CHRISTELLE KNOCKED and waited. There was no sound from behind the door and she wondered if she was in the right place. She spun around when a sound startled her from behind, her heart beating quickly.
“Oh, it’s you!” she snapped.
It occurred to her that this line was exactly what people said in murder mysteries before getting horribly killed. She stepped back, regained composure and started again, rephrasing her words quickly, considering the happenings as of late.
“Daegal, it’s you, I mean. I thought we had a meeting?”
“Last minute room change,” said the TV executive.
He smiled after the words had left his mouth, as though he had forgotten to do so before. It looked fake, but it also looked charming. Those sharp, white teeth gleamed in the harsh fluorescent lighting of the hallway. Christelle never quite knew how to feel about Daegal. He was attractive, he was charming, he was influential, he was rich... but he was also mysterious and not in a completely good way. He had a cruel streak, or so it seemed to Christelle. His emotions were stale, like he had to practice showing them. Yes, Christelle thought. There was something off about the man...err... werewolf. And even if it was just that he was focused on his work, Christelle felt that was enough to detract from whatever charm he chose to flash. As good looking as he was, Daegal was no prospect of hers.
Before that very moment, Christelle had never thought of Daegal in that way anyhow, and she didn’t know why she was now.
Had she felt something for Daegal before, which now had been crushed? She didn’t think so. If anything, she had always been wary of him. But now these thoughts about him swirled in her head...
What did it mean?
In this world of magic, it could mean anything or nothing. These might be completely natural, human thoughts and emotions, or they could be mixed up with magic. Who knew? Certainly not Christelle.
All Christelle did know was that she wasn’t speaking, and her cheeks felt red.
She was blushing.
“Sure, just show the way,” she said, hoping Daegal didn’t notice the warmth in her cheeks.
He didn’t seem to. Instead, he beckoned her to follow with a wave of his arm. He turned quickly, stalked away. Christelle had to jog to catch up with him. Conversation just wasn’t going to happen. Sol bumped up and down on Christelle’s shoulder as she hurried on. In response to the hustle and bustle, he dug his talons into her flesh. Christelle hissed in surprise.
“Sol, that hurts!” she said.
“Don’t want to fall! Don’t want to fall!”
Christelle gritted her teeth and hoped she wasn’t bleeding.
They finally arrived at the second room, all the way at the other end of the building, or so it seemed. What had been wrong with the first? From what Christelle had been able to see – which, granted, hadn’t been a lot – it was a good size and was close to Studio B where filming would start in, oh, about half an hour or so.
This room...
When the door opened, all Christelle could see were people. Lots of people. They were crammed into a tiny room. Some were sitting on actual seats, others were on tables and still more were standing, looking uncomfortable.
When Christelle finally squeezed into the room it was clearly beyond capacity. She spotted the judges – Joachim, Martine, and Zach; and the contestants – Sergei, Henry, Mona, Dermott, Leif, and Evie. In the rear of the room, there was one more woman standing awkwardly, separate from the familiar group. No one was talking to her, but everyone was talking, and quite loudly.
It seemed that Christelle and Daegal were walking into an argument.
“Enough!” roared Daegal.
He slammed the door shut behind him, almost catching Christelle’s hand in his haste.
“I am done with this caterwauling,” he said. “There are those higher up than me who have made this final decision and that’s it. It’s final.”
The room went silent.
“I’ll admit I agree with their choice, but even if I didn’t it would make any difference. You can all just get on with it; it’s your choice to be happy or angry. It’s not my energy you’re wasting, is it? If you want to go out there and try to cook something while you want to stab someone, how good is that food going to come out?”
Christelle flinched at the use of the word ‘stab,’ though she understood what Daegal meant. Energy was everywhere and ran through everyone, and if you could focus in on it, as those in the paranormal world were able to do readily, then you could harness it. Go about your day in a bad mood and you’ll attract bad things. Be happy and you’ll find that positives and opportunities are all around. Whatever energy you dial into is what the world will bring, and Christelle knew one thing for certain - that you might miss the best things right before you when you’re viewing the world from a dark perspective.
It made sense.
It was good advice.
But...
“I’m sorry,” said Christelle, “But I don’t understand... what’s everyone arguing about?”
“Me.”
The voice came from the woman standing at the back of the room. It was a voice that gave the impression that it was used to being heard, even if the woman behind it looked sweet and demure.
“They’re arguing about me. I’m the new contestant.”
She held out her hand for Christelle to shake. Christelle had to reach far to take it, but she managed it at last.
“My name’s Alice Alizon. I’m a witch. A hearth witch to be precise, although I do come from a long line of kitchen witches.”
Alice smiled. It was an expansive smile, and a pretty one except for one shockingly large gold tooth that stood out right in the front. Christelle tried not to stare at it. She just hadn’t expected it to be there. She figured that once she got used to it, the glimmering gold tooth would probably look quite fashionable.
“Yes,” said Daegal. “This is Alice, and she is replacing, well, take your pick. Murderer or murder victim.”
“Nice to meet you,” said Christelle, unsure about what else she could possibly say. “Daegal, a quick word, if I might?”
Daegal shrugged and sighed. He put his arm around Christelle and took her to one side. It was hardly private in this small room, but since the chatter had started up again, there wasn’t much that anybody else could overhear anyhow. Christelle was sure she could feel someone staring at her. She sensed it coming from was someone whom wasn’t happy about something, but she didn’t have the room or the inclination to turn around.
“What is it, Christelle? Are you going to blame me for bringing someone new in at this stage as well?”
Christelle suddenly felt a little sorry for Daegal. He had wanted to show he was in charge, had put on that persona, but in that moment, he had to admit that it wasn’t him making all the decisions. There was someone else in charge, and he had to do as he was told, just like anyone else. Christelle wondered what his unbreakable contract said.
“No, of course not,” she said in reply, though she might have been about to do just that. “It’s just... and it’s not my place to say or even really question it, but... why? Why bring in someone else? I thought the plan was that two people were eliminated each show. In that case, with one murdered and another arrested for the murder, that’s two. We were exactly where we were meant to be, weren’t we?”
Daegal nodded.
“Yes, that’s right. That was the plan. But the ones with the money have decided that since the show is getting so much interest, it would be a shame to whittle people down so quickly. They might want to add some more episodes. So, they’re trialing it in episode two. Seeing how it will work. And then they’ll make a final decision.”
“Okay,” said Christelle slowly.
“Don’t,” said Daegal, waving his hand before Christelle’s face, seemingly to stop her from saying another word about it. “It’s madness. Makes no sense at all. But that’s what they want. I think they’re trying to cash in myself, and although that isn’t an idea t
hat makes me uncomfortable – in fact, I’d do the same if I could, I always look out for new ways to make money – this one feels... I don’t know. I don’t trust the new witch. Hearth witch? She doesn’t come across like that. She’s different.”
Christelle tilted her head to one side to get a better look at Alice. She couldn’t see anything particularly interesting or different about her, but then, she didn’t really know what a hearth witch was. She would have to do some research. Mrs. Mogridge would know.
“You think she’s a spy or something?”
Daegal’s eyes widened. “Well I hadn’t thought about that, but now... yes, maybe.”
A bell rang somewhere in the distance.
“No more time to think. Let’s go.”
Chapter 4
“Guys, look, it was an open audition. It was all over social media. All over everything. The owls were sending messages. The birds were tweeting about it. I didn’t even put my name forward.”
Alice stood with her arms folded in front of her, her dark eyes flashing with irritation.
“Who did then?” asked Henry.
Since his recent “brush with death”– at least, that’s what he called it -Henry had become even more quick tempered and outspoken. Christelle thought it an inflated reaction, since Henry was perfectly safe. Someone else was murdered instead of him due a case of mistaken identity, and his murderer apprehended, and motive revealed. But Henry couldn’t help but let everyone know that he was not impressed at all that a new contestant had been brought into The Kitchen Witch Wars.
Alice looked at him. She tilted her head to one side and smiled.
“A friend,” she said, and it seemed as though she was going to say nothing more.
Except that she did.
“There is no need to get all heated up about me being here. They’ve changed the rules, you need to speak to whoever it is who’s in charge, not me. I’m just here, same as you, to try to win. Anyway, you all have a much better chance. You know the setup, the judges, how it all works. I’m walking in blind. I know nothing.”
Something was happening to the contestants. Something surprising. They each felt that they had been angry for no reason. Each of them except for Henry however, who was still as angry as ever. They felt as though they should apologize. They felt... bewitched.
“You didn’t just put a spell on us, did you?” asked Leif nervously. “It’s just, I think... I don’t know. I was thinking one thing and now I’m thinking something else and I’m not sure I know why.”
There were nods and grunts of agreement from the others. They were suspicious. Even though they were all vying for the title of Kitchen Witch, they had become a tight knit group after losing one of their own.
Mona, another witch, was the only one who didn’t seem to think any magic had taken place.
“No, you’re wrong if you think a spell is involved here,” she said.
She took one step forward, and then another, until she was standing next to Alice. The two women smiled at one another, and Alice’s gold tooth glinted in the studio lights.
“No,” continued Mona, “It’s not magic. It’s truth. We’re hearing the truth. We’ve been in this environment for a long time now, longer than we would ever usually be. I mean the TV world, of course. It’s so different from real life, so fake, so false, and I know we all want to be here, but I’m worried it’s starting to make us cynical. I’m worried it’s starting to make us suspicious, thinking everyone is out to trick us or make us trip up in some way.”
Leif stepped forward now too.
“I understand and I think you’re right. We need to stick together, not tear one another apart. That’s what they want, isn’t it? That’s what this is all about. It makes for better television if the contestants have beef with one another. If we’re all good friends and we just get on with the job at hand, where’s the conflict?”
Now it seemed it was Dermott’s time to speak. He moved across the imaginary line that had been put in place, dividing the two ‘sides’ of the argument.
“You know what? I have enough trouble with the judges to give me all the conflict I need,” Dermott said. “Mona, you’re right. This is just another layer of craziness to add to this already crazy thing we’re doing. Back biting and, my goodness, we had a murder! It’s getting more and more dangerous every day and really we’re just here to cook.”
Everyone had noticed that Dermott and the judges had their differences, but no one really knew what that difference was. Dermott had tried to cheat and use magic in his recipe, but he had been found out too quickly to execute his spell. Maybe that was part of it. No one wanted to ask but everyone sensed tension and wanted to know what was at the root. Dermott, sadly, wasn’t giving anything away. The judges were far too important to speak with about anything of concern, and they operated with an air of distant superiority that clearly separated them from the contestants. Squabbling or inter-contestant problems were not their concern. Maybe the secret would come out at some point... everyone certainly hoped so, but now seemed not the time to ask.
Evie was a little reticent to speak, though it felt rightly her turn. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Alice, it was just that she didn’t want to cause trouble. Henry the shapeshifter meanwhile, was growing redder in the face as he stood behind her. Evie could sense the anger rolling off him. Clearly, he did not agree with what was being said. But Evie couldn’t help herself. She had to be truthful; it just wasn’t in her nature not to be.
“I think it’s time I introduced myself to you, Alice. Since we’ll be working together. I’m Evie, I’m a vampire. But don’t worry, I don’t want to drink your blood!”
Everyone laughed. This was the same line that Evie always trotted out to everyone she met. At first it had probably been a real warning – people tended to be scared of vampires and worried that they would be drained of blood whenever the opportunity arose – but over time it was more like a calling card, a signature, and it would have seemed strange if Evie hadn’t said the words.
All but two people laughed.
Henry, who still fuming. He was so angry that his skin was rippling as though it wanted to change shape. Of course, this is exactly what was happening; when a shapeshifter becomes angry, controlling their form is difficulty. If they’re not mindful, they can spontaneously change into many different shapes as a natural way of calming down, like a release of emotional steam. Henry was refusing to allow this to happen. He preferred to stay in control.
The other person who didn’t laugh was Alice Alizon herself. She looked at Evie, direct in the eye, and quite seriously. The small vampire was smiling, her long pointed teeth on display, but Evie’s smile began to shrink. She realized she wasn’t getting a response from Alice, other than a cold, hard stare.
“What’s wrong?” asked Evie at last. “What did I say?”
Alice shook herself.
“I’m so sorry. It’s just... do we know each other? I could have sworn... what you just said sounded so familiar, as if I’d heard the words before.”
Evie shrugged.
“Lots of vampires say it,” she admitted. “To stop people worrying. Maybe you heard someone else-”
“No,” said Alice decisively. “It was you.”
“Ah, okay, I don’t... you don’t seem... I don’t think we know each other,” spluttered Evie.
Her already pale face seemed to turn a shade whiter and her eyes were ringed with black.
“I’m sure, in fact. One hundred percent.”
Alice winked at the vampire.
“Whatever you say. Nice to meet you anyway, Evie.”
Alice turned to the other contestants, who were now all standing around her. Even Sergei had made the step across the imaginary line, though he had remained silent. It would have, he thought, been beneath him to apologize and to show that he had been (or might have been because this was TV, after all, and anything could be the truth here) wrong. Yet he felt he had better side with the others. Th
ere was safety in numbers, as people said. And in this place, and considering recent events, being with other people seemed like a solid plan.
“I appreciate your support,” said Alice. “Most of you, anyway.”
She was referring to Henry, of course, who was blatantly refusing to make any kind of congenial effort. He was furious that someone new had been brought into the competition pushing him one hurdle farther from the $100,000 prize and the fame that he was so desperate to find.
“I always knew I’d be an outsider coming into this, but hey, why not give it a try?” Alice said. “I auditioned, that Wade guy tried my food along with a load of other people’s, and they chose me. So here I am.”
She looked to the back of the room over everyone’s heads.
“I think they’re ready for us.”
As the contestants started to file off into their own kitchen spaces, Henry called out:
“Wade chose you. Wade the runner? How did he get so important suddenly?”
But no one answered him.
No one had the answer.
Chapter 5
The lights were just as bright as Christelle remembered from the last time The Kitchen Witch Wars filmed. They were hot too, and unlike last time she could feel her makeup starting to run down the side of her face. She waved her hand for some assistance, and young Wade ran up to her.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
He looked around him as though he was expecting something to happen or, more likely, someone to come and tell him he shouldn’t be meddling in an area that was nothing to do with him.
“Wade, right?” asked Christelle.
She paused. She had never really looked at this young man, boy really, before. But there was something very familiar about him, something that she almost recognized but couldn’t quite put her finger on. He had lovely curly hair, blond and full of natural waves, and his face was handsome and Christelle had to admit she liked looking at him, but it wasn’t that... there was something else.
She was so focused on Wade’s face that she missed what he said.
Kitchen Witch Wars and the Chef Who Nailed It Page 2