times have you… you flown in here and invaded my privacy like this?”
That was the other thing, Sylvie thought, a shiver running down her spine. Not only had Johnson stolen from her, he’d buzzed around in here when she and Emily had thought they’d been alone. It wasn’t like she showered or got changed here or anything like that, but it was still an invasion of privacy. Sylvie found her fury only growing stronger.
“Only two or three times,” Johnson said slowly once he’d seated himself. “Not many, I swear – only enough to look through your recipe notes a couple of times. I didn’t… see anything, and I didn’t touch anything else.”
Next to her, Sylvie felt Gale bristling. “You’d better be telling the truth about that,” he said, his voice low and dangerous, “or believe me, the cops are going to be the last thing you have to worry about.”
Johnson nodded vigorously, eyes wide. “No – no, I swear it. I was only interested in the recipes. I didn’t even think about anything else!”
Sylvie narrowed her eyes. Of course she didn’t know if Johnson was telling the whole truth, but she didn’t live here. The worst Johnson could have seen was her and Emily gossiping about something silly, or her spending a little too much time in front of the mirror wondering if she should try to actually wear some makeup beyond a little concealer, before deciding that she wasn’t going to get up any earlier than she did already for the sake of her vanity.
“It’s okay,” she said, turning to Gale and putting her hand over his. “I don’t think it’s that big of a deal.”
Gale gazed into her eyes for a moment, before nodding. He still didn’t look happy, but he was clearly willing to drop it if she wanted him to.
And right now, Sylvie was way more steamed up over his theft of her recipes than of him possibly seeing her doing some embarrassing mirror-pouting.
“All right – you wanted the chance to explain, Johnson,” she said, crossing her arms and sitting back in her chair. “So explain.”
Johnson sighed, dropping his eyes. “All right. Well. For starters, my name isn’t actually Johnson. That was just… you know, to sound homey and regular Joe-like for the sign. It’s actually Odilon. Gareth Odilon.”
Sylvie blinked. “Odilon? Why does that name sound kind of familiar?”
“Because his family’s a big deal in the restaurant business,” Gale supplied, nodding and looking with narrowed eyes at… well, Gareth Odilon, apparently. “More than kind of. His family own more restaurants and hotels than I can poke a stick at. This guy’s about as far from an average Joe as you can get.”
“All right, all right,” Odilon snapped. “I get it, all right? My family’s rich – I know, all right? Everyone knows! Not like it’s ever helped me! I still have to prove I can run a business all by myself before I’m allowed to do anything with the family’s restaurants!”
Sylvie had to resist the urge to shake her head. “What are you talking about?” she asked – though she was starting to get the slightest suspicion that she already knew.
“It’s what we all have to do,” Odilon said glumly, receding after his outburst. “Go out and start a new food business from scratch, and prove we can run it at a profit for two years. If we can’t do that, we can’t enter the family business. So that’s what my bakery is. That’s what I’m trying to do, after my other one didn’t
work out.”
“Your other one?” Gale asked. “You already have one failed bakery somewhere else?”
“It’s hard to run a bakery!” Odilon said, throwing up his hands. “You have to hire staff! I ended up just asking my friends from college who wanted to have some fun and put it down as community service on their resume. I didn’t have time to read all the applications people sent in. Plus, the cost of materials… and then you have to think of things to bake…”
Sylvie stared at him, aware her mouth was hanging open but unable to help it. “So… you’re just… lazy? That’s why you did it?”
Odilon’s head snapped up. “Obviously I’m not lazy!” he carped. “I just didn’t realize it was so much work. And then I kept getting shitty reviews online, saying my stuff was no good or my pies tasted bad… that was why the first one I tried went under. It wasn’t my fault, it was the reviews!”
Closing her eyes and counting to ten, Sylvie resisted the urge to explain to him that if his products had been better, his reviews would have been good. She already knew it wouldn’t do any good.
“So I decided things were going to be different this time around,” Odilon said firmly. “I tried new stuff with this one – but people kept saying they liked your bakery better. They kept saying your stuff tasted nicer, or something. But if this business failed as well, my dad said I’d have to come home and do more training. I can’t face him if this one fails too – you don’t know what he’s like, his expectations are always so high.”
Odilon looked so miserable as he said these last words that Sylvie could almost begin to feel sorry for him. Almost. But not quite.
“But… why did you think it would be okay to do that to my business?” she asked, still not quite able to understand it. “I’ve worked so hard to build it – and worked hard on my recipes, too. Didn’t you realize it was wrong?”
“I was desperate,” Odilon said, not lifting his head. “And after my two years were up, I was planning on shutting the place down anyway. You could have come back then.”