Murder by the Cup

by Abigail Thornton

  It would be easy to be jealous of her sister’s looks. After all, Celia was what most would describe as drop dead gorgeous. No hair would ever dare be out of place and every stitch of her clothing was made to show off a figure most women envied. However, it wasn’t looks that Wynona found herself coveting, since she, herself, looked very similar to Ceila, albeit less flashy... No, it was Celia’s powers. The one thing Wynona wished for above all.

  It was the very power that was sparking at Celia’s fingertips as she wiggled her fingers in an unconscious pattern, dripping like diamonds onto the newly varnished hardwood floors before dissipating.

  “I like it,” Wynona said, her voice strong and steady. Despite her envy, Wynona vowed she would never show her family any weakness. Learning to control her emotions was the product of a lifetime of abuse.

  “You would,” Celia muttered under her breath. She began walking again, letting her fingers touch everything she passed. If Wynona didn’t know any better, it would appear as if her sister were caressing the fabrics and flower petals. Instead, she was more than likely leaving hexes on the next person who would sit down.

  Wynona made a mental note to make sure none of their future patrons got a nasty shock when the store opened next week.

  “You missed Grandmother’s funeral,” Celia said off-handedly. She tsked her tongue. “For someone who claims to have loved the old hag, that wasn’t very well-mannered.”

  Wynona counted to ten, just like Granny had taught her, when dealing with someone who was particularly difficult. Oh, how she wished her family was the type who gave hugs and baked cookies. Life would have been so different. But then again, maybe it was better this way. Maybe her freedom was worth being seen as an abomination for most of her life.

  Her mother had actually used that word once. As if it were Wynona’s fault that she had been cursed. Or that she had any control over the fact that she was born into the Le Doux family. Wynona had most assuredly not asked for any of that, yet it had happened.

  “I said my goodbyes,” Wynona said softly. She hoped her sister didn’t hear the catch in her voice. Granny had been a unique and special woman, and Wynona would never forget her kindness. Even the servants had been afraid to be around Wynona, as if the curse was contagious. But Granny had rarely left Wynona’s side.

  When Granny knew it was her time to go, she’d quietly told Wynona to escape at midnight on the spring equinox. It wasn’t until later that Wynona realized Granny had passed away at that exact moment, creating just enough of a diversion to allow Wynona to get out of their estate undetected.

  Countless tears had already been shed, but Wynona hadn’t dared go to the funeral. She was too afraid of what her mother would have done. Instead, she’d held her own vigil and said goodbye, hoping her granny’s ghost could hear her. If she had half the power of her sister, Wynona could have summoned Granny and done it properly, but such was not her lot in life.

  Celia gave a delicate snort, then wrinkled her nose. “What is...” She bent down slightly, then jerked backward with a screech.

  “What?” Wynona asked, running forward just in time to see a dash of white scurry from one bookcase to the other.

  “A mouse!” Celia shouted. She pointed a finger toward the area the mouse had darted and twirled it quickly.

  “NO!” Wynona cried, holding out her hand as if to stop the spell. A flurry of sparks burst, forcing Wynona to shut her eyes or be blinded for the rest of her life, a handicap she did not need to add to her already lengthy list, only for the light to disappear as quickly as it had begun.

  “There.” Celia wiped her fingers against each other in satisfaction. She turned her pouty lips toward Wynona. “You’re welcome!” The cheer in Celia’s voice was like nails on a chalkboard and Wynona had to hold back tears.

  She hated how little her family cared about life, whether a rodent or their own daughter’s. If something wasn’t useful to them in the political arena, it wasn’t worth acknowledging. It was just one of the many reasons Wynona had made it her personal mission in life to be the exact opposite of everything the Le Doux family stood for.

  She clenched her hands into fists, fighting the urge to teach her sister a lesson. It was times like these that her lack of magic hurt the most. She was helpless against the evils of her family and other witches.

  “I’ll ask again, Celia,” Wynona said with forced calm. “What brought you here?”

  Before Celia could answer, voices began trickling from the back of the small tea house. Someone must have come in through the kitchen entrance and Wynona needed to go greet them. She hoped it was Chef Droxon. She needed something to go smoothly right about now. She wasn’t comfortable leaving her sister alone, though. Who knew what else the cruel sibling would get up to if Wynona wasn’t watching?

  Celia studied her nails. “Sounds like you have company.” Her eyes darted to the kitchen door, then back to her fingers.

  “They can wait,” Wynona said easily. She folded her arms over her chest. Maybe the move would hide the chaotic beating of her heart against her rib cage.

  “Well,” Celia huffed. “While I’m glad to see family is a priority to you, I really must be going.” She blew her sister a sarcastic kiss. “I’ll just let you clean up that little mess,” she said, pointing to the bookcase. “I’m sure you’ve had plenty of practice.”

  Wynona didn’t answer as she waited to see her sister leave. A little magic to make the door smack that perfectly rounded derriere wouldn’t go amiss right about now, but Wynona had to content herself with staring hard enough to bore a hole into her sister’s back.

  Once the witch was gone, Wynona quickly locked the door, then scurried to the back. She would indeed need to clean up her sister’s mess, but right now it would have to wait. Dread filled Wynona’s stomach as she walked past the bookcase, until a small sound caught her attention.

  She paused and listened harder. The tiniest squeak could be heard and a smile crept across Wynona’s face. “You survived,” she breathed. A crashing in the kitchen drew her attention again and Wynona waffled. “I don’t think I’ve got...” She stuffed her hands quickly into her pockets, searching for any kind of crumb she could find. The pickings were minimal, but hopefully they would be enough. Wynona carefully sprinkled the tiny bits of cracker onto the floor directly in front of the bookcase. “That should tide you over until I can find something else.” Shouting ensued from the kitchen and Wynona cringed. “I’ll be back later.”

  Straightening, she rushed to the kitchen to see Chef Droxon with half a dozen other workers swarming the small space. When Wynona had renovated, she hadn’t bothered to put in a full commercial kitchen. After all, she really only needed room to store her teacups and equipment to make the tea. Everything else she planned to serve was being purchased ready made. But apparently Chef Droxon had other ideas.

  “Where is stove?” he screeched, his tiny stature hiding him from Wynona’s eyes. “No stove! No scones!”

  Wynona gave an awkward smile to the first couple of workers she passed who were standing around looking lost. Each held large storage containers in their arms and didn’t seem to know what to do with them.

  “Good afternoon, Chef Droxon,” Wynona said carefully. She hoped none of the hostility from seeing her sister bled into her tone.

  Chef Droxon glared at her from waist high. His beady eyes could have melted steel and the mottled green of his skin was mixed with red. He, apparently, hadn’t thought it necessary to dress to impress, since he still wore his work apron, complete with a large brown streak across the front. “I thought you had kitchen,” he demanded.

  Wynona looked around, keeping a pleasant smile on her face. “I do.” She clasped her hands in front of her. “Perhaps I can show you around? But this won’t be where your baked goods are displayed. Oh no.” She winked. “I have something special in mind for that.”

  Chef Droxon huffed and folded his arms over his barrel chest. “Show.”

  Wynona nodde
d respectfully. “If you’ll just follow me.” She led the way out of the kitchen into a large butler’s pantry. “You can leave the containers here,” she said, giving her best smile to the employees. They probably could use a little kindness in their lives if they worked for the grumpy baker.

  Each and every one of them looked extremely grateful as they set down the large containers on the long counters.

  “And in here...” Wynona led them through a revolving door to the main tea room, “Is where your wonderful treats will be displayed.” She indicated a glass counter she had had custom made right next to a stunning display of vintage teacups and specialty brews.

  Chef Droxon glared and marched over to the space. He walked around it and studied it from every angle. With each step his eyebrows grew tighter and tighter. Wynona was sure he was about to have a tantrum when he finally looked at her and nodded. “It will do.”

  High praise indeed from the spoiled gnome. A breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding slowly released and Wynona’s heart rate went back to normal. “I’m so glad you approve,” she said. The cabinet had been outfitted with the best lighting and display cases to show off his pastries to perfection. When she had planned this renovation and subsequent opening of her business, no detail had gone unplanned. Wynona wanted the best, so she had built for the best.

  Doing so had cost her greatly, though, so if her business didn’t turn a profit, Wynona knew she would find herself in trouble all too quickly.

  Chef Droxon waved a hand in the air. “Enough,” he spat. “You will see what I bake.”

  Only strict self control kept Wynona from rubbing her hands in glee. She had been waiting her whole life to try something from Droxon Bakeries. It was a luxury her family had indulged in often, but Wynona had never been included. Once she had managed to find a forgotten drip of icing in the bottom of a pastry box and that tiny amount had been enough to send her on a lifelong quest for more.

  “Let’s sit right here.” She indicated a lovely preset table. “And you can show me all your delicacies.”

  Chef Droxon huffed his way to sitting across from Wynona, then snapped his fingers and shouted a few phrases in Gnomish. The workers he had brought with him jumped to obey and soon the table was laden with every baked good imaginable. It was far more than Wynona had asked to see and she began to worry about the dent this would put in her leftover savings. It seemed as if what she had managed to hold onto might not last quite as long as she had hoped.

  “First.” Chef Droxon held a stubby finger in the air. “The creme puff.”

  The next hour consisted of Wynona moaning her delight at every bite and fighting her inner child to keep from devouring everything within reach. She understood now, more than ever, why so many people believed that Chef Droxon baked magic into his goods. They were unlike anything she had ever tasted before, and that edge certainly made one question how it was done.

  “It’s all perfect,” Wynona gushed, meaning every word. She could just imagine the women coming in for tea and staying for long periods of time simply so they could eat one more bite.

  Chef Droxon looked smug in his too-large chair, but didn’t speak. He was more than likely used to her reaction with every person he came in contact with.

  “Let me just get the binder with our contract and we’ll finish filling out the first order,” Wynona said. She scooted away from the table and tried to walk, not waddle, to her office. The extra exercise necessary to work off what she’d just eaten would certainly be worth it. She giggled like a young girl once inside her small office. “We’re going to make it, Granny,” she whispered into the dark space. Her fingers went over her lips, but her too-wide smile remained. “We’re going to make it!”

  CHAPTER 3

  Wynona put her game face back on and strutted confidently back to the sitting room where Chef Droxon was waiting. “I have it right here,” she said with her best smile, the one Granny said could win over even the hardest of hearts. “I’m ready to sign for the cream puffs, the eclairs...” Wynona continued to rattle off a few more delicacies and ended with, “Plus, those magnificent scones.”

  Chef Droxon glared at her while he grabbed the paperwork and began to look it over. It took him a long time to read through it and Wynona mentally begged him to hurry. She was so eager to feel like it was all in the bag. After the arrival of her sister, she desperately wanted this to go right. Her family was probably waiting for any sign of weakness and would do their best to make her life a living purgatory if they sensed they could get to her. They weren’t likely to forget how she had slipped through their fingers.

  Chef Droxon grunted several times before holding out a hand and snapping his fingers. Wynona ignored the rudeness and dutifully handed him a pen, which he promptly used to scribble something illegible on the line at the bottom.

  She swallowed her squeal, barely managing to hold onto her business persona as she collected the papers for her portfolio. “I’ll provide a copy of this for you by tomorrow,” Wynona said. She hurried to put her stuff away. The session had gone on longer than she’d expected and she had an appointment with her landlord in just a few minutes. She had yet to meet the elusive warlock, as all their communications had been through his secretary. She was eager to show him all the renovations she had done to the shop.

  Chef Droxon continued glaring, despite Wynona’s beauty pageant smile, and climbed down from his chair. His green skin kept flushing red with the effort it took to move his round body down to the ground. Wynona made a mental note that perhaps having some tables more suited to any smaller clientele would be a smart move in welcoming everyone to her shop.

  “Thank you so much for your business,” Wynona said, standing as well to follow him out.

  Chef Droxon waved her off and began barking orders to his employees.

  Pity swirled in Wynona’s chest as they jumped to do their master’s bidding. She knew exactly what it was like to have to kowtow to someone’s every whim. Especially someone who enjoyed taking advantage of their power. She hoped they were compensated fairly for their difficult work environment, but odds weren’t in their favor. She’d dealt with people like Droxon her entire life and Wynona knew their cruelness could extend to every aspect of their lives.

  Determined to do something for them, she snatched up a packet of teas she had recently bagged. A little goodwill could certainly go a long way. “Thank you so much for bringing those delicious pastries,” she said to the first one she saw. “You’re a wonderful help.” Wynona smiled and held out a bag to the lean man. If she was to guess, she would assume he was some kind of shifter, more than likely a prey type, not a predator. His fearful glances around the room reminded her of a rodent, but her gift made his eyes light up.

  “Thank you,” he muttered, quickly glancing toward his boss before accepting the gift.

  “Be sure to steep it properly,” she warned him, keeping her voice low as well. “This style of tea does best in a French press.”

  He nodded his understanding, stuffed the packet in his pocket and scurried around her. Doing her best to avoid Chef Droxon’s angry gaze, Wynona worked her way around to all the employees. Each and every one of them looked shocked, then thrilled at her praise and present. It left Wynona feeling much better about them having to spend time with such a grumpy boss.

  She started to take the few packets left back to the sitting room when she noticed one more worker skulking toward the door. Her eyebrows rose in surprise before she hurried over and blocked him before he could leave. “Excuse me!”

  The man was of medium height and completely forgettable in looks. Brown hair, brown eyes, dark bags under his eyes and dry, chapped lips. There were absolutely no telltale signs of what his species was, but in the end it didn’t matter. When Wynona caught his gaze, he backed into the counter, his eyes moving around as if searching for a way to escape. Unlike some of the other employees, the man was extremely quiet. His shoes didn’t squeak at all on her tile floor.

&n
bsp; “I just wanted to say thank you,” Wynona said carefully, pausing a few feet away. She didn’t want to frighten the man. Perhaps he was another shifter. She held out the tea bag and gave a gentle smile. “This is for you,” she said, nodding toward the gift. “A little thank you for helping out today.”

  The man stared at her as if she had grown two heads, and it began to take some effort to keep her smile in place.

  “THIEF!” Chef Droxon’s booming voice rattled the few pots and pans in the kitchen and Wynona automatically covered her head as if the ceiling would collapse at such a sound.

  “Out of the way,” the employee in front of her growled before charging.

  Wynona screamed as she went crashing to the ground in a tangle of limbs. The man was smaller than her and she pushed him off her, doing her best to scramble to her feet, but since he was doing the same, they only fell once more.

  “STOP THE THIEF!” Chef Droxon screamed.

  Over the man’s shoulder, Wynona could see Chef Droxon standing in the kitchen doorway, pointing a finger at her and the man.

  The baker’s employees poured into the room, running into each other as they ran toward the pile of bodies on the floor. Another scream ripped from Wynona’s throat as dozens of hands began grasping at her and the man. The space wasn’t large enough for them all, so instead of an organized catch, it was a free for all. Her hair was pulled multiple times, along with her arms and feet. Someone accidentally kicked her back, causing Wynona to groan. When another foot landed on her rib cage, she used every bit of strength she had left to roll to her side and curl into a ball.

  “ENOUGH!” A deep commanding voice finally brought the entire situation to a halt.

  Strong arms went around Wynona and she sagged in relief as they pulled her to her feet. “Thank you,” she said hoarsely. Her heart was still trying to leap out of her throat and her body ached from the beating she had just taken.